Bro, I'm not an Undead!

(A/N: Only the first four chapters are in first person. The rest are in third.)

My sockets flickered with an intense light as I welcomed another day in Undeath. I rose from my poor sleeping position and jumped to my feet.

My sleeping spot was an isolated hollow in the wall where I and the rest of my dead folk would go into 'slumber'.

Above my own hollow was another; a fellow brother in unlife was still in slumber, nestled in its dark embrace.

Our tomb was small with a large rock covering the circular entrance.

My fellow brother shook and his bony body rattled, the fire in his sockets flaring in a brilliant red.

He woke up and jumped down from the hollow, landing on the ground.

"Dead morning, Skullius," he said to me.

"Dead morning to you too, Bonet," I said as I began stretching my off-white skeletal body.

Downward dog.

Tree pose.

Chair pose.

Boat pose.

Triangle pose.

"Bro, what are you doing?" Bonet asked with the flame in his eyes dancing in confusion. 

I suddenly jerked and stopped. I stood aloof and faced him.

"I... I don't know... It just felt vaguely familiar," I replied.

"Enough games, let's go out before we miss the morning roll call."

Bonet walked up to the large rock that covered the tomb.

"Don't just stand there! Get over here and help me!" he cried.

I quit staring at my bony hands, dazed, and went to help him push away the useless obstacle.

Bloody hell, it's heavy!

I do this every day and it never gets easier.

We finally managed to push it away, revealing a large open space with many entrances to bunk tombs just like our own.

We walked out and saw a large crowd of skeletons gathered in the middle of the vast cave, chatting away with their different-colored socket flames flickering.

Bonet was half a head taller than me, with bones that had a light grey hue. A small light the size of a marble could be seen within his chest (ribcage) emitting a frail white light.

"Man, I'm drooling over those bones, Bonet," I said to him and ran my bony finger along his radius.

Bonet turned to me and the flames in his sockets jumped.

"Heh, heh! Now you envy the beauty of my tough bones, Skullius? They are almost stronger than any metal now. I told you to quit your flimsy mana practice and simply focus on the skill most important to all undead. [Boneman of Steel] is without a doubt the best!" he said proudly.

"...Maybe," I said.

We continued walking until we reached the crowd of thousands of other Undead skeletons.

A burly one, over two meters in height, jogged over to us, the flames in his sockets dancing with a yellow glow.

"Eeey, Bonet, Skullius! Took you long enough. Is the Lich having a hard time waking you up from slumber each morning now?" the burly skeleton said.

"I think so, Fractures. Between Skullius and his large mana core and my dense bones..." Bonet paused to flex. "...I'd say his mana is getting wrecked. Kek."

I looked to the side in shame.

Floating inexplicably within the enclosure of my ribcage was a core the size of a tennis ball, emitting a faint white light.

Tktktktktktktktkt!

That was the sound of Fractures, the burly skeleton.....laughing.

As we conversed, a large Death Knight with a bulky suit of silver armor marred with rust and grime walked up to the front of the crowd. He exuded a dense pressure that compelled even gravity; I could almost feel my feet digging deep into the dirt.

He towered over us at a height of over two and a half meters.

His sockets blazed with a blinding green flame that cast a similarly colored hue on his face (skull).

"ATTENTION!" he cried. His voice pulsed through our bones.

He scanned us all and when he saw that we were all accounted for, he struck his gauntlet-covered fist against his chest plate.

We all followed his example and chanted the daily motivation mantra.

"FOREVER DEAD, DEAD FOREVER! FUCK LIFE! A NASTY ENDEAVOUR!"

Yes.

The daily motivation mantra, courtesy of Lich Somanda.

The fun to say f-word in the mantra was an addition by the Lich himself. No idea what it means, but it definitely doesn't bring the mantra to life.

The massive doors at the end of the cave where we resided opened on their own to signal the start of another day of monotonous toil.

We walked out the doors and were greeted by the crimson sun high in the sky; it dyed our surroundings red, outlining the horizon full of dark hills, mountains, and different kinds of prowling Undead creatures.

