And so, just like that, I was forcefully dragged out of my room, my little sanctum. To party - or, as I saw it - to watch others get drunk and happy as a hole of unhappiness under my heart kept on growing, making me envy their feast, drinks, and joy.

Then again, the cover needed to be maintained, and it would be deemed rather suspicious, or at least creepy, if I kept on avoiding every spontaneous gathering of the House, no?

Together with Agnes, Gregory, and Thomas we strolled down the street, towards a rather cheaper, but not completely cheap, district of the city, where low-ranking adventurers and mercenaries could be found getting drunk and starting fights.

Surely, we could afford patroning the ‘better’ part of the city? OF COURSE, WE COULD! But, a certain crazy warrioress had stubbornly dragged us here, because, as she said “this place has a better atmosphere!”. In reality, the rest of us secretly suspected her definition of celebrating after a quest was just starting a tavern brawl.

We tried to persuade her once, twice, thrice even! - to change her mind, but, you might as well be trying to convince a wall to move out of the way. Impossible, or at least not worth the effort. So, once we arrived at a REALLY shady-looking and loud inn, she kicked the door open…

… hitting the person behind them who was about to leave. The colossal man collapsed on his back, as Agness eyes shined.

“DO YOU WANT TO FI...Oh, he’s unconscious…” she noticed, greatly disappointed while peering down at the dazed man“...Well, whatever, there will be another drunkard to provo… CHALLENGE!”

… she wasn’t even hiding her intentions anymore.

Well, at least, we could afford to be as loud as we wanted to. What happens in inns for adventurers, stays in inns for adventurers.

Not bothered by the man still lying right behind the door, Agnes walked over him, heading towards one of a few empty tables, dragging us behind her. Though, I was probably the only one in a bad mood, as the other men were gossiping and joking on the way.

She sat down, loudly and yelled at the top of her lungs:

“BARMAN! BOOZE!”

The inn fell silent, then, a thunder of laughs erupted.

“Oi! That’s tha’ Tiny Hurricane Agnes!...” one of the other patrons yelled - fitting nickname if you ask me “... Long time no see! Where were you, ya little beast!?” “On a quest! Slaughtering dragons and abominations!” she said proudly, causing another burst of spasmodic laughs.

The patron turned on a dime to someone he was sitting by, extending his hand - palm up - with a gleam in his eyes.

“See Mark? This time there are dragons! Ha-ha! I won the bet! Pay up!” “God damn it! I was so sure of it being a hydra this time, I should have known to play it big!” Mark grumbled while rummaging in his pockets for some coins.

Two men exchanged coins with opposite expressions.

So, she was a regular here then? Well, everyone needs a place to blow some steam. Better here rather than somewhere else, no?

The patrons would annoy and joke about each other, loudly, as one of the tavern waitresses served our table with some complimentary snacks, cups, and bottles.

“Who are your companions, Agnes? Won’t you introduce us?” a rather pretty woman with overly exposed breasts asked while coming towards us, carrying some starter food and utensils. She leaned towards us, putting her goods and goods on the top of the table. “Ah, ye’! Sorry! Cookie, this is Thomas, Greg aaaand Ast… Alabaster.” “Oh, the knight covered in white? One and only amongst the Silver Lions?” her eyes sparkled like a dazed young girl “... the stories travel quickly, noble knight, care telling me, first hand, of your epic deeds? So amazing that you were allowed to wear another color than the one of your House?” “Oh, it’s rather the opposite of what you may be expecting…” I started “...I am not ‘allowed’ to wear white, for now, I am ‘forbidden’ from wearing silver. Merely a cadet, not a Lion. Not yet, that is. Maybe, once I prove myself and am formally accepted among the elite of the knighthood, then my nickname would change.” “Oh? A humble one, isn't he?” she fluttered her lashes, then turned her eyes slightly “... the opposite of you, Agnes.” Waitress and some nearby patrons giggled. “ACTUALLY! I am plenty humble! I think I am more humble than most people!” The indignant knight puffed her cheeks. “In any case - I hope they’ll let you keep the white. It really suits you.” the busty lady commented, while also giving a sly wink.

