**Chapter Twelve: Intent**
I set out for a night hunt alongside Lord. For I, who no longer needed to conceal my strength, beasts of the forest were no match.
Having grown accustomed to Shiki’s physical prowess from our nightly hunts for food, I felt confident. With my enhanced abilities and the support of Lord’s formidable magic, there was no enemy that could stand against us.
Once, I had feared the terrifying packs of Night Wolves, but now I swept them aside, feasting on their flesh.
The meat was raw, but a sweet, searing heat coursed down my throat, igniting into flames within my body. During these night hunts, I had previously stripped down to avoid staining my clothes, taking care to minimize the blood that sullied my skin. But now, I cared not for such things. Covered in blood, I devoured the corpses, and Lord murmured in admiration.
“Who would have thought that in just three months, you would mutate into Shiki (Ghoul)… What remarkable potential. And to have hidden it so well…”
“How long did your predecessor take to become Shiki (Ghoul)?”
“Ten months. But that is by no means slow. You, however—your progress is astonishingly rapid. There is no doubt individual differences exist, but… it must be the noble blood in you.”
Indeed, I had once been a member of a minor noble family that governed a rural area.
However, it was not a grand house like those mentioned in tales, nor did my lineage boast any particularly noteworthy figures. While we had more wealth than average, I was grateful for the attempts made to prolong my life from the incurable disease that plagued me, but I had never felt any special connection to the noble blood that coursed through my veins.
Gnawing on the flesh-stuck bones of a Night Wolf with my sharp fangs, I glared at Lord.
“…Whether noble or commoner, once dead, we are merely corpses.”
“Indeed, there is no difference. But fret not. You will soon mutate into a ‘Dark Stalker.’ The reasons for that can be pondered later…”
Lord’s voice carried a tone of soliloquy.
The result of my desperate defiance yielded only a sliver of information. Among the most critical was the realization that, as I am now, I could not even lay a finger on Lord.
In my current state, I was forbidden from any actions that could be deemed hostile, and even without those restrictions, it would be impossible to drain one hundred and twenty lives in a single sweep. I had managed to take two lives by surprise, but even had I not been commanded to halt afterward, I could not have killed Lord.
Lord wielded magic. And I had no means to counter it. I had underestimated the Mage, thinking that a surprise attack would suffice. The only reason I had not been killed in that moment was simply that I was not worthy of being Lord’s enemy.
A ‘Dark Stalker.’
That was the next target for my mutation after becoming Shiki. According to the bestiary, they were a rare breed among the undead, but even if I were to achieve that mutation, I still would not stand a chance against Lord.
“…If I become a ‘Dark Stalker,’ can I defeat the Order of the Final Knights?”
“There is no way you could. Do not entertain such foolish thoughts. As much as I loathe to say it, they are specialists in hunting creatures of the dark. Even a third-tier knight would be no match for them in a fair fight. The only way for a ‘Living Dead’ to triumph over them would be… through the depths of despair that even their power cannot bridge… against a ‘Vampire.'”
Lord mentioned the name of a renowned undead, one far above the level of my current existence. I had thought that by becoming Shiki, I could defeat the beasts of this forest and gain considerable power. But it seemed that was merely arrogance.
The Order of the Final Knights were human. They were not undead like me, who gained immense strength from killing living beings. How had they acquired such power while still being human? Lord—the necromancer—possessed strength beyond what was told in tales, and it appeared that the Order of the Final Knights had the means to counter that.
It was a story that was hard to believe for someone like me, who had once possessed nothing but a body awaiting death. And that was precisely why I could not allow myself to be killed by such beings.
If I were to die—then I would kill them. Even if they were once the object of my admiration, if they sought to take my life, they were my enemies.
“Rest assured. I have eyes watching over the forest. The immediate threat is them. No matter how much of a potential ‘King of the Dead’ you may possess, you are weak as you are now. You and I share a common interest. They shall not easily take you down.”
Lord snorted, his voice laced with dark emotion. I clicked my tongue in frustration, finishing my meal and rising to search for new prey.
—
Lord was my enemy. My greatest enemy. With absolute command over me, he was far more troublesome than the Order of the Final Knights, whom I could simply evade.
As usual, I was returned to the basement, receiving the command of ‘no outings.’ The only thing I was given was the well-worn bestiary of the undead, which had sparked Ruu’s accusations against me.
Even if I were in Lord’s position, I would have issued similar orders. Absolute command is powerful, but it is not invincible. At the very least, it would be disadvantageous for Lord if his resentful undead subordinates became clever. Especially since Lord’s library was filled mostly with grimoires (though I could not read them), it was far too dangerous to grant knowledge to those undead who could.
Yet, while I understood the logic behind it, my emotions could not accept the current situation. My freedom had been severely restricted compared to when I could sneak out. I felt as if the air had been snatched away from me.
Of course… it was far better than being killed.
In the basement, where only corpses I was forbidden to consume lay, all I was allowed was to think and exercise.
The only fortunate aspect of my current situation was that Lord believed my intelligence was a result of the rank mutation into Shiki. The worst part was—not that Lord had sealed my rebellion… but that he was simply too strong.
Too strong. How could I possibly defeat a being with one hundred and twenty lives? Accidental death was out of the question, and death from old age was… not something I could count on.
And above all, I could not fathom Lord’s intentions. Why did he know of my rebellion yet continued the night hunts, nurturing me? Why, if he intended to nurture me, would he not provide the ‘knowledge’ essential for strength?
And what on earth was the ‘King of the Dead’? What was he trying to accomplish in this forest? I had tried to inquire about these matters, but I was always evaded.
He was a necromancer. Surely, it could not be anything good, but given that he restricted my freedom, it was unlikely he intended to get along with me.
The gaze Lord directed at me was exceedingly cold. The joy he displayed was not one directed at a son who had done well, but rather a reflection of his satisfaction with the success of his experiment.
Did he intend to strengthen me as a subordinate, turning me into a powerful pawn? A pawn who had rebelled against him?
That was impossible. Lord did not trust me.
I glanced at the familiar owl perched in the corner of the room. Its shining eyes stared at me blankly, a mechanical gaze. Lord’s surveillance.
The Order of the Final Knights was drawing near. I had to find a way to kill Lord. One hundred and twenty… I had already taken two lives, leaving one hundred eighteen remaining for Lord, who bound me with commands. I had to somehow outsmart him.
Huddled in a corner, I buried my face in my knees, scratching my head in frustration. My eyes widened as I racked my brain for ideas. Yet, no brilliant plan surfaced in my mind.
—
After enduring three days of a stifling existence devoid of freedom, Lord spoke with a frown after the hunt.
“End. You will accompany Ruu as her guard—into the city.”
At his unexpected words, I momentarily forgot my grievances about my lack of freedom, my eyes widening in surprise. Lord, noticing my expression, furrowed his brow and stroked his staff.
“The city is dangerous… but I cannot go myself. I have prepared tools to conceal the dark aura from them; as long as you act cautiously, there should be no problem. If you managed to deceive me, it should be no issue.”
And it was then that I would witness a hero. The nemesis of the necromancer, the undead. A combat group long hailed as the strongest, boasting overwhelming superiority over the darkness.