Rebirth of the Undead King: Book 1 Read online

  “Of course, it was part of our arrangement.”

  I wished for power, thought Zaros. Power to claim revenge with my own hands.

  “Yet power without survival is meaningless. That is something I was also reminded of after a recent experience of mine,” Amro rebuked. “You will have plenty of chances for revenge with your own hands once you have gained enough strength. In the end, these mercenaries were nothing but disposable tools. The real culprit is still safe and sound, far away from here.”

  Unable to argue with Amro’s sound reasoning, Zaros made his way back to the small shack he had once called home. On his way back to it, he saw a series of crudely made graves with stones as their markers.

  His feet froze. Again, Zaros turned to look back at the village. The corpses that littered the ground belonged only to the mercenaries. None of the deceased villagers remained.

  “Thank you,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse, like his clogged up feelings were just about to spill from it.

  Amro didn’t answer. It was only fair for the innocent to receive a proper burial when possible. In fact, that was something that could aid their souls in dealing with their grudges.

  “What must I do to grow stronger?” Zaros asked. There was a strong sense of relief behind his voice.

  “For now, how about getting some food? You might be ignoring it, but the grumbling of your stomach is getting annoying,” Amro advised.

  Zaros froze in place, slightly surprised at the unexpected answer. He had been far too concerned about other issues to realize just how much his body had been complaining about the lack of food. It was almost like he instinctively believed he had no need for food. Just where had such a thought stemmed from?

  Chapter 06

  Goodbye.

  Zaros enjoyed an enormous and scrumptious meal for the first time in his life. The mercenaries had gathered all the food in the town to refill their provisions. Combined with the hefty amount of food the group already had, the food served before Zaros was enough to feed an army. Of course, having no previous opportunity to enjoy such a feast, Zaros let none of it go to waste.

  Meanwhile, Amro used the time Zaros spent filling his stomach to explain their situation. Much to his frustration, however, his lecture fell upon deaf ears.

  “You’re currently an unranked human, someone who hasn’t taken even one step in the path to power. As you are now, you’re useless in the grand scheme of things,” said Amro. “Both your soul and body lack tempering. As such, we need to start your training as soon as possible.”

  “It’s not like I was unaware of that, thanks for the encouragement,” Zaros said sarcastically, unbothered by Amro’s statement.

  Ignoring the boy’s retort, Amro continued. “Fortunately for you, your body’s ability to assimilate mana was stimulated after I controlled it. At the very least, we’ve proven you are capable of using it. With some work, we might be able to bring out your full potential. It’s only a matter of time before you step into rank one, the body refinement stage.”

  Zaros nodded as he continued to eat. The issue about his body falling under his partner’s control during his time of rest was surprising at first, but he had gotten over it after Amro’s initial explanation. The former Sovereign of Death had an incredible talent to gloss over matters that concerned the boy’s interests.

  “Nonetheless, the path of mana is only one of the things I have in mind for us,” said Amro. “Relying on nature is restrictive in comparison to relying on oneself. There are many other power systems you will have to learn in due time to make up for this.”

  Zaros wolfed down a handful of potatoes while listening to Amro. I never expected to become an exemplary in this way, he thought. The ability to communicate with Amro using his thoughts proved to be especially useful at times like this. Otherwise, not even Amro would have managed to understand the small glutton.

  “Regardless, I have no shortage of methods to help you build your strength. I do think, however, that battling others for first hand experience will be the easiest and fastest way for you to do so,” added Amro.

  “Will it be possible for me to become strong enough to go against the king on my own?” asked Zaros. A hint of worry crept into his voice as he explained his hesitation.

  “That man whom you call a king is nothing more than another mortal in my eyes. It will be easy to dispose of him quickly,” Amro said, slightly offended.

  He had to force himself to remember that a boy from a backwater village had probably never heard of the God of Death’s name. He couldn’t blame the boy for this. He could only blame his own church and his priests for not spreading his name far enough around the world.

  “You make it sound like it’s already a done deal,” said Zaros.

  “I dealt with the men outside, didn’t I?” rebuked Amro.

  Zaros rolled his eyes as he shoved another handful of dry jerky into his mouth. The flavor reminded him of the small boars he often hunted around the forest. The difference lain by the fact that these pieces had some salt applied into them.

  Even Amro’s arrogance couldn’t decrease Zaros’s appetite. After hunting to survive for years, the miracle of having so much food for himself could not be ignored. In exchange for that, Zaros was willing to happily ignore the nagging of an overconfident spirit.

  Amro, on the other hand, began to grow increasingly annoyed. As a god, he had grown used to people begging for his attention all day long. How could this boy opt to ignore his wisdom?

  “Are you even listening to me?” Amro demanded. Indignation clouded his thoughts until he remembered he was, to a certain extent, indebted to the young boy.

  “I am. It’s just that you talk about too many things,” complained the boy. “How about giving me a moment to enjoy my food?”

  “You don’t understand, do you? We have to leave the village soon. Eventually, the ones behind this will send a search party when those men we killed don’t come return,” Amro said, his tone softening a bit.

