Book 1, Chapter 5: Santa

[Alen]

Darkness shrouded the sky in an obsidian sheet, dotted by sparkling lights and two moons that stared down at the world below. A cold breeze rolled over the carpet of grass on the ground, bringing with it an earthy smell. The sounds of the wind disrupting the surroundings were the only noises that flowed into the ears of anyone that was willing to listen.

Two guards stood in one of the watchtowers that lined the perimeter of the Undead Bulwark Draenys, conversing casually as they kept watch.

“It’s horrible up here. They don’t even give us chairs to sit in,” One of the guards complained lightly. “I want my shift on the city patrols back so I can sneak in a drink at Razan’s bar with the rest of those lazy bastards.”

“The last attack was a month ago, so the higher ups are bound to tighten the security in the perimeter. I haven’t slept with my wife in a week, so you have nothing to complain about,” The other guard said, yawning as he manned the heavy crossbow mounted on the watchtower.

“S’why you’ve been assigned to the crossbow Dege. You’re a quick shot. I’m sure your wife’s happy.”

The guard on the crossbow, Dege, sighed. “When are you getting married anyways?”

“An old man like me getting married at this age? No chance. All the women my age in the city are either married or single for a reason. Plus, there’re always the barmaids to keep me satisfied!” The old man laughed obscenely, leaning back on the tower’s wooden supports.

“Looks like the old men are single for a reason too,” Dege murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Dege strained his eyes in the darkness. Torches in the towers were only lit as a signal, and were usually kept dark so that vision in the dark of night wasn’t impaired. His eyesight was better than most, as he’d slowly refined the usage of his mana to augment his eyes. He’d made it a habit to use it every ten minutes when he was in patrol or watch duty. He’d managed to catch his fair share of thieves and stray undead thanks to it.

Looks like he had another catch tonight. Something was shambling towards them in the dark, and Conrad aimed his mounted crossbow. “Stray undead sighted. Prepare to light the torches Conrad, there might be more.”

The old man looked down and augmented his own sight. He wasn’t able to survive this long as a guard of the Bulwark for no reason. He motioned for Dege to stand down.

“Why?”

“That isn’t the way a zombie or skeleton walks. Those don’t clutch at their shoulders like that. Undead ignore injuries and let them hang limply without a care,” Conrad said. His experience was abundant, and he’d proven to the higher ups many times that he was a reliable soldier.

Dege however, was a new recruit. “And your point is?”

“My point is that,” He pointed at the figure that was slowly limping towards them. “That, is not an enemy. Looks to be a wounded person. I’ll go check it out,” Conrad said, hunkering down the ladder.

“Don’t get mauled on my watch, Conrad. I want a promotion.”

“And you’ll get it if you try hard enough. Stand down,” The old man shouted back as he reached the ground with a huff. With a light jog, he met the figure, his chain-leather padded coat rustling slightly as he called out to the figure.

“Oy! C’mere faster so we can get your injuries treated!”

The figure looked from the ground to stare at him, his emerald eyes almost glowing in the dark. The mysterious air around the young man lasted for about a second, before it dissipated as angry words leaked from his mouth. “I’m fucking injured, fatigued, malnutritioned, and suffering from a chronic lack of anything to laugh about, so I'd really appreciate it if you walked over here and helped me walk over there before I pass the fuck out.”

Conrad gaped for a moment, before he laughed loudly. He jogged to the figure and noted his appearance. Clothes he hadn’t seen before were nearly torn to shreds, especially near his shoulder where a deep wound bled profusely, all carried by a young man who looked extremely pale and haggard from blood loss and malnutrition. His eyes were already half-closed and it looked like the words leaving his mouth were coming out in a half-conscious daze. Conrad didn’t dare doubt the young man’s previous talk about nearly passing out. He looked like a walking corpse. Smelled like one too.

He studied the young man before speaking slowly as he slung the boy’s arm over his shoulder. “Did you come from the forest?”

The young man was quiet. Conrad noticed that he’d stopped walking too, and was now just being dragged forward as Conrad walked. Confirming that the young man was just unconscious, he told Dege about the situation and left him at the tower, heading towards the city with the young man’s body slung over his shoulder.

This young man would definitely have a story to tell, and it would best be told over a glass of ale.

After a shower and a change of clothes, of course.

