Ulrich held his breath, staring at the two towering figures shrouding the unnamed graveyard. In his memories, an excerpt from the bestiary crossed his mind:

  

“Humans can awaken, why can’t beasts, undead, and monsters do the same? The answer is they can!”

  Humans possess Vital Rune; Beast, Undead, and Monster possess Core Rune. Judging from the golem’s capability, it must be at the very least a Myriad Class Monster, which was one rank above ‘Great’, and two above Ordinary. He had experienced it, displaying special abilities, traits that only an awakened creature possessed. Just the thought of it chilled his body.

  

Every creature is categorized as either Monster, Beast, or Undead:

  From Normal to Great, Myriad, Myriad King, and beyond; all these ranks are determined by the quantity of lesser runes.

  Ordinary, Awakened, or even higher grades, they are defined by the quality of their Core Rune.

  Hence, killing a Great or Myriad creatures will yield more lesser runes with a likelihood of dropping a Soul Core. As for killing an Awakened variant... That Royal Knight in Cadry Ruin can be considered an Awakened Great Undead. And a Soul Core from these creatures has a high chance of containing a spell or talent corresponding to its Core Rune.

  This Flesh Golem is at least an Awakened Myriad Class Monster. Will it drop a Soul Core?

  As for fighting that thing, Ulrich wouldn’t dare give it a try even if he had nine lives. Forget about fighting the Flesh Golem; that giant undead was another problem. Judging from the Golem’s reaction, it must be at least a Myriad Undead King, an Awakened no less.

  In that moment, the Flesh Golem roared while the skeleton mirrored a war cry as it screeched like a banshee. Even from this distance, Ulrich's head began throbbing as he attempted to block his ear from the piercing sound. He hadn’t noticed it before from this obscure angle, but there was a crimson heart embedded deep in its ribcage, concealed behind a thin layer of flesh.

  The skeleton’s crimson eyes flickered as it closed the distance in one step and swung wide at the Flesh Golem. The ground trembled, fissures and craters appeared beneath its skeletal feet. The impact sent a shock wave that rippled outward, flattening everything within a dozen meters. Bone fragments from the fallen Great Skeletons scattered like leaves in a storm.

  The golem's arm, reinforced with absorbed bone armor, held against the strike just barely. Deep fissures resembling a spider web appear across its flesh where the blade had connected, and for the first time, Ulrich saw genuine damage that didn't immediately regenerate.

  The Awakened Myriad King Undead pulled back its greatsword with fluid motion, far too graceful for a creature of bone and size. It circled the golem with measured pace, each step cracking the ancient debris beneath. The crimson heart in its ribcage pulsed with rhythmic intensity, visible even through the thin membrane of flesh that concealed it.

  Enraged, the Golem launched a projectile; its bone-tipped sphere of muscle hurtled toward the skeleton's skull with terrifying velocity. Unfortunately, the skeleton’s head tilted slightly to the side, letting the arrow whistled past before exploding against a distant ruin. The skeleton hadn't even bothered to raise its weapon.

  It predicted the trajectory, Ulrich realized, his eyes wide despite the throbbing pain in his head.

  The movement of this undead was unlike what he could possibly imagine, and it reminded him of Knight Henrik. To his understanding, Henrik should’ve been a rare case, unless… Every Myriad King Class is capable of human intelligence?

  The golem roared in frustration and launched another volley, three flesh projectiles from different angles. But, the skeleton moved. Not with the jerky, unnatural movements of lesser undead, but with the practiced efficiency of a warrior who had fought countless battles. It sidestepped the first, ducked under the second, and bisected the third mid-flight with a casual swing of its greatsword.

  The severed halves of flesh fell to the ground, twitching. Before they could crawl back together, the skeleton stomped down with its skeletal foot, grinding the meat into the sand until it stopped moving entirely.

  The golem charged. Its massive bulk thundered across the graveyard, bone shrapnel jutting from its surface like crude armor. It swung both fists down in a devastating hammer blow.

  Just as that happened, the skeleton raised its greatsword horizontally above its head. The fists crashed against its blade with a sound of thunderclap. The ground beneath their feet shattered, creating a crater that swallowed both combatants up to their knees. Yet the skeleton held firm, its metallic bones refusing to buckle under the tremendous weight.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  For a moment, they remained locked in that position. Then its crimson eye sockets flared brighter, and it pushed, causing the Flesh Golem to stumble backward, its regenerative flesh unable to compensate for the raw physical force. The skeleton pressed its advantage, bringing the greatsword down in a vertical slash that carved a canyon through the golem's torso. Its flesh parted like water, revealing the writhing muscle beneath and the decay of flesh.

