A massive form erupted from the mud, splattering brown everywhere as it lunged for Axehand’s waist. Jerry’s eyes widened.

This was a skeletal crocodile. It reached at least six feet long, with its mouth alone taking up two, and all its bones seemed perfectly preserved. Fortunately for the crocodile, and unfortunately for everybody else, the only part of its body necessary to maintain its identity as a predatory beast was its teeth, which were part of its skeleton.

If it took hold of Axehand, this menace would violently shake him from side to side, tearing his body apart and breaking his bones. Moreover, while skeletons lost some bodily strength compared to their living counterparts, they gained massively in speed.

That goes to say, when the crocodile lunged out of the mud, it was fast.

The skeletal form zoomed out at blinding speed, an open, serrated mouth heading directly for Axehand—and the double-skeleton slapped it into the ground so hard that the mud parted in its wake, all teeth breaking as the crocodile’s mouth was clamped shut.

Axehand let out an annoyed grunt, then kept going as if nothing had happened. The crocodile stayed still.

Everyone watched frozen.

“What an unlucky creature,” said Jerry, shaking his head. “Why would it even attack Axehand? He’s all bones.”

“Move, Master!” Boney cried out, suddenly rushing over at full speed. “Head for the shore, fast! There might be more of them!”

Jerry blinked, then looked to the side. Twenty feet over, a log had teeth. He’d never run faster in his life.

Everyone—except Axehand, who happily went about his job—soon found shelter on the mud lake’s shores, inching as far away from the mud as possible.

“How devious…” muttered Laura, breathing hard. “A foot of mud is enough for crocodiles to hide in… Who would have thought.”

“I knew those logs were suspicious!” Boney lamented. “I put you in danger, Master… I deserve to die. Oh, wait—I already have.” He cluckled, apparently finding his joke hilarious.

“We were very lucky to escape that,” said Marcus, looking around with narrowed eyes. “Let’s not forget we’re in the Dead Lands. Any unturned stone could hide danger, so keep both eyes out.”

“Aye, captain,” responded Jerry. “By the way, Laura, we’re caked in mud, and you’re a hydromancer.”

“Say no more.” She smiled, willing the water to flow out of her flask and give everyone a flash shower, pulling most of the mud away.

“Much better.” Jerry smiled back. “Now, since we’re stranded here already, should we look for a safe place to set up camp?”

Marcus crossed his arms. “Not necessarily stranded. I think I can repair the airship, but I’ll need at least a day.”

“Even the hull?” asked Laura.

“Of course,” replied Boney. “The hull is vital for airships, or the wind could get in.”

She threw him a scalding glare.

“Just the valve and the left air stopper,” explained Marcus. “We can live without the hull—repairing it would take more skill and time than I have, anyway.”

“All I hear is camping time.” Jerry smiled. “I could handle that. Not to brag, but I once spent six months in the forests by myself.”

Marcus turned his head. “Impressive, but why?”

“Why not?”

“...Alright.”

“But we don’t have tents,” Laura noted. “Or bedrolls. Or any sort of equipment.”

“But we have rope and a wonderful swamp to extract materials from,” replied Jerry, already turning around to observe the thicket. “Let’s get going. We should be ready by nightfall.”

“We shouldn’t all go,” said Marcus. “I can stay here to start working on the airship, but I’ll need Axehand to protect me. I could use a couple of Billies too, to help with carrying stuff.”

“You can have them all,” replied Jerry, smiling slightly. “Me, Boboar, Foxy, Boney, and Headless… This almost feels like the good old times, when we’d just started fixing the tower. Isn’t that right, guys?”

“Almost, yes…” Boney lowered his head. “I am really happy to accompany you, Master.”

“So am I, Boney; so am I. Now, come on, let’s go. What will you do, Laura?”

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “The further I am from these supersonic crocodiles, the better.”

“I don’t think they’re supersonic.”

“That’s what it felt like.”

“Are you going to be okay?” asked Marcus. “This swamp seems dangerous.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jerry reassured him. “We’ll have me, Laura, and all these undead, plus Birb watching us from above.”

