Bones’ journey back was singular in purpose: return as quickly as possible and collect his rewards. The Dark Forest, however, did not let him pass quietly.

  Strange sounds plagued the nights — yelps that pierced the silence like a woman’s cry for help, haunting and distant. Once, perched high in the branches of a gnarled tree, Bones watched shadowy figures glide between the trunks below. They moved with practiced grace, their steps masked by the soft rustling of leaves. Vampires — he was certain of it. Caspian’s warning echoed in his mind. They traveled in trios, prowling through the night, their pale eyes gleaming in the dark as they hunted. The cries grew louder when they were near.

  Bones didn’t know there were any humans left in this part of the forest — but it didn’t matter. When their prey eluded them, a hare or even a fox would do. They fed on whatever blood they could drain.

  He waited the night out safely in the treetops, resuming his trek at dawn. In the daylight, the forest was still — too still. Occasionally, he’d stumble upon a shriveled animal corpse, drained of every last drop of blood. Other times, it was a human, left sprawled like a discarded ragdoll, their face frozen in terror.

  Bones avoided confrontation where he could.

  Two weeks into his journey, he finally crossed paths with several adventuring parties — teams deployed under the Wolfmen subjugation contracts. Familiar sights. He exhaled in relief. He was close to civilization again.

  He kept to himself, offered a simple nod or a raised hand, and moved on. None bothered to speak — they were too focused on their mission, and he preferred it that way.

  Still, Bones observed them through Soul Vision. Wisps of spirit danced in each person, like fireflies phasing in and out of reality. No two were alike. Some flickered faintly, others burned strong. The dying were the dimmest — pale remnants barely clinging to existence.

  Three days later, he met a pair he couldn’t avoid. More accurately — they were waiting for him.

  Unlike the other adventurers, the glow of their souls was blinding: golden, radiant, utterly distinct. The kind of purity that felt unnatural. Bones instinctively slowed his steps.

  “You were right. He did come this way,” said a young man with light brown hair, dressed in a white robe trimmed with gold. He addressed the woman beside him, a step behind — robes identical, her long golden hair cascading past her shoulders, violet eyes fixed on Bones with a calm that chilled him.

  The man turned back toward him.

  “Took you long enough. This time, I won’t let you run —”

  “This time, I don’t have a reason to,” Bones interrupted flatly, his eyes already locked on the woman. Danger radiated from her, a quiet but undeniable pressure that gripped his instincts.

  He stood his ground. There was no fear this time. Something had changed — in him, and they both felt it.

  Lynette, the golden-haired woman, furrowed her brow. A subtle sign, but the first visible reaction Bones had ever gotten from her. Joseph, on the other hand, hadn’t changed a bit.

  “How dare you stand tall before emissaries of light!” Joseph barked. “Prostrate yourself, beg forgiveness, and receive a blessing!”

  Bones tilted his head slightly, as if trying to decipher a foreign tongue. “Receive a blessing?”

  “Yes! Ask and you shall receive!” Joseph declared with passion, lifting his arms high as if calling down the heavens. A scepter of gleaming silver and gold materialized in his right hand with a flash. He lowered it with righteous purpose, aiming it squarely at Bones.

  Bones moved before Joseph even spoke.

  “Smite!” Joseph called, and a beam of divine light scorched the earth where Bones had stood a moment ago, leaving the grass blackened and smoking.

  “You dare dodge!?” Joseph snarled, conjuring a radiant shield in his left hand before charging forward.

  Bones ignored the templar’s theatrics. Calmly, he tossed three golem cores into the air — each one humming with latent energy — and conjured a bone lance beside him as he stepped back, measuring the battlefield with cold calculation.

  The air crackled with tension as the golden aura around Joseph flared. Lynette, standing just behind him, muttered a prayer under her breath, her fingers aglow with layered blessings that laced her companion in radiant threads of divine power — amplifying his speed and strength.

  Bones responded with a curt flick of his wrist — the bone lance burst into a whistling projectile aimed at the charging templar, but the projectiles shattered against the barrier that flared up around the Templar with a chime of holy light. Joseph surged forward, shield raised, roaring a hymn of judgment.

  Bones backpedaled. He was no fool — the radiant glow around Joseph wasn't just for show. That light carried judgment, and worse, pain.

  “Skully, intercept!” Bones barked.

  The golem lunged, spear clashing against Joseph’s scepter as the two collided with bone-shaking force. Sparks danced as black steel and blessed silver met again and again. Behind Joseph, Lynette raised her hand skyward, chanting in an ancient tongue. A soft warmth radiated from her, and Skully began to falter, his movements slowing. A debuff — Bones recognized the divine suppression gnawing at the golem’s speed.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  From the side, Murdok came charging, a dark blur crashing into Lynette’s protective aura like a wrecking ball. Her concentration broke. A pulse of force erupted from her palms, pushing Murdok back, but he had already disrupted her spell.

  Bones, meanwhile, stayed on the move — weaving around the outskirts of the clash, conjuring bone lances and skeletal restraints, as much as his remaining tainted mana pool allowed, that sought to bind the Templars' limbs. Harmony struck from the flanks, light and fast, lightning arrows slicing through air, her attacks aimed not to kill but to harass, to divert Lynette’s attention from healing.

  Joseph clashed again and again with Skully, but he was tiring. Chaos mana laced every wound the golem dealt. An unexpected but welcome consequence of Bones’ chaos affinity upgrade, and each clash drained the Templar’s divine defenses. A shallow cut to the side became an ache, then a burn. When Skully landed a deeper strike, Joseph roared and knocked the golem back, but he stumbled a step after — blood trailing, the light on his body flickering like a dying flame.