… I was flattered, but more importantly, alarmed! How could she know?! My armor covers me from head to my toes!? Why would she even imply something like… Am I really having a popular phase those village boys used to talk about? All while being undead suffering from chronic inability of expressing love? Is this just a bad roll from The Beast God!?

One - I am not interested, flattered sure, but I wouldn’t be even if I was alive.

Two - this sounds like a bad joke.

… Or is it just because “knighthood” was mentioned? People tend to act more friendly to those of higher status, no? Expecting better treatment or support down the line? That must be it.

Regardless of whichever it was…

“Anyway, boys… and certainly you too Agnes, although you already know it. As you are first-timers here, I might as well inform you that personal services of the staff working here are possible to purchase.” The waitress’s eye moved across our group, giving each of us a heavy look. “You mean, like a private waitress?” Tom raised his brow. “Not having to call on over all the time would be useful.” “Hahah not quite so, silly! What I mean is, we have spare rooms upstairs…” she winked at him one more time. “Oh… Ooooh!” Our gentle giant became as red as a beet, blushing furiously, making the waitress giggle, most likely considering his reaction as adorable for one his size.

Just where in the seven hells did you bring us to, Agnes!?

As soon as ‘Cookie’ left, the party started in earnest. Other knights started to quickly (and loudly) eat and drink, while also forcing mugs into my hand.

I ‘lifted’ the visor of my helmet a little, not enough to let others see what’s inside, but enough to ‘pretend’ that I was drinking.

The tavern was rather dark, and as most patrons were in a state of having “dual vision”, I wasn’t that concerned about my identity being exposed.

Each time it was my time to drink, I would quickly ‘swing’ my arm up, throwing the contents of the cup behind me, onto the already stained and dirty floor. Silently whispering a sorry to the poor waitress who would have to clean it up.

Another thing that I learned about my comrades - Gregory was a lightweight, just a few glasses were enough to get him dead drunk, and so, right now, he was snoring on his chair. Thomas was quite a drinker, drinking definitely more than the average, and still being in good shape…

… and Agnes, Agnes was an absolute monster, drinking twice as much as any other patron in the tavern, and still coming out as fresh as new.

The “joy” in the air was almost touchable, making me both envious and nauseous. Never before had I been angry for other people’s happiness, but, since I was robbed of my sensations… this just seemed so… Unjust! I knew that it was ridiculous, pitiful even, and yet, despite that, I felt as if a small needle kept on poking me in the heart.

Unable to taste, unable to drink. Unable to… Live. Trapped in this unholy existence. A dull shell trapping my tormented mind and soul…

Everyone else drank and made merry around me while I sat with my cup and wondered.

… Was it really worth it?

This suffering.

I am not making any progress in finding the culprits of my death! Those bastards are celebrating right now, free of any punishment! And I? I was getting myself busy with small tasks! Convincing myself that I am “gathering strength”!

… When in reality… I started forgetting! Something I noticed days ago, the details are slowly slipping from my mind! I don’t remember how Liz’s voice sounded like, I couldn’t remember her eyes! I couldn’t recall the name of my father! I was so sure of them just a couple of weeks ago!

With every passing day, I was becoming… less me.

In order to remember, I had started making little word poems and puzzles. When I was forgetting what was the color of HER hair, I would start singing under my breath the song ‘Raven black Liz’.’

Any tool I could use to not forget!

… Maybe I should just… die? Stop existing? While I’m still me? While I still know who I am?

And only then, something flashed in the corner of my vision.

A glint of gold, on the finger of one of a waitress-hooker.

The shape, the color, the symbols… and this little faint smell of death and agony! I couldn't be mistaken! Not about this!

Nearly jumping up from my chair, I moved quickly across the room towards a pair of people - a waitress and drunken patron that were about to go upstairs, and grabbed her arm with nearly crushing force, lifting it up.

