Dryad soul water. It was something dryads produced after planting a seed. They used it to nourish the seed, growing it into a new dryad. The mission Lindyss had given Yeoman was to take this liquid from a dryad. Essentially, he was to become a farmer; he had to obtain milk from a cow, but the cow was a plant woman, and the plant woman was sentient. After thinking about it some more, Yeoman realized his mission was to obtain breast milk from a woman and not just a little bit; he had to bring back a basinful. “Err, Corrupted One, do you have anything that can help me accomplish this mission?”

Lindyss furrowed her brow. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a … pocket. “This is a shadow pouch; you can store nonliving things inside of it. I’ve put enough mana in it for it to last a month. After a month, it’ll disperse, and everything inside will spill out. I suppose you could store living things inside of it too if you wanted to kill them.”

A pink light shone out of Yeoman’s left wrist when he accepted the black pouch. He kept his human eyes focused on Lindyss while using his left crow eye to read the text. He had never seen a pink light before, and he was curious what rarity the item was.

[Obtained Shadow Pouch (Unique)]

[Shadow Pouch (Unique): A specialty of Lindyss the Corrupted One. When she’s too lazy to deal with people, she’ll store them in the pouch instead; then, she won’t have to deal with them at all. Just joking, ha-ha. The pocket can store two tons of items without expanding in size. Be careful not to fall inside. Lasts for 719:59:53 before exploding.]

“You use it like you’re using a pocket. As long as something makes contact with the pouch, it’ll expand to accommodate it.” Lindyss leaned back and stretched her legs out. She smoothed out her pajamas and rested her cheek against her palm, propping her elbow against the rocking chair’s arm. “You probably don’t want anyone seeing it, so you should store it in your pants.”

Yeoman glanced down and placed the shadow pouch into his pants pocket. Out of curiosity, Yeoman placed his hand inside. A cold feeling enveloped his fingers. It was as if he had submerged his arm into ice water.

“It shouldn’t affect you since you’re already dead,” Lindyss said. “As for anything else you’ll need, I don’t think so. You already smell like flowers, and you can be passed off as a rare male dryad. In other words, you’re irresistible to any dryad in heat. Seduce them, mate with them, and take their soul water.”

To survive the alien abduction, Yeoman had done research on a lot of fields, preparing himself for anything the aliens could throw at him. However, he had never expected to become a prostitute for plants. Honestly, this task wasn’t even necessary to Yeoman’s survival, so he could always pretend to agree, then walk away and never come back. It didn’t seem like Lindyss was planning on rewarding him for completing the mission either; if anything, it seemed like she was treating him as a slave.

“Err, mistress, before we found him, he was a free man, bird, thing,” Mr. Skelly said. “Perhaps you should offer some incentives for him to do his very best.”

It was almost as if the skeleton leader could read Yeoman’s mind. Perhaps that’s why Mr. Skelly was the boss of thousands upon thousands of undead. Lindyss exhaled. “Makes sense. What do you want?”

Yeoman pointed at the small pond behind the Corrupted One. “Some of that water.”

“Even though you’re dead, you’re still a plant, huh?” Lindyss asked. “Alright. You bring me back soul water, and I’ll give you some liquid from the fountain, deal?”

Yeoman nodded. It wouldn’t be good to ask for too much. Besides, a total of sixty thousand points was no small sum. Sure, he wouldn’t be able to use fifty thousand of them personally, but his team would get stronger, and he would finally be able to repay Cody and Ella by completing the bonus mission for them. “It’s a deal.”

“Mistress,” Mr. Skelly said. “Is there any way you could make him a bit smarter? He’s not very bright, and he only became as smart as a plant after eating a Fruit of Knowledge.”

“Where did you get a Fruit of Knowledge from?” Lindyss asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Remember that time we pranked the elves around two centuries ago?”

Yeoman glanced at his stomach. Apparently, the fruit he had eaten was over two hundred years old. It was a miracle it had lasted for that long without losing its ability. It was also a miracle he didn’t suffer from any fatal side effects; though, the one he did suffer from was a bit embarrassing.

