Zealth raised the sword.
"Of course. Smelled corpses, sighted corpses."
Something gripped his ankle.
Cold fingers locked around his boot.
He looked down.
The skeleton beneath the vines had moved.
Its bony hand clenched him with surprising strength, skull turning upward as green fire lit inside its sockets.
"Ah," Zealth said. "You, too."
He stabbed downward.
The Netherrose blade pierced the skeleton's skull.
Dark energy rippled through bone.
For a second, the green light in its sockets flickered.
Then steadied.
Zealth frowned.
"…What?"
The skeleton's jaw opened.
Its hand tightened.
The crack in its skull knitted together with thin strands of black mist. The hole closed around the blade, not resisting it like flesh, but accepting it—drinking the dark element instead of breaking beneath it.
Zealth yanked the sword free and jumped back.
The skeleton rose.
Bones clicked into place. Vines slid off its shoulders. The skull reassembled fully, green eye-fire burning brighter than before.
Zealth stared at his sword.
Then at the skeleton.
Then at the sword again.
"Oh," he muttered. "That's bad."
A undead lunged from the front.
Zealth turned and slashed across its chest.
The black blade cut through rotting flesh, but the wound did not open properly. Dark mist clung to the torn skin, and the creature staggered only half a step before its body pulled itself back together. The split chest sealed with a wet, ugly sound.
The undead groaned and kept coming.
Zealth stepped aside, cutting again—neck this time.
The head tilted.
Almost fell.
Then black energy threaded through the wound and dragged it back into place.
Zealth's expression went flat.
"Slate," he said softly, "I am going to refund this sword through violence."
The sword was dark element.
The undead were dark creatures.
Not only was it ineffective—it was helping them hold together.
A rusted axe came from his left.
Zealth raised his buckler and caught the blow. The impact jarred through his arm. A skeleton with broken chainmail pressed forward, its jaw clacking as if laughing at him.
"Don't you dare," Zealth warned it. "I'm not emotionally ready for skeleton making fun of me."
He kicked its knee.
Bone snapped.
The skeleton fell—
Then the bones dragged themselves back into alignment.
It stood again.
More undead closed in.
The chamber groaned louder as bodies rose from moss, dirt, and old ruin. Skeletons lifted weapons they had probably held in life. Spears. Axes. Short swords. Shields. Some moved clumsily. Others moved with old habits, as if death had forgotten to take their training.
Zealth backed away, sword raised but useless in the worst possible way.
He swung at another undead, carving through its shoulder. The wound sealed almost immediately, dark energy from his blade feeding the torn flesh like thread stitching cloth.
"Great," he said, retreating from a spear thrust. "I bought a healing stick for the undead."
A skeleton thrust its sword toward his ribs.
Zealth caught the blade on his buckler, twisted aside, and struck its neck with the Netherrose sword out of instinct.
Bad choice.
The head separated for half a second.
Then black mist pulled it back down onto the spine.
The skeleton turned slowly toward him.
Zealth stared at it.
The skeleton stared back.
"…Fair," Zealth said. "That one was on me."
He stopped attacking with the blade.
Defense only.
The next few moments became ugly.
He deflected a spear with his buckler, ducked under a rusted sword, shoved one skeleton into an undead, and kicked another attacker back before it could grab his arm. His sword moved only to parry now, never to cut. Every time the black blade touched rotten flesh or old bone too deeply, the undead recovered faster.
The chamber tightened around him.
One undead grabbed at his shoulder.
Zealth drove his elbow into its face and pushed away.
A skeleton swung a mace at his head.
He ducked.
The mace smashed into a pillar, cracking stone.
"Okay," Zealth muttered, breathing harder. "New plan. Stop using the expensive mistake."
His eyes flicked toward the campsite.
The fallen explorers.
Weapons remained there.
Rusted.
Old.
But better than his sword.