“That’s right.” Laura nodded. “Can we go, please? The more time we have, the better camping spot we’ll find.”

“Sure.” Jerry smiled, waving back. “See you, Marcus, Billies! Protect them well, Axehand!”

The treasure hunter nodded, as did the Billies, while Axehand’s response was a reassuring grunt. With that, Jerry’s team turned around to face the swampland.

The Dead Lands seemed perpetually enveloped in twilight. Ozborne’s Curse had sunk its fangs deep into the land, poisoning everything that was alive and some that were not. The grass, the clouds; even the sky itself was tinted a shade of gray that the sun shone through, giving the impression that this world was slowly but inevitably reaching its end.

However, there was always beauty in death. The swamp may not have been vibrant and vivid with life, but it felt mystical. The trees sat enveloped in silence, with very few animal cries disturbing the peace, and even the wind seemed tamer here. Amidst the silence and stillness, Jerry found himself unconsciously holding his breath, taking in the deafening serenity of this magical sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, eyes opened wide.

“It is, Master…” replied Boney. “I can’t put my finger on why, but this place somehow reminds me of you.”

“It does?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm…”

Jerry looked at the sparse trees again, slim and bent by their own weight. Off-brown branches hung down as if to wipe the soft soil, while roots occasionally rose up to meet them. A light fog blanketed the swamp, hindering their sight after a certain distance, and the air smelled lightly of dampness.

As they looked, a few gray lights flickered high above, dancing and chasing each other through the air. They twirled around Laura once before flying away—they were zombie fireflies, an entire host of them.

“Nope, I don’t see the similarity,” said Jerry. “I have no branches.”

With a sigh, Laura drew her gaze from the departing fireflies. “Can we get going, dum-dums? I thought we were in a hurry.”

“Oh, yes.”

They dived into the trees, Foxy and Boboar rushing forward first; after so long in foreign environments, a forest—or a swamp—felt like home. Both of the animals let out happy yelps and oinks, fondly looking back to the times when they and Jerry toured through the forests and mountains of Escarbot.

Jerry himself strolled calmly, while Headless remained close-by, moving his head left and right to stay vigilant of any threats. Boney and Laura walked behind them, none speaking.

The trees remained silent and bereft of life, no danger presenting itself. However, that wasn’t to say the swamp was empty.

They walked for half an hour, and, in that time, they came across several kinds of undead. A few small, zombie birds flew from branch to branch, cocking their heads at the group—they even played with Birb a bit, when it curiously approached and pecked at one.

There were skeletal birds too. The form of undead—whether they became skeletons or zombies—seemed to be determined by their species, which was an intriguing observation. If the Curse worked like this, what could it mean for Jerry and his necromancy? Was there a reason?

These skeletal birds couldn’t fly, of course, as they had no wings. They had, however, developed another means of movement: hopping—and watching little birds move around with tiny leaps was as cute as it was hilarious.

Once, Laura squealed and tried to pick one up, only to hurriedly step back when the bird regarded her with a creepy, empty gaze. That was a valuable lesson; the fauna of the Dead Lands might not be wholly aggressive, but they remained dangerous, even in the smallest, most seemingly harmless creatures. That little bird wouldn’t have hesitated to peck her eyes out if given the chance.

It was a scary realization; and at the same time, one that added to the brutal beauty of these lands.

“I still can’t believe it.” She pouted a few minutes later as she saw another skeletal bird hop past them, heading who knows where. “I only wanted to hug that bird.”

“But maybe it didn’t want to hug you,” replied Boney, picking up the hopping bird; he was a skeleton too, so, besides a curious stare, it didn’t resist at all. “See? It likes me.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re equally brainless.”

“Or maybe because we’re equally skinny.”

Her eyes widened. “You didn’t just say that!”

“Oh look, a tree,” said Jerry, walking right in front of them. “It’s just like all the others we’ve seen. What an interesting conversation topic!”

“Hmph.” Laura snorted, shaking her head once before forgetting the issue. “How’s the camp-searching, Jerry? Seen a good place yet? Because I haven’t.”