Alen voraciously devoured the meal in front of him. He’d been given bread, soup, and some unknown meat with a soft, chewy texture. Meat. It felt like an eternity since he’d last eaten meat. He savored every bite, taking small sips of the soup. A woman had given him this food when he woke up, and said that she’d be back. Around him were multiple beds, bandaged patients and sick people lined along the wall atop beds. Alen guessed that this was probably some sort of infirmary. He finished the meal quicker than he would like. The serving was relatively small. Alen knew that with his condition he shouldn’t eat too much until he got back into a healthier state, but…

He rubbed the small scar on the palm of his left hand, the one he had personally gouged out. It was a new patch of skin, whiter than the rest of his palm, and he figured it would be there for a while. His clothes and things were gone, and were replaced by a clean wool tunic and some linen pants. His shoulder had a dull ache, but the wound was much better than the night before. It was bandaged and no longer bleeding, probably due to some sort of potion or medicine that sped up his recovery. He really did go through a lot this past week. He lost his entire group of undead as well, but it didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would. It felt refreshing to not have zombies and their horrible smell around. He sure missed his skeletons though. They were fucking badass.

Alen had to figure out a way to fix his problem with Control Undead. He couldn’t always have a group of corpses following him around, especially with the distance limit that caused his undead to slip from his control if passed.

While increasing the max distance of the spell would be good, it’d only do so much. He had a few other ideas on how he could fix the problem, the concepts flooding to his head from the numerous stories he’d read before being transported here. He’d test it out as soon as possible, but for now, he’d stay put as that lady said. While waiting, he brought up the chat rooms and lurked, reading the messages.

Messages

Jessika: I passed my first mana threshold. Thanks to Sam for sharing that technique, I should be able to do more with my magic now.

Neil: What kind of spells have you developed, Jess?

Jessika: I can whip around water and heal some things like scratches. What about you?

Diana: is anyone near a town called dreide? it’s full of dwarves and giants, and i’m dying to see another human being. like, we should probably all gather at some point right? figure out what to together and everything.

Neil: I have no talent whatsoever with the method Sam suggested. Not a fan of meditation in the first place. I asked a few people about it, and they just repeated the same thing. Mages walk their own paths apparently. It’s a popular quote among magic users from what I’ve heard.

Neil: Sorry Diana. I’m near your area, but I can’t join you right now. I’m helping around in this village. It’s the least I can do with the help I got.

James: I asked my teacher and he said others can only be shown the starting line when it comes to magic. You have to walk the rest of the path yourself and all that shit, it’s confusing as fuck.

Jessika: You’re damn right it is. We have a mage in this group I’m staying with and he praised me for figuring out how to make spells from schools unassociated with my mana type. I asked him what he meant and he just gave me a book. I’ll tell you guys about it after I finish reading.

Diana: take your time neil i also have things to do today. we can start forming a group with the rest as soon as we meet up. you want to join james?

James: Nah. I have my own friends to look for.

Alen closed the chat there. He frowned? Schools? Mages walk their own paths? It was extremely confusing, and apparently, no one knowledgeable would share any information regarding the topic. Was it because they were new to this world? Alen had to find a book like the one the girl named Jessika’s mage friend gave her.

As for the private chat in their group, it looked like only James and Anne were free right now. They were just talking about random things happening and laughing at old jokes. Alen joined them for a few minutes and said goodbye after the lady came back with the old man that helped him last night, still wearing the same chain-leather coat, and a middle-aged man wearing the same type of coat over some plate armor. There was something like an insignia on his shoulder, one more detailed than the old man’s. Alen guessed he was the one in charge.

The middle aged man looked at him. “Can you walk?”

Alen shrugged and slowly got off the bed, the persistent ache in his shoulder making him take extra care in his movements.

Seeing this, the middle aged man nodded. “Follow me,” He said, motioning for Alen to follow. Alen did so, taking a glance at the nurse that was taking care of the patients. Was she the only one tending to this place? Shouldn’t a hospital have a team or something?

The old man walked beside him as they followed behind the middle aged man. “Didn’t get to introduce myself last night, with you passin’ out a’soon as you got there. Name’s Conrad, and I offer you one piece of advice. Don’t lie to the captain when he asks you a question. We don’t mean you any harm.”

Alen scratched the back of his head and nodded lightly. “Alright.”

Soon, they entered a large building that looked to be a barracks. They passed a few soldiers resting and reading on beds, training in groups, and playing cards on tables. Eventually, they entered a small room with a two chairs and a table, the curtains draped over the windows providing little to no ventilation. Can this interrogation room get any more cliché? At least there isn’t a light bulb hanging from the ceiling, Alen thought.

The captain sat down and Alen sat opposite him. They made eye contact for a few very uncomfortable moments for Alen, and just before he was about to say something, the captain spoke.

“What’s your name?”

Alen glanced at Conrad who was leaning on the wall near the doorway and sighed. “My name’s Alen.”

“I see Conrad gave you some advice,” The captain said, motioning for Conrad to leave the room. The old man left with a disgruntled huff, mumbling about drinking with the rest of the boys. The captain let out a smile for a moment before looking back at Alen seriously.

“You’re a new arrival, correct?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago did you come here?”

“I’ve been here for uh, about a week? In this world’s time, at least.”

