"A third-grade planetary weapon? With a natural affinity to a
Fundamental Path
?!" Robin heart jumped as if bitten by a venomous serpent.
Anything compatible with the Fundamental Paths was extraordinarily rareâbordering on legendary. Robin himself once possessed the Spear of Space, a sleek, jet-black spear that, in the hands of a titan like Holak, resembled nothing more than a toothpick. Yet, despite its unassuming size, the spear had a deep resonance with the Fundamental Path of Space, allowing its user to manipulate space with extraordinary finesse.
But it just wasnât
enough
.
While it was exceptional for executing spatial techniques, the weapon itself was physically fragileâtoo fragile. In any intense melee, the spear could be snapped like a twig. Thatâs why Robin would often switch to sturdier, more reliable weapons, like thick spears forged from refined Uraselium, whenever he anticipated direct confrontation.
Sadly, this made the Space Spear fall from its place as his primary weapon. And after it was ultimately shattered at the hands of Helenâwhile it was stored within the spatial ring that later disintegratedâRobin didnât even bother issuing an order for a replacement.
That spear had its flaws. But aside from that imperfect relic, Robin had
never
come across any true weapon attuned to a Fundamental Pathâ
until today
. And this one wasnât just any weaponâit was a third-grade planetary artifact!
"But... that price?" Robinâs brow furrowed, confused. The Scythe of Dimming was being offered at a lower price than the
Jar of Greed
, even though it was clearly a more advanced and powerful artifact.
But he quickly shook his head, brushing aside the thought.
No one
understood the dangers of interacting with the Law of Death more than he did. It made perfect sense that its price would be suppressed. After all, only someone with a genuine affinity for the Death Path could wield that scythe safely. Anyone else who tried would simply meet their end at its hands.
"Iâll take it. 2.6 million dew," a raspy, hollow voice declared.
Robin turned sharply toward the first bidder. "So, the battle begins. A third-grade planetary weapon is definitely going to fetch a highâ" But his words stopped dead in his throat.
That
being
... That
entity
who spoke... didnât look human. In fact, it didnât resemble
anything
he had ever seen in his entire life.
Even while seated atop a floating cloud, its massive form was unmistakableâat least four meters tall. Its body was wrapped in a flowing white robe, but it was painfully thin, almost skeletal, as though the robe hung on bones alone. Its face was in a state of gruesome decayâbarely any flesh remained. What was left was dry, rotten, sagging skin clinging loosely to bone.
Its eye sockets were hollow voids, yet each contained a glowing white point of light, burning dimly but purposefullyâits
eyes
. Long, unkempt hair fell around its body and obscured parts of its grotesque face.
If one were to describe the creature in a single word, it would be dread.
"Oh fairy... what kind of disguise is
that
, exactly? Iâve never seen anything like itâit looks far too real," Robin muttered with a clenched heart as he stared from afar.
<Thatâs no disguise. No illusion. Thatâs a fully manifested avatar in perfect detail,> the fairy twirled midair, giggling slightly. <That individual is Lord Dearthâone of the high-ranking generals of the Necropolis Fortress!>
"...!!!" Robinâs eyes widened until they could widen no further. "
Those
are the rulers of the Necropolis Fortress?!"
<More or less. But donât be mistakenâthe Necropolis isnât a dynasty or a bloodline. None of them can reproduce to begin with.> The fairy waved her tiny hand dismissively. <The Necropolis is a gathering placeâa sanctuaryâfor all manner of undead beings. They welcome all who have been touched by death, no matter how powerful or how pitifully weak.> She gestured toward Lord Dearth with a sly grin. <They all walk the Death Path, and theyâve practically cornered the entire market when it comes to the resources, tools, and weapons of that path.>
"Undead? What exactly are they?" Robin asked, his voice sharp with sudden, overwhelming curiosity.
