I Became the Wrong Race

42 – Mourner on the Snowy Field (4)

Time passes in silence.

The corpses, internal organs, and blood on the floor were something that could no longer be moved, and the mourner and I stared at each other, motionless.

It wasn’t because of the corpse. It wasn’t the stiffness seen after encountering that middle-aged mourner who had created death.

So to speak… Maybe the person in front of you is giving you time to organize your thoughts.

I silently stared at the death and corpse that I had already become accustomed to.

When I first came to the world of Darker, I didn’t think I would get used to corpses, but I was surprised to find them more calm than I expected.

Is it because death was not caused by me, or is it because I did my best?

I couldn’t control my mind either. It could be that I’m not really good at self-reflection.

If that were the case, we wouldn’t have been banned from chatting so much. I made eye contact with the mourner, whose hands were soaked in blood.

His black eyes showed pity, sadness, frustration, and even a faint hint of irritation.

It was evidence that this kind of thing happened frequently.

“Be quiet.”

Suddenly, the middle-aged person spoke to me. Perhaps because he thought I was a star contractor, I didn’t hastily try to close the distance.

Well, it seems like there might be some negative prejudice against star contractors.

There was a scorching gun, a contractor of the star and a colleague of the main character, Lord of the Nation, who was superior to the blade of the star.

So I opened my mouth and denied his guess.

“I am not a stellar contractor.”

“… “What?”

“Of course, this does not mean that this is not the power of a star. “You could say it’s a power that only resides in this object.”

The long sword drawn from the waist is heated with flame. The bright red sword burns the darkness even though it moves lightly.

As dawn broke, he silently looked at the long sword.

Shall I attack you?

I made eye contact with him, ready to use condolences at any moment.

“Black Knight—”

“He is a mourner.”

A middle-aged person flinches and stiffens at the truth revealed. Confusion and bewilderment flashed through his eyes.

It was confusion that soon solidified into a certain certainty. He looked around with a helpless smile.

“Is that why you noticed it?”

“That’s right.”

He looked around at my nod.

His wandering gaze, perhaps looking for a place to sit, finally closed as if he had given up, and he flopped down in his place.

It seemed like he didn’t even care about the blood staining the floor.

My right leg was limping during the process as if it was uncomfortable. I could easily tell what had happened to him.

A middle-aged mourner. It was an impossible combination by nature, but until he reached that age, he would have lived as a mourner and nothing would have happened.

The man was here after going through countless fights, and those fights were steadily eating away at his body.

This was the result. I saw Yeongnak nobles, who could easily be called commoners, spread out on the floor.

‘Chrome Yes, it’s Chrome. ‘I’ll get better.’

The man who identified himself as Chrome was a nobleman. Should I say, more accurately, that he is a former nobleman?

Just looking at the fact that he was trying to reveal his last name in a familiar way was like that.

In this world of Darker, a last name was something that non-nobles usually couldn’t have, so that alone was enough to confirm that he was an aristocrat.

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing.

He was an ordinary, untrained human being, but he was the leader and had the fairest skin among his dogs.

Although he has long-wave blood, he is not a shapeshifter like Isla or from the North.

So he was a nobleman.

Obviously, his title was taken away for some reason, and that must have been the reason he came to this new continent.

I realized that the mourner in front of me was involved in all the circumstances.

As expected, the middle-aged mourner lowered his head with a bitter look on his face and muttered.

“It was a coincidence. “The village was burning.”

The story started without any hesitation. I stood still and looked at him.

His eyes were already wandering into the past.

“People were dying and being raped. I couldn’t pretend not to see it. “The land I lived in also burned and disappeared.”

The civil war of the empire has ended, but that does not mean that war does not exist in the Old Continent.

The tribal alliance was still a loose union, so they were constantly at war with each other, and it was always the civilians who died in the big and small fights.

The origin of this mourner was also obvious. He too was a northerner. He had cold-colored skin and a subtle hint of Orc blood.

He couldn’t cry so he laughed.

“I jumped in and killed him. “Because all I could do was kill and mourn.”

“Okay then.”

“Yes, he was a nobleman. “When I killed him, I realized he was a nobleman.”

A hollow laugh.

A middle-aged man who couldn’t learn and survived longer than expected by gaining the power of mourning.

He couldn’t have had the idea that he should distinguish between nobles and not kill them.

This was karma that came back around. He was looking at the son of the man he had killed with bitter eyes.

Why wasn’t he murdered?

Why didn’t he try to die?

I already knew the answer.

That was the story that followed.

“I didn’t want to kill you. So I ran away and hid. “It’s been like that for a long time.”

He placed his hand on the blood-soaked floor.

“Nevertheless, the chase continued, and they crossed over to the New Continent. Because I didn’t think it would come to this point. Even if they followed me, I thought I would die first.”

But it didn’t work out that way. He was carefully avoiding people.

He avoided Isla, who only looked like a hunter.

The reason was obvious. His hands were soaked with blood.

“I… In my body… There’s something I don’t know. “When someone tries to harm me, when someone threatens me, something boils in my blood.”

The downside of mourners is their low maintenance power. Mourning cannot be used consecutively.

