Ark Undead

"..."

Kal'tsit felt that she couldn't stand the dead and was starting to dislike him, so she shouldn't have let him speak.

"Hiss...whoosh..."

Kal'tsit took a deep breath and slowly exhaled to calm herself down.

"Is there anything else? If not, please leave."

Kal'tsit has told them to get out.

"Then, I'm leaving."

The Undead stood up abruptly from his seat, picked up the greatsword leaning against the table, slung it over his shoulder, and left the office.

After the undead left, Kal'tsit took a big gulp of the cold coffee she hadn't finished drinking.

Then, they got through to the doctor.

"Hey?"

The doctor replied blankly.

"After you find Amiya, go to the library and brush up on all the knowledge you've forgotten. You'll be responsible for some of Rhodes Island's operations from now on. Understand?"

"Huh? Amiya wasn't releasing...?"

"She's on vacation, but you're not. If you want to rediscover your past memories, you can't afford to be so lax, don't you think?"

Kal'tsit's tone was distinctly cold, and the Doctor, who wanted to say something, could only stammer out two "uh-huhs".

"That's it. I look forward to you understanding your own abilities soon."

After hanging up the phone, Kal'tsit leaned back in her chair.

Much more comfortable...

On the other side, the Doctor put down the communicator with a bewildered look on his face. He had just found Amiya.

Amiya also heard Kal'tsit's tone and asked curiously.

"Doctor, what happened? Dr. Kal'tsit's emotions don't usually change this much."

"I don't know either! I just left her place. I was planning to ask you to show me around today."

Amiya thought for a moment, then asked cautiously.

What did you do this morning?

"I chatted with the Undead for a while, and Kal'tsit arranged it for me. Then I left, and Kal'tsit said she had something to discuss with the Undead, so the two of them went into the office to talk."

"So, you left Dr. Kal'tsit and Mr. Undead alone together?"

"Yes, is there a problem?"

The doctor nodded blankly.

"..."

Amiya hesitated for a moment, but in the end she just sighed.

"Come on, Doctor, I'll take you to the library."

The doctor, who really didn't understand the relationship between the two, scratched his head.

Do they have some kind of amazing chemistry?

It's really baffling.

written request for leave

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198. A Special Gift

While the Doctor and Amiya were in the library performing a memory reversal procedure on the Doctor, the Undead had already led Ceobe back to his room.

Kroos said he had made a promise with an older sister to go play there today, so he couldn't come to the Undead's place.

When she told this story, Kroos hesitated a bit, wondering whether she should stand up the older sister.

But the Undead simply told Kroos to go over, saying he had some things to do and needed to see Melantha.

Breaking a promise is never a good habit, no matter the time. The Undead are also teaching Kroos some basic knowledge about human society in their own way, even though the Undead themselves don't know if this knowledge is correct.

After all, in a sense, the immortals only entered human society six months or a year earlier than Keopatra.

As the Undead watched Kroos lead his friends to find the older sister, they pondered the craftsman Kroos had mentioned, the one called the God of Fire.

He was also considering whether he should send his greatsword over for repair sometime.

It's not that I find it particularly inconvenient to use; any weapon needs repair and maintenance. Even this large iron block in the hands of the Undead, after being scorched by flames and countless clashes, inevitably develops some dents and scratches.

Not to mention that the Undead often use their greatswords as shields, able to block arrows and spells with them.

After a long period of such battles, the Undead's Greatsword has actually shrunk by a whole size.

The overall shape is developing in the direction of a cylinder.

After all, the flames ignited by the undead are completely different from ordinary flames. Even ordinary iron, after being burned by the First Flame, will gradually acquire sentience and generate a strange life force.

Not to mention that such a high-purity flame, in the process of burning steel, will also force out some hidden impurities that ordinary blacksmiths cannot remove using flames and techniques.

The greatswords used by the undead now have almost lost their sharp edges, making them look more like a miniature version of a completely unsharpened greatsword.

Surprisingly, despite the significant reduction in size, the weight remained unchanged. Under the extremely unbalanced forging process of the initial fire, the entire piece of giant sword steel appeared to be compressed.

But such steel is something that a normal blacksmith certainly cannot forge.

