Rebirth of the Undead King: Book 2

by Ink Bamboo

  Amro hesitated before giving him an answer, “She’s not someone you have to worry for now. Tomorrow, perhaps.”

  Zaros felt puzzled about Amro’s answer. As always, his partner had chosen to remain cryptic rather than be straightforward. Unfortunately, he knew how difficult it was to get an answer out of Amro once he decided to stay quiet.

  For now, he had no choice but to remain prone atop the roof. Together with Amro’s control over the surrounding mana, it was enough to mask his presence from those below.

  ✽✽✽

  Magnus turned towards his granddaughter, surprised to see she had put down the scriptures the cardinal had provided her with. “What is it, Erin?” he asked. She normally focused on reading as very few other things deserved her attention.

  Erin’s eyes were set on the rooftop of the buildings surrounding them. For a moment, she felt something coming from them. It was a presence that reminded her of her goddess. A presence pure and harmonious with the environment yet different from the one she was familiar with in ways she could not explain.

  Magnus followed Erin’s gaze to the empty rooftops, causing him to scan the surroundings with his mana as a preemptive measure. Are the rebels daring enough to spy on us?

  However, his scans revealed nothing. After he found the situation to be quiet ordinary, Magnus turned back to Erin with a kind expression on his face. Perhaps she was stressed by being in enemy territory.

  “Erin, let’s go to the rooms they have provided us. I don’t believe it will be long until they give us an answer.”

  The girl didn’t answer, hesitantly removing her eyes from her target. A few moments later, she went back to her scriptures. A feeling she had long forgotten had ignited a light in her dull eyes for the first time in years — curiosity.

  She couldn’t explain it, but she felt there was something more interesting in the direction her eyes had landed. If not for her guardian’s instructions, she would be running towards that direction, eager to find what awaited for her. Alas, she considered the words from her guardian an order.

  She soon followed Magnus, not before giving a final look back in the same direction. For a moment, she felt convinced she saw a young boy looking back at her. His amber eyes seemed to stare deep within the depths of her soul, almost like he was memorizing the brand her lady had blessed her with.

  Erin had no way to be sure, but she had the feeling she would be meeting him again sometime soon.

  Chapter 09

  Try again.

  Zaros rested against the roof as rivers of sweat perspired down his back. Not only were the northern territories constant victims of the sun, he had just experienced something new and horrifying.

  The girl’s eyes had seen through him. He wasn’t sure how, but her gaze had met his more than once, leaving a prickling feeling all over his body. Her golden eyes were like needles digging deep within his mind, performing an examination he wasn’t prepared to receive.

  It wasn’t until he heard Amro’s voice that he came to realize the gravity of the situation. “She saw us,” he said. “Not the girl, but the one behind her.”

  “Do you mean the old man?” asked Zaros. The old wizard did seem menacing. The air of danger he emitted wasn’t something Zaros felt prepared to battle against.

  “No, not the old man,” answered Amro. “Someone much worse than him. Fortunately, it was only a remnant of her will and not the real thing. That piece of conscience isn’t enough to see through you.”

  Zaros didn’t dare to ask whose will Amro was referring to. Anyone scarier than the old man was far beyond the realm of what he could deal with. It took him a few minutes before his heart returned to its normal rhythm, the fear embedded within him finally dissipating.

  “Can we go back?” asked Zaros. He was still uncertain of why Amro had guided him to this location.

  Amro kept silent for two seconds before answering, “Yes, you should finish what you were doing. After that, we can train within my soul realm once the night falls.”

  Zaros sighed, resigned to the night of poor rest that awaited him. “I thought you said I was at a bottleneck. It was in my understanding that training wouldn’t be of any use in this condition.”

  Amro laughed, aware of Zaros’s reason behind asking. “There is no running away from training, boy. The body isn’t the only thing that can be tempered.”

  “My mind?” Zaros asked. He seemed to recall how Amro had him read books every now and then within his soul-domain. Of course, he wasn’t aware those were simply physical representations of his partner’s knowledge.

  “No, boy. The mind is trained by knowledge. Today, we will train your spirit.”

  “Why now?” asked Zaros. Amro’s training was comprised of technique, aura flow, and mana sensory lessons. Aside from that, he was instructed to taken the time to strengthen his physique during the day time. Matters of the soul and spirit had never been part of his training.

  “Because I just realized we have far less time than I expected,” answered Amro. “We are about to take something back and there’s no way you will be able to use it without a strong spirit.”

  While Zaros had been busy losing his senses over the mage and the girl to his side, Amro was occupied sensing the traces of energy around them. He now knew that his earlier feeling hadn’t been a mistake.

  “I do not know how it fell in their hands, but we can thank them later for having delivered it to us.”

  Zaros rose to his feet, jumping from roof to roof as he returned to the barracks. His steps were silent and precise, touching only upon places that would produce no noise. Like a ghost, he was back in the barracks before someone could figure out his absence. Both his exit and return had taken less than thirty minutes overall.

  This place again, thought Zaros.

