By the Grace of the Gods (LN) - Volume 13 - Chapter 17

Chapter 8, Episode 17: The Carrot and the Stick

Back at the watchtower, Reinbach and Sebas had set up camp for us.

“You’re back. What slime was it this time?” Reinbach asked as he worked on one of the tents, all too familiar with my modus operandi.

I relayed what I had found out about my new slimes through my Appraisal and trial runs.

“Grave slime... Never heard of it. I’m sure it’s another new species...with a very intriguing set of abilities,” said Reinbach.

“A slime that lures Undead and preys on them. This evolution could not have come at a better time,” Sebas said.

“Probably because that’s been their main diet for this journey,” I speculated.

“We saw those abilities in action—there’s no doubt about their effectiveness,” Remily said. “I’m more interested in their resistance to cursed energy. Could they consume cursed energy along with the Undead and neutralize it?”

“Perhaps if I can measure how much cursed energy they can contain. I would have to test that with different variables,” I said.

“If that pans out, grave slimes will be extremely valuable,” Remily added.

Undead monsters and cursed energy can appear in any place where death has occurred. The greater the number and severity of deaths in the area, the more likely it was for them to materialize. There were methods of preventing bodies from becoming Undead—like burying them—as well as strategies to dispatch them. Rarely did Undead monsters become a problem in populated areas, but humanity isn’t perfect. We were gazing out over the former prison, now in ruins because the facilitators had failed to prevent or deal with the emergence of Undead. The City of Lost Souls was one of the most extreme examples, but there were numerous spots around the world more prone to produce Undead monsters and cursed energy. Grave slimes could be very useful in any of those places.

“The Lay to Rest skill is what I’m most curious about,” Sever said. “If they can store and carry any corpse or carcass, it would be a game changer to have one accompany every Knight’s Order and military operation. When hunting monsters, knights are allowed to take any monster parts and cash them out in addition to their pay. If there’s no room to pack them, though, they’re forced to leave them behind. The ability to bring back as many parts as possible will improve their payout and, naturally, their morale... Not to mention returning home the knights who pass away during missions.”

“I see...” No one would want to leave the body of their fallen compatriot behind.

“It may make taming Undead monsters easier,” said Reinbach. The adults were giving me new perspectives on the grave slime, but his was the most unexpected.

“You can tame an Undead?” I asked.

“They are monsters, after all. It is possible, though few prefer to. Taming a humanoid corpse is especially frowned upon. Those who do are almost always turned away from inns, and even barred from entering some cities. Even without the stigma, their only useful ability is their regeneration. It’s difficult to make it worth your while because of their weakness to sunlight, their smell, and the backlash you would face in society,” Reinbach explained.

“Makes sense,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to tame one anytime soon... Does anyone really go through with it?”

“I’ve tried it once to test my aptitude as a tamer. Had no desire to maintain that contract, but there are some tamers who are only compatible with the Undead. Those who research Undead monsters may be forced to tame one for that purpose.”

I doubted that researchers of the Undead were treated much better than those who studied slimes. If they found out about grave slimes, could they keep their subjects of research stowed away when they didn’t need the monsters around? Maybe not...

“The grave slimes may be more versatile than I thought,” I said, setting aside all the ideas percolating in my mind. “Slimes multiply the more nutrients they get. Do you mind if I take the time to increase their numbers now? They could be very useful in our next steps.”

“Yes, we were still discussing our next move,” Reinbach said. “I don’t mind, of course.”

“The fewer Undead around, the better. I have no problem with that,” Sever agreed.

“Not much daylight left,” Remily pointed out. “Let’s save the big hunt for tomorrow and shore up our defenses for tonight.”

Sure enough, red light already creeped into the sky. With the City of Lost Souls right under our nose, I expected we’d face a much larger horde tonight than we had the night before. So we set up the same defense perimeters: slime-based stone walls and barbed wire that circled the open area before the watchtower. The only staircase leading up to the watchtower was blocked off by the emperor scavenger slime. Placing grave slimes behind it would stop any Undead monster on the ground. Even if the emperor slime were to encounter more Undead than it could absorb at once, it would pass them onto the grave slimes or throw them off the stairs.

Can grave slimes absorb the flying Undead too? I wondered. I’d seen them absorb zombies and skeletons, but I hadn’t seen a grave slime encounter a wraith or wisp yet. If the grave slimes could absorb them, I could incorporate them into our defense in the air... Considering that wraiths were not corporeal and wisps were basically floating balls of fire, I wasn’t sure. It would have to be trial and error.

As the sun set further, more and more Undead showed themselves. Chief among them were the wraiths and wisps, flying up through the roofs of the old prison buildings. From afar, I could almost pretend they were fireflies bedecking the night.

“I guess those are embers of life too...” I muttered to myself.

