It was a colossal figure, more than a size larger than the other undead in the tavern. A black robe wrapped around his bloated body, stretched so tight it seemed on the verge of bursting. He had to bend down just to squeeze through the doorway, looking for all the world like a moving mountain of flesh.
Upon entering, he swept his gaze across the room. Wherever his eyes landed, the undead lowered their heads, and even their movements of clinking cups froze mid-air.
Then he reached out. Before the undead closest to him could even react, he scooped them up and stuffed them into his mouth.
With a loud crunch, the distinct sound of chewing echoed with jarring clarity in the now-silent tavern.
He chewed as if no one else were there. Black liquid constantly seeped from the corners of his mouth, trickling down his chin and staining his already dark robe an even deeper shade.
Watching this scene of undead cannibalism, the first thought that popped into Erich's mind was: Why is that undead so crispy?
He was actually a bit curious about the anatomy of the city's undead. Logically, their bodies should have withered and decayed long ago. Did the skeleton retain its hardness, or did the undead in this city use some special preservation method? The liquid, however, looked rather disgusting—pitch black, and he had no idea what it was made of. Corpse oil?
While he was still contemplating undead biology, the others in the tavern had fallen as silent as cicadas in winter. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard. Dozens of black-robed undead hunched over in unison, terrified of becoming the next meal.
After finishing his meal, the giant wiped his mouth with his sleeve—a surprisingly polite gesture. Then, he strode toward the bar, each of his steps causing the floorboards to tremble.
Looking down from his towering height at the scrawny undead bartender behind the counter, he spoke:
“Where are the people I wanted?!”
Along with his words, black liquid and unidentifiable bits of debris sprayed from his mouth, splattering all over the bartender.
The bartender didn't even dare to wipe it off. Bowing even lower, his voice shook violently. “M-My Lord, the children in the city have already been sent to your castle. There are none left...”
“What about the outsiders?!” the giant's voice suddenly boomed. He slammed a hand onto the counter, smashing a gaping hole straight through the bar and sending wood splinters flying. “Didn't I say those people taste better?!”
The bartender practically curled into a ball, his head buried extremely low. “M-My Lord, those outsiders... we are no match for them...”
“No match for them?” The giant laughed in anger. He grabbed the bartender by the collar, hoisting him up from behind the bar until he was right next to his ear. “If there's no harvest next time, I'll eat you instead!”
With that, he tossed the bartender to the floor. The bartender tumbled a couple of times and struggled to get back up for a long while.
Without giving him another glance, the giant turned and strode toward the door.
The tavern remained quiet for quite a while before a semblance of life... or deathly activity, rather... gradually returned.
The undead sighed in relief in unison and went back to drinking and clinking their cups, though their voices were noticeably quieter than before.
Only then did Erich snap out of his thoughts about undead anatomy. Leaning sideways, he lowered his voice and asked the undead patron next to him:
“Who was that just now?”
The undead was gulping down a large mouthful of liquor to calm his nerves, and nearly choked upon hearing the question. He also lowered his voice: “You don't even know that? Are you a local?”
“I don't usually go out. Today is my first time in a tavern, and I just happened to run into this. I was curious, so I asked,” Erich lied with a straight face.
The undead seemed to believe him, and a hint of sympathy appeared in his eyes.
“Then you're quite unlucky to run into this guy on your very first visit. That was Garein, a notorious tyrant around here. Only the bishop in the city can contend with him. But the bishop stays in the temple year-round and rarely interferes with city affairs, so Garein runs rampant. We ordinary folk can only seethe in silence.”
Hearing the name Garein, Erich's eyes lit up.
【The Deathly Executioner】 Garein.
He was all too familiar with this name. A hidden boss focused on close-quarters melee combat, Garein possessed ridiculously high attack power yet was surprisingly fast. Many players were fooled by his bulky build when they first encountered him, only to be instantly deleted by a combo once he got close.
This was exactly what Erich had come to the City of the Undead for.
“Do you know where he lives then?”
Having confirmed his target, Erich pressed on.
The undead hesitated. After a long pause, he stammered, “He lives in a castle to the east of the city... Why are you asking?”
“Nothing, just curious.” Erich pushed over the untouched cup of liquor in front of him. “Here, brother. This drink is on me.”
The undead instinctively caught the cup. “Ah? This...”
“I'm leaving. Enjoy your drink.”
Erich stood up, adjusted the hood of his black robe, and walked straight toward the exit without waiting for the undead's response.
Rate on N.U.