Although the blacksmith Ander was indeed skilled, creating such a large steel greatsword was already his limit under the Undead's requirements. If he wanted to continue upgrading and iterating his weapon, he had to find a craftsman with even more ancient skills.

The term "ancient" here doesn't mean that traditional is necessarily good. But perhaps only ancient craftsmen possess the special skills to forge weapons specifically for the undead.

The Undead would really like to take a look at that craftsman named Vulcan if he has the time.

But now...

The immortal slung his greatsword over his shoulder and walked toward the door.

In the days since leaving Rhodes Island, the Undead has been pondering what gift he should give Melantha, as her teacher.

Although the Undead had been sent away once before, it was still quite strange.

Leaving aside whether the straight sword the Undead forged for Melantha in Victoria was up to standard, and also ignoring how powerful the medal the Undead gave Melantha when he left was, let's not even discuss the merits of that medal.

The key point is that the materials for both of these items were funded by Melantha. In addition to the Undead carving the badges themselves, the materials were also made using Melantha's tuition fees.

Maria possessed the sword that the Undead had used when he was a war knight. The sword, imbued with pure lightning and through the Undead's long battles, had become a transcendent item.

What Heavenly Fire possesses is even more precious. As the flame of a sorcerer's magic, it can almost be said to be the foundation of a sorcerer's livelihood, the flame of life.

In a sense, the Undead have never truly given Melantha a gift that would be the most meaningful gift a teacher could give to their disciple.

However, after being reminded by Kroos, the undead suddenly thought of something.

If Rhodes Island had its own artisans with the ability, the Undead wouldn't mind melting down the current greatsword and making two different weapons.

Using some of the steel, craft a brand new longsword for Melantha; perhaps the Undead themselves can engrave it or bestow blessings upon it.

With his mind preoccupied with weapons, the Undead quickly made his way onto the deck.

At this moment, the members of the reserve team are doing their morning exercises.

Andercher and a pink-haired hunk were trailing at the very back, while Melantha was at the very front.

They are doing their warm-up exercises around the deck today.

The Undead simply stood to the side, leaning against the wall behind the deck, watching them train.

There are quite a few people who get up early to relax on the deck or have a habit of exercising.

The reserve team members use a portion of the area by themselves, while the other portion is where the regular operators train on their own early in the morning.

There are also older officers who like to come to the deck in the morning to enjoy the breeze, with a cup of tea in hand.

For example, the old man who's coming over right now.

Good morning, Mr. Undying.

An elegant white-haired old man, holding a cup of coffee, leaned closer to the undead, and, mimicking him, leaned against the wall, taking a small sip of his coffee.

"Hragg, General?"

The Undead almost didn't recognize that this relaxed old man was really the same spirited and calm old man he had met in Chernobog.

"Haha! Don't you think your image has changed a bit too quickly?"

The old man laughed heartily, then said jokingly.

"But don't talk about me, you too, Mr. War Knight. If someone hadn't mentioned it to me, I wouldn't have known that War Knights would actually take off their helmets and armor and put on the clothes that only Victorian nobles would wear."

"..."

The Undead nodded. Indeed, what Old Man Hrag said was right; everyone has a different appearance.

"How's it going? Not bad? Have you eaten?"

The Undead asked a few brief questions, which was one of the few ways he had learned to exchange pleasantries in all his time in Terra.

Herag's expression was strange, but he could still barely understand the words of the undead.

"I did eat, and the food at Rhodes Island was pretty good. But your manner of greeting, which is very Yan-style, just felt strangely out of place on you."

The general chuckled, put down the coffee cup from his lips, held it in his hands, and felt the warmth in his palms.

A gentle breeze rustled across the deck, and Herag squinted, savoring the peaceful scene.

“I never imagined that Azazel would have a day like this, where he doesn’t have to worry about his own survival and can just focus on the symptoms of his patients. The children can also be fully engaged in treating the illness.”

"To be honest, just two days ago, I was still thinking about this. If Chernobog also goes through a turbulent period, where should Azazel go next? We've been in Ursus for quite some time now. But if things change in Chernobog, where can we go? Ursus itself has become twisted to a strange degree, and I have no power to change it..."

As Helag said this, he couldn't help but sigh twice.

One instance was when he talked about how his living conditions had improved, and the other was when he talked about how he couldn't change Ursus.