  He wasn’t fond of the rebels. It hadn’t been long since he had joined their ranks, making his way to them after leaving Sol behind. Initially, he had come with the hope of finding trustworthy allies to his cause. People whom had experienced similar challenges to him, people like Alexander and Maria. Alas, the situation had left him rather disappointed.

  It was true that the rebels were full of people who despised the current royalty and nobility, yes. Zaros’s experiences with them made him sure of that much. However, he had not expected the situation to be as it was.

  He expected people overflowing with anger, ready to face the tyranny of both the nobles and the royalty. Instead, he met with banished nobles and their bastard sons, discarded knights, former merchants, and members of branch families. Those who were commoners like him were in the minority, and instead of being part of the army, most worked to supply the army with supplies.

  The way the rebels structured their society was no different from the kingdom’s.

  Zaros grudge was against the current nobility, yes, but after seeing the state of affairs he could safely guess whoever the rebels placed in power would end up repeating the same story. Only one reason made him stay in their camp — revenge. He disliked the rebels, yes, but he hated Nyx’s rulers even more.

  He knew he still lacked the strength to face them on his own. According to Amro, this camp’s commander alone was someone at rank three. That was a rank attainable only through hard work. It was the result of tempering one’s body by endlessly reinforcing it with either mana or aura.

  I’m still too weak.

  Zaros was able to use both of those energies, albeit not perfectly according to Amro’s standards. He was still far from his goal. Every time he faced Amro’s training he realized it further.

  Perhaps I’m rushing things too much.

  The boy knew how much progress he had made in the past few months. Still, Amro’s words made him feel like was progressing too slowly. He didn’t realize it, but the frustration of being unable to change the events of the past was getting to him.

  Alas, he had yet to find someone he could share his story with. The people here didn’t feel like family — they were diffe
rent from those in the slums. Their goal was the same, but the reasoning behind their actions was so different from his that he couldn’t feel at peace.

  Should I have brought Alexander or Maria with me? thought Zaros. He felt kind of guilty about leaving them behind. Even then, he knew bringing them here would have been just as unfair to them. No, I can’t make them share my burden. It is mine alone.

  Ours, thought Amro. Even if the memory was hazy for the boy, he wouldn’t put an oath behind him. Matters swore upon one’s soul were of grave importance.

  As the night fell, Zaros found himself within Amro’s soul domain. He felt his body floating in an endless void, much like every time he had visited.

  More training, thought Zaros. Perhaps this will help calm me down.

  The infinite expanse of black soon changed, turning into a vast land filled with trees. The scene was vividly familiar to Zaros but the surrounding air felt different somehow. A forest expanded from north to south and east to west forming a sea of green that brought his senses back to the past.

  Zaros found himself covered in goosebumps, a feeling of dread rising through his heart. “Where am I?” he asked. It was common for Amro to explain the task he would have to face once the soul domain changed. His mission, so to speak.

  Alas, this time was different.

  One must conquer their inner-demons, thought Amro in silence. Only after you purge them through your own hands will your soul be strong enough to bear your future burdens.

  Amro knew just what the boy needed. It just so happened to coincide with his earlier goals. What was about to happen was cruel, yes, but this time was about as good as any.

  Zaros found himself increasingly worried about his partner’s silence, prompting him to repeat his question, “Amro, where am I?”

  Sadly for him, guidance wouldn’t come this time around. He was on his own. All Zaros could hear was the vivid recreation of the forest’s wind, the chirping of birds and the pop and crackles of burning wood.

  Wait, burning wood?

  Zaros found himself confused as he looked towards the artificial sky and realized smoke was coming from one direction in particular.

  Why is this so familiar?

  He immediately ran towards the source of the smoke, covering great distances with each of his steps. Tree branches became platforms to his feet while the smoke became his northern star.

  Closer, closer.

  Zaros soon landed atop a tree outside a village. A small place that had been previously engraved in his soul, one he would never forget. This was his origin, his birthplace, his village.

  Why am I here? thought Zaros. Amro’s guidance had made him somewhat reliant of the second voice in his head. Suddenly finding himself without it resurfaced the feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy buried within him.

  “Help, please help me!” cried a girl’s voice on the distance. Each vowel broken in ups and downs, the sound of grief enacted by her enunciation bringing back old memories in Zaros.

  “Shut up,” said another voice following the sound of a strong slap.

  Strong gasps for air brought Zaros back to reality. It wasn’t the victim of the slap who had trouble breathing, but he himself. He tried squeezing his eyes shut.

  Wake up, wake up.

  This wasn’t Amro’s soul realm — it was a nightmare.

  “Help me,” cried the girl once again. Her voice was barely audible under the sound of laughs taking pleasure in her pain.

  Another slap echoed all the way to Zaros’s hiding place amongst the trees. “I told you to shut up,” said the man once again.

  Zaros opened his eyes, confronting the reality in front of him. This was his village, the place where he had grown up. That voice belonged to the town’s butcher, a single woman in her thirties who often bought his excess hunt.

  An invisible force caused him to take a step forward, jumping down from the tree he hid at. Amro had taught him the importance of stealth but that held no value to him at this time. Rage. A feeling he had long buried under apathy took ahold of his heart.