“How poetic.”

I turned. “Oh, Mister Sebas!” His comment, rather than the fact that he had heard mine, made me blush.

“The wraiths will approach us once it’s darker,” he said. “Please come in. We have dinner ready.”

“Thank you.” I followed Sebas into the Holy Space and felt a tangible difference in the air as I crossed the threshold. Breathing was easier, which made me realize how much difference purifying cursed energy can make.

“Miss Remily, this spell is amazing,” I said.

“You can really feel it when you come in, can’t you? I made sure tonight’s is stronger than yesterdays. Let’s have a relaxing dinner.” Remily took the lead in reaching for one of the instant meals in the pot. As soon as she tore the bag, something happened.

A group of Undead flying above the city nearby came straight towards us, as if they were drawn to the camp by some force. I even checked the grave slimes to make sure none had activated the Attract Spirits spell. As I kept an eye on them, they hovered right above us. Although they were kept at bay by the Holy Space spell, they showed no sign of trying to attack the slimes on the outside, only floating in place. Like they were watching us.

“Ryoma, don’t worry too much about them. This happens a lot,” said Sever.

“Really?”

“The Undead are influenced by the emotions and thoughts they possessed when they were alive. And starvation was one of the methods of execution here. Hunger and thirst must linger in them. Many Undead flock to you if you show that you have any kind of food,” he explained.

“That makes sense, but this is kind of awkward,” I said.

“Only natural,” Reinbach said. “Who can enjoy a peaceful meal in the face of starving souls, even if they are criminals-turned-monsters? I’m not sure I’d enjoy the company of anyone who could.”

“Knights usually lose their appetite during the first meal they take here,” Sever joined in. “The more time you spend eating, the more difficult it becomes. The best remedy is to chow down on your food fast.”

After hearing this, I focused on eating my dinner. It only made sense that we finished our meal more quickly and quietly than we were accustomed to.

“They haven’t left, even though we finished our food,” I noted.

“Perhaps they think we have more,” Sebas said.

Even after our meal, the Undead floated around the perimeter of the spell, almost like they were begging. Although they were harmless at the moment, they made me uneasy. Precisely because I was in a safe space with spare time, my eyes kept drifting up to them. Now I realized that our competition last night had been an effective distraction.

“Would they go away if we gave them food?” I asked. Dead criminals still suffering from hunger and thirst reminded me of the Buddhist gaki—hungry ghosts. Some regions or households in Japan held a ceremony called segaki during the summer, when they would offer food to the starving spirits in hopes of accumulating good karma. Wondering if there were similar customs in this world, I asked the group about it.

“Sometimes we offer flowers or alcohol to wish the dead a peaceful rest. Never with the Undead, though... They are dangerous. Most people would choose to hunt them or run from them,” Sebas said.

“Besides, the Undead can’t be satiated by food,” said Sever. “Every year, a rookie or two would give them a part of their rations. The monsters tried to eat it. Zombies picking up and dropping the food in front of them with arms that hardly moved. Skeletons tossing the food into their skulls only to have it fall out from under their ribs...and wraiths and wisps are incorporeal and so are helpless. Overall it only made it harder for us to watch.”

“I see what you mean...” I said. Sever had seen these pitiful monsters trying to sate their insatiable hunger year after year. Maybe he had even tried to feed them himself, from how much pity I could hear in his voice.

Is it just easier to hunt them down, then? The moral debate tugged and pulled at my mind as I spotted a particular wraith. Like the other wraiths, it was a blurry silhouette of a human with no distinguishable face. But while the other wraiths wandered to and fro, this one seemed to stand just at the edge of our Holy Space, staring at us. “What is it doing?” I asked.

“Who knows? There’s no guessing the logic behind the behavior of any Undead,” Sever replied.

“Higher-ranking Undead sometimes have a sliver of memory from when they were alive, but even then they have no intelligence...” Remily chimed in.

“If you’re curious, why don’t you try taming it? You may find out something,” said Reinbach.

A taming contract did allow me to sense the emotions of slimes who couldn’t speak to me otherwise. I assumed this would be the same for the Undead. Besides, I wanted to see if I could tame an Undead, in case I ever came in contact with an Undead slime in the future.

I walked to the edge of the Holy Space, as close as I could get to the motionless wraith. There, I tried casting the taming contract.

Snap! 

I could almost hear it.

“What happened?” Sever asked.

“It didn’t work. With slimes, I can tether them with magical energy without effort. With the wraith, it felt like the tether was torn.” I felt rejected, like I’d extended my hand for the wraith to shake and it slapped it away.

“Indeed, that is a failed connection. You must be very incompatible with wraiths, or perhaps with all Undead. Most tamers describe an unsuccessful contract as feeling some resistance or as the tether not connecting. I’m not sure if your incompatibility is only with wraiths or with the Undead overall,” Reinbach said.