  “Lynette!” he called out.

  “I’m trying!” she answered, her voice strained as she raised a hand toward him. Murdok, the brute golem, was relentless. With a roar-like hum from within, he charged Lynette directly, crashing through barriers she hastily conjured and sending her stumbling. Her lips were moving non-stop, casting spells — buffing Joseph, weakening Bones’ constructs — but the pressure was mounting. Bones launched a binding spell toward her feet while Harmony moved in for the kill. Forced to split her attention, her next healing chant faltered.

  Too late.

  With a final burst of effort, Skully’s spear found its mark — slipping beneath Joseph’s shield and driving deep into his side. The holy light burst around him in a final flare, then dimmed.

  Joseph collapsed.

  The golden soul wisp above him flickered violently — then shattered into drifting motes that faded into the sky.

  Lynette froze.

  For the first time, Bones saw something like grief in her eyes — but only for a moment.

  “Enough.”

  Lynette’s lips trembled, breath ragged, eyes darting between the looming constructs and Joseph’s broken body.

  Then, as Skully turned and Murdok growled low, stalking closer, she vanished as a burst of light flashed outward. The priestess blinked from sight, leaving only scorched grass and drifting motes in her place.

  The clearing fell silent. Bones’ golems stood triumphant. He staggered slightly, soul worn thin, breath ragged despite lacking lungs. The cost of clashing directly with emissaries of light was far greater than he expected. The holy fire hadn’t seared his body, but his soul bore the marks. The burns were subtle, but deep. He felt scorched inside.

  He didn’t linger. With Joseph dead and Lynette gone, there was no telling who else may come his way.

  He pressed onward.

  The days that followed blurred together.

  Chaos mana stirred restlessly inside him, emboldened by the clash with the holy light, no longer content to lie dormant. His body held together, but the pressure was mounting. He could feel it coiling within his soul like smoke in a glass jar, threatening to burst free at any moment. No pure mana to balance it, no rest to reclaim control. The air around him began to shimmer with unnatural heat — as if the very world was rejecting him.

  Then, through the thinning treeline a day later , he saw it.

  Wolford.

  Stone rooftops rose like jagged teeth on the horizon. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the town hall loomed in the distance, topping over other buildings. Bones halted at the forest’s edge, the scent of life hitting him like a wave.

  He stepped behind a crooked tree and knelt.

  He couldn’t go in.

  Not like this.

  The chaos mana radiated off him like a poisonous aura.

  He extended his hand and summoned the artifact core — a black sphere of silver-lined etchings that shimmered like liquid starlight. With it, he could shift his form, mask his presence, appear human if he wished.

  But as he stared at the artifact, dread coiled in his gut.

  Wolford was home to an ascendant, not to mention high-ranking werewolves and veteran adventurers. Even the smallest mistake, one slip in aura or mannerism, and he’d be hunted down like vermin. Probably…

  No, he couldn’t risk it. He needed a proxy.

  His eyes turned to the silent figures assembled behind him. Three golems stood still, awaiting command.

  Murdok was strong, but crude — lacked grace. Bones doubted the brute could navigate a city. Not suited for diplomacy.

  Skully? Ever dependable, but the tail was too lively and his features too noticeable.

  Then there was Harmony.

  He looked her way. She stood out even among the others — her form feminine, hood shadowing her mask-like facial features, clad in stitched leather and a weathered cloak. From a distance, she could pass for human. But her personality… That was another issue.

  Still, he had no other choice.

  Bones stepped forward, his voice quieter than usual. “Are you up to the task?” he asked softly. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice.”

  Harmony tilted her head, but didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. His intent passed through the soul-link.

  “Great. Just get into Gauss’ office, and I’ll do the talking.”

  Without a word, Harmony turned and started walking toward the city, her hood bouncing lightly with each step. Bones watched her go, exhaled a shaky breath, and leaned against a tree.

  “Hope this works…” he muttered.

  A while later…

  Harmony reached Gauss’ office after skillfully maneuvering through Wolford’s streets, keeping low and slipping past notice until she entered the town hall.

  She knocked on the door, twice.

  Grunting, the voice on the other side of the doors shouted “come in”, before clearing his throat.

  Harmony entered and without missing the beat, a muffled voice, barely audible, spoke.

  “Greetings Gauss. It’s me, Bones. Alas, I have failed in my last task so I have returned!”

  Gauss paused writing, pen hovering over paper. dSlowly, he looked up from his writing, eyes narrowing at the cloaked figure in his doorway. Draped in cloak covering most of the leather garment hidden beneath and hood shadowing the face, anyone would find the individual suspicious. So did Gauss. A moment later, the words finally registered. He set down the pen, his brow furrowing with confusion.

  “Bones? Failed? Wait… is this one of your golems?” he asked, moving around the desk to get a better look at her. The thought of failure seemed momentarily forgotten in favor of curiosity.

  “What happened? Why is your golem here, and not you? If you’re controlling it, you can’t be far from town?”

  Harmony inclined her head, and Bones’ voice answered through her.

  “I’m just outside Wolford, beyond the western gate. It’s a long story, one I’ll share if you’ve got the time. A recent… breakthrough has made moving among the living more complicated, so I’m using Harmony as a proxy to deliver my mission report. I feared that if I came in person, my nature as an undead would be obvious — and I’ve heard the undead aren’t exactly welcome here.”