[Hollow King] Chapter 2: Undead Strength (Patreon)

Internally, Lucas was deeply worried as the intruder licked its lips in anticipation.

But on the outside, he remained perfectly still, doing the undead equivalent of holding his breath.

Is that a goblin? He guessed. It's a green-skinned humanoid with bat ears, so it certainly matches. Lucas had seen these monsters in games and movies before. They are usually considered weak monsters, right?

He didn't think so anymore now that he was in a room with one. Even if it was no bigger than Sophie, it looked like it could tear him apart with ease.

The goblin narrowed its cat-like yellow eyes when it finally noticed the skeleton clutching the crown it desired. It sniffed the air, then crept forward cautiously on all fours, its claws and blade scraping on the frosted stone. It avoided the patch of sunlight in the middle of the tomb, keeping to the shadows along the wall, and stopped every few steps to stare at him.

Lucas didn't dare to turn his head. He remained as still as a corpse could be while panicking internally. After circling the room, never taking its eyes off him, the goblin paused at the foot of the throne and pointed the tip of its rusty blade at him.

Did it figure me out? Lucas thought, but still didn't react. For the first time since waking in this new body, he was glad he didn't have a nose. Just from looking at the goblin up close, he could tell it reeked.

"Dead," it snarled. It prodded his shin a few times with the tip of the knife. "Definitely dead. Good."

Lucas guessed it couldn't sense the power humming through his bones.

Good. That means so long as I remain still, it won't bother me. Though if it's so cautious of a skeleton like me, does that mean undead are common in this world?

Satisfied by its surface-level investigation, the goblin tucked the knife into its belt and reached forward with both hands. Filthy black claws closed eagerly around the golden crown. The goblin tugged, and when the crown didn't come free, it bared its teeth and began prying Lucas's fingers away one at a time.

Lucas allowed it.

It's just a crown. I'd rather let this monster take it than find out what happens if I die a second time.

The crown slid out of his lap. The goblin held it up to the sunlight and made a gleeful, wet noise in its throat. It grinned with a mouthful of yellowed teeth and then licked the crown right in his face.

Lucas genuinely didn't care about the crown.

It was likely valuable, but what did he need money for? He'd lived for three days in a rotting tomb without food or water, and he'd done just fine. Logically, protecting his life and letting the goblin leave with his treasure was the right thing to do.

Yet, as Lucas watched the monster revel in its loot, for the first time since awakening, his soul and body agreed on something. That being stolen from was unacceptable.

His hand moved on instinct. In a blur, bone fingers snapped shut around the goblin's throat before it realized what was happening. He squeezed, and the goblin let out a startled shriek as its eyes bulged. The crown fell from its clutches and hit the base of the throne with a clang.

"I believe that is mine," Lucas snarled in the goblin's language, surprising himself and making the monster briefly tense in his grip as it stared at him.

Lucas lifted his arm, surprised at how light and hollow his entire body felt. Yet the power humming through his bones gave him the strength to hoist the goblin off its feet as easily as he used to pick up Sophie's rabbit. The goblin kicked desperately at the air, and when that didn't work, it clawed at his fingers and arm.

If Lucas had still been human with skin and flesh, he would have been screaming in pain as the goblin's filthy claws scraped at his bones with a noise akin to nails on a chalkboard. Thankfully, his death had stripped him of such human weaknesses.

He felt nothing.

But the goblin wasn't exactly helpless. As it desperately struggled, it managed to pry his skeletal fingers loose enough to gulp down some air. Lucas then noticed the same faint hum of power present in his bones gathering in the goblin's throat.

Is it about to use magic?

Lucas braced as the goblin opened its jaws wide, thick strands of saliva stretching between its fangs. As he stared down its throat, Lucas felt that power erupt outward. An ear-ringing shriek blasted saliva across his skull, the sound so deafening that the frost on the throne cracked. No matter how hard Lucas squeezed the monster's throat, the shriek wouldn't stop.

[Goblin Scavenger's Intimidating Screech has failed]

[Elder Liches are immune to Fear]

The words echoed through his skull as a whisper, dry and ancient like the one that came out whenever he spoke.

Startled by the voice in his head, Lucas loosened his grip on the goblin. It tore itself free before Lucas could compose himself and scrambled away, coughing violently as it gasped for air.

