Why am I still here?

The rest of the skeletons fell apart, so why am still stuck in this accursed world!?

I ponder these thoughts as I drag the necromancer's corpse into the woods. Maybe he has some special item to reverse my predicament. Regardless, I can't do a body check so close to the village. I saw some of the houses light up. I doubt they would think I'm friendly with blood on my blade, a corpse at my feet and thirty piles of bones. Let's not forget I can't even talk to defend myself.

Ah, this is hell.

I'm still not used to how light my body is. It's shorter than my original height, and the lack of ligaments makes my movements unnaturally lanky. Add the fact I'm dragging along this body, and it becomes difficult to balance myself.

I've said this before, but I can't breathe. I also can't blink, contort my face or feel any heat. I've lost my grip several times, as I have a hard time judging pressure from my rigid fingertips. My sword is currently hanging between my ribcage, but it only emphasises how hollow I am.

I'm going to go insane at this rate. That is why I'm talking to myself. Every instinctual and natural sensation of being alive is excruciatingly absent. My mind is in disarray, trying to adapt. As a result, I continue wandering absentmindedly into the heart of the woods. I try to hum, but only kick myself at how dumb and depressing the idea was.

Sleep is impossible. I usually stay up late, but never have I intentionally wanted to sleep more than this very moment. You don't know how badly I want this all to be some twisted dream.

Maybe it is a dream.

After all, how can I possibly think without a brain or walk without muscles? My dulled senses, lack of respiration and surreal situation all support this idea. To hell with saying, "It's magic! Teehee."

I stop and look down at the body behind me. No, this is reality, or rather, an alternate reality. The sensation of his squirming, pulsating body I felt through this blade is too real. I now know why I was jealous. He was obviously alive, while I can't say the same.

But if I am alive, how am I existing now? I'm moving this body like a puppet, so am I in a state of suspended animation?

My mind clears at this logical thought.

Yes, if I am remotely controlling this body via some magical connection, then all I have to do is trace it back to my own world! Assuming my real body is in my room, can I do it before I starve? I live by myself after all. Actually, what was I doing before I came here?

I struggle to remember, but draw a mental blank. I do recall, however, taking my shopping bags. If that's so, then there is a good chance I'm outside when I collapsed! Maybe I'm in a hospital in a comatose state, with some crazy doctor testing some virtual reality machine.

Ah, not good. Don't bring sci-fi into this convoluted fantasy. Besides, didn't I just say this world is real?

I suddenly slip as I subconsciously return to my human walking posture.

Damn, that was stupid of me. On second thought, this should be far enough, right?

I begin to search the necromancer's body. What I scavenge is: a travelling pouch, a leather-bound book, a spare dark cloak, a bag of dried fruit, several herbs and leather gloves.

I doubt I can eat, so I put aside the food and herbs. I decide to wear the extra cloak. It's not like I can wear the one stained in blood. It slips off my frame, so I cut the one he is wearing and tie it to my body. After I'm done fitting, I take it off and store it in "my" travelling pouch. It's not like I need it right now.

The same goes for his gloves, though this guy's skinny physique works to my advantage. The leather material improves my grip. I thought about wearing his shoes, but it will only slow me down.

Now then, my silver lining: the book. It appears well maintained, so it must have been treasured. Furthermore, it contains diagrams of strange pentagrams which I can only believe to be spell circles. My optimism is dampened by one severe problem: I can't read a single line. If I want to go home, I need to learn an entire language, whether to read it or to find help.

I turn to face the corpse once more, and begin digging a grave. Just because he was a murderous lunatic doesn't mean he shouldn't be buried. This is what any respectable human would do. I finish his grave with a cross, place the bag of fruit as an offering and give a quick prayer.

He died so quickly. It may be rude, but it makes me painfully aware of my own mortality, if that makes any sense for an undead. Still, there is a chance I can go back home to my family and friends.

And once I do, I will never take any part of my life for granted. I will never be the same again.

Come to think of it, this situation reminds me of those "reborn in another world" stories I usually read. I enjoyed them as pure escapism from my studies, but no more! What's so great about my current position? Besides, I don't have an OP skill or ...

Ding!

Name N/A Race Undead Class Risen Skeleton Level 1 HP 24/24 MP 5/5 Base Modifiers Total Max HP 24 24 Max MP 5 5 Attack 3 +4 7 Defence 4 4 Magic 1 1 Resilience 2 2 Agility 6 6 Integrity 11 11 Unique Skills Ruler of One Innate Skills Night Vision | Create Status | Soul Core | Soul Eater Extra Skills Magic Skills Custom Skills Skill Points 10/10 Affinities Spirit | Dark Resistances Nullify Manipulation | Nullify Mental Impairment | Nullify Pain | Nullify Metabolism | Nullify Fatigue | Nullify Ailment | Temperature Resistance | Decay Resistance Weaknesses Holy Weakness | Blunt Weakness Titles Worldfarer Blessings None Equipment Iron Short Sword | Cloak* | Gloves* Items Book*

...Eh?

Maybe I am in virtual reality after all.