Lindyss had the same thought, glancing at Yeoman’s stomach. “If he already ate a Fruit of Knowledge and didn’t become any smarter, then his potential intelligence isn’t that high. If you want to make him smarter, you’ll have to get Grimmy to replace his soul, but I don’t think he’ll do it. He could’ve done that in the first place but didn’t.”

“What about making him stronger?” Mr. Skelly asked. “He’s a bit weak all around. If the dryads find out what he’s up to, there’s no way he’s getting out in one piece.”

“He’s obviously not going to be as sturdy as you,” Lindyss said and rolled her eyes. “He’ll grow stronger naturally with time. Who knows, maybe being torn apart by the dryads will be a good experience for him. Besides, his task has nothing to do with strength.”

Yeoman’s expression darkened. Being torn apart was not a good experience for anyone. However, he wasn’t going to say anything. There was no reason for Lindyss to give him any more help than she already had. In The Blue Mage Raised by Dragons, Yeoman was sure Lindyss was suffering from an injury at this period of time; otherwise, why would she need the soul water in the first place? Even if he couldn’t get her to use mana to help him get stronger, there were still some things Yeoman could receive: intelligence, for example. “Is there anything I should know about dryads?”

Lindyss glanced at Yeoman before waving her hand, gesturing for Mr. Skelly to speak. The skeleton cleared his nonexistent throat. “Dryads are plant people. They’re green. Uh, they’re pretty lazy, unmotivated, but what do you expect? They’re plants. They don’t need to eat, so the conventional wisdom of wooing a woman through her stomach won’t apply to you. Most of them are weak, any B-ranked adventurer can defeat them, but there’s some thornier ones who could probably tear you to shreds in an instant.” Mr. Skelly rubbed his chin, his bones scraping together, creating clicking sounds. “They can understand human speech, but they have their own language. You’ll have to go for a strong, silent image because it’ll be impossible to teach you how to speak dryad with your low intelligence. Also, there’s something else that’s important, but you shouldn’t really have to worry about it since you’re a zombie; you absolutely cannot eat plants around them. They think of it as cannibalism.” Mr. Skelly glanced at Lindyss. “Am I missing anything?”

“Not really,” Lindyss said and yawned. “See you in a month.”

Yeoman’s brow furrowed. Now that he thought about it, was a month enough time for him to accomplish his mission? “How much soul water does a dryad produce?”

Lindyss frowned. “If one dryad isn’t enough, find two. If two isn’t enough, find three.” She leaned back, resting her arms across her chest. “You’re right though. One month isn’t enough time. How about six months?” She pointed at Yeoman, and his pocket shone with a black light. “There’s enough mana in that pouch to last six months.” She yawned again. “Alright. Get out of here.”

“We’ll see you later, mistress,” Mr. Skelly said and grabbed Yeoman’s arm, tugging him towards the exit before he could say anything else. “Have a nice rest.”

Yeoman couldn’t resist the skeleton’s pull; of course, it wasn’t like he wanted to either. It was clear the Corrupted One was tired, and in the original story, she was known for having a short temper after being woken—preventing her from falling asleep would probably trigger the same reaction. At that moment, a blue light flashed from Yeoman’s wrist. Did he trigger something?

[Bonus Mission: Become a C-ranked Party. 1/1]

Yeoman exhaled. It seemed like Cody and the rest had made it safely back to town and reported the results of the mission. Were the kobolds exterminated? Yeoman had no clue, but it was a relief to find out his party was doing well even after he had botched the mission by summoning the undead.

“You did great,” Mr. Skelly said. “The mistress didn’t destroy you, and she even fixed your arms. That went a lot better than I had expected.”

Yeoman’s expression darkened. Hadn’t the skeleton brought him here with the intention of fixing his arms? How did accomplishing that single intention wind up as a better result than expected? Was the skeleton leader expecting Yeoman to die or something? Then again, Yeoman did gain a (Unique) item, even if it was only temporary. He sighed. The last stage should’ve had an interspacial ring inside of the town. It had a similar effect to the shadow pouch, but it was permanent. Would that item have been (Rare) or (Unique)? Yeoman guessed it’d only be rare since it couldn’t be used offensively. The shadow pouch, however, could kill living things by storing them inside of it. Hopefully, that function wouldn’t be necessary. “Where are the dryads?”

