Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

“His name is Locke. Known as Steadfast. Full name, Steadfast Locke. These indigenous Undead tend to be quite casual with their names,” said Negris, a note of disdain in his voice, although there was a hint of fear in his eyes.

It was the king who caught Negris, but it was Locke who had laid hands on him. That had been a humiliating experience against which Negris was utterly powerless. The only thing he could take comfort in now was the superiority of his own name. There was no other small victory to be had.

He hoped that the shadow of the king and that purple-gold bone would disappear completely. Negris prayed sheepishly.

Ange thought of another question: “What’s the name of the king?” Ange had never asked the king’s name before, simply referring to him as the king seemed sufficient. But now that they were on the topic, he thought he might as well ask.

“The king’s name is… is…,” Negris stuttered repeatedly. His voice fell lower with each repetition, and an expression of horror spread across his face: “I know the king’s name, but I can’t remember it. My memory seems to be sealed!”

The terrifying thing about memory seals is that you don’t feel anything unusual in your daily life, but there are certain things that you just can’t remember, no matter how hard you try. If Ange hadn’t asked him this question, Negris wouldn’t even have realized that his memory had been tampered with. Ange tilted his head to the side, puzzled, he said, “You are sealed.”

Negris fell silent for a moment. That’s right, he was sealed in the Bronze Book, along with some of his memories. What was odd about this?

Once he realized this, Negris relaxed: “Thank goodness. I wasn’t just memory sealed, I was entirely sealed.”

Perhaps because Ange had made no response for a while, the voice of the witch from the speck of light rang out again: “Lord of the Purple Skeleton, are you still there?”

“Not the purple corpse, the Lord of Mourning,” Ange corrected, “Locke is the Lord of Mourning, not the Lord of the Purple Skeleton.”

“Ah? The Lord of Mourning? Is this your true name? Great Lord of Mourning, we of the Purple Skeleton Clan have been guarding your hand bone all this while. We established our clan in your name and beseech your protection. Lord of Mourning, please save us, the Purple Skeleton Clan. We are being plagued by disease and famine, please protect us.”

As the witch’s voice trailed off, a large cluster of Soul Flame was sent over. It seemed like they were in an Abyss Dimension too, a world without any dimensional barriers like Angels, which meant that the energy expenditure required for this transmission wasn’t extensive.

This was no ordinary Soul Flame, it was too vast to have been produced by only one or two individuals. As it infused into Ange’s soul, it scattered odd pieces of imagery.

It depicted an open space in a primitive forest, surrounded by rudimentary tents made of leather. A large group of people garbed in animal hides huddled together in a circle, praying fervently.

Two elderly wizards painted with bright, chaotic colors danced a bizarre ritual, spreading waves of energy about them.

A witch with wheat-colored skin knelt before a Teleportation Array, speaking to a hand bone of purple and gold.

But the ratio of the hand bone was somewhat strange; it was smaller than the witch and the others. With a normal bone size, those people would measure between two and a half to three meters tall- practically giants.

The Soul Flame formed a symbol within Ange’s soul, bringing the total count of symbols in his soul to four.

Four? Wasn’t it three? Ange counted again, puzzled. Indeed, there were four symbols- Lisa’s, Oke’s, the witch’s from Purple Skeleton, and even one from the silver coin. When did the silver coin create a symbol?

Negris finally reacted: “A hand bone? A purple-gold hand bone? They’re guarding it? Locke’s hand bone is with them?!”

Ange nodded his head in affirmation. From the images within the Soul Flame, he saw the hand bone. Purple and gold, complete and completely from the elbow down.

“Send it over,” said Ange.

“Ah? O, Lord of Mourning, this is the only object through which we can contact you. Could we keep it? Otherwise we would lose all connections to you,” the voice of the Purple Skeleton hesitated.

Might she forever lose her connection with the Lord of Mourning if they were to give up the hand bone? That was how her ancestors had constructed the Teleportation Array in the first place, through the residual information within the hand bone.

Will they lose contact? No, that won’t be the case. Ange reached out and touched the symbol of the Purple Skeleton, sending over a notion: “Send it here.”

The Purple Skeleton who was kneeling on the ground leaped up in surprise. Ange’s voice had echoed directly in her heart, instead of through the Teleportation Array.

Witnessing such a miracle, the Purple Skeleton quickly placed the hand bone onto the Teleportation Array without any hesitation and activated it.

Negris immediately selected ‘receive’ on the coordinate system. Suddenly, the entire control room began shaking lightly.

The room wasn’t shaking, it was the Teleportation Array at the very top. Between the two stone pillars, a flash of white light from the teleportation, and a purple-gold colored hand bone was revealed between the pillars.

Ange noticed that this method of teleportation was different from the one he experienced when he first arrived in this world.

When he first arrived, a light film appeared between the two pillars and he seemed to walk through a door. But this time, it was directly teleported in a flash of light. Was there a difference between the two?

The hand bone was heavy as if made of metal. A familiar hint of power subtly emanated from it. Before the soul of the Undead disappeared, Ange had felt this power before.

“This is Locke’s hand bone. I recognize this energy. How did his hand end up in the… Purple Skeleton Plane? Did he die in that dimension?” Negris asked..