Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Skullius left the College of the Esteemed despite his ‘nurses’ insisting that he take some time to rest and receive further treatment for his gruesome injuries.

Seeing the awkward smile etched upon the unnatural face they had grimaced at when he was first admitted for treatment made them reluctantly let him go as unlike most people he was someone who was actually trying to contribute to the nation by fighting the monsters from Clusters.

Of course, the reason they were still alive even after helping Skullius was because they had been called to deal with a man who was grievously wounded so suddenly when they had been trying to find out if any of their relatives were harmed in the fire.

Some of them even had a uncles that had been killed but the terms of their agreement with the College stipulated that they had to respond to and all duties.

So looking at this bastard who had managed to survive didn’t exactly make them feel dandy and some of them even suspected Skullius.

What had slowly changed their minds was how this man wasny whining even when he had just lost an arm.

He didn’t ask for anything of them as for the hour he had been here, he looked to be lost in thought instead.

They all chalked it up to trauma but that obviously wasn’t true. Skullius had merely been concocting responses to the questions he had seen coming his way.

Following such an attitude, the women did their job properly afterwards, dismissing their negative thoughts towards him.

It was their job to help whether they liked it or not after all.

They gave Skullius more herbs to apply to his wounds along with some medication and let him off seeing as they couldn’t keep him at the College._.

The Discount Human waved goodbye as he proceeded to walk out of the College, his face covered in bandages save for his eyes and mouth his stump in his pocket to disallow anyone from seeing that he didn’t have a hand.

He attracted a few glances and gazes from the College where people were still attending, especially those that were formally enrolled.

Skullius increased his pace and rushed through the streets, soon reaching his destination where he was once again stopped by a lovable sockethole who asked him the purpose of his visit as he didn’t recognise him.

The bandaged man only had to give the man a few silvers before he was let into the fake residential area that still had a weird vibe to it.

Strangely, there were a lot of people walking on the streets this time around, the chatter and mix of colour making this place look like a genuine neighbourhood.

The image of a stall where a certain man was selling fish popped up in Skullius’ vision and he leisurely walked up to his beloved Frock who was roasting fish as usual.

Once again, there was no one at his stall, which prompted Skullius to open up a conversation with a question centered around this peculiar, recurring phenomenon.

“Am I the only customer you have?” he asked.

Frock looked up with brow raised. He didn’t recognise Skullius at first but the voice, the hair and the eyes…

“Oh, Dear Quintess, what are you doing here?” he muttered in annoyance while turning his eyes back to the sizzling fish.

“What else would I be here for? I want to buy something,” Skullius replied.

Frock’s face showed unease as his eyes turned back to Skullius.

His last encounter with this guy had been very rewarding but… extremely suspicious. He just couldn’t find it within himself to just trust that Skullius was a normal customer.

The fact that this bastard seemingly didn’t know anything was one thing, but what followed after – the ability to appraise and him being in possession of a dead core was… too unnerving.

In this world, there were skills prompted by one’s class. A class once chosen, would make it much easier for an individual to master certain concepts. Things that would take years could take months or weeks depending on who was attempting them.

Skills like appraisal though, were different. There were many types of appraisal skills and the methods of developing such skills were mainly found in large families that had the power to dictate politics or organisations of similar statue.

An example was the House EverSword, where Reon was from. One of the six major families in all of Pelian, controlling a vast amount of resources in the nation. Reon had used this utility to prove his worth above the fact that he was a wielder of the Imagining Sword Technique, in the Ideal Ark.

When it came to dead cores, there were the third most valuable goods in the Feinheath, behind natural treasures which were formed by the moulding of energies from the lands, seas and skies similar to how Clusters were made, as well as enriching gems which were found in Clusters.

Enriching gems and dead cores were more valuable than silver and gold and were the main products of trade. This was very true for non-combat civilians who saw any dead core as a treasure.

For Skullius to casually give it to him…

“So… Will you help me or not?” Skullius asked after seeing Frock space out.

The hesitation in Frock’s eyes lifted somewhat as he decided that he would wait and see. He always had a plan for when things went south anyway. Besides, Skillius didn’t seem like he was consciously trying to screw him over.

“What do you want?”

“I have a few questions. First. Do you still have any equipment that can add mana to my own… like the uh… the mana band?”

Skullius had seen how essential this item was. It allowed him to cast skills that required a whole lot of mana than he currently had. But unfortunately, he needed more as the skill that he found himself falling in love with, [Revenant Flames of Ecstasy], bottomed his total mana in one cast.

“Of course not! You think it’s easy to have that kind of thing crafted? The situation in the country is really jumping over your head isn’t it? Trade between us and the major cities has been stunted of late. Everyone is preparing for something big, slowly cutting off supplies and such. Many of the best Blacksmiths fled the city and many others like me. Surely you know why?”

“Uh…”

“<Cough>.. <cough>…<cough>…”

“Tch!”

CLNK!

Skullius threw a few silvers this time as he was low on gold.

“The whole deal with the Sif. Ever since the royal family publicly announced that they would be getting into talks with them for a possible alliance, things have gone downhill. Even now, everyone is waiting for the result. Anxiously might I add!”

“Ohhhh… that?”

Skullius recalled that he had heard of this in the city. In the many scenarios when he had been eavesdropping, trying to locate certain places, he had heard the conversation of these long eared people from commonfolk, common political fanatics and common degenerates.

“So you have heard of it? In any case, the few who can forge such equipment en mass are gone from this city, seeking safety in other bigger cities.”

“Safety? What will happen when these Sif bros form an alliance?”

“War.”

“War? With whom?”

“Maqi. The nation that’s considered to hold the strongest forces in Feinheath. They are hot blooded and prideful bastards who will most probably wage war in that case. Their whole Ideal is that humans should form a single nation and prevent colluding with outside races again. You can see where I’m going with this, right?”

“I see…” Skullius thought. That sounded terrifying. Just how powerful were these guys that everyone was afraid of them?

Actually, that wasn’t fair. This was only Frock’s opinion.

“Alright then. Since I can’t get another mana band, can I get a map that shows major places in the city?”

“Heh… that I can provide,” said Frock with a subdued smile.

Skullius had a few things to do before resuming his lessons with Oliviana. Getting a map would solve one of them and helping a certain bro to his feet was another.

“Also, I need two sets of armour. A strong leather one and one made of steel. Throw in two swords, a bow and arrows aaaaaand a spear too.”

“What in the world…?! Are you going to war or something?”

“Someone will. Not me. Also… I want to trade one of my dead cores for coin. Can you do that?”

Frock gulped down a lump of saliva as his body both cheered and agonised.

For the love of money, he was willing!

‘Who the hell is this guy?!’

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