Chapter 62: Anti-Fraud Awareness
The next day.
Outside the headquarters of the Punishment Legion, a dense, dark crowd had gathered. They were the local entrepreneurs of Iron Fortress—artisans, street vendors, and craftsmen who lived by their hands and their wits.
Over the past few months, they had grown used to the patrols of the Punishment Legion. They had even learned a startling truth: these undead were often more obsessed with rules and regulations than the living.
"It's a scam! A total fraud!"
"Why do I have to give half my daily apple harvest to that man?!"
"And twenty percent of all my future earnings?! He might as well just slit my throat and take my wallet!"
The loudest voice belonged to the burly apple vendor, Grog. His eyes were bloodshot as he brandished an "Enrollment Notice," the parchment crinkling under his white-knuckled grip.
"The Sunflower Merchant Guild! It's a predatory trap!"
"We demand an audience with the Lord! We demand these contracts be voided!"
Grog's roar ignited the crowd. Shouts of agreement rippled through the mob, merging into a singular wave of indignation.
"Cancel the contracts!"
"Give us back our blood and sweat!"
At the barracks entrance, two rows of Skeleton Soldiers stood in a silent, motionless vigil. Their empty eye sockets stared forward without a flicker of movement. Their silence formed an invisible, insurmountable wall. The crowd's insults echoed against the stone, yet no one dared to take that final step across the threshold.
Then, a figure emerged.
The moment he appeared, every voice died in a throat-clenching silence.
It was Skele-Pride. One of the Seven Great Generals of the Undead Empire and the Supreme Commander of the Punishment Legion. His presence radiated a crushing, indefinable pressure that turned the rowdy plaza into a graveyard.
Every eye was drawn to his left arm. It was not made of bone. Instead, it was a limb of flowing, translucent blue energy. Light pulsed within it like a heartbeat, yet its form remained as solid and stable as steel.
Grog squeezed his fists, summoned every ounce of his courage, and stepped forward.
"Lord Pride! We have been deceived!" Grog shouted. "A human merchant named Hans used despicable trickery to lure us into signing predatory agreements!"
Pride's skull swiveled slowly toward Grog. The Soul Fire burning in his sockets didn't so much as flicker.
"I have reviewed the documents," Pride said. His voice was flat, devoid of any human inflection, yet every syllable rang clearly in the ears of the mob. "You signed your names voluntarily. The Od-signatures and handwriting have been verified as authentic. These contracts have been registered with the Logistics Bureau and are recognized by the Empire."
A deathly silence fell over the crowd.
Recognized by the Empire?
They could fight a merchant. They could fight a guild. But how could they fight the state?
"But... but we were tricked!" Grog's voice trembled with a mixture of rage and helplessness. "We didn't know—"
Pride cut him off. "The Empire will monitor this matter. Until a legal conclusion is reached, you are required to fulfill the terms of your binding contracts. Any further clamor or disruption of the public order of Iron Fortress will be dealt with according to Imperial Law."
With that, Pride turned his back on the commoners and walked back into the depths of the barracks.
The crowd stood paralyzed. Grog's hand went limp, and the contract fluttered to the dirt. He looked at the heavy, shut gates, then at his companions.
What could they do?
There was nothing left to do. They would pay.
They'd have to treat it as a tax to the Undead Empire. After all, the Empire's taxes were based on income, and they hadn't actually paid much until now.
One man picked up his contract from the ground and squinted at the fine print again. It did state that the Sunflower Merchant Guild was responsible for providing logistics and armed escort to sell their goods to other human settlements outside the territory. And they still got to keep eighty percent of the profit.
Maybe... it's not the worst outcome, some whispered.
Besides, the General had said the Empire was keeping an eye on Hans. If he truly bankrupted them, the state might step in. With these thoughts taking hold, the mob began to disperse.
However, a new "Anti-Fraud Awareness" had been permanently etched into their hearts.
Pride walked through the barracks corridors, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall.
That vampire Greed truly dumped a troublesome mess on my plate, he thought.
The human named Hans was indeed a sharp blade. But the blade was too jagged; its first stroke had cut the Empire's own subjects. Even if those humans weren't technically "their people" yet, it was messy work.
