By Zephyria 
Monday of the fourth week of November.
Thanks to the Sylphs who volunteered for guard duty, everyone rested comfortably.
The children tidied their disheveled clothes while sleeping, and the Mercenaries packed up the tents they had rested in the previous night. Elvin, who was lighting a campfire for a meal, looked up at the sky for a long time before suddenly speaking.
“It would be best to be cautious from today onwards.”
“…Yes? Did you hear some Divine Revelation?”
“No, it’s not that…”
He gazed at the distant horizon. All the Martial artists with keen hearing stopped what they were doing and looked at Elvin. Elvin remained silent for a moment longer before barely adding,
“…The territory of the Oasis is coming to an end.”
Ah.
Right, the third god was said to have a particularly small domain.
Had we been under his protection for so long? I was just relieved that monsters weren’t swarming us again. I couldn’t quite fathom what kind of effect that protection had.
After a moment’s thought, I asked again.
“What happens when we leave his territory?”
“Well…”
“Is the Oasis territory only up to this point?”
“Not exactly… It’s his territory again once we reach the water.”
How would we find that water? I poked Elvin in the side, telling him to speak properly, and the Sylphs watching from above burst into laughter. Watching the small beings flitting about the sky, playfully poking each other, my uneasy heart easily subsided.
I soothed the camels, who blinked their large, sleepy eyes, and loaded the cargo that had been unpacked overnight.
Indeed, nothing unusual happened until the afternoon. We merely encountered a herd of Orcs moving in a certain direction at the usual distance. Even then, the four or five Orcs immediately fled upon seeing us.
The strange thing only happened as the sun began to set.
Thud. Clunk…. Thud. Clunk….
It was right when we were about to unpack and have dinner.
Hearing the unfamiliar sound, everyone looked in the same direction. The sound was coming from the northeast. It sounded like something being dragged, or perhaps something dripping. The small, distant sound rhythmically grated on our nerves.
“…Is it a monster?”
“Probably. But… I’ve never heard a sound like this. It doesn’t seem to be quadrupedal…”
Thud. Clunk…. Thud. Clunk….
The wind was blowing from west to east. Was it a monster coming to sniff us out?
Leon, unable to bear it any longer as the sound grew closer, spoke up.
“Shall I go and see first?”
“No, it doesn’t sound like many. Pack the cargo first.”
“Yes!”
At Hugh Benson’s command, the Mercenaries quickly overturned the pots they had just filled with water, rolled up the tents they had spread out, and loaded them onto the camels’ backs. Some of them even transferred essential items onto a single camel. It seemed they were prepared to abandon the beasts if necessary.
We too drew our swords, ready for anything.
Hugh’s sensitive reaction was understandable. We had already dealt with a horde of Trolls before. While we could endure a week or ten days, crossing this desert without survival supplies was extremely dangerous.
A staggering figure approached from afar, becoming discernible to the naked eye.
Peter, who had been focusing his Eye Force forward, twisted the corner of his mouth.
“…It looks like a person?”
“In this desert, alone? Without any luggage.”
“…Uh, that…”
The opponent was singular.
Thud. Clunk…. Thud. Clunk….
The ‘thud’ was the sound of the left foot landing forward. The ‘clunk’ was the sound of the right foot being dragged forward. Moonlight settled on the head of the approaching figure. The moment I recognized the man’s face, I drew my sword without hesitation.
I instantly severed his neck, and as if that weren’t enough, I cut off his limbs. Still not satisfied, I sliced through his wrists and ankles. I cut what I had already cut and dismembered. I kicked away everything that my feet touched with the tips of my toes, sending them far away.
A high-pitched tinnitus, like the sound of a large string instrument, echoed in my ears.
“What are you doing!?”
“Damn it, hey, at least say something…!”
The group that had followed behind me grabbed me and were greatly shocked.
Indeed, they had every right to be shocked. What I had cut was an effigy dripping with thick, congealed blood. It was something that greatly deviated from human dignity and natural order, something that had thrown the world into chaos for years in my past life, something I thought I would never see again in this life.
I scanned my surroundings with heightened tension, but no more strange sounds could be heard.
I had dealt with one lost soul. I felt no joy. I slowly looked back at the faces expecting an explanation. How could I even begin to explain? I habitually plunged my sword into a sand dune and pulled it out. The dark blood stained the white sand messily.
“…A zombie.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a zombie. Back when I… in the Central Plains…”
I couldn’t finish speaking.
The Central Plains where I lived was a chaotic place. Still, before the Demonic Cult rose to power, people lived like humans.