  The golem, realizing that it could not best its foe in a contest of strength, decided not to regenerate its wound, and instead used the opening against its attacker. Tendrils of flesh erupted from the gash, whipping toward the skeleton with blinding speed.

  The skeleton’s body twisted, thumping the ground, yet could not escape as one tendril caught its sword arm, wrapping around the bone like a constrictor. Another seized its leg. Together, they pulled, attempting to tear the skeleton bones apart.

  The crimson heart in the skeleton's ribcage pulsed faster. A dark aura emanated from its bones, and where the aura touched the flesh tendrils, they began to wither and blacken. The golem screeched, a sound of pain and fury, and released its grip.

  A spell?

  Ulrich watched, transfixed by the battle unfolding before him. His danger sense buzzed in his head like an endless wail of warning that told him both creatures could kill him without effort. And he knew better as he had gradually retreated in the distance, away from the impact of the great battle between two powerful predators of the shadow realm.

  The skeleton took a different approach and targeted the golem’s mobility. Its greatsword flashed, separating the tissues of its right leg at the knee. Flesh splattered across the sand, writhing as it tried to reconnect, only to fail as a giant skeletal foot stomped on it, imbued with that twisted, decaying aura.

  The golem toppled but caught itself with one massive hand, using this moment to launch a projectile point-blank, the flesh sphere exploding against the skeleton's ribcage with enough force to send bone fragments flying. Several ribs cracked, and for a moment, its crimson heart was fully exposed. Evidently, it had not expected the blob of flesh to counterattack in such a manner. The golem saw the opening and lunged, its remaining hand reaching for that pulsing core.

  Then the skeleton did something Ulrich feared the most.

  It laughed. A dry, rasping sound like wind through dead branches. And it reminded him of a familiar encounter in Cadry Ruin.

  The skeletal hand gripped its greatsword and drove it straight down through the golem's reaching arm, pinning it to the ground. Tried as it may to free itself, the sword had pierced deep into the ancient stone beneath.

  With its opponent immobilized, the skeleton raised its free hand. The dark aura intensified, congealing around its bony fingers into something that resembled a blade. No, not a blade, Ulrich realized. It was pure concentrated death, a baneful aura so cold he shuddered from this distance.

  Another spell?

  The hand descended, plunging into the Flesh Golem's center mass, where Ulrich had glimpsed something earlier during one of the creature's movements as it fought the Myriad Undead King. A pulsing organ, much like the skeleton's crimson heart, but made of corrupted flesh instead of baleful energy.

  In that moment, the golem's body went rigid, its flesh stopped writhing. Ulrich sighed, believing that it was over. The gap between the two creatures was larger than he’d ever imagined, and he had no intention of trying to land a ‘killing’ blow on either one.

  As he got up to escape the battle scene, Ulrich froze. The golem’s flesh began to liquify, pouring off the bone framework like water. Its bone armor clattered to the ground as the meat that held it dissolved into putrid sludge. The golem's roar became a wet gurgle, then faded into nothing.

  Within seconds, all that remained was a pool of rancid fluid and a single, fist-sized core that gleamed with sickly red light.

  A Soul Core of a Myriad Class Monster… He was tempted, extremely tempted, but ultimately held back that urge. Courting death early wasn't on his bingo list, not yet at least.

  The Myriad Undead King pulled its greatsword from the ground, the blade unsullied despite experiencing a brutal battle. Ulrich watched it reach down and pluck the core from the sludge, examining it with apparent curiosity. Then, with what might have been a shrug, it crushed the core in its skeletal hand.

  Green light flared briefly before dying out completely.

  Ulrich's heart nearly stopped. That core would have been worth a fortune, goddess; it may as well be priceless. Yet, it ended up nourishing the Skeleton.

  At this moment, the dark bone head turned, sweeping across the graveyard. Its crimson gaze passed over the tilted pillar where Ulrich hid, and for one terrifying instant, he was certain it had seen him.

  But the skeleton's attention moved on, like a passing breeze. It dragged its greatsword behind it, the blade carving a furrow through the sand as it walked back toward the deepest reaches of the graveyard. The dark aura around it gradually faded, and the crimson heart in its chest dimmed to a faint glow.

  Within minutes, it had vanished into the ruins, leaving behind only devastation and silence.

  Ulrich remained frozen in the shadows, afraid to move; he didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. His danger sense slowly receded from its frantic warning to a dull throb, though that pounding headache from overexertion remained. The rest of the Great Skeletons scratched their head and began to wander back to their respective posts among the ruined graveyard.

  It was finally over; he was alive. His body shuddered as he glanced at a small skeleton not far from his hiding spot. Noticing his own body reaction, Ulrich can’t help but let out a low mutter under his breath:

  “Skelephobia?”