Silhouettes of large towers could be seen far beyond, with a grand mansion that rose to an absurd height being unmistakably visible to all in this land even further away.

This was our world.

Deadmanland, as we skeletons called it.

It was a name stemming from the fact that we are all dead, in a sense, and all men. Probably.

We lived in the comfort of Undeath, blanketed by its eerie and unforgiving webbed wing.

I know. I really sold the idea of Death there.

We were all created by a powerful undead Lich, named Somanda. Our job every day was to mine for a mana-filled resource called mana gems for him. At least that was true for us lower-level Undead. We usually heard the higher-level Undead boasting about how they vanquished enemies in different worlds under the banner of the Lich.

That .... couldn't be true right? Other worlds? They are probably telling marrow tales like I do for Bonet, Fractures, Mono Socket, and the others. What can I say? I love to bullshit.

I've been like this for as long as I can remember. A thousand years...at least. Doing the same thing over... and over....and over again.

Every day we mine the gemstones till evening, and then Somanda cuts off the supply of mana for our sustenance and we slumber... only to be woken up when it's time for work again. Of course, when we exhaust rich veins before the day is over, we get some free time before the scheduled slumber. It's always nice to have a break.

We walked in a single file for many kilometers, trekking over the black soil, and spying dark, crooked protrusions rising from the ground.

The Undead animals around spend the day prowling or fighting with each other. Most of them are just a lazy aesthetic anyway, sadly.

We reached a spot with tons of unearthed dirt spanning over hundreds of kilometers and marched into the massive pits digging into the underground networks as old as time. We split into specialized groups led by an Undead Captain.

Undead captains are Undead minions one rank below Death Knights. They exude a stronger presence than us, of course, but are always adorned in armor less deserving of awe.

Inside the networks, even with the pitch-black walls and darkness, our vision, which had an aggressively positive affinity to the nothingness, saw all very clearly.

We advanced until we could see where we left off yesterday, the glowing red and blue rocks that were fitted into the walls, an indicator of the day's work yet to be done.

Having brought our equipment, pickaxes with hafts made of special redwood, and crude metal heads, we started digging the rocks out. The Captains monitored us keenly.

I hit the wall with my pickaxe using all my might. All the resistance in the world fought back. The hard dirt didn't budge at all. I cursed and stuck again and again. Yes. I made some progress.

...Little crumbs of soil fell to my feet.

Tktktktktktktktkt!

I turned to find Bonet laughing at me.

He raised his pickaxe and struck down with an unbelievable amount of force. I felt the part of the wall I had been attacking shudder and took a step back.

Meanwhile, the actual target of Bonet's axe burst apart and red and blue glowing gems flew out in the dozens and landed on the ground.

He looked at me with his socket flames burning bright with pride.

"Son of a femur," I scoffed.

The other Undead were in awe and started working harder.

It's possible to acquire skills by repeating certain actions over long periods.

It's every Undead's dream to unlock the skill, [Boneman of Steel]. It makes your bones tougher and denser, adding to your strength and resilience. For us workers, it's the ideal skill.

The Undead Captains told us the skill's name, encouraging us to cultivate it.

However, I've always been more interested in mana. It is very thin over here though. The bulk of supernatural energy that can be found in Deadmanland is, of course, Undeath energy. It leaves no room for others to dominate the atmosphere.

The mana coalesced over the years, seeps into the ground, and creates the mana gems we mine, but it takes a pretty darn long time.

And thus, the gems have also been a target of my fascination for a long time.

The Undead skeleton beside me was hysterically swinging his axe like a madman, expressing strength that was at least double the worth of mine by knocking off chunks of the hard rock and soil.

"I'm almost there, I'll have that smooth luster and density too? You hear that, bro?" He turned to me shouting, his flame sockets burning incessantly.

"Y...yea... sure, man," I said to him.

He kept dishing the attacks on the innocent walls and started yelling at me again.

"Bro, get your ass working!"

I reflexively blurted out a retort.

"Bro... I wish I had an ass."

Wait! I stopped, and so did he.

"What's an ass?" I asked him.

He jerked and faced me. His socket flames quit blazing fiercely.

"I...I don't know... it's just vaguely familiar."