Pride lifted his left hand. The ghostly blue energy hand spread before his eyes, the five fingers flexing nimbly. Every joint moved with liquid grace.
He remembered a few days ago. The Supreme Ruler, Kaito, had summoned him alone to that simple log cabin. Kaito's gaze had lingered on Pride's empty left shoulder.
"Pride."
"I am here, Master."
"You are now Tier 5. Why has your limb not regenerated?"
Pride's Soul Fire had fluctuated for a moment. He had been too embarrassed to speak the truth. That missing arm was the mark of his creation—the very first brand of his existence. He was the First Skeleton, and that stump was his proof. It distinguished him from every skeleton born afterward; it was his own unique, silent glory. He feared that if his arm regrew, he would become just another face in the crowd, losing that original, special connection to his Creator.
So, he had used his own power to suppress the bone's regeneration.
"I have simply grown accustomed to it, Master," Pride had lied, hiding his obsession.
Kaito had looked at him in silence for a long time before placing a bony hand on Pride's skull.
"Even so, I wish for my children to be whole."
Kaito hadn't issued an order. He simply said those words and left. But for Pride, that day changed everything.
The Master called me his child. The Master wishes for me to be whole.
And so, this energy limb was born. Pride used his own power to sustain his "wholeness" in a different way, preserving his uniqueness. He was still the skeleton who had lost an arm. He was still the first-born. He had followed the Master's wish while keeping his pride intact.
Elsewhere in Iron Fortress, a more profound change was taking root.
Greed's ideas, like invisible silken threads, had permeated every corner of the newborn Empire. The currency systems, commercial regulations, and the concept of "Contractual Spirit" from the human world were simplified, organized, and compiled into brand-new textbooks.
The tiny lecture hall once run by Lloyd and Rosen was gone. In its place was a sprawling, magnificent complex of stone buildings.
[Evernight Academy]
The name had been personally bestowed by Kaito. By the Master's decree, all human youths under sixteen registered in the territory, as well as all undead units below Tier 2, were required to attend. Four hours a day. No exceptions. Absences were enforced by the Punishment Legion.
Under Greed's planning, the school expanded at a breakneck pace. Within a short time, two hundred literate instructors were screened from the humans and undead. They taught language, writing, Imperial Law, and Continental History.
And a brand-new course: Economics.
Lloyd and Rosen, the two humans who were the first to "surrender," now served as the Academy's Headmaster and Vice-Headmaster.
Today, the Academy welcomed a new class: the children of Sunflower House.
Miguel led the way, holding Lily's hand, followed by the younger siblings. They stared in awe at the gargantuan institution. In the wide corridors, they saw human children like themselves, mixed with skeletons whose bones click-clacked as they walked to class.
A skeleton, likely a very recent resurrection, lost its balance and walked headfirst into a wall. Its skull popped off its neck and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop at Lily's feet.
Lily let out a tiny shriek and hid behind Miguel. The headless skeleton stooped over, groping the floor until it found its head. It sheepishly snapped its skull back onto its spine and gave Lily a friendly wave of its bony hand as a greeting before wobbling off to class.
Miguel patted Lily's back, whispering that it was okay. Following their instructions, they entered a classroom. It was large, already occupied by twenty human children and a dozen low-tier skeletons. The skeletons were remarkably well-behaved, sitting in the back rows. They had no books or pens; they simply sat perfectly still, their Soul Fires fixed intently on the podium.
On the podium, a middle-aged human teacher wearing spectacles was writing on a chalkboard.
"Today, we learn a new concept," the teacher said, drawing a circle with chalk. "Currency."
"The Empire's currency is divided into three tiers. One hundred copper equals one silver. One hundred silver equals one gold."
"It is used to acquire food, tools, weapons, and anything your heart desires. It is the manifestation of value; it is the proof of labor."
Lily sat at her desk. She didn't quite understand the depth of the words yet. She simply copied the teacher, using a charcoal pencil to draw a shaky, wobbly circle on her papyrus.
Inside the circle, she drew a tiny, happy sunflower.
Miguel, sitting beside her, listened with a deadly seriousness. He recorded every single word the teacher spoke. He knew that in this new world, knowledge was the only thing sharper than a sword.
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