Chapter 10: The Echoes of the Dead.
It took a considerable amount of time before the lesser ghoul was finally finished with her savage meal, and as she rose from the floor, the sight of the dark, viscous goblin blood smeared all over her mouth and chin made Jacob shake his head softly.
He felt a strange, conflicting wave of emotions, pity for the woman she had once been and concern for the monster she had become.
The carnage was messy, and he could see the crimson stains beginning to creep toward the collar of the clean sports bra he had just found for her.
"Sigh... come here," he said, gesturing toward her with a welcoming arm, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet, oppressive hallway.
The lesser ghoul did exactly as she was asked, she walked over in a way that was a bit unsettling, stopping just inches away from him as she tilted her head curiously.
Her clouded eyes didn't hold the warmth of life, but there was a flicker of recognition there, a sign of loyalty that kept her tethered to his will.
"You really shouldn't get yourself dirty like this; you'll ruin your clothes at this rate, and I don't want to have to go shopping for new ones every time you get hungry," Jacob muttered, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a clean handkerchief.
Fortunately, he had possessed the presence of mind to grab several small necessities from his studio before they began their descent into the lower floors.
Using the soft cloth, he reached out and gently wiped the excess blood from her lips and jawline, he made sure to be gentle in his actions.
He believed he was lucky to have acted so quickly; if the thick goblin blood had been left to sit for a while longer, it would have dried into a stubborn, crusty mark that would have been nearly impossible to remove without a proper bath.
Jacob scrubbed away the last of the red smudges until her pale skin was visible once more, looking much more like a human and less like a wild animal.
"There, all better," he said, tucking the now-ruined handkerchief away and nodding with satisfaction.
[Vlad the Impaler is suddenly curious about your behavior.]
[Jack the Ripper stares at you through the screen with a strange look on his face.]
'Huh? What are these two going on about now?' Jacob thought to himself as he caught the two notifications flickering in the corner of his vision. He didn't have the time or the energy to take in the reactions of the two of them, so he simply ignored them.
He had much more pressing matters at hand, specifically the pile of mangled, half-eaten goblin remains that were currently scattered across the floor.
He stared down at the scraps of bone, sinew, and green skin that were the leftovers of the ghoul's feeding frenzy, a helpless look crossing his face.
'I wonder if I can even turn these into undead at this rate,' he mused, feeling a bit skeptical given how little of the original anatomy was actually intact.
It seemed like a waste of potential resources to just leave the remains behind, but he wasn't sure if his necromancy required a complete skeletal structure to function.
"Come forth..." Jacob whispered, extending his hand over the grisly pile and focusing his intent.
At first, nothing happened, and the silence of the hallway seemed to mock his attempt.
"Perhaps I was wrong. It really isn't that easy to make something out of—" His voice paused mid-sentence as the air in front of him began to ripple and distort, the space itself seemingly twisting and turning like a dark liquid.
Afterwards, Three shadowy, translucent constructs slowly emerged from the remains, rising into the air like smoke.
They resembled floating specters about the size of a goblin, their upper bodies somewhat defined but their lower halves trailing off into wispy, distorted shadows that never touched the ground.
Instead of the glowing red eyes of his skeletons, these entities possessed a flickering, haunting pair of red spectral flames that seemed to burn with a cold, hateful light.
[Undead creation successful.]
[Congratulations on creating 3 Resentful Ghosts.]
'Resentful ghosts? Are they some kind of special type of specter?' Jacob wondered, leaning in to get a closer look at his new additions.
They hissed softly, a sound like steam escaping a pipe, and drifted around him with an agitated, restless energy that made the hair on his arms stand up.
[Vlad the Impaler notes that they are a lesser version of an evil spirit. He explains that they feed primarily on negative energy to grow. The more fear, hatred, and despair they encounter, the stronger they become.]
"Does that mean they can't eat souls like the others?" Jacob asked, stroking his chin in contemplation as he watched the ghosts phase through a nearby wall and back again.
[Vlad the Impaler reveals that all ghosts possess the capability to feed on souls, but not all of them are heavily reliant on them for survival; for these spirits, the emotional state of their prey is the true delicacy.]
"I see..." Jacob muttered, his mind already beginning to think about how he could use them to aid his progression.
They were a silent bunch and could move through solid objects, and thrived on the very chaos that was currently consuming the world. It didn't seem hard to evolve these two unlike his other undead.
"Then I have just one more question for you guys."
He paused, looking at the spots where he had killed the first two goblins and then at the fresh ghosts.
"Why is it that I'm able to turn these three into ghosts right now, but no ghosts were created back on the ninth floor? I'm very much sure several people were killed there by the monsters before I ever stepped outside, so how come the result was so different this time?" After seeing that his creation was successful despite the bodies being torn apart, this question had been gnawing at his mind.
Having no answer of his own, and with no manual to guide him through the apocalypse, he decided to lean on the only experts he had, the two viewers who had been helping him survive ever since their arrival.
[Jack the Ripper explains that not all of the dead become lingering souls that can be bound or turned into ghosts. He adds that in many cases, the souls of those who die without a profound lingering attachment or a violent enough grudge, return directly to the reincarnation cycle the moment the heart stops beating.]
'So there's even a system for something like that?' Jacob thought, feeling a bit surprised by the spiritual depth of the answer.
It made a strange kind of sense; if every single person who died became a ghost, the world would have been overrun within the first hour of the apocalypse.
He decided to take the information at face value since it came from someone who clearly knew a thing or two about the transition from life to death.
On the bright side, his situation was looking significantly better than it had been an hour ago. He now had a total of seven undead under his direct command.
three ghosts who were perfect for reconnaissance and spying, three skeleton soldiers armed with steel to act as his vanguard, and a lesser ghoul to s
erve as his primary protection and heavy hitter.
All in all, his horde was beginning to look quite acceptable for a novice necromancer.