Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Upon the human’s death, Ange realized he couldn’t return anymore. The luminescent membrane turned into a magical armlet on his wrist, but he didn’t know how to change it back.

Ange didn’t dwell too much on not being able to return. Here wasn’t much different from the Resting Camp — equally desolate and quiet, with the only difference being the presence of other skeletons.

Not long after the human’s death, a decaying skeleton wandered over from afar. It staggered forward with its hollow eye sockets focused on the human’s body, as if something about the corpse intrigued it.

However, as it approached within a range of about thirty meters, the decaying skeleton stopped abruptly. It cocked its head, somewhat puzzled, and turned towards Ange, Its hollow eyes falling upon him.

The Soul Fire within its eye sockets trembled for a moment before the skeleton turned around and wandered off in another direction, moving even faster this time.

Skeletons have different ranks, and Ange’s rank was much higher than this decaying skeleton’s, which had scared it off directly.

So, Ange stayed right there and managed to scare off over a dozen decaying skeletons and white skeletons that afternoon. It was as though boundaries had been re-established, and no low-level skeleton dared to wander towards Ange anymore.

Ange dug a hole to settle down temporarily, burying the food from his trolley in another hole.

Admittedly, the timing of the hole was perfect. By evening, Ange noticed that the roaming skeletons had started to dig holes simultaneously. They buried themselves before a wind began to blow.

This wind was the Resting Wind.

The Resting Wind is the origin of all living creatures in the Land of Death. It bestowed life upon the scattered corpses, bones, and soul fragments, nurturing them into skeletons, necromancers, and the undead. However, it could also mercilessly destroy everything if disrespected in the slightest way.

As an undead, long-term exposure to the Resting Wind would slowly solidify and dry up the soul, leading to its eventual extinction. This rule applied even to the mighty Golden Skeleton Wraith King — the difference being their ability to withstand its effects longer.

Ange lay in the dug-out hole, listening to the whistling of the Resting Wind. His soul gradually calmed down. The Resting Wind had a calming effect on souls, provided they were not hit directly by it.

Laying in the hole, Ange’s curiosity led him to stretch out a finger into the chilling wind. The fog-like Resting Wind passed across his finger, stirring vortices. Under the wind’s touch, his entire palm turned silvery white, like metal.

As the wind swept across him, a chilly sensation slithered from his palm down to his Soul Fire, giving him a sense of invigoration as though his soul was being devoured. This enlivened his spirit.

For skeletons like himself, the best means of empowerment was to devour the souls of their kind. But as a farming skeleton, Ange had no need to enhance his soul. Besides, he was the only one left in the Resting Camp with no kin to prey upon.

However, self-empowerment is innate to all souls. After trying it out, Ange found it irresistible, almost addictively reaching both his hands out.

The night passed, and dawn arrived, bringing an end to the Resting Wind.

Ange felt a significant solidification of his soul. He couldn’t tell by how much, but his bones had drastically altered. There were fewer dents and ravines, the bigger holes had shrunk, and the small ones were filled up, just as if they had been puttied over.

If he was exposed to the wind a few more times, it seemed he wouldn’t have to replace his bones, Ange thought to himself.

Upon climbing out of the hole, Ange noticed the corpse of the human from yesterday was gone. Looking up, he saw it had been transformed into a zombie, slowly shuffling away from him.

Ange ran over and dragged the little zombie back. Terrified, thinking that Ange wanted to eat it, the little zombie struggled desperately. Unsurprisingly, even the decaying and white skeletons had been scared off by Ange, let alone the newly-born zombie, which was swiftly stripped bare.

Stripped of human items — a leather pouch, an empty water bottle, a longsword. Inside the pouch was a map and a few silver coins, but there was nothing to prove its identity.

In other words, why and how the human came here, and how he activated the Teleportation Array, might forever remain a mystery. If Ange couldn’t figure out how to use the magical armlet, he might never get to return.

Ange stared at the now marred bones, thinking that perhaps not being able to return wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Thanks to the Resting Wind, Ange made a home for himself in this wilderness, with the wind gusting over him daily, continually empowering his soul.

The newly-born little zombie gradually grew familiar with Ange too. In the beginning, it was petrified when Ange dragged it away and stripped it bare. It thought it was going to be eaten. But after having stripped it, Ange ignored it.

A newly-born little zombie that just escaped death, wandering around aimlessly until the Resting Wind started to blow.

Being new-born, it was unable to withstand the harsh blow of the Resting Wind. With an instinct to survive, it attempted to dig into the ground to hide, but given its pace, it would get disintegrated by the wind before it could dig a big enough hole.

Luckily, the hole Ange had dug was not too distant, and braving the wind, he reached the zombie and dragged it into his hole.

Compared to the little zombie, Ange was too formidable, which made sharing a hole with him rather oppressive, scaring the zombie to attempt crawling out. However, as its head peeked out of the hole, the chilling wind forced it to retreat. In the end, it crouched in a corner of the hole, clutching its head and shivering.

Ange paid it no mind and stretched out his hands to harness the chilling wind. As dawn broke and the Resting Wind halted, the little zombie hastily crawled out of the hold.

This time, the little zombie decided to keep its distance from this terrifying place. But shortly after stepping outside the thirty meter radius, another wandering skeleton chased it back in. The thirty-meter area around Ange was his territory. In it, he wouldn’t bother with the little zombie. But once it stepped out of that range, its fragile newly-born soul became a tempting meal, an easy target for anyone.

After being chased back by other skeletons a few times, the little zombie figured out that every other place was more terrifying than here.

As evening approached and the Resting Wind began to blow again, the distressed, hole-digging-incapable little zombie timidly returned to Ange’s hole.

It continued to keep its eye on Ange, warily creeping further into the hole each time he ignored it. Eventually, it backed itself into the same corner as it occupied the previous night, assuming the same position, clutching its head. The only difference was it no longer shivered.

The next morning, it could not wait to crawl out again. By evening, it had returned to the hole before the Resting Wind had even started to blow. It no longer clutched its head; instead it watched Ange curiously, even venturing to mimic his action of reaching out a hand from the hole.

Of course, this reckless move led the little zombie’s soul to a brutal baptism by the chilling wind.