  “Can’t you just deal with them like the last batch?” Zaros asked. After being enlightened by Amro’s lecture, he wasn’t interested in dealing with the henchmen when the true culprit sat on the safety of his throne.

  “I already told you, the amount of times I can use my powers is limited. I no longer have a body, and yours is still far away from being able to extensively support mana or aura, much less refine it yourself.”

  “I’m pretty sure you buried that amongst everything else you said,” complained Zaros. “Why not start there?”

  Ignoring Amro’s incessant nagging, Zaros packed the few personal items he had to his name. A worn down, crude knife with only a dull edge remaining, a set of poorly made clothes, and that bag of coins he had intended to use for a gift before this whole ordeal.

  “The settlement closest to this should be a day or two away on foot. On the other hand, the closest town should be around a week from here,” explained Zaros. “We could use one of the horses left behind by the mercenaries, however. I’ve never had the opportunity to ride one, but it could greatly decrease the time we need to get there.”

  “No,” Amro replied. “You have to temper your body; basic physical activity is just the beginning of it.”

  Zaros sighed, it seemed like this new resident in his mind would only become bossier every day. He appreciated the help, but he could only hope Amro would lead him down the right path.

  Before leaving, Zaros returned to the graves of his villagers, the ones dug by Amro. He bowed towards the grave of the butcher whom he had loved to tease, the merchant who had taught him how read, write, and barter, the old man who had provided him with his first hunting knife, and even to the other children whom he had never quite gotten along with. Alice’s grave sat at the very end of the row of gravestones. Zaros resisted the urge to cry as he knelt before her makeshift resting place and laid the bag of coins onto the mount of dirt.

  “I meant to buy you a gift before all of this,” he said, digging a small
hole before placing the coins beneath the grave marker. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to.”

  Interesting, thought Amro. A few rituals amongst the church of death involved gifting the dead some money. He knew Zaros was unaware of them, which made the coincidence all the more pleasant.

  Zaros turned around to face all the graves again before he spoke his last words to them. “Don’t worry, I’ll exact retribution for all of you. I’ll visit everyone again, once it’s done.”

  “You have a way with words, kid,” said Amro. He was able to see the souls of those resting in the graves calming down. The souls of those involved in tragedy would often be distorted by grudges and hatred, tying them down to the mortal world. After Zaros’s promise to avenge them, however, they appeared to be willing to let go. With enough time, they would naturally enter the reincarnation cycle.

  “We still have one more place left to visit,” said Zaros, walking past the gravestones, deeper into the forest.

  As he did, he couldn’t help but think about the prowess Amro must have possessed in order to deal with all of the mercenaries. What kind of background did he have in order to pull off such a stunt? Had his guesses from before been correct? Was Amro some kind of demon or evil spirit?

  Sensing his thoughts, Amro felt slightly irritated. Being compared to an evil spirit made his pride suffer a long-forgotten humiliation. Oh, how entertaining would it be when he revealed his origins to the child. The taste of his shock would provide him some valuable entertainment.

  It didn’t take long for them to arrive at an open field. The view of green grass extended on for a while, interrupted only by a few large stones sitting in the middle. One stone in particular seemed tidy in comparison to the rest of the stones lying around. Zaros placed his right hand on top of the stone, a sad smile appearing on his face before he knelt down in front of it.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back,” he said. “I promise that if I find Dad, I’ll let him see how his son has grown into a good man. I’ll become strong, able to walk with my head up in pride, and I’ll never be trampled on by others again. Your son won’t disappoint you.”

  Zaros bowed thrice towards the stone, a last display of respect towards his dead mother’s resting place. This was their settlement’s graveyard. It was mostly inhabited by those who had perished hunting, Zaros’s mother being a rare exception. From what the villagers had told him, Zaros knew she had been a humble woman overflowing with kindness.

  After a minute of silence, Zaros raised his head and rose to his feet once again. His eyes filled with unspoken resolve. He had a new goal. To become renowned, respected, and feared. He would gain enough strength to protect those he cared for, to live the life he wanted, to never feel the pain of a loss.

  Amro could only laugh. This small human’s ambitions continued to surprise him. In fact, the intensity of the training he had in mind for him kept multiplying for every ambition Zaros decided to add to his list.

  After some time, Zaros finally departed. No second look was given to his former home, and every step he took toward the next settlement carried growing confidence.

  ✽✽✽

  Back inside the forest, far from the village, an eerie silence permeated the surroundings. Two cloaked figures riding their horses investigated every inch of the woodland.

  “I feel it should be close to here,” one of them said. A black, linen robe covered most of his visible traits, leaving only the outline of his muscular body in sight.

  “Indeed, there are traces of it around this place,” his companion answered. Her delicate figure was hidden by robes matching his, which had left only a few strands of her silver hair visible to outsiders.

  “Could we have arrived too late?” asked the robed man.

  “Perhaps, but not many could have been able to get their hands on a prophecy like this. One of our few remaining seers died to get this information, so I refuse to believe others could have gotten here before us,” answered the silver-haired girl.