What was that voice? Lucas wondered, the goblin briefly forgotten. It called me an Elder Lich? Is that what I am? He had seen a Lich in a game before, but never heard of an Elder Lich. Are Elder Liches better than normal Liches, or is it a title given to older ones?

He looked down at the saliva-soaked robes. They certainly looked ancient, as did the ruined tomb he found himself in. The voice didn't speak again to answer his questions, and he didn't have time to ponder. The goblin had recovered and was glaring at him with hatred.

Lucas retrieved the crown from beside his foot, and while the goblin watched in envy, he placed it upon his skull—where it belonged. He adjusted it and found a groove that made it fit perfectly, as if he had always worn it. An overwhelming sense of rightness gripped his soul as he sat crowned upon the throne, gazing down at the goblin.

It snarled back, baring its fangs.

I still don't know if I can defeat it. But does the goblin know that?

He was an Elder Lich, whatever that meant. Surely a goblin should fear him?

Apparently not, as the goblin kept eyeing the crown. He'd have to try harder to intimidate this fearless monster, and without magic, he could only think of one way.

Lucas decided to stand for the first time.

The goblin had to crane its neck as he rose higher than he expected. He had been six feet on Earth and knew what the world looked like from that height. This skeleton was far taller than that, possibly nearing seven feet.

He unconsciously reached out to steady himself against the throne that he had sat in for three days and nights straight. The goblin took it as a sign of weakness as it licked its lips with greed once again.

It just won't give up, will it?

Lucas pushed himself away from the throne, stood as straight as he could manage, and straightened his rotting black-and-red robes. He towered over the goblin, which had drawn its rusted blade again.

"I'm warning you," he snarled in Goblinese, or whatever this beast spoke. "Leave and never return. This is your last chance before I strike you down myself!"

His ancient voice echoed through the tomb, and he felt his performance was good enough to strike fear in such a small monster. He was wrong. The goblin called his bluff and came at him in a blur of green. Lucas turned to face it, only for the nimble monster to change course, kick off a half-open stone chest, and target his left leg.

Lucas grunted as he lost his footing and fell back against the throne as something cracked. For the first time since entering this world, he felt pain.

The goblin broke my leg?!

Unlike getting stabbed or punched, the pain was sharp and then thankfully gone. But a dull phantom ache reminded him of the damage the little green-skinned fucker had inflicted.

Clutching his now useless leg, Lucas glanced around the sunlit room.

Where did it go?

He heard scratching from behind the throne.

Above?

The goblin vaulted over the back of the throne and landed in his lap. Lucas instinctively raised his hands to protect his face, leaving his chest undefended. The goblin snarled in annoyance, but took the open target and plunged its rusted blade deep into his chest.

Lucas howled as burning pain gripped him. It hurt so bad.

The goblin chittered gleefully, seeing it had inflicted pain. It pulled the rusted dagger free and stabbed again and again. Lucas felt the knife slide between his ribs, tearing at his insides and striking... nothing. There were no organs to puncture, no skin to cut, and certainly no blood to soak his robes.

That's when Lucas realized the pain he had felt wasn't real. It was nothing but phantom pain spun by his mind. His soul had remembered what being stabbed felt like and fed him the feeling as if it were reality.

Lucas fell deathly silent.

Thrilled, the goblin kept stabbing at him until bone fingers suddenly clamped around its wrist. It let out a confused noise at first, but then smirked and switched focus to his now-exposed skull with its rusted knife.

Lucas caught the blade between his bone fingers, its tip halfway inside his hollowed eye. If he had still been human, this would have been a very painful strike. Instead, he stared at the surprised goblin and shattered the rusty blade between his fingers.

The goblin pulled back in surprise, staring at the bladeless hilt. For the first time, it showed genuine fear.

"My turn now," Lucas said coldly.

With his free hand, he grabbed the goblin's neck again, and with the other, he twisted, breaking its wrist. It gurgled and began thrashing. Releasing its wrist, he clamped both hands around its neck, planning to choke it out. The problem was that the goblin still had plenty of fight left and enough strength to pull at his fingers to stay alive.

It was a tedious battle, but one Lucas was certain he would win with time. The goblin only had enough energy to struggle for so long. Unlike him, it had biological limits.

Lucas had no such thing.