A shield skeleton stepped in front of him, blocking the path with a dented round shield. Behind it, another skeleton raised a spear over its shoulder.
It felt like they're in formation.
Zealth lowered his stance.
"Move."
The shield came forward.
The spear thrust over it.
Zealth slipped right, let the spear pass his face, then kicked the shield's lower edge. The skeleton staggered. He used the opening to dash past them, boots sliding over moss.
An undead lunged.
He dropped low, shoulder-checking its waist, then shoved it into two skeletons behind him. Bones rattled. Rotting bodies collided. Nothing stayed down for long.
But it bought him seconds.
Seconds were enough.
Zealth reached the campsite.
A rusted sword lay near a skeleton sitting against the torn tent. The dead explorer's bony hands still clutched the hilt, as if the poor fool had died refusing to let go.
Zealth crouched and grabbed the weapon.
The skeleton's fingers tightened.
"Oh, come on."
The skull lifted slowly.
Green fire sparked inside its eye sockets.
Zealth leaned closer, voice flat.
"Borrowing. Not stealing."
The skeleton groaned.
"Fine. Stealing."
He stomped on its wrist.
The fingers cracked apart.
Zealth pulled the sword free.
It was heavier than expected, pitted with rust, the edge damaged but still solid. No enchantment. No glow. No special effect. Just iron, old and stubborn.
A system label flickered.
Explorer's Rusted Longsword
Quality: Old
Element: None
Durability: 18/100
Zealth stared.
"Eighteen durability," he said. "Incredible. A weapon that can break anytime."
The skeleton beside the tent tried to rise.
Zealth swung the rusted sword.
The blade struck its neck.
This time, the head came off.
It hit the ground, rolled once, and did not return.
The body collapsed into loose bones.
Zealth blinked.
Then looked at the sword.
"Oh."
Another skeleton rushed him.
He cut through its arm.
The bone broke and stayed broken.
An undead reached for him.
He stabbed through its skull with the rusted blade.
The creature stiffened, then collapsed into dark ash that sank into the moss.
Zealth slowly smiled.
Not bright.
Not heroic.
Just relieved and slightly offended.
"So the trash sword works better than the brand new sword."
He looked toward the chamber ceiling.
"Slate, if you can somehow hear me, I hate you."
The undead closed in again.
Now Zealth moved differently.
The Netherrose sword remained in his left hand, used only to parry and redirect. The rusted explorer blade stayed in his right, ugly and practical, doing the real killing.
A skeleton swung an axe.
Zealth caught the axe haft with the black sword, angled it away, then drove the rusted blade through its spine.
Bones scattered.
An undead stumbled close.
He kicked its knee, stepped around, and stabbed into the back of its skull.
Down.
A spear skeleton thrust toward his stomach.
He used the Netherrose sword to knock the spear aside, then brought the rusted blade down on the skeleton's wrist. The hand dropped with the weapon. A second cut took its neck.
This worked.
Poorly.
But it worked.
The rusted sword chipped with every strike. Its edge bent against bone. Its durability warning flashed after the fifth kill.
Durability: 11/100
Zealth grimaced.
"Don't die before they do."
More groans echoed.
From behind the broken pillars, a taller skeleton stepped into view.
It wore cracked chainmail beneath a moss-dark cloak. A broken badge hung from its chest. Unlike the others, it held its sword properly—steady, balanced, trained. Its green eye-fire burned brighter, and the lesser undead shifted around it like soldiers awaiting command.
A system label appeared.
Rotbound Expedition Captain
Elite Undead
Zealth stared at it.
Then at the rusted sword in his hand.
Durability: 11/100
Then at the captain's proper stance.
"Captain," Zealth said, "can we pretend I'm not here?"
The undead roared.
All around the chamber, skeletons lifted their weapons.
Zealth sighed, rolled his shoulders, and adjusted his grip on both blades.
"Of course not."
The captain stepped forward.
Zealth raised the rusted sword and the useless expensive one.