The captain frowned. “Conrad said you walked out from the direction of the forest. Is this true?”

Alen pursed his lips, considering lying for a moment before he took the thought out of his head. This captain was intimidating enough for him to forget the notion completely. “He’s… correct. I spawned there, and spent seven days trying to get out.”

“How many thresholds have you passed?” The captain slowly asked.

“Two.”

The middle aged man let out an impressed sound. “Hoh. I heard new arrivals were usually talented and adapted to our world quick with their… experiences. That means you’ve killed at least seventy skeletons right? You can pass as a good recruit in any major city.”

Alen hesitated. Would it be a lie if he didn’t correct him? He decided not to take that chance. “Um, no. I spawned deeper into the woods. I managed to kill about twenty skeletons, and a bit more than twenty zombies.”

“Then seven days ago, you appeared deeper into the woods, and you’re a new arrival who had yet to assimilate to mana and this world’s system. That means… you, what’s your mana type?”

“…Necrotic.”

The captain’s eyes sharpened, boring into his. “You controlled the dead to help get you out of the forest?”

Alen tensed up and unconsciously prepared a Blightbolt in the clenched fist he had under the table. “Yes.”

The next few seconds were dangerously tense. Alen was prepared to send out his spell and bolt out the door when the captain sighed and relaxed. “Looks like you aren’t lying,” He said. The man looked at him and spoke. “It is common sense in this world to help and guide new arrivals like yourself until they are capable of being independent. You, you don’t have a place to stay, right?”

Alen similarly relaxed and dismissed the spell, the black-green mana seeping back into his body. He wiped the cold sweat on his forehead as he replied. “I don’t, no.”

“It’s been a week, and the rest of the people from your batch have probably already told you that it is normal to help new arrivals, yes? I’ll cut straight to the point. We’ll cover your housing and pay you an amount of coin that is dependent on your performance if you join us in our expedition into the forest,” The captain said, pushing something that looked like a contract towards Alen.

“This is?”

“It’s a registration form to enlist in the expedition. We plan to enter the depths of the forest and find what exactly is corrupting the surrounding area. Blight has been spreading outward for decades at a slow rate, but as you can see, it is already about to take over the whole wood. Another necromancer, one that is willing to help, will be very useful to us.”

Another? Alen frowned as he read the form. It stated that the expedition could last up to a month, and that it would start in 45 days. It also listed down the names of the monsters they expected to encounter; monsters and undead that Alen had never even heard of. From the looks of it, the bear that nearly killed him would be the least of his worries. It had a few benefits attached though, like a large sum of gold to any participants, and a training course to increase the strength of those who have yet to pass their fifth thresholds. Even with this, Alen immediately ruled out joining.

“Jesus Christ… Fuck no,” He murmured, setting the paper down with a tired sigh. He just wanted to rest right now, not worry about another chance for him to lose his life.

“Pardon?” The captain said.

“Um, no. I won’t be signing up for this expedition. Are there any other things I could do, uh… captain?” Alen said, lightly touching the scar on his palm beneath the table.

“My name is Xan,” The captain said, noting the look on Alen’s face. “My great, great grandfather was a human from another world as well, and he was one of the first people to help in building this city from the ground up.”

Seeing Alen nod, he coughed and continued. “Anyways, even though you refused, we cannot just send you on your way. The city has rules against ignoring new arrivals. The barracks will cover your housing and food expenses for a week, but you will have to leave after that. I suggest going to the Commissions House and telling them you’re a new arrival. It’ll get you a free identification card, and a way to take on jobs and earn money.”

Alen blinked. So… an adventurer’s guild? Fuck yeah. Smiling lightly, he nodded. “Alright. I’d rather go for that. Thanks for all the help.”

Xan waved his apology away. “It’s nothing. Our city has received help from new arrivals on many occasions as well. The interrogation ends here. Go outside and find Conrad, the old toad’s in charge of telling you about the city and showing you where you’ll be staying. Finally, your possessions are in that box over there,” Xan said, pointing the corner of the room.

Saying this, the captain stood up and walked outside, leaving him alone.

Alen sat alone in the room for a while, staring at the ceiling before closing his eyes and letting out a breath. What now? He slapped his palms against his face and exhaled a second time. Alen let himself feel like this for a few moments, his head full of nothing but stray thoughts and memories. Finally, he shook his head, stood up, and went to the box. He secured his phone, which was now kind of cracked in his pants’ pocket, and wore his watch. Time was weird in this world, but it could still be useful to have around.

He put the rest of his things into his pocket and left the room, spotting Conrad drinking a mug of something Alen assumed to be ale with a few other soldiers in casual wear. The old man spotted him and motioned for Alen to sit down beside him. Alen walked over and hesitantly sat down on the table as he noted the slightly drunk faces of the men around him.