“Yeah, neither have I.” The necromancer scratched his head. “The forests of Escarbot were much easier to work with. Here, everything’s damp and muddy. We might have to walk a bit more before we find a suitable location.”

“How much more?”

“How should I know?”

“Yeah… Thank Hydra we started early—still, let’s hope we find something quickly. I would rather not walk too much.”

Jerry turned around. “Why?” he asked curiously. “It’s not like anything changes the more you walk.”

“I get bored and tired.”

“Oh, right. I can turn you into an undead if you want—then, you’ll just be happy all day long, and more skinny.”

She blinked rapidly. “I can’t believe you.”

Tom and Jerry high-fived. “Nice one, Master!”

“Heh. I was just kidding, Laura; you’re beautiful just the way you are.”

“Of course I am.”

“Oh, look, Master!” said Boney, pointing at a nearby tree’s branches. “See that bird?”

They looked over. “Yes.”

“Well, look closer; it’s actually a plant!”

“What?” Jerry squinted at it. “Oh!”

They were looking at a brown zombie bird just like all others, except its form was perfectly still—and, on closer inspection, it was not a bird at all, just a plant shaped as one. It had multiple stems at different shades of brown, all wrapped around each other to resemble a bird’s standing body. Its black eyes were actually some kind of twin-headed flower, and a small network of roots stretched all the way from its feet to the tree’s trunk, where they dived into it.

It could never hold up to a second glance, but this plant could be mistaken for a bird from afar.

“Wow,” exclaimed Jerry. “That’s actually really interesting. Why would a tree do this?”

“Maybe it’s carnivore and wants to lure prey, Master,” replied Boney, cupping his bone chin. “What kind of prey, though? Hmm. Is this bird-plant meant to attract potential mates?”

“Can zombies even reproduce?”

“Some can,” said Laura, raising a brow at Jerry. “For a necromancer, you’re oddly uninformed.”

“And you’re the exact opposite,” Jerry retorted, smiling back. “I don’t mean to pry, just saying.”

“I told you, I’m a well-read girl.”

“In any case,” said Boney, patting the trunk, “no matter what trick this little tree is trying to pull, we’re too smart for it.”

The trunk’s gnarls formed into open eyes. Roots circled around Boney’s feet and branches began shaking, slowly moving to encircle him.

“Oh, shit!” Boney backpeddaled furiously, or tried to, but ended up falling on his bone butt. He raised his hands in panic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m not smart, you are!”

The branches did not stop their advance, and more roots began to snake up his body.

“Boney!” shouted Jerry. A black aura left his body as he slammed his soul force against the tree, trying to sever its threads. He partly succeeded; many branches and roots suddenly went still, while the rest recoiled in pain.

Headless dropped his head and fell on the roots still binding Boney, as did Foxy, frenziedly pulling and cutting them as they could. As for Boboar, he did what boars do best; with an enraged oink, he rammed head-first against the tree, shaking it to the core and making its flexible branches wave through the air.

With the tree no longer resisting, Boney was soon cut loose, and he hurriedly crawled backward until he was by Jerry’s side.

“Oh, thank you, Master, thank you!” he exclaimed, shakingly climbing to his feet. “You saved me!”

“Well, it wasn’t that difficult.” Jerry smiled. “Just scary.”

“Yeah, all you lost is your dignity,” said Laura, giggling behind her hand. “You admitted to being dumber than a tree.”

“That—I was just trying to free myself!” he protested.

“In any case, let’s pay more attention, okay?” said Jerry, suddenly eyeing the trees around him with suspicion. “There might be more hidden dangers here, and there is no guarantee the next one will be as easy to deal with…”

On cue, a sharp sting of danger reached him through his connection to Birb, and he looked up only to find a snake’s rotten maw heading for his face. Before he could even think to react, an arrow whistled by, penetrating the snake mid-air and nailing it to the tree behind Jerry.

“Who are you,” said a hoarse voice, “and what are you doing in my swamp?”

They turned, and there stood a humanoid figure as pale as paper, but with dark eyes, hair, and teeth. Laura let out a scream.