The sky had opened up like a red wound.
The black smoke clinging to the horizon was slowly rising towards the sky; as if it was trying to strangle the sky. The city, where the flames were competing with the screams, seemed to still resist behind its steel walls — but every explosion, every groan shouted that this resistance was no longer a hope but a delayed defeat.
And on the battlefield, the only thing that broke the deathly silence was: the march of bones.
Thousands of skeletal warriors were marching steadily over the rotten earth. Each one a product of the same magic. Bound by the same dark will. Created for the same end.
A hunter was calling them… rising from the darkness.
Flames hung from the end of his black cloak, his eyes like two slits shining in the middle of a starless night. The shadow flames pouring from his hands gave life to the army under his command.
With a signal, the attack began.
Hundreds, thousands of skeletons rushed forward.
There was no sound in their throats, no fear in their hearts.
But one of them… was different from the others.
Shorter.
Weaker.
His shoulders are crooked.
His sword is rusty. He has no shield.
He is so ordinary that he would be crushed and lost among the skeleton army… but that is exactly why he is different.
While the others advance, he falls behind. His steps are limping, his direction uncertain. The pale blue light in his eye sockets is flickering. Like a consciousness that has not yet fully awakened.
Suddenly, a scream is heard piercing the sky.
A goblin shaman completes a dark spell behind his grotesque mask. The ground cracks.
The air trembles.
Time bends.
And that skeleton soldier…
…loses his grip on gravity.
For a brief moment, neither falling nor rising. As if the world had forgotten him.
A glow.
A glow.
And nothingness.
Darkness.
Something was burning.
But there was no fire.
His bones seemed to be burning from within, with a silent heat.
The air around him smelled of rotting flesh; suffocating, old, dead.
He wakes up alone in the middle of a deep forest, among the bones of giant rotten wolves.
Not rain… acid drops falling from the sky slowly burning the ground.
The trees are pitch black.
Silence, ear-piercing.
And he… is alone for the first time.
Not the other skeletons.
Not the master who calls him.
Not a voice.
Then, a system sound like an inner ringing echoes in his head.
As if someone is rewriting his fate to reap his fate.
[Unknown Command Signal Lost.]
[Temporary Independent Protocol Active.]
[New Mission Loaded: Find Master.]
The skeleton raises his head slightly. He looks not at the sky—but at nothing.
And for the first time… he thinks.
"Master… where are you?"
The thought is like a bird fluttering in his mind.
It may not be words, but a feeling.
A longing.
A moment later, another system notification arrives. More mechanical, colder.
[Monster remains detected in the vicinity. +6 XP received.]
The faint light in his eye sockets flickers slightly. As if a bit of that light is growing.
Another feeling rises inside him.
Perhaps it is this… a sense of presence.
He tries to stand up. His balance slips, his bones creak. But he finally manages.
There is a broken spear on the ground. The tip is crooked, the handle is cracked.
But when he picks it up, he holds it like a hand.
On his second step, he notices the belt bag of a dead goblin.
It is tightly tied to a rotting body. He bends down, pulls it out.
A map with burnt edges falls out.
A city is marked underground: Umbra Depth.
A hastily carved note beneath it:
"I don't know if it's still safe there… but I had no choice."
The skeleton stares at these words for a long time.
Then something flies from the sky…
A crow.
Pitch black.
Its wings are serrated, as if they were cut.
Its beak is cracked.
But its eyes… its eyes are very alive.
The skeleton watches it for a long time. The crow does not come down.
It waits silently on a branch in the distance.
And then another voice—but this time not from the system, but from consciousness:
"Am I not alone, or…?"
At that moment, the system reactivates. But this time it is different.
A kind of… definition begins.
[Independent Protocol Stabilized.]
[Consciousness Formation: 4%]
[New Feature Active: Name Definition]
[Random Name Determined…]
There is silence for a moment.
Then:
[New Description: "Bone"]
[Stat Bonus: +1 Strength, +5 XP]
[Memory consistency will increase now that the name is defined.]
The skeleton freezes for a moment.
It now has a name.
For the first time, someone—or something—has said to it, "You are something."
Bone.
Simple.
But true.
"Am I… Bone?" he thinks.
The crow croaks softly and flaps its wings, shadow-like, as it moves away.
But not very far.
Bone leans its spear on its shoulder.
Takes another look at the map.
And for the first time… it actually walks forward.