"Khajiit, is it?"
Naohara looked at the man standing before him. He could still be called human, at least barely. Under Naohara's detection, more than half of him had already ceased to be so.
Strictly speaking, he existed somewhere between a human and an Undead. With enough energy to sustain him, the rest of the transformation would happen quickly.
"My lord..."
Khajiit raised his head and looked at the man before him, his voice low and submissive.
He had already lost. There was nothing left to cling to. At this point, he was nothing more than a lamb awaiting slaughter.
In the end, he was just an ordinary man. Even though he had delved deep into necromancy and pushed himself toward becoming Undead, he had never truly shed the cowardice rooted in his nature.
When faced with someone stronger, he couldn't resist. No matter what order Naohara gave, Khajiit didn't dare harbor the slightest thought of defiance.
He only wanted to live. To continue researching resurrection magic. To see his mother one more time.
Until that wish was fulfilled, he refused to die.
"I heard your story from Clementine. For the sake of reviving your mother, you were prepared to slaughter an entire city."
Naohara looked at the submissive Khajiit and let out a quiet sigh before continuing.
"I don't intend to condemn you. From most people's perspective, you're unforgivable. But I don't see it that way."
"Everyone has the right to pursue happiness, even if that happiness is built on someone else's suffering."
Khajiit slowly lifted his head. It was the first time he had ever heard someone say something like that. After all, he had been ready to massacre a city.
"To be honest, at my core, I'm no different from you. I might even be worse."
Naohara considered it seriously. If he were in Khajiit's position, he would have done the same. Perhaps he would have gone even further.
People are selfish.
He might seem gentle and approachable most of the time, but that was only because he had the strength to afford it. Without that foundation, things would be different. Most days, he simply treated the world as a game.
For example, if there were no Great Tomb of Nazarick, if only he and Momonga had been transported to this world, without their game accounts, just two ordinary people.
If Momonga were to die unexpectedly, Naohara believed he would likely walk the same path as Khajiit. Even if it meant slaughtering every living being in the world, he wouldn't regret it, so long as he could bring him back.
In a sense, he and Khajiit were the same kind of person. The only difference was that Naohara had been fortunate, and Khajiit had not.
"Khajiit, do you believe in destiny?"
"You have the unwavering resolve to cast aside your humanity, and I possess the power to help you do so. Our meeting is the result of that strange pull."
"I can help you complete your transformation into an Undead. But everything comes at a price."
Naohara fell silent there.
Clementine had watched the entire exchange without a word. Just as she had said before, there wasn't a single good person here.
Only the strong make the rules, and Naohara was the strong one.
Without the slightest hesitation, Khajiit dropped to his knees before Naohara with a thud.
"I believe in destiny, because it allowed me to meet you, my lord."
"If I could see my mother just once, even if you ordered me to die, I would have no complaints!"
"Good."
Naohara stepped forward and helped him up without the slightest trace of disgust at his appearance. He even brushed the dust off Khajiit's clothes with casual care.
"Take this and absorb it."
A pitch-black crack split open in the air. Reaching into it, Naohara pulled out an item and tossed it toward Khajiit.
"My lord, this is…?"
Khajiit hurriedly caught it, staring down in confusion. In his hand was a mass of black light, radiating a dim, ominous glow.
"A high-concentration aggregate of negative energy. It's enough to complete your transformation into an Undead."
"Thank you, my lord!"
Khajiit's face lit up with joy. He bowed deeply, eyes burning as he stared at the dark light in his palm. Once he absorbed it, he would become an ageless, deathless being. Then he could continue researching resurrection magic without interruption.
There would be no need to slaughter E-Rantel anymore. Right now, all Khajiit wanted was to study magic. He could spend a hundred years on it, if necessary.
Clementine stepped closer, smiling at his excitement.
"Well, Khajiit-chan, I didn't trick you, did I?"
Khajiit looked at her with mixed emotions. No matter how it had unfolded, she truly had helped him.
"Thank you, Clementine. I owe you one."
He sighed. Just moments ago, he had been condemning her for lacking integrity. And now, before he knew it, he had bowed his own head as well. Life was ironic.
"By the way, Khajiit, where is Nfirea?"
Thinking of that certain harem-protagonist type, Naohara grew curious. He clearly remembered that Herohero had corroded his soul and even devoured his heart.
Logically speaking, he shouldn't have been able to use his Talent anymore.
"He's beneath the shrine. I'll take you to him at once."
Khajiit answered without hesitation and immediately began leading the way.
Khajiit walked ahead, with Naohara and the others following behind. After activating the mechanism inside the shrine, they descended underground.
After winding through a series of passages, they arrived before a massive altar.
Nfirea stood there naked, draped only in a sheer, nearly transparent veil that could hardly be called clothing, giving him an inexplicably lewd appearance.
His body was covered in dense cracks, as though it might shatter at any second. A crown shaped like a necklace rested on his head. His eyes were lifeless. In fact, they couldn't even be seen.
"This is… soul transfer?"
Naohara pressed a finger against Nfirea's forehead. After sensing the situation, he spoke in surprise.
"Naohara-sama is truly wise! I revived his body and forcibly transferred a soul into it. For a short time, it can activate his Talent."
"Pfft… haha."
Watching Khajiit flatter him so openly, Clementine couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Khajiit heard it and flushed in embarrassment.
So that was it. A clever approach. Since Talent requires a soul to function, he had first transferred a soul, then revived the body to forcibly trigger the ability. It was undeniably an effective method.
Unfortunately, it could only be used once. The body and soul were incompatible. Even if magic delayed the inevitable, it couldn't prevent the final collapse.
Judging by Nfirea's condition, that moment was very close.
[Item Break]
With a light tap of his finger, Nfirea's body instantly shattered into countless motes of light. The last traces of him disappeared from the world.
Naohara felt that, compared to letting the body collapse naturally, it was kinder to end the suffering of the soul inside sooner.
The soul inside: ?
I really am too kind, Naohara thought to himself.
He reached out and caught the Crown of Wisdom. After examining it for a moment, he stored it away, planning to bring it back to The Great Tomb of Nazarick as a collectible for Momonga.
"Mission accomplished."
"Khajiit, return to Zurrernorn's base for now. I'll notify you if I need anything."
Naohara turned to the respectful Khajiit and spoke after a brief pause.
He intended to treat Zurrernorn as a small dungeon instance. When Momonga had time, he could clear it alone for fun. A bit of relaxation.
"As you command, Naohara-sama."
Though slightly surprised by the arrangement, Khajiit still bowed obediently. Right now, what he wanted most was to find a safe place to complete his transformation into an Undead. Zurrernorn's base was perfect for that.
Seeing that Naohara had no further orders, Khajiit stepped back and slowly disappeared into the darkness.