However, the experience was hardly pleasant. The goblin hammered at his arms, rattling his skeleton, and its squealing grated on his non-existent ears. He tried to squeeze tighter, but this seemed to be the limit of his strength.

Wait, what if I pushed more of this energy into my arms? Would it increase my strength?

Ever since sensing the energy in the goblin's throat, he had grown increasingly aware of the hum within his own bones. It had been faint at first while sitting idly on the throne for days, but now, in the midst of battle, it thundered like blood pounding in his ears.

As easily as clenching a muscle, he willed power into his arms and, more specifically, his fingers. Violet light crackled between his bones as the strange markings brightened. But once the power reached his fingers, his strength didn't increase as he'd hoped. Instead, he instinctively twisted the power into something terribly cold and pushed it into the goblin.

Beneath his fingers, the goblin's green skin turned a sickly gray. The veins in its neck darkened to black and spread upward along its jaw.

The goblin hissed loudly in pain as if plunged into a frozen lake. It thrashed violently, uncaring for its own well-being. Lucas barely managed to hold on until the hum of power that filled his body suddenly bottomed out.

Whatever he'd done to twist his power into the chilling coldness had drained him dry. He collapsed back against the throne, his skull bouncing on the stone. His arms fell to his sides, and he didn't possess the energy to lift them. The goblin was either unaware of his sudden weakness or didn't care.

It tumbled off his lap and desperately staggered toward the door while clutching its broken wrist. The darkness kept spreading from its neck, eating away and slowing its movements. Three steps from the door, the goblin collapsed to one knee with a wheeze. It tried to get back up, but staggered and fell to the floor. Swiveling its head, it glared at him with absolute hatred.

Lucas mustered up the last of his strength to say something.

"Despite the result, I admit you fought well."

Even if the goblin had come into his tomb, stolen his crown, and tried to stab him to death, in the absence of emotions clouding his mind, he came to respect the goblin for its attempt.

The goblin didn't seem to appreciate his respect. It snarled at him angrily like a rabid dog until the flicker of life left its eyes. The moment it stilled, Lucas felt a small rush of power flood into his bones. He sat up straight and found he could clench his fist.

What just happened?

[Soul of the Goblin Scavenger harvested]

[Your Soul Level has increased to 2]

[Death Touch (I) -> Death Touch (II)]

The same ancient voice from before answered him, but this time it was no longer a whisper. It echoed loudly in his mind, and he could even see the words floating in his consciousness.

"Is this... my system?" Lucas asked the silent tomb. "Can you tell me what I am or why I'm here?"

He felt the voice retreat into the back of his mind. Annoying. Why won't it answer me? It sounded like him—or at least what he did as an Elder Lich. Is it perhaps the lingering soul of whoever these bones once belonged to? Or is this just how the system is in this world, and I simply hear it in my own voice?

Either way, the battle and strange voice confirmed many things. First, he could harvest souls to increase his power. Second, he was only Soul Level 2, which made sense as he barely won against a single weak goblin. Third, a skill called [Death Touch] seemed to have leveled up to rank 2.

I assume Death Touch is what I used to kill the goblin. He flexed his bony fingers. That means I can learn skills somehow. Interesting. But why did it go to rank two? Does that mean I already knew it? I did use the skill instinctively, like remembering how to do something I've done a thousand times before.

Glancing across the sunlit throne room, his hollow gaze settled on the lifeless goblin corpse at the foot of the ajar metal door. If one goblin had found him down here, others might be nearby. From what he remembered from fantasy, they bred like cockroaches.

Fighting them alone might be troublesome, but with some help...

Liches were necromancers—he knew that much. If he could learn Death Touch through combat, it seemed reasonable to assume he could perform necromancy too.

The goblin will be my first test.

Rising from the throne once more, he used it for support as he was reminded of his broken leg.

I need to find a way to fix this, but feeding it energy seems to work for now.

He continued down, but the ice made the steps slippery, and he didn't have much grip without shoes or flesh. It was a real struggle, with many close calls on patches of ice, but eventually he managed to hobble over to the corpse and stand a step away from the door that led to the outside world.

Kneeling down, he felt something.

The corpse... it was calling out to him.

[Next Chapter]

Author Note:

What are our thoughts on the system so far? Do you want it to be more responsive, or do you like that it's holding back information for now?

Going forward, expect a chapter on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I'll set them to upload at the usual time that Tree chapters post (10 pm JST)