<The undead are beings like the treants, golems, and the various strains of planetary plagues. They possess a certain degree of intelligenceâenough to operate and surviveâbut they are nowhere near comparable to humans or humanoid races in population, creativity, or higher reasoning. It is said that they are formed when corrupted souls, steeped in malice and darkness, fuse with decaying corpses under very specific, sinister circumstances. Some legends claim their origin always begins with someone foolishly tampering with the Death Path, unintentionally unleashing corruption upon themselves and those around them. Others say that if one dares to approach one of the ancient undeadâthose who have existed for eonsâor simply ventures into the cursed Necropolis Fortress, they can be turned into one of them. There are, truthfully, many roads that lead to undeath... and none of them are easy.>
"...Thatâs... tragic." Robin exhaled deeply, his breath heavy with unease. A quiet sorrow flickered in his eyes, as if heâd glimpsed something dark beyond the veil of logic and power.
He turned his attention back to Lord Dearth, watching the grotesque general in silence. The figure stood like a monument to decay and persistence, yet something in his presence commanded an ancient authority that even Robin couldnât deny.
A dry, ironic laugh escaped Robinâs lips. He shook his head slowly, as if mocking some invisible truth, then nodded with a look of grim recognition.
It was no wonder he had always felt that touching the Death Path would inevitably cost a person something invaluable. Even though he hadnât known what the undead truly were until this moment, heâd mentioned something similar to Caesar more than once.
So this... this is the end result? This is the fate of those who chase death too closely?
But the fairyâs voice broke through the fog of his thoughts, light and sharp.
<Itâs not as tragic for everyone as you might imagine. The undead have an entire system of power and cultivation that is uniquely their own. More importantlyâand this is what draws many to their pathâthey are not subject to the Universal Law that limits all living beings to a maximum lifespan of 100,000 years. This one fact alone is enough to tempt thousands. Many aging cultivators, especially those who have reached the peak of their potential but are too weak to condense a Planetary Soul and protect it, choose to surrender their humanity and become undead instead.>
<Of course, itâs not without cost.> she added, voice quieter now, <They lose large portions of their memory, their capacity for emotion fades, and the goals and dreams that once drove them are erased. They become something... different. Something hollow. But for those who fear the unknown void that follows death, it is the path of least resistance. A terrifying, hollow,
eternal
resistance.>
"....." Robinâs expression hardened. He nodded slowly, then murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, "I like the way you put it.
They fear what lies beyond death.
Because in truth, they are nothing more than corpses that forgot how to die. Walking remnants. Pitiful things, really..."
His gaze shifted from the stage to the surrounding crowd.
"...Why havenât I heard a single counter-bid until now? Is everyone here so terrified of the Necropolis Galaxy, or is it something even worse?"
<They simply donât want the Scythe of Dimming,> the fairy said plainly, shaking her head, her wings flickering in amusement.
"What? Because itâs only aligned with a
minor
law of the Death Path and not the main one? Or just because itâs connected to death at all?" Robin raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with both challenge and curiosity.
Truth be told, affinity with a sub-law was extremely common, and often desirable. For example, if the scytheâs affinity with the Law of Dimming reached 100%, its user might be able to wield the Law of Decay at 90% efficiency. That was an extraordinary synergyâfar better than the vast majority of weapons, which often had zero affinity with the Death Path in any form.
<People
do
fear the Death Path,> the fairy replied, her voice slightly colder now. <But thatâs not the only reason. Didnât you catch what was said during the introduction? Some among the audience actually
remembered
the scythe. Thatâs because itâs not the first time it has appeared in an auction. It has surfaced multiple times beforeâpassed from one seller to another like a cursed heirloom.>
<Every living being who used it met a swift, often horrifying end. Even the undead who attempted to wield it were crushed to powder, as if the scythe itself rejected them. People have started to believe that the weapon is cursed. Some even say it holds the will of an ancient spirit who refuses to be tamed.>
She lowered her voice further, as if sharing a dangerous secret.
<In truth, Lord Morval only raised the starting bid to 2.5 million because he noticed Lord Dearthâs presence. He assumed the scythe might finally find a buyer today. Otherwise, he would have dropped the starting price to a mere million, perhaps even less.>
...After nearly a full minute passed in suffocating silence following the first bid, Lord Morval finally opened his eyes and extended a hand toward Lord Dearth.
"If there are no other offers... then it seems we have our winâ"
"I want it," came a sudden voice, sharp and clear. "Three million pearls."