Conrad slapped him on the shoulder and passed him a mug full of the same drink they were having. Alen had drunk before, but he didn’t want to get intoxicated when he still had a lot to do. He took a sip out of courtesy and the old soldier laughed.

“Don’t be so tense, I’ll show you to where you’ll be staying later. For now, why don’t you join me and the rest of the boys for a drink?”

“Aye, heard you came out of the forest? You aren’t leaving here until we get to hear that story!” The soldier in front of him, a man who looked to be in his thirties, took down a large swig from his drink. “Reminds me of my earlier days.”

“Don’t start speaking like you’re some sort of lieutenant, Doby. The only thing you’re useful for is taking hits,” Another man said, grinning as he too, drunk from his mug.

“And isn’t that what admirable generals do, Gib? Run into battle with the rest of their men instead of trembling in the back line?” Doby scoffed. “Strategist, hah! Don’t think I don’t know that you put me in the advance party for reasons like: ‘The zombies will take a while to eat his corpse, so that a retreat may be initiated in a dire situation’.”

Alen watched them bicker and thought: what the fuck was he supposed to be doing here?

Conrad nudged him with an elbow. “All of the men in these barracks were sent in small squads into the forest when they were still fresh. Just going into the woods alone is a terrifying concept to each one of them, with the powerful undead that lurk deeper in, and the lack of any food sources. Unless you’re keen on eating maggot-infested flesh, your only choice would be those blue berries that grow everywhere. I wouldn’t recommend them though, the damned things are packed with a vile mana that rot and tear through stomach lining like paper.”

Alen frowned. “The blue, wrinkly berries?”

“Aye. Those ones. Nevermind that though, tell me, how’d you do it? Get out of the forest, I mean.”

Alen hesitated, should he really tell Conrad everything? Though Xan’s reaction to his magic was alright, he very much expected to see a lot of prejudice towards the magic he practiced. After all, when were presumably necrophilic corpse-raisers popular? Alen couldn’t think of any examples. The old man in front of him may have lost something to the undead he commanded, and Alen didn’t want to see the friendly old soldier suddenly turn cold after hearing about his methods. Alen settled on a vague not-lie. “I… holed up inside a crevice I found for a few days after I appeared. I had some food and a water source, but it ended up running out,” He pushed his hair up, out of his face as he glanced at the old man’s face. “So, I decided to try leaving, which went well until I got attacked. I got out of the forest pretty fucked up and just… stumbled into your watchtower’s line of sight, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie, right? He just neglected to mention his group of undead that helped him leave, his consumption of the blue berries, and his mana type. It would be Conrad’s own fault if he assumed he got out some other way. Right?

He glanced at Conrad and grimaced. He was a shit liar, or rather, half-truth-er apparently, as the old man’s face said exactly that. Conrad sighed and stood up after seeing that Alen didn’t even want to drink any more of the alcohol in front of him. “I’m showing Alen here to his room, everyone. Don’t kill each other until I can get back to watch.”

Alen followed behind him awkwardly, the voices of the laughing and bickering soldiers slowly fading. “Sorry about that,” He said.

Conrad shook his head. “Naw, it’s probably a story you don’t want to share. I suppose I was being a bit too nosy when I asked you to share an experience like that just a day after you barely got out of it alive, in front of some strangers too, no less. Forgive me, I get a bit too excited about things these days. Must be my age.”

Alen nodded and kept silent for a while. Lesson learned; lying was probably a shit idea. He wouldn’t rely on it to get out of deep shit. He’d practice on some kids if he ever got the chance though. Telling them about Santa would be the biggest and scummiest lie he could ever tell, but his childhood demanded he spread his disappointment as he remembered his Asian relatives who’d told him about Santa nonchalantly walking into his house in a not-Santa fashion during Christmas Eve. They didn’t even bother dressing up for the five year old who would soon be the victim of having his dreams ruined. This world’s children would pay a terrible price for what happened that night.

“Well, here is your room, and here are the keys,” The old soldier opened the door and tossed the keys to him. “If you need any help finding anything specific in the city, look for me or else the captain’ll have my hide.”

“Alright. It looks like I’ll be staying in this city for a while anyways, so I’ll probably end up joining you for a drink at some point,” Alen said, bidding farewell to Conrad who grinned.

“You better take more than just a little sip of alcohol at that time,” The old soldier said, heading back down the hallway.

Alen laid down on his bed and sighed, listening as Conrad’s footsteps disappeared down the hall. After all that happened, even talking properly felt hard to do, his body and mind both weighed down by the figurative shackles of what the corporate slaves and students in his world called mental fatigue. Alen just wanted some rest. Looking at the sun that was still high up in the sky, he laid down on his bed and closed his eyes, his old habit kicking in as a slight smile made its way into his face.

He’d find some poor kids and ruin their childhoods tomorrow.