  “At least entering this backwater country was easy,” said the man. “I don’t understand why these barbarians would decide to live away from the mainland. The mana in here is stagnant. The gods clearly don’t care about this place.”

  “Watch your mouth,” advised the silver-haired woman. “Remember what teacher often says: ‘Gods are able to sense when others speak their names.’ Besides, we should be looking for the legacy. If master finds out we dared to play around during this mission, no amount of penance will save us.”

  Both of the black-robed figures separated, scouring the area on their own. Eventually, one of them came to a halt. Five bodies laid before him, all of them mangled to shreds. The rot of death filled the area, and the bodies that should have only been dead for a day or so looked as if they had been rotting for weeks.

  “Over here, I found something!” he yelled, calling for his partner.

  His partner rushed over as soon as she heard him. When she saw the bodies lying on the ground, she dismounted from her horse, intent on carefully examining them. Her hand swept over the bodies without any traces of disgust. On the contrary, her face held traces of extreme ecstasy, the reflection of a zealot in the presence of her god’s work.

  A sheen of black covered her hand as she performed the examination. Slowly, gray miasma started forming on the surface of the bodies she examined, further evoking her excitement.

  “It’s here! The legacy of our lord has finally appeared!” she exclaimed. “The death of these men must have been influenced by its aura. How fortunate of them.”

  “Then it should be near here,” her companion added. “We should resume our search.”

  The cloaked woman nodded. She mounted her horse and resumed their mission. According to the last instructions she and her partner had received from their master, the legacy they were looking for would appear in the southern forest they were currently in.

  Having found a clue of its whereabouts, both became ecstatic. The legacy of their lord was of utmost importance to their teacher. For reasons unknown to them, he was currently unwilling to leave their home. In turn, he had placed this responsibility on their shoulders.

  Their power far surpassed the norm in this side of the continent, making his expectations high. Should they be successful, they would be blessed with countless rewards. Perhaps, they would overcome the shadow of their senior disciples. However, were they to fail, their souls would never know rest.

  Chapter 07

  A talented actor.

  The journey to reach the next village should have taken two days of travel. However, Amro decided to make use of the trip as a small opportunity to temper Zaros’s body and character, and therefore had him take detours and face hardships that were otherwise unnecessary. This kept going on for three days until they finally reached the nearest village. What had been left of it, anyway.

  “As expected, your home was just one of many,” voiced the fallen death god. “Their goal laid not in your village, but in this forest.”

  The village they had arrived at was in the same desolate state as Zaros’s. The only difference to be found was that this one had been burned to the ground. Buildings and people alike. Despite searching around the village, they weren’t able to find traces of anyone making it out alive.

  “Just what are they aiming for?” asked Zaros. He was feeling increasingly desensitized to the scenes of carnage.

  “You can ask them yourself in the future. For now, I’m going to take a guess and assume every other village in the forest will be in the exact same conditions.”

  “I can’t understand,” said Zaros. “What could be so important to warrant this massacre? Is there no god who watches over justice?”

  If anyone embodies hypocrisy in the world, it is that fellow, thought Amro, recalling the constant policy changes the Church of Justice often implemented. Justice was always subjective to that which posed the most benefits for that hypocrite. In hindsight, Amro realized that w
as the case for most gods.

  “Remember this, boy. Justice, values, and fairness are nothing but excuses made by the weak when they can’t face the strong. If you don’t have enough strength, no one will care about your beliefs. Without power, you won’t be able to do anything when faced with what you call ‘injustice.’”

  Zaros nodded in understanding. His father had been conscripted because he had no power to confront the military. His village had been ravaged because they had no strength to ensure their own safety. He found it hard to accept, but he knew reality wouldn’t change because of his personal beliefs.

  Seeing nothing would change by idling around, Zaros extended an offer. “I think we should go north now. If you’re right, all the other settlements will be in the same state as this one. Instead, it will be better to try our luck in the border town to the north. I’ve never been there before, but I’ve heard wandering merchants speak about it. It’s just outside the forest. We should be able to reach it in a matter of days.”

  “I agree,” spoke Amro. “We could use a place to gather some information and supplies.”

  Having settled upon a course of action, Amro and Zaros continued their journey across the forest. During this time, Amro didn’t ease Zaros’s training but made it increasingly harder instead. Every day, Zaros would be forced to fight stronger beasts, entering parts of the forest he would have never dared to enter on his own.

  If that wasn’t enough, Zaros’s nights proved to be no more enjoyable than his days. Instead of rest, they were filled with more grueling training inside Amro’s soul domain. The fallen god had the ability to control the environment presented inside of it, recreating any scenario he was able to think of. As such, Zaros was forced to live through countless scenarios, relying on nothing but Amro’s advice.

  With time, each kill took less effort than the one before it. The boy’s expertise at dealing with beasts grew alongside Amro's criticism of his flaws. The boy was rather pathetic at understanding the theory and underlying concepts Amro touched upon. However, his body betrayed his mind’s standards, as the moves taught by Amro were ingrained into it by sheer repetition.