“Hey! She is taken! Find your own!” The man tried pushing me away, but, due to his state, and my rather formidable posture, he was the one falling down despite me not moving a hair. “H-hey, big guy… C-could you release your grip? You are… hurting me…” the woman said with a terrified expression through a clenched jaw. “The ring. Where? Where do you get it?” I asked, gazing at the piece of jewelry on her finger with the same intensity as a man wandering the desert and finding an oasis on the horizon.

A golden ring of the three deities. A ring, I was given on my birthday, it still had the small scratches I had carelessly put on it during the short period when I used it.

“It was in my family for genera…”

I tightened my grip, making her yell in pain, now attracting the curious gazes of others in the tavern.

“What is this about?! What’s going on?” The bar owner quickly approached me carrying a club “...Dear customer, I please kindly unhand my employee, or else.” “That ring! A hunter named Jack gave it to you, no?!” I asked, no, demanded clarification. “Y-yes! How did you know?!” she cried, grabbing her arm with her other hand while pulling “... Please, Sir! It hurts!”

Suddenly realizing where I was, I released my grasp.

“...that man murdered… someone I knew. This ring used to be his possession.” I said, calming down “...I wish to apologize for my aggression. But, seeing his ring awakened something deep inside of me. When did he give it to you?” “Y-yesterday…” she squirmed, massaging her arm.

…. Yesterday? YESTERDAY!?

HE IS STILL HERE! OR CLOSE! ONE DAY JOURNEY AWAY AT MAX!

The memories came back, rushing, flooding my mind.

I remembered! Everything! Every detail which I had forgotten! Names! Colors! EVERYTHING!

In my heart, I felt the heat! Fire and the light of a thousand suns! Spreading across my dead body, filling me with… SOMETHING! Something alive! I could nearly taste! Smell! Touch! It was like essence but not!

Like a rabid dog, I nearly bounded out of the inn, ready to hunt, bite, kill! Never before had I felt such aggression! Blood lust in my veins! But, before that, I had to finish one thing…

“... How much for it?” I asked “P-pardon me?” The waitress stammered. “The ring. I am sorry, but I am not leaving without it. I am willing to pay you everything that I earned from my last dungeon ride. Or even more and pay you a share from my next quests. But I am not leaving the ring of my friend on your finger.” “... I was about to sell it to a pawn shop anyway… S-so...ten silver? That’s more than I would get there anyway…” “Make it fifteen. To help you forget about my rude behavior.” “V-very well…” “I don’t carry money, but I have a guild pendant and a bank account linked to it. Can I pay you via transfer?” I asked, wanting to finish this deal as fast as possible. “You can pay me, and I will deal with her later.” The bar owner said, still cautious, treating me like he would a violent drunkard. “Very well.” I quickly approached the counter, and took the pendant off my neck, pressing it to a small crystal that the man had there, next to a small money chest.

Once the transfer was done, he nodded to her, and she took the ring off her finger and placed it on top of my outstretched palm.

Odd. It was.. heavy. Heavier than I remembered.

Golden Ring of Betrayed Faith - Minor Curse The ring that once belonged to a brutally murdered man, still carries his emotions - Grief, Rage, and Hatred. The ring, just as the tormented soul of its owner, yearns for vengeance, and to once again be reunited with its owner. Dark Arts are 10% more effective NEW! - [Reunited] - Ring carried by its true owner - Dark Arts mana cost -10% [Vengeance Hungry] - 0 stacks - no benefits

I felt it. A piece of me that had been ripped away at the moment of death and locked in the ring. Now, I was a little bit more ‘whole’ again.

“The man who gave it to you… he didn’t say where he was heading to, did he?” I asked the waitress, perhaps getting a bit closer than normal. “... He did. What do you want to do to him once you find him?” She replied, edging her way towards the barkeep who was still trained on me, wary of any sudden movements.

