It was the familiar scene again. Reverence. Excitement. That strange happiness flowing through their soul flames.
Since he was expecting it, Michael wasn't surprised.
Perhaps in the land of the dead, with a title like Death's Heir, he could probably be considered royalty.
Indeed, unique classes were truly in a special category of their own.
pared to the first patrol, the emotions from these skeletons were clearer and more organised.
The guard captain slowly lowered its skull until its forehead touched the black earth.
Michael looked down at the kneeling guards, noting the weapons in their hands.
Since the Netherworld was a realm not many ventured to or dared to venture to, there wasn't a lot of information about it, so even the knowledge of a beginner like Michael was even more lacking pared to those seniors.
While he expected natives to exist in this world, he didn't expect a civilization-type settlement like this.
However, though he was amazed, Michael focused on the most important thing. The sighting of these relatively more organized patrols showed their gathering was close.
"Take me to your settlement."
The guard captain's blue soul flame blazed brightly. It rose at once, retrieved its crooked sword, and turned around.
The other guards stood as well, gathering the scattered pieces of their armour before forming two uneven lines. The original patrol moved behind Michael. The guards positioned themselves ahead.
Just like that, what had begun as a group of wandering skeletons transformed into a strange ceremonial escort. Michael walked between them, his expression thoughtful.
After walking for several more minutes, the dead forest finally began to thin. The blackened trees gradually grew farther apart, revealing a wide stretch of open land ahead. Beyond it, a settlement came into view.
Michael immediately raised a hand.
"Stop."
The mand spread through the strange connection between them. Every skeleton halted at once. The guards at the front froze mid-step while the weaker patrol behind him stood perfectly still, their blue soul flames quietly flickering.
Michael stepped forward until he reached the edge of the forest. Rather than approaching immediately, he remained hidden behind the last few rows of dead trees and carefully observed the settlement from afar.
It was crude. Extremely crude.
A crooked wall surrounded the entire gathering, constructed from countless bones, black stones, rusted metal plates, and pieces of wood that appeared to have been gathered from the dead forest.
The wall barely reached five meters in height. Several sections leaned dangerously to one side, looking as though a strong enough wind might collapse them.
At regular intervals, taller platforms rose above the wall. Skeletons stood upon them carrying bows made from bone and dark wood, though Michael doubted most of the weapons could survive more than a few shots.
Behind the walls were numerous buildings. Some were formed entirely from stacked bones. Others resembled huts made from black stone and rotting timber.
At the centre of the settlement stood a much larger structure, rising nearly three times higher than the surrounding buildings. It was still crude, but pared to everything else, it could almost be called a palace.
Michael narrowed his eyes.
"That must belong to the chief."
Along the way, he had attempted to extract more information from the guard captain. The process had been frustrating. Although the captain was considerably more intelligent than the original patrol, municating with it was still far from easy, unless he resorted to harvesting its soul fire for its memories. But for creatures like this, their soul fire wasn't strong, and the information he might end up getting wouldn't be satisfactory.
Michael had been forced to simplify every question into basic words, gestures, and intentions. Even then, most answers arrived as inplete impressions.
Fortunately, after several attempts, he had managed to understand the basic structure of the settlement.
At the top stood the chief. Below the chief were the warriors. The guards escorting Michael belonged to that group. After them came the citizens. At the bottom were the militia.
The weak skeleton patrols Michael had first encountered belonged to this lowest group. They were responsible for wandering the surrounding territory, gathering basic materials, watching for threats, and serving as the settlement's first line of defence.
Or, more accurately, its expendable first line of defence. Basically, "cannon fodder."
Michael glanced at the skeletons behind him. The patrols continued staring at him happily, entirely unaware of his thoughts. His expression became slightly strange.
The qualification for being a citizen had also caught his attention. According to the captain, a skeleton needed to be "awake" to bee one.
Michael initially misunderstood the meaning. After further questioning, however, he realised that "awake" referred to intelligence.
A skeleton had to possess enough awareness to understand orders, perform specialised tasks, and municate basic thoughts.
In other words, the citizens probably possessed intelligence similar to the guards. That suggested most of them had already entered Rank One.
Unfortunately, Michael had no idea how many skeletons lived inside the settlement. He had tried asking the captain but only received a vague impression.
But now that he was finally close by, he could estimate the exact population from where he stood. There were certainly hundreds. Perhaps more than a thousand.
Still, Michael felt no concern. Even if every skeleton inside had entered Rank One, they posed less of a threat to him than a pinch of sand thrown against a mountain.
His current strength had already reached a level where numbers alone were meaningless unless they were sufficiently powerful.
A thousand Rank One skeletons? He could suppress the entire settlement without taking a single step.
Michael folded his arms.
"What I need to know is whether their chief is any different."
The settlement's organisation suggested that the chief possessed far greater intelligence than the others. Perhaps it was a stronger skeletal race, or maybe even some unusual variant native to the Netherworld.
Yet based on the strength of the guards and patrols, Michael doubted the chief could exceed Rank Two. Rank Three at the absolute highest. Nothing worth worrying about.
In fact, Michael suspected the settlement would wele him. After all, every native undead he had encountered so far had instinctively shown him reverence.
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