Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Far from Pelian.

A man strummed his lute while rocking on his chair with an annoying degree of carefreeness. He played high and low notes in a way that was very tempting, the dancing of the cords almost effectively persuading his audience to relax.

Almost.

None of them could.

Despite the draping, leafy vines of the tree they all sat under which featured orchids and roses on opposite sides of each, their scents teasing the nose blissfully, none could appreciate the beauty.

The sun was diving down finally, bringing about the much needed end to this day which seemed to last thrice as long as the others.

On Pelian, perhaps others were celebrating it, but Vali, Maxim, and Darwel could barely see a reason for tomorrow to come if it was only going to emphasise what happened today.

A tall man with long, dark hair sat by Erlton’s side as he strummed his lute, awaiting the many, many, many questions that were yet to reach his ears from his audience.

Seeing as these others were not ready to speak yet, this man broke the silence.

“Well, I might as well ask now,” he said, and Erlton glanced at him with a shallow smile. “You knew all along what was going to happen, didn’t you?”

Erlton whipped his blonde hair to the side before answering.

“Knew is a strong word. You can call it a more certain version of instinct that haunts you, coercing you into following what it says at all costs.”

The dark haired man frowned, and then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I still don’t get it. You’ve only been hinting at how I factor into all of this. You say what’s going on now, the trembling and all, was meant to happen. But how did my simple goal to meet, well… him, affect any of this?”

At that moment, Darwel interjected.

“What exactly is he?” she asked with a distraught look on her face.

It was time. She had to know. Her own theorising wouldn’t cut it anymore.

Vali and Maxim turned to Erlton too.

The former, a shapely, curvaceous beauty with navy blue hair, and the latter, a pretty flat-chested lady with pink hair, had complex expressions, but ultimately, they wanted to know what was going on here.

Erlton smiled deeply. A semblance of relief, and some manner of hesitation subtly floated about his face.

“I see you’ve recovered somewhat. I knew it would do you good to have some time away from his body,” his said, and then looked to the dark haired man at his side.

“To your question. You were on the way to causing complications with what Direction has set in stone. I’ve come to understand that Direction usually flows differently when confined by the powers of a Deity into one world. Those who bring their own versions of Direction elsewhere tend to unknowingly break apart that which flows in the land they invade.”

The dark haired man groaned unsettlingly.

What was that now? Did she hear what the bard said correctly?

“You don’t know it, but had you pushed that man further in strength, even a little bit after meeting him, finding common ground and befriending him, as you surely would… I felt that was too risky. If not me, perhaps another like myself would have acted against you,” Erlton continued.

The dark haired man narrowed his eyes.

Common ground? Well…

“I had suspicions when I smelled the scent of a powerful undeath curse, but… he seems like something else entirely…” he said.

“What is he?” Maxim asked this time, a threatening look in her eyes.

Vali chimed in.

“You only said to trust you, and that nothing would go wrong for now – whatever that means. I for one am inclined to believe so spill it already.”

Erlton put down his lute.

After sealing Skullius’ body away, he had taken everyone who saw what happened to his body outside for some cool air.

That didn’t help, and he obviously knew it.

Truth be told, the cool air was mainly for himself.

He didn’t know how to even begin to explain this.

Alas…

He looked at the three women and spoke.

“Before I tell you all there is about him, I want you all to know one thing. He has no ties to undeath. Uh… any friendly ties I mean… goodness, that’s not right either. Well, he’s not an undead,” Erlton struggled with the technicalities involved in this.

The nuances, which he had unfortunately been forced to learn and appreciate, making decisions over the centuries he had been alive extremely difficult, poured in as he tried to make sense of Skullius’ existence to the ignorant.

“Whatever you have seen up until this point, was genuine. I’m sure all three of you have shared some intimacy with this individual one way or another. I can tell you with certainty that it was all real.”

The three women donned even more complex expressions. Series of thoughts rushed through their heads, all very different in nature, as the relationships they shared with Skullius… Festos, were also very different in nature.

Genuine, huh?

Was it?

It was undeniable that they had all shared something critical, or slightly less so, with Skullius, though.

For that reason alone, they applied common sense and reason, and let Erlton speak.

The bard sighed in relief.

“Good. As I’ve seen…” he began.

***

The same bed that the body of the Penetrator had laid in before, was the same which he lay in now, burnt, broken and bent from the destructive properties that floated around it.

Thick, dark clouds that shot out bright bolts of Levin over and onto the unconscious figure swirled about, but were restricted by a four fold barrier around the bed with complex runes.

From an aerial view, the image looked peaceful. After all, the Penetrator was resting.

However, this swiftly began to change.

Flesh began to cover the dark, skeletal frame, and as it did…