Chapter-47 Another Ghost

  After some preparations, Thorin let his brothers rest and heal in the safe zone and went out to hunt with Vraak and Fenrir, the Grey Direwolf. The moment he crossed the boundary, the pressure returned.

  Though the pup was useless in a fight, it could at least lead Thorin back to the safe zone if he lost his way. Even with that security, Thorin limited himself to a short hunting radius to start with. One mistake here wouldn’t wound him. It would starve his heart.

  Just after leaving, as the mist blended again to shield the safe zone, a small group of Walkers welcomed him with growls.

  Thorin’s chained blades zipped away from his shadow while Vraak launched a second later. It was a small group and weaker than him. Still, Thorin didn’t relax. With the chained blades locking down their movement, Vraak destroyed them within seconds and devoured the remains.

  Thorin closed his eyes and felt the difference. Indeed, once Vraak had his fill and ate again, his heart received its share. The increase in lifespan amounted to mere days. But it worked. Not to mention, the feedback invigorated his heart, its beats sending a clearer pulse of life through his blood. Slowly but surely, Thorin was regaining his healthy physique.

  But as he’d feared, Vraak alone wouldn’t be enough to sustain the heart’s feeding frequency. Especially once he grew stronger. The number of undead he could personally digest would surge at that point. There wouldn’t be much left for his heart to consume. He needed to look for more Ghosts to bind, and stronger undead to hunt.

  As such, he roamed around the battlefield, hunting whatever he came across. Still, his priority remained Ghosts. This was the Southern Whispers battlefield after all. Its fame had surpassed the boundaries of life level and spread even among mortals. That was how the three brothers had learned of it in the first place.

  After several minutes of hunting, Thorin came across a lone Ghost chasing after a swarm of Wraiths.

  The Wraiths ignored it, but the Ghost persisted in following the swarm. Perhaps it believed itself one of them. Or it wished to be.

  Thorin lifted his brows in surprise and observed from a distance. He didn’t move closer. He didn’t slow either. Standing still in Southern Whispers was how hunters became meals.

  Another Ghost with a distinct personality, just like Vraak. The odds were low, yet he’d found two back-to-back. Luck, it seemed, was finally tipping his way. Now, if this Ghost remembered its name, it would join Thorin’s mainstay squad of undead—the named. Else, it could only become a second-tier member—the unnamed.

  That was how Thorin intended to divide his undead going forward. Ghosts who remembered their names possessed a higher ceiling. Unless he discovered a way to raise the limit of the unnamed, he had to be picky with the resources. Even then, priority would always favor the named.

  To avoid souring the start of their relationship, Thorin avoided provoking the Wraith swarm it followed and just tailed them. They only registered white on the mana tester anyway. They weren’t a threat.

  Soon, the situation devolved.

  The Ghost drifted too close. The Wraiths wanted no part of it. It was a mere Ghost after all. Once their patience ran out, the swarm of Wraiths turned on the Ghosts. It screamed and tried to flee but suffered repeated shocks to its soul. A few tore apart its already tattered cloak, the rest bombarded it with dark mist. The power gap was absolute. They thrashed it around without resistance. It didn’t even fight back. It only whimpered, its voice fading with every second.

  Some of the swarm rushed to sink their teeth in the little one.

  Thorin moved. After all, he couldn’t have it if the Ghost became their meal.

  His chained blades shot skyward and tore into the Wraiths. Vraak surged forward at his command. Even Fenrir tried to join the battle. His body swelled a size larger with a howl. It didn’t help. He was still a pup.

  Thorin dragged its flailing ass back by its scruff and let it watch as his blades and his Moonwraith shredded the swarm apart and protected the frail Ghost. The Wraiths tried to fight back and struggle, but they didn’t even last a minute under the onslaught.

  The final screech faded into a rain of ash.

  Thorin turned towards the battered Ghost, already preparing to soothe it. A gentle approach; a savior’s image. But the situation flipped on its head. Instead of the swarm, the feeble Ghost now latched onto Vraak. No matter how Vraak tried to avoid it, it stayed on his tail. Even on the verge of collapse, it persisted in following him.