“I’ll take you to them,” Mr. Skelly said. “But first, we have to go back to the swamp and get your weapon.”

Yeoman nodded. He hadn’t brought the giant mace with him. It was too inconvenient thanks to its large size. He couldn’t carry it, not with his arms shattered. It was a nice weapon but a pain to lug around; however, with the shadow pouch, it wouldn’t be a problem to carry around anymore—at least, not for the next six months. Maybe after he completed the mission, he could get Lindyss to make the effect of the pouch permanent. Unfortunately, just thinking of how to complete his current assignment was giving him a headache. He was supposed to gather soul water by seducing dryads. It sounded simple on paper, but it was in no way easy. First of all, he had never had a girlfriend before. His skills in seduction? Nonexistent.

Mr. Skelly observed Yeoman’s expression once he stepped out of the dungeon. “You seem worried about something,” the skeleton said and nodded. “Let me guess, you have no experience with women, so you’re afraid of botching your seductions and failing the mistress.”

Was it that obvious? Yeoman was pretty sure his facial muscles had become much less responsive after he had turned into a zombie. “A little.”

“Don’t you worry,” Mr. Skelly said and patted Yeoman’s shoulder. “Us skeletons, we’re masters of seduction. In fact, like I told you earlier, we’re masters of every field! We’ll teach you everything you need to know, but what you retain is completely up to you.” Mr. Skelly sighed as he climbed atop the skeletal horse which had been waiting outside. “I knew we should’ve stuck with dance. I shouldn’t have let the idiot convince me otherwise.” He turned his skull around on his spinal cord without moving his body. “Well, what are you waiting for? Hop on.”

Yeoman frowned. “How many dryads have you seduced?”

“The number is irrelevant,” Mr. Skelly said. “Just depend on us, and you can’t go wrong.”

Yeoman had a feeling the skeletons couldn’t be counted on. That feeling was amplified when he got to the camp. Mr. Skelly gathered all the skeletons to brainstorm ways for Yeoman to gather dryad soul water, and he received lots of advice on how to seduce dryads.

“The best way for you to seduce someone is to take advantage of what you have,” a skeleton said. “Do you know what you have that other dryads don’t? It’s certainly not intelligence, but you do have wings! Simply put, if you want to impress a lady, take her for a flight in the air, show her new views, give her an experience that others can’t.”

Yeoman did think it was pretty sensible. He had read an online article about excitement. There was an experiment done on attraction and adrenaline levels. Participants would judge the attractiveness of a member of the opposite sex, but half of the participants were forced to exercise beforehand while the other half were relaxed. Those who had exercised rated the attractiveness of the opposite sex as higher than those who hadn’t, showing a positive correlation between attraction and adrenaline levels. Dryads were plants, and theoretically, they should be terrified of leaving the ground. If he spiked their adrenaline by bringing them up into the air, then they should be more attracted to him afterwards. In theory. In practice, he was more likely to scare the shit out of them; there was no way a woman would be attracted to someone pointing a gun at her face.

“Since you can’t speak the dryads’ language, you’ll have to resort to body language,” another skeleton said. “Look into my eyes. What do you see?”

Yeoman stared hard into the skeleton’s eye sockets. “A piece of paper?”

The skeleton blinked, its skull contorting. “No, that’s not what I meant,” the skeleton said and frowned. “You’re supposed to see the look in my eyes, the one that tells you to—oh, right. I don’t have eyeballs.” The skeleton coughed. “Anyway! You’ll want to master the art of talking dirty with your facial expressions. I happen to be an expert at that.”

Yeoman exhaled through his nose. As he thought, the skeletons were more unreliable than those sites created by self-proclaimed gurus that required one to buy an expensive book to learn the ways of seducing women. “I think I’ll be fine on my own, thanks.”

“No, no, don’t think,” a skeleton said. “You’re not very good at thinking. Just leave it to us. We’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

Yeoman’s brow furrowed. Should he leave right now? Then again, he really could use some advice. Perhaps there’d be one or two useful bits if he listened to every skeleton; after all, there was strength in numbers.