Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Somewhere far…

A man woke up as his vision cleared after the initial blur.

He took in the air which was extremely rich with mana, his muscles coming alive with his return to consciousness after a long rest.

The cover of an exaggeratedly thick blanket which provided a healing warmth made his mind relax before it could panic at the prospect that he was unfamiliar with where he was.

A massive chandelier with an array of thick candles that produced orange and golden flames which brought about dust-like lights blatantly made its appearance known over him.

As this man sat up straight, his grey eyes taking in the view of the ginormous bed he was sleeping in while being naked and the comically large room he was placed, he couldn’t help but clutch his head.

His brown hair draped over his temples as he hung his head, feeling a subtle rush of pain from his head.

‘Where am I? What happened?’ he thought, deciding that thinking back to what had happened prior first was more productive than wondering about the current inexplicable conditions he was in.

At the very least, he wasn’t in danger at the moment.

Think back.

Retrace your steps.

What do I remember?

As this brown-haired man tried to recall what happened, delving deep into his mind with his extensive knowledge about his own body, scenes started to appear in his head.

Each of them held connotations that he wasn’t proud of._.

Betrayal.

Greed.

Failure.

Fear.

And loss.

Loss in two of the worst possible ways.

Losing a friend and losing to a universal enemy.

He remembered it all, his mind clutching onto the last moments particularly tightly as he found himself losing his grip on his cool.

His hands shook.

He had failed.

Miserably.

After Eobald had betrayed the Ideal Ark, everything had spiralled out of control.

He had hoped that he could somehow fix it, taking the reins as he sought to keep the embers of what he had believed in for so long alive.

Yet…

With his leadership came death.

Denille, Irlen and Reon were dead.

He had continued to lead them down a path orchestrated by his greed for power.

The bastion of his belief fell with Eobald and he felt that he needed to aimlessly hunt for power again. To feel secure. To feel strong. To feel like he mattered.

To feel like he was right!

To feel like the lives of commonfolk like him mattered and were not just statistics that could would be counted and forgotten when nobles and strong powers trampled over them.

Yet…

This man… Benzard, gripped the thick blanket as he shed tears.

He had even given in to an unknown creature that offered him power when he feared dying without substance.

And with that power, he still lost. He failed to save a friend and he failed to defeat an enemy who…

An enemy who…

“Wait…”

Benzard remembered.

The last words he had heard before he was smacked by that outrageously powerful lightning from above.

‘You’re about to die, just like Denille and Reon…’

The undead he had fought said this and in that moment, he had realised that somehow, this undead could be the fellow he had been trying to stop from reaching the spiral grove doors!

‘Was it… really?’ he thought as he gnashed his teeth.

All of a sudden, all the blame he had been pouring towards himself started to shift to this tall and large figure that he connected to the weak, peculiar faced young man he had found in the Tremur Forest.

But…

‘No. I’m still at fault. I won’t blame anyone for my ambitions. It was all me.’

Benzard heaved out a deep breath as he cooled down a bit.

“Seems like you’re having fun walking down a long isle of recollection, aha ha,” a deep voice echoed within the large room, Benzard turning to the side of the bed were a tall figure was leisurely standing while looking down at him.

A bald head and deep red eyes that gave a sense of craziness and wisdom at the same time.

Benzard knew this figure quite well.

It was Sause.

This time, the giant was not naked. He donned a luxurious navy blue silk shirt with true sapphire coloured linings along with a pair of leather pants that articulated his powerful legs.

He glared at him with complicated emotion yet the one at the forefront was obviously anger.

“Don’t give me that ridiculous look. You should be thanking me. I gave you what you desired, spared your life through a rather troublesome deal and now, I even brought you into my household. What’s with the malice? The hate. There should be gratefulness in those eyes.”

Benzard couldn’t find the words to retort.

He touched his back with his hands and felt smooth skin instead of crusty, dry matter as what remained after the lightning strike that had ultimately dealt him the final blow.

He couldn’t forget the damage he received each time he was smacked with that lightning.

Surely, he should have been dead but he was alive now, with smooth skin to boot.

“A poor boy who watched his world get lit on fire. People, houses, farm and all, as mere distraction for some lowly thieves. That must have been brutal, aha ha. Hatred and malice forged you. Your string told me of a powerful warrior whom I could induct into my camp. Truth be told, I didn’t foresee myself granting you all this power which then bound us so intimately but, here we are…”

Benzard listened quietly before he decided to ask.

“What do you want with me?”

“Aha ha. That’s always the question with you humans isn’t it? Such a lack of ambition when you are caught between a mountain and a really hard place. You should be standing proud and speaking freely as you see that I haven’t the slightest intention to kill you, aha ha,” Sause said.

“As I said before, we are now bound. I invested a vast portion of my power in order to save you from the Veneration art that almost claimed your life in that Labyrinth. Now, I cannot reverse what I have done. You are destined to be my successor. The one who holds my ideals. When I die, the full strength of the Perpetual Colossus will awaken in you. Before then, l have a lot of things to do and you now have the time and essence to survive long enough to see me do them, aha ha.”

Benzard turned his head to the bald headed giant who had his signature playful glee. He didn’t buy this. It seemed too, genuine.

“Don’t worry. You’ll learn to trust me with time. For now, let’s go acquaint you with the family. There’s a huge seven day banquet in honour of my arrival. Surely, the one who inherits my powers should join.”

Sause snapped his fingers, numerous coloured strings racing along Benzard’s body to form a simple pair of tight pants.

“What about the shirt?” Benzard frowned as he turned to Sause after looking at the new fashion he had been adorned with.

“Quit your human tendencies. You’re no longer in that pest ridden hell hole. Only Quintess knows how much I loathe your pretentious customs. Now, come.”

Benzard’s body rose to float and land on the floor from the bed.

He walked with Sause towards the two massive, wooden doors that were at the very end of the room, sculpted with beautiful imagery from the historical tales, featuring tall men and… dragons.

Benzard gulped down saliva.

Unlike Opungale, the land of the Sif which had been travelled to by many humans who documented and drew images of the life there, the land of Giants had only been traversed to many, many years ago, its existence almost becoming a mere folktale among the ignorant commonfolk.

Being one himself, Benzard hadn’t reached the stage in life where he sought for the validity in such stories, yet here he was now.

There was no disbelief that he could render to the situation.

He had no doubt.

Sause pushed open the double doors, a warm heat and loud cheer as well as chatter blasting its way into the room as Benzard’s eyes open wide, taking in the view of ginormous structures, tall men and women as well as untold mystery that was a far cry from anything he had experienced in Feinheath!