To figure out which was the case, I asked the grave slimes and emperor slimes to allow them to pass so I could try to tame a zombie and a skeleton making their way up the stairs. I felt the same tearing sensation with both. Apparently, Undead monsters and I were oil and water, no matter which individual I tried to tame.

I also noticed that each rejection felt a little different somehow. I couldn’t explain how, but...it bummed me out. Even if the only salvation for the Undead was taking them out.

“Could I try giving them food?” I asked the group. “I’m sure they’ll swarm it, but I’ll take care of them if the food doesn’t help.”

“I won’t stop you,” said Sever.

“Knock yourself out,” Remily agreed.

Now that I had their permission, I crafted a large hearth with Earth magic from a chunk of nearby soil. I produced some firewood and potatoes I’d packed in the Item Box just in case we needed them. Noting how the Undead monsters took immediate notice of the potatoes, I lit the firewood in the hearth.

“You’re going to the trouble of cooking for them?” Sebas asked.

“No—once the fire’s big enough, I’ll throw the food in the fire.”

There were plenty of religious rituals that used fire. A common practice in Japan was to start a fire to both welcome and then send off ancestral spirits during the summer. In Hinduism, monks sometimes fed offerings of flowers and food into a fire before a divine statue. Japanese Buddhist altars were adorned with incense because deities are believed to feed on the scent of it.

I had no detailed knowledge about these rituals, or proper tools, or even a single stick of incense. These customs didn’t even exist in this world, but I was improvising one—it was a long shot.

Explaining my thought process to my companions, I fed the dried meat to the flames, along with my hope and prayer.

As soon as the smoke rose and touched a few wraiths overhead, they began furiously flying all around the Holy Space. Not only was their state a far cry from peaceful, I sensed anger in them.

Do they think I just wasted food because they don’t have these customs? I guessed.

For my next attempt, I fed potatoes laced with Dark magical energy into the fire. Dark magic affected the mind, just like I’d instilled fear into that exam proctor at the Adventurer’s Guild. This time, I willed with my magic that the wraiths might find some relief from their hunger—that they would, if possible, find their way peacefully to the world beyond. I kept up the stream of smoke to carry my will upwards, until...

“Did they hear it?” I asked aloud.

Gradually, the wraiths steadied from their violent flight until they began to fly through the tower of smoke with purpose.

“That looks like a success. You had to turn the food to smoke?” Reinbach asked.

“Just burning it won’t do the trick. Think of it as a Dark spell of its own kind,” said Remily.

“How do you mean?” I asked. Did I really create a Dark magic spell in the spur of the moment?

“For every spell, you need a firm grasp of its concept,” Remily said. “For example, I know a spell called Shadow Needle. It’s similar to Earth Needle, but no natural shadow will turn into a needle and pierce someone, will it?”

“No. That would be terrifying,” I said.

“Then how is it possible? Because a sorcerer concretely imagines the spell they want to cast and make it happen with magical energy. In order to make your imagination more vivid and real, you need a firm grasp on the concept of the spell.”

According to Remily, understanding the underlying logic of a spell made it more efficient and effective. By the same token, a sorcerer could cast any spell with the most basic concept in mind as long as they didn’t mind spending a lot more magical energy than they had to if they had a better understanding.

“Just now, your concept of mourning the Undead manifested—through Dark magical energy and the fire—a unique Dark spell that could actually feed the Undead. The only other ritualistic spells about the Undead that I’ve seen tried to turn dead bodies into Undead—or even tried to make the spellcaster Undead while maintaining their mind and tricking death. Most of the time it’s a foolish attempt that goes wrong. There are some cases where those were partially successful, though, so I’m not surprised yours went well. I mean, you always tweak spells as you cast them, Ryoma. Why are you surprised now?” Remily was absolutely right, so I had no response. “Looks like they’re hungry for more.”

“Oh! Thank you,” I said.

I’d only fed a slab of meat and a single potato to the fire, and now they were little more than charcoal. I added more food, Dark magical energy, and prayers to the flames and sent more and more smoke skywards.

After continuing this process for some time, one of the now countless wraiths hovering above stopped right in front of me.

“Are you...?” I wondered if that was the first wraith I’d tried to claim, but I wouldn’t get a chance to ask it.

The wraith’s expression was still indistinguishable, but just for a moment, it looked peaceful. Just as I suspected that I’d imagined the emotion on the wraith’s face, it vanished into the smoke.

May their next life be filled with happiness, I wished. Maybe I felt this way because I had died once myself. Watching the Undead fade away one by one, I wished for their peace beyond. At the same time, I hardened my resolve to take out any Undead that didn’t vanish this way by force, and to not feel guilty about it.