It's been a boring week.
For me, at least.
Sure, the city was apparently losing its collective mind, but that had nothing to do with the teeny-tiny, rotting corpse I was cosplaying as. The big Familias were turning over every rock and cracking open every door, the city gates were blocked, and I'd overheard passersby muttering about how even private homes were being searched. A true manhunt.
But none of it concerned me.
Because I wasn't a man.
I was a corpse.
And corpses, as a rule, do not get searched.
So I simply lay on the cold stone floor of my alley, staring sightlessly at the sky, motionless save for the gentle wriggling of the maggots nestled into my eye sockets. It was rather ticklish at first, but I had better things to focus on.
Namely, my soul.
Controlling it, refining it, learning its intricacies.
Day and night, I pushed at the boundaries of my existence, stretching and compressing the very thing that made me me. The hunger at the core of my being pulsed, unsatisfied despite the grand feast I had indulged in.
Bell's heart had been delicious.
And his skill, even more so.
I had briefly considered hunting down weaker adventurers and stealing their abilities, but that would have been idiotic. More skills were always useful, yes, but risking capture or death for them? No, no, no.
Haste makes waste, after all.
I'd already devoured the most valuable thing Orario had to offer. There was nothing else in this city that could compare. The only thing that would have made my meal more complete was if I had eaten Hestia as well.
But alas, the moment she died, her body turned to flame and ash, crumbling into nothingness as she was sent back to heaven.
A pity.
And perhaps a blessing.
Because I had no idea what would have happened if I had tried to consume a god's vessel.
Humans, at least, I had experience with.
Regardless, my week-long vacation of rot and introspection came to an abrupt and unceremonious end.
Because apparently, Orario had a sanitation service.
Who knew?
An old man with a creaking wooden carriage trundled down the alley, humming an off-key tune to himself as he collected corpses. Even the slums weren't exempt from his work—any poor soul who had succumbed to hunger, disease, or the city's casual cruelty was unceremoniously scooped up and thrown into the back of his wagon like common trash.
And I was no exception.
With a grunt of exertion, the old man grabbed me by the arm, my shoulder nearly dislocating with how stiff my joints had become.
"Another one, huh?" he muttered. "Damn rats, eatin' 'em before I even get 'ere."
A moment later, I was airborne.
Then—thud.
I landed on a pile of bodies and garbage, nestled between a bloated corpse and a sack of what I really hoped was just rotten vegetables. The stench was something even I had to make an effort to ignore.
The carriage jolted forward, and we were on our way.
I couldn't see, not with my actual eyes, but I hardly needed them. My heartbeat had slowed to one every five minutes—practically nonexistent—but my echolocation painted a crystal-clear image of my surroundings.
The city's walls.
The endless chatter of desperate and fearful citizens.
The heavy footfalls of armored adventurers patrolling the streets.
I expected the cart to turn toward some mass grave or crematorium within Orario.
Instead…
The sounds of the city began to fade.
The vibrations changed, the echoes stretching further, less confined.
We were leaving the city.
Well.
This was unexpected.
---------------
The carriage eventually rolled to a stop. The old man climbed down, stretched, and then—with a weary sigh—began unloading his cargo.
One by one, the corpses were unceremoniously dumped into a pit. I counted the sounds. Twelve… fifteen… twenty bodies. The stench of decay was overpowering, even for me.
Then—I was lifted.
Tossed.
Falling—
Thud.
I landed atop the pile, nestled amongst the nameless dead. The old man shuffled away, his voice a murmur against the wind.
And then, the splash of liquid.
Ah.
Oil.
That's why the pit smelled so strong.
A moment later, there was a spark.
Fwoosh.
The flames roared to life, devouring the bodies with greedy fingers, black smoke curling into the night sky. I felt the heat begin to lick at my skin, the fire hungrily creeping up my limbs.
And yet…
I was pleased.
Orario had done me a favor.
I had planned to wait, to remain hidden until the hunt died down.
But instead, they had kindly escorted me out of the city without a single adventurer ever laying eyes on me.
How considerate.
I allowed the fire to burn, let it strip away the rotting facade I had worn for a week. My flesh sloughed off in crisp, blackened flakes, revealing the raw vitality hidden beneath.
And when the flames finally died, leaving nothing but smoldering ash—
I rose.
Night had fallen, the city a distant silhouette against the horizon. I stood at the edge of the pit, stretching, feeling my body regenerate with every breath.
There was nothing but breadcrumbs left for me in Orario.
I was too weak to make true waves within the city for now, and my inability to grow without monsters had been fixed.
So why stay?
There were other cities in the world.
Cities ruled by a single Familia.
Cities without Level 6 adventurers.
Didn't that just sound like a feast?
I turned away without a second glance.
And walked.
As I made my way toward the distant treeline, my claws dug into my own abdomen.
With a wet, squelching sound, I reached into my bowels—
And pulled out my prize.
A simple knife.
Or at least, that was how it appeared.
The blade was dull now, its once-brilliant blue hieroglyphs faded to near-invisibility. But even in its diminished state, I could feel the power nestled within it.
The Hestia Knife.
The last trace of the goddess who had burned away, forged by Hephaestus herself.
I had hidden it inside myself to prevent it from being tracked. But even now, I could not be certain it wasn't still a beacon for prying eyes.
And so…
There was only one solution.
I opened my mouth.
And bit down.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Snap.
The mythril shattered between my teeth like brittle glass.
A shudder ran through my body as the divine essence within the blade surged into me, devoured as easily as any flesh and bone.
Ding!
[Living Weapon Consumed.]
[Magic Acquired - Durandal Flesh: Prevents any body part from being damaged. Requires an equivalent amount of Magic (to the force) to be spent.]
Huh.
Who would have thought?
I licked the last fragments of mythril from my lips, feeling the new power settle within me.
Orario had played its game.
Now it was my turn.
With a smirk, I turned toward the wilderness.
And vanished into the night.