To slaughter him like a pig he was of course! To carve the definition of pain into his very soul! To sow horrors and create nightmares! To crush his skull! Shatter his ribs! Disembowel his very life and all he holds dear! To hack and chop and cleave! AND SUNDER THE FILTH OF HIS FORM!

“...I will make him pay for his crimes, delivering justice.” I answered succinctly, and I didn’t say a single lie. Not according to my understanding of justice at least. “I… see. As long as he would have a fair trial…” Now, I didn’t say that. But, a trial was not needed. I was more than enough. As the prosecutor, arbiter, judge, and executor.

My bones twitched in anticipation. I didn’t bring my sword, and yet, my fingers looked for a handle around my waist.

“He, uh, said he was leaving tomorrow, I think.”

So, he is still here!? PRAISE BE TO THE DIVINES! Praised be my luck and whatever deity of fate which blessed my fortune!

My mind was getting restless.

“He stayed in the Broken Pot Inn, at the edge of slums. Or, at least, that’s where he brought me to the last time…” She mentioned, getting slightly flustered. “Thank you for your information… And I beg for your forgiveness. The man that he killed… was very, very, close to me.”

I said, turning around, and leaving the inn. Not evening saying my farewells to my comrades who had called for me after I had finished with the waitress.

Walking towards the slums, at a rapid pace, barely stopping myself from running. Through my head, thousands of thoughts were circling and colliding.

I remembered.

Screams. My screams. Did I felt phantom pain around my...liver? Terror in my heart.

And I was so, so happy for this, I was feeling… alive.

Then, as I was passing one of the side alleys keeping my eye out for any sign of the inn, someone grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me far too focused on Jack that I didn’t even notice this ‘ambush’.

It was Agnes that pulled me in, raised her palm, and hit the side of my helmet, sending a ringing vibration down my armor.

“One - it was rude to just leave us. Two, I heard everything. He was the one that killed you, right? You moron. If you want to kill someone in the city, you can’t just storm into the inn, kick the door open, and slaughter him. That’s very me but seriously! Are you this dumb? You need a plan… and a way of getting rid of the body. Luckily for you, I might know someone who knows someone who knows...you get the deal. Do you still have money? Ten more silver should do the trick, I reckon.”

I was taken aback. By her boldness and straightforwardness in helping me.

“...Why do you want to help me? If you know what I want to...”

My helmet rang again from another slap.

“At your core, you are a good person, Aster. I can tell. Cap’ Fredrich says that once someone dies and comes back, they carry an incredible burden of bad emotions which often overwrites their personality. If this, the Aster in front of me. The Aster I’ve trained and talked to all these weeks is your ‘evil self’, then I can’t even comprehend how good you had to have been while you were living… I… Pity you. And whoever did this to you, deserves every punishment imaginable. Or, at least, that’s what I believe. Still, you don’t want to ruin everything you have been working for as an adventurer and a knight, no? That would also stain the name of the Lions, and gosh, we can’t allow ourselves to suffer more damage so soon after everything we’ve just had. This is why I offer you a better solution…”

I was again - hopeless. Depending on others. But, it was just as she said. Lost in the rage, I really wanted to kick the door open or even burn the whole inn down. It would likely end badly for all parties.

It would be over for me. The list was long, and Jack was not at its top, one of the lower rungs of the ladder I think. I couldn’t allow myself to end it all here.

“Then…” I started, weakly “...I will be in your care… and… Thank you.” Finished in quite a quiet, defeated, tone.

The skirmisher only smiled widely.

“You owe me. A lot. Now, as I said, this will cost you. Ten silvers” “That would be everything I have left in my account…” “And, do you want this done right or not?” “Nothing. I am just glad I have enough” I said, putting my pendant in her palm, transferring the money.

Then, she vanished telling me to keep an eye out for further instructions.

In an hour or so, a man in a black cloak approached me and told me to go to the slums, specifically the red light district, into one of the back alleys and hide in a dark corner behind a set of marked barrels

I went there at an almost running speed, waving off solicitors who were attracted by my armor and stature. After another hour, I heard giggles coming. And suddenly I saw him...

