Even with the lingering glow of the Merlin Moon, Taryn’s summoned Zaqqum Mountain began to crumble, slowly receding into the earth. The black stone dissolved as if it had never existed, leaving Taryn standing atop the ruined grounds of the Western Manor.
Xara remained unconscious in his arms. Carefully, he shifted her onto his back and tightened the straps of his cloak.
He didn’t bother looking for his father. The idea didn’t even cross his mind. Whether it was the influence of the Undead Scriptures or simply the erosion of his human attachments, Taryn no longer cared.
He turned away from the shattered sect—and ran.
His steps were nearly silent.
Though only at the beginning of the Cosmic Warrior stage, his undead heart and S-Class Imprint gave him access to cosmic energy far purer than most could imagine. His speed rivaled that of a seasoned Cosmic General.
Soon, he reached the boundary of the ruined sect, pausing atop a fractured wall. In the distance, flickering orange bonfires marked the retreat of the enemy army.
He frowned.
They came to capture an S-Class... but slaughtered everyone. Why?
He recalled no enemies who should’ve known of his mark. So how did the secret leak?
More troubling still—who were the enemy, really?
Taryn took a deep breath, then made a counterintuitive choice: he followed them.
“This is my first time beyond the sect,” he thought. “And the forests are filled with cursed beasts. Better to move along a path already cleared by an army.”
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With Xara’s weight balanced on his back, he dropped into the trees and began shadowing the retreating forces.
The forest reeked of old fire and older death. Every tree seemed to lean toward him, whispering secrets too broken to understand.
Signs of battle littered the earth.
Scattered corpses. Execution sites. Broken weapons.
The alliance, it seemed, had begun to fracture. Without the common goal of attacking the Merlin Sect, infighting had begun.
Taryn moved past the dead.
He could feel their presence—not just their rotting flesh, but something more.
Whispers. Resentments. Clinging emotions that leaked into his perception.
“Necromancy…” he muttered, frowning.
The Undead Scriptures had opened a strange new awareness within him. The dead spoke—not clearly, but with impressions, feelings. Regret. Rage.
Then one voice spoke actual words.
“She betrayed me…”
Taryn froze.
He knelt beside the corpse—a man, mutilated and broken. His eyes had been gouged out, his lower body mutilated beyond recognition.
“Who betrayed you?” Taryn asked quietly.
“She... betrayed... me…”
Taryn frowned. The voice had no intelligence. Just emotion. But that emotion was so strong it kept the soul tethered.
He reached out, touching the corpse’s forehead with two fingers. His sigil flickered.
Leaves rustled in a wind that had no source.
He recited a verse under his breath.
“From flesh and flame, rise once again…”
Then, louder—
“Rise.”
The corpse jerked. Its eyes, though still hollow, glowed with necrotic light. Slowly, it stood.
Its chest bore a dull mark—a B-Class Stellar Sigil—but as Taryn watched, the sigil warped. It evolved.
From B-Class… to pseudo S-Class.
Taryn’s eyes narrowed.
“My first undead retainer.”
A streak of gray appeared in his hair. He felt it—the cost.
Not pain in the body, but something deeper.
A quiet tearing. A splinter of soul, peeled from its place.
Not flesh—but future.
A fragment of his soul, exchanged—not for power, but for the creation that now stood before him.
A sacrifice demanded by the Scriptures—nonnegotiable, irreversible.
“I shall name you... Eunuch.”
The corpse bowed.
“Eunuch is honored that the master has raised me from the dead.”
Taryn didn’t smile. His voice was as cold as his sigil.
“Then tell me… who betrayed you?”