  He wanted to kill. He wanted to destroy. The pain that had momentarily pained his heart was quickly buried under boiling frustration.

  Zaros had never openly admitted it but deep inside he still felt a need to personally avenge the former villagers. The fact that Amro had dealt with them had created a sense of insatisfaction he would never be able to fulfill.

  Zaros approached the man slapping the woman. His rough armor and rusted sword gave away his identity as a mercenary. A shadow recreating one of Amro’s victims.

  Both the mercenary and the woman were near the village’s exit. It was clear she had tried to run away from him but had failed to do so. Her face was a mix of tears and blood, blocking her sight from seeing Zaros’s arrival.

  The mercenary had still not realized his presence either. Zaros’s steps were quiet, a habit no emotion could take away from him. Hundreds of hours training under Amro’s guidance within his soul domain had ensured at least that much.

  As the mercenary raised his hand in preparation to deliver a new slap, Zaros hand carried out its own task with unquestionable decisiveness.

  *Slash*

  A bloodied hand rolled on the ground causing the mercenary to turn around. He had finally realized Zaros’s presence, and along with it, the loss of his hand. The man’s shock turned into anger as he screamed, driving his other hand towards Zaros’s neck in an attempt to strangle the younger boy facing him.

  Far from success, the man was greeted by the loss of his remaining hand. Zaros felt no need for mercy. On the contrary, he felt a need to vent his repressed emotions. Was this Amro’s plan? A fleeting thought made him consider this situation part of Amro’s training.

  Not yet, thought Amro. He was observing the boy from afar as he made each of his choices, examining how Zaros’s feelings interfered with his judgement. The boy had grown reliant on bursts of anger to overcome his difficulties. Amro needed his host’s heart to be calm and goal-driven, not a victim to his own anger and despair.

  Killing based on feelings was closer to insanity than it was to the path of death Amro had followed. Death was instrumental to the world’s evolution, preservation, and as a method to avoid stagnation — death had purpose. It was much more than a tool to vent one’s emotions. Of course, it had taken Amro a long time to learn this lesson back before his ascension.

  Zaros drove his dagger into the mercenary’s throat. He sank it enough to silence his victim’s voice without causing him to drown in his blood. Only muffled attempts to scream remained.

  “Shh,” said Zaros, throwing a slap with his one available hand. “Didn’t you enjoy torturing your victims?”

  Zaros raised his hand and delivered a second slap into the mercenary’s face. “No, your face is still too clean. Look at her,” he said, turning the mercenary’s paling face towards the woman still lying down. “You are not even real, you have no right to cry like she did.”

  A third slap crashed against the mercenary’s face, causing the helpless man’s eyes to swell. He had tried to voice some words, no doubt surprised by how a young boy had placed him in such a situation.

  Zaros didn’t know whether the constructs inside Amro’s soul could feel or if they even held any consciousness. However, that didn’t stop him from delivering a fourth slap across the mercenary’s face.

  Anger. Zaros could still not get rid of it. Amro had emphasized the importance of self-control in every step, yet at this moment, Zaros couldn’t help but feel a complete loss of himself.

  How did the recreation of a memory trigger so many feelings within him?

  Zaros wasn’t aware of it yet, but the increasing amount of blood and lives he had claimed with his hand had given rise to a bloodthirsty nature. It was latent, sleeping within him, awaiting just the right chance to turn him into a demon. But it was there. Waiting to be fed blood and lives before consuming its creator.

  Zaros was lacking control, he was lacking s
pirit. The ability to overcome feelings, to assess the situation, and to relieve the pressure on his mind. Spirit was to the soul and the mind what endurance was to the body. Only once he trained it would he be able to achieve true-balance within.

  Amro had used his soul domain to train the boy’s skills, techniques, and physical control. At the same time, being within a stronger being’s soul allowed his host’s soul to grow. It was all developing according to his plan.

  Alas, the tempering of his spirit relied completely on the boy. It was his own inner-demon to overcome.

  Zaros closed his eyes, prepared to deliver a fifth slap against the mercenary. Yet before he could do so, he felt himself being dragged away by a suctioning force. He opened his eyes, only to realize he was no longer in the same place. He was back in the forest clearing.

  The same trees, the same green, even the same smoke awaiting him in the distance. And beyond it all, the same tragedy.

  If you fail to control yourself after a thousand times, you can only try another thousand, thought Amro. With the use of his soul domain, he had crafted a vicious yet comprehensive training plan to have Zaros overcome his inner demons.

  Try again.

  Chapter 10

  A show of strength.

  Zaros found himself trapped in a loop of constant failure, confused as to what Amro’s mission required from him. He had become a prisoner in his own body, condemned to repeat an endless cycle of self-discovery. Only an epiphany would be able to release him from both Amro’s prison and the shackles he had set around his own heart.

  Alas, even with a time-distortion serving the soul domain, there was a limit to the amount of hours in the night. Amro soon found himself needing to take over his host’s body to continue their normal routine. They were operating with the goal of making use of the rebels so there was a need to hold that identity for the time being.