Jack.

He was even wearing the same hunting jacket as the day he had helped kill me, now sporting a few more cuts with trinkets. He was being led by another woman, most likely one of the district's prostitutes.

“Are we there yet, sunshine?...” he giggled, drunkenly happy and happily grabbing the lady with him “...where is this exclusive underground brothel you told me about?” “Oh my, we are almost there, darling, don’t be so impatient…” she said, giggling and joking. Her hand kept massaging his body here and there, as she guided him.

Like a pig to slaughter.

“Almost there… close… warm… warmer… hot... and we are here…” She finished, giving him a cheery smile.

They had stopped in the middle of a small square.

“Eh? But there is nothing here…” Jack noted, looking around for any obvious signage common for brothels. “The opposite.” She giggled one last time before her expression became serious, disgusted even, her eyes moved towards where I was hiding “... he is all yours. In the barrel behind you, you may find some interesting tools. After you are done, we will dispose of the waste. Have fun.”

Ever so casually she picked a small dagger from behind her belt, bent over, and slashed tendons in his leg, making the man fall on the ground, crippled.

“AHHH WHA-” Jack’s drunken stupor was shaken off at that moment. “Ah, one more thing. This whole area belongs to us. So, be as loud as you want.” She said, giving me a small smile as she turned. “YOU WHORE!” Jack yelled at the woman, but she was already leaving, after some time, I grabbed the mentioned barrel and looked inside. Unsure of which tool to use I closed it and rolled the entire thing to his body. It was indeed heavy. “The FUCK do you want from me?” he snarled, looking at me approaching him. “ Who are you! Some scorned lover? Some guard sent by a merchant?!”

I put down the barrel and removed the lid. Inside, there were indeed plenty of goods. Hammers, nails, saw. And dozens of items that I couldn’t even begin to name but whose functions were obvious.

“I don’t even fucking know you, but boy! You are fucked! You have no idea who I work for!” “Diederich Family?” I asked coldly, not paying him any further attention, just picking up one item after another, wondering what to use.

I didn’t know much about torture, I should have asked the lady, well, I just have to avoid damaging the head. For now.

“S-so... You know! That’s right! You are dead meat! I am telling you! Deadm…” I kicked him in the guts. With an iron boot. Guessing by his reaction, I hurt him. . Good. We could start here.

I peered down at him. I reached for the clips at the edges of my helmet.

“Do you”

And I took it off.

“...remember me now? Jack?”

His expression changed.

“B-b-but… you, you are… dead…” “Correct.” I nodded. “We-we killed you! We made sure!” “Even twice actually.” I nodded again. “You… You shouldn’t be here! It’s not right! The goddesses wouldn’t stand for this!” “Oh, first mistake. I should. And I am. You see, I even rejected their salvation and peaceful slumber to be here. I am exactly where I want to be… Noooow, I have been nearly dreaming about this very moment, and many like them, for so long. You took your time killing me, remember? It’s only fair I would take mine as well… You have no idea how I have been suffering since the day of my resurrection. What does it feel like to have a body rotting ON you, to be unable to eat, yet yearn hunger constantly? To not being able to sleep, but feeling mentally exhausted… I have paid so, so, so, soooo much to be here… So, do me a favor. Don’t die too quickly, please, or else, I will be severely disappointed.”

With each word, my mouth released a cold vapor. The surrounding shadows seemed to somehow dim further as my undead malice permeated everything.

“Wha - What are you doing!? As-Aster wait wait stop, look I was just a lackey! Let me help you! I can help you get back at Michael, oh you should see what he’s doing to that girl! Why---” Jack had begun babbling like a river, but I had no ears to give him.

Without a further response, I raised the hammer I had chosen and brought it down to his knee.

*CRUNCH!*

*CRACK!*

Only then, did he stop talking and start screaming instead.

And begging.

Ah, music to my ears...