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  “This is another weird one,” Thorin murmured. “Come down, Vraak.”

  When Vraak came to him, the Ghost did too. It wobbled in the air and barely kept its form together. If it collapsed now, the effort would be wasted. If it lingered, it might draw attention. But none of it seemed to matter to it. It just wanted to stick close to Vraak.

  Ghostcradle!

  The situation was under his control. So, Thorin sliced his finger and let his blood fly to the Ghost. The cut stung longer than it should have.

  With the attraction they had to his heart and blood, the Ghost plunged onto the drop of blood itself. Thorin formed one hand sign after another as the spell model glimmered in his soul space. Once he completed the initiating process, the eerie green circle flickered under the Ghost. The blood crystalized into a red core, and they merged as the misty mana cocooned it.

  Thorin exhaled when the spell prompted for his command. He eyed the cocoon, already dreading the effort of hauling it back. The desire for a proper cradle gnawed at him again. But for now, he had another decision to make.

  They were inside the battlefield full of undead, and he didn’t intend to leave here without finding the ‘cradle’. So, he let go of all restrictions and allowed the Ghost to make its own choice. He didn’t have any need for a specific type right now. Even a Walker would be fine.

  “Now, how do we get this to the safe zone,” Thorin murmured and glanced at Fenrir. The Direwolf pup who’d shown his link to the Growth Arcana now looked up at him with beady eyes, wagging his tail like a household dog. He knew exactly what was coming, so he switched to acting innocent.

  “I just came back from the dead. I’m super weak right now. Can you bear to make me work?” Thorin played the Direwolf’s game and turned the tables on him. In the end, the pup growled and howled with endless complaints but dragged the chained cocoon towards the safe zone.

  ……

  “You were gone for barely an hour,” Quin said when Thorin returned with the cocoon. Fenrir collapsed near the tree after completing his task, tongue lolling, eyes rolled back from exertion.

  “What the fuck did you do to him?” Clay asked, crouching beside the pup to check his condition.

  “He’ll be fine.” Thorin waved it off. “He was eager to prove himself. I just gave him the opportunity.”

  “Can he even fight?” Quin asked.

  Thorin chuckled. “The little guy is tuned into the Growth Arcana.”

  “What’s up with the cocoon?” Clay asked. “Is this another ghost?”

  “Yeah,” Thorin said. “I didn’t interfere in its choice, so it can become anything.”

  “How many more can you control?” Quin asked and his eyes lit up. “Can you create an army by yourself?”

  “Hmm, can't say for sure,” Thorin said, closing his eyes to check his condition. His soul carried the burden of these Ghosts. For now, it was manageable. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t shift. “Maybe I’ll find out the limit once I brand a few more.”

  Quin clicked his tongue. “Useless spell,” he grumbled.

  “This is what’s letting me live now, bitch.” Thorin bit back.

  “It still doesn’t let you create an army. Useless,” Quin retorted.

  “Forget about that,” Clay said. “Check the mana density. We didn’t pay attention before, but it’s quite high here. Almost the same as the Greysnow street-market.”

  “It just has this weird stench of rotting corpses that gets me,” Quin said, retching.

  “Look at where we are,” Thorin said. “That smell is everywhere.”

  “It’s especially noticeable when you use the mana for meditation,” Clay said. “Almost as if you’re ingesting it without any filter. The flavor stains you and lingers in your senses.”

  “We’ll have to just get used to it then,” Thorin said. “I have to get a cradle here. And we still need to find a relic to get the inception spell for Byram. We have a lot of things to do here.”

  “Just wait for a few. When we join up, we can make our way towards the inner circle,” Quin said. “We should find some good treasures in there, hopefully.”

  Thorin nodded. “Alright, I’m going out again. You guys rest. Fenrir, get up, we’re leaving.”

  The Direwolf got onto his feet and snarled at him. When he refused to budge and backed off, Thorin grabbed his scruff and took him along. In the end, the pup could only whimper, hanging by his scruff honestly.

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