Of course, I had a couple of friends who met an early end while eliminating evildoers. But those of us who survived continued to kill members of the Evil Sect and save the disciples of the righteous path and commoners until we were well past forty.
We might have eaten a single bowl of noodles for a meal, but we didn’t starve. We dressed neatly, not to be ashamed in front of others. Wearing Namgung’s blue robe and carrying the Changcheon Sword at my waist, I would walk the main roads, often followed by the admiring gazes of those who looked up to me.
Back then, what I fought and defeated were cruel, wicked humans with two arms and two legs. I felt a sense of fulfillment in everything I did.
I survived for quite a long time.
Therefore, I thought I was a lucky person.
But all of that scattered like a mirage. It happened on the very day the Demonic Cult rose to power.
The Demonic Cult’s stronghold was in a distant land called Xinjiang, a barren place many days’ journey even from Kunlun. I had heard tales from afar that the Demonic Cultists claimed their leader was a god in this world, but I didn’t take it seriously. The Demonic Cult was too far away, and death was always close.
Then, one day, the Demonic Cultists rose up to unify the Martial World and lay it at their leader’s feet.
They were more ruthless than most members of the Evil Sect. While the Evil Sect would drag children to use as their own blades, the Demonic Cultists would bury a hundred children in a pit and use the one who survived as a blade.
Demonic Cultists with horrific epithets like ‘Blood Demon’ and ‘Soho Cheon-nyeo’ rampaged through the Martial World.
A master of Sound-Based Skills who laughed heartily, saying human screams were more beautiful than the sound of a pipa; a Soul Seizer who, with unheard-of Wicked Arts, made commoners sit side-by-side and kill themselves with their own hands; an assassin who could wield ten thousand silkworm threads…
The ones who troubled me the most were the Corpse Puppeteer, Thousand-Faced Devil, and his immediate disciples.
Zombies were wicked arts that used the corpses of the dead to harm others.
The most common among them were called Steel Corpses because their skin was as tough as steel. Those who couldn’t use Sword energy couldn’t cut through their flesh. Moreover, they felt no pain no matter how much they were cut. If an arm was severed, they would trip you with their legs, and if their limbs were gone, they would bite with their teeth, killing everything in sight.
Zombies did not discriminate between beasts and humans, nor between commoners and Martial artists.
Hundreds died. No, thousands died. They died, only to awaken and kill their own loved ones again…
Martial artists who had reached high realms became even stronger zombies. It was useless even if the heads and bodies of loved ones were buried separately and given proper funeral rites. The corpse of a beloved person wielding a sword against allies shattered both the person’s body and mind.
So, how surprised was I when I first saw a Magic Golem in this land? Even knowing that a Magic Golem merely mimicked humans and did not use corpses, the dreadful feeling could not be erased.
And yet, here, in this land, again.
It was a mistake not to have completely obliterated that damned thing. The scoundrel who followed me must be a sorcerer of the Demonic Cult. I should have torn his soul to shreds, not just his limbs. My suppressed murderous intent overflowed. My tightly clenched fist made a faint creaking sound.
Then, I came to my senses by a gentle hand pulling me.
It was Ruben.
The child pulled me, who was startled, and buried my head on his shoulder. In my daze, I followed wherever he pulled me, and I was held wherever he embraced me. A sweet, familiar floral scent filled my lungs. Only then did I realize Ruben had been calling me continuously.
“Mika. …Look at me. Mikaa…”
“…Mph.”
“…Are you back with us?”
“Yes. …I’m sorry.”
When I lifted my head, the first thing I saw was Benjamin and Elvin blocking Marianne.
I now realized the others were standing awkwardly, unable to go far or come close, just watching. I had… lost my composure for a moment. The instant I realized it, I startled and looked at Ruben.
“What, are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
No. I wasn’t fine. It was impossible to be fine.
Ruben’s fingertips trembled as he had directly absorbed the Murderous Intent of a Sword Master. Seeing the cold sweat on his temples, I was so embarrassed I didn’t know what to do.
It would have been better if I had hit my head to snap out of it. There were more than a few people here who could have stopped me, so why did Ruben insist on comforting me?
No, I knew the reason best. What right did I have to blame anyone after showing such a pathetic display?
Seeing Rubel, whose face was pale but who was anxiously observing my expression, I felt a great sense of guilt and my throat tightened. I couldn’t even manage to say sorry in time. After standing like that for a moment, Ruben pushed me away with his hands.
Then, with a composed face, he asked gently,
“I’m really fine. So Mika, tell us what you know.”