The debuffs that stacked up the more you used them were a major limitation in themselves, and as a result, the mourner was closer to an F1 machine that ran out of fuel after 60 seconds if used normally.

It is said that all battles can be completed within 60 seconds, but that is not an easy task.

There was a skill that alleviated those shortcomings.

A skill that automatically uses mourning without risk when attacked or affected by a status abnormality.

This is a skill that can be obtained at Mourner level 8, and this is why Mourner is a recommended job for beginners.

“Even if I don’t try to resist, even if I give up everything because I want to die… “My body moves as it pleases.”

What happens after that is obvious. I rolled my eyes and witnessed the devastation.

The war scars were clear. The scars were like that too.

Bite, kick, break, and split with hands.

The impact force that the human body cannot produce and the cruelty that comes after losing reason killed them all.

“It was always like this when I came to my senses. Always.”

He was a warrior who possessed both a strong body and strength, as well as luck and experience.

At the same time, he was a mourner. All of those things worked together to make him immortal.

He kept him alive as a mourner until he reached middle age.

Even if he wants to die.

I saw the middle-aged man covering his face with his bloody hands. There were no tears or even wailing.

The man lived too long for that.

“This is a curse.”

He described the mourner’s power as a curse.

It was worth it. Even if I only saw the story briefly, I didn’t know it.

Mourners are cursed. At least that’s what it’s called in the world.

They become powerful with incomprehensible power and destroy their enemies with power beyond human power.

If you think about where mourners usually appear, the enemies of mourners have always been close to the existing order.

A person in power, a person in charge, a stone encrusted.

Will they really look at the mourners with kind eyes?

Even if everything goes well, won’t it be the same as now?

That is why the world viewed it this way.

This is not the power that a person can gain by mourning another person.

That was the reason why their lives were short-lived. Due to their corrosive strength and their inability to choose their enemies.

Problems that had passed by while playing games were weighing on my mind.

I was a monster and a mourner. He was a realist who dismissed this world as a game world and could not live as he wanted.

Could I ignore the mourner’s principle?

Can I remain without knowing where my strength comes from and why?

I didn’t think so.

It is unclear whether I will be able to return to where I lived. I don’t even know how.

From noble mtl dot com

Wouldn’t it be nice if it conveniently said on the status window that you would be sent back when you reached the game’s ending?

Otherwise, I had to live as if this terrible dark fantasy world of Grimm Darker was my world.

We must live with this monster’s body carefully pondering the unidentified power that the profession of mourner gives us.

Clearly, the Homunculus was a race chosen incorrectly, and I became a monster against my will.

Because that fact didn’t make me anything other than a monster.

So I took a step closer.

A middle-aged man who was crouching in pain raises his head. I’m shocked.

The expression on his face is fear. It was almost like I was afraid that he might kill me or harm me.

The excitement of battle is for beginners.

This lame man, who had fought for a long time until he was worn out, could no longer enjoy fighting.

Especially if his first murder was a part of mourning. That would have been a sad revenge.

The man who had been taking revenge and mourning for a long time no longer wanted to hurt people. He stepped back to avoid me approaching him.

“Don’t do it. I’m going to die. “I don’t want to kill anyone anymore.”

These words convey explicit emotions. He is honest without any pretense.

That is definitely sincere. If I were to fight, there would be a high probability that I would lose.

“Did you say you wanted to die?”

“… “It’s not worth risking someone else dying.”

This is a lie. He wanted to die so badly. The morality that fills him advises him not to do so.

“One thing is certain. I can’t kill you. “At least for now.”

Does not pose any questions. That’s because I know very well that that’s the case. So, I made eye contact with the middle-aged person and spoke silently.

“But I can find you a place to die. “Someday, if I become strong enough, I might kill you for you.”

This is a whim. There’s no need to do this, but I wanted to do this.

It was always like that. I was a person who had to do what I wanted to do to relieve my frustration.

“What do you say…” .”

“I am a homunculus.”

A middle-aged man stiffens in shock.

“I am a monster. “At the same time, you are also a mourner.”

As I told him, I was without a doubt a monster.

It is the same race as the assassins who killed the five archdukes, and is a powerful monster that often appears in civil wars and plots to devour the empire.

At the same time, it was not known to the world, but it was the same race as the Protector of the Nation who stopped it all.

“I will one day become the strongest mourner.”

I was confident about that.

That’s how powerful my build was.

It was even a recommended build for beginners for a long time.

It is simple and strong, and was evaluated as the only way to turn on easy mode in a game that does not have a separate difficulty setting.

So I can show mercy to this middle-aged man.

“One day, I will be able to kill you… “You still want to die then.”

Our eyes met, and someone was seen in his black eyes.

A monster full of confidence.

“I will kill you.”

There was something I never said. The meaning is just implied.

The middle-aged mourner was not so immature that he could not understand it.

There is wisdom given to him by his years of experience.

He lowered his head with an inexplicable, mysterious smile.

“Thank you.”

Permission to stay alive until then, and to continue living when that time comes and you feel it is okay to live.

The middle-aged man sobbed silently over the blood.