A massive form erupted from the mud, splattering brown everywhere as it lunged for Axehand’s waist. Jerry’s eyes widened.

  This was a zombie crocodile. It stretched at least six feet long, with its mouth alone taking up two, and its body was almost perfectly preserved, including its fierce teeth.

  If it took hold of Axehand, this menace would violently shake him from side to side, tearing his body apart and breaking his bones. Moreover, while zombies lost some speed compared to their living counterparts, they retained most of their strength.

  This particular crocodile had missed the memo. When it lunged out of the mud, it was so fast it blurred.

  The reptilian form zoomed out at blinding speed, an open, serrated mouth heading directly for Axehand—and the double-skeleton slapped it into the ground so hard that the mud parted in its wake, all teeth breaking as the crocodile’s mouth was clamped shut.

  Axehand grunted in annoyance, then returned to his job as if nothing had happened. The crocodile stayed still.

  Everyone watched frozen.

  "What an unlucky creature," Jerry said, shaking his head. "Why would it even attack Axehand? He’s all bones."

  "Move, Master!" Boney cried out, suddenly rushing over at full speed. "Head for the shore, fast! There might be more of them!"

  Jerry blinked, then looked to the side. Twenty feet away, a log had teeth. He’d never run faster in his life.

  Everyone—except Axehand, who happily went about his job—soon found shelter on the mud lake’s shores, inching as far away from the mud as possible.

  "How devious…" Laura muttered. "A foot of mud is enough for crocodiles to hide in… Who would have thought."

  "I knew those logs were suspicious!" Boney lamented. "I put you in danger, Master… I deserve to die. Oh, wait—I already have." He cluckled, finding his joke hilarious.

  "We were very lucky to escape unscathed," Marcus said, looking around with narrowed eyes. "Let’s not forget we’re in the Dead Lands. Any unturned stone could hide danger, so keep both eyes out."

  "Aye, captain," Jerry said. "By the way, Laura, we’re caked in mud, and you’re a hydromancer."

  "Say no more." She smiled, willing the water to flow out of her flask and give everyone a flash shower, pulling most of the mud away.

  "Much better." Jerry smiled back. "Now, since we’re clearly stranded here, should we look for a safe place to set up camp?"

  Marcus crossed his arms. "Not necessarily stranded. We might be able to repair the airship given a few days."

  "Even the hull?" Laura asked.

  "Of course," Boney replied quickly. "The hull is vital for airships, or the wind could get in."

  She threw him a scalding glare.

  "Just the valve, the mast, and the air stoppers," Marcus explained. "We can live without the hull—repairing it would take more skill and time than we have, anyway."

  "All I hear is camping time." Jerry smiled. "I could handle that. Not to brag, but I once spent six months in the forests by myself."

  Marcus turned his head. "Impressive, but why?"

  "To relax."

  "Alright."

  "We don’t have tents," Laura noted. "Or bedrolls. Or any sort of equipment."

  "But we do have rope and a convenient swamp to extract materials from," Jerry replied, already turning around to observe the thicket. "Let’s get going. We should be ready by nightfall."

  "We shouldn’t all go," Marcus said. "I can stay here to inspect the damage, but I’ll need Axehand to protect me from the crocodiles. I could use a couple of Billies too, to help with carrying stuff."

  "You can have them all," Jerry replied, smiling slightly. "Me, Boboar, Foxy, Boney, and Headless… This is almost like the good old times, when we’d just started fixing up the tower. Isn’t that right, guys?"

  "Almost, yes…" Boney lowered his head. "I am really happy to accompany you, Master."

  "So am I, Boney; so am I. Now come on, let’s go. What will you do, Laura?"

  "I’ll come with you," she said. "The further I am from these supersonic crocodiles, the better."

  "I don’t think they’re supersonic."

  "That’s what it felt like."

  "Are you going to be okay?" Marcus asked. "This swamp seems dangerous."

  "We’ll be fine," Jerry reassured him. "We’ll have me, Laura, and all these undead, plus Birb watching us from above."

  "That’s right." Laura nodded. "Can we go, please? The more time we have, the better a camping spot we’ll find."

  "Sure." Jerry smiled, waving back. "See you, Marcus, Billies! Protect them well, Axehand!"

  The treasure hunter nodded, as did the Billies, while Axehand’s response was a reassuring grunt. With that, Jerry’s team turned around to face the swampland.

  The Dead Lands were perpetually enveloped in twilight. Ozborne’s Curse had sunk its fangs deep into the land, poisoning everything that was alive and some that were not. The grass, the clouds; even the sky itself was tinted a shade of gray that the sun barely shone through, giving the impression that this world was slowly but inevitably reaching its end.

  However, there was always beauty in death. The swamp may not have been vibrant and bursting with life, but it felt mystical. The trees sat enveloped in silence, with very few animal cries disturbing the peace, and even the wind seemed tamer here. Amidst the silence and stillness, Jerry found himself unconsciously holding his breath, taking in the deafening serenity of this magical sight.

  "Beautiful, isn’t it?" he asked.

  "It is, Master…" Boney replied. "I’m not sure why, exactly, but this place somehow reminds me of you."

  "It does?"

  "Yes."

  "Hmm…"

  Jerry looked at the sparse trees again, slim and bent by their own weight. Off-brown branches hung down as if to wipe the soft soil, while roots occasionally rose to meet them. A light fog blanketed the swamp, hindering their sight after a certain distance, and the air smelled lightly of dampness.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  As they observed, a few gray lights flickered high above, dancing and chasing each other through the air. They twirled around Laura once before flying away—they were zombie fireflies, an entire host of them.

  “Do you think I could tame one?” Jerry asked.

  With a sigh, Laura drew her gaze from the departing fireflies. "Can we get going, dum-dums? I thought we were in a hurry."

  "Oh, yes."

  “Your crudeness kills me—oh wait, I’m already dead.”

  They dove into the trees, Foxy and Boboar rushing ahead; after so long in foreign environments, a forest—or a swamp—felt like home. Both animals made happy yelps and oinks, fondly looking back to the times when they and Jerry toured through the forests and mountains of Escarbot.

  Jerry himself strolled calmly, while Headless remained close-by, moving his head left and right to stay vigilant of any threats. Boney and Laura walked behind them, not speaking for once.

  The trees remained silent and bereft of life, no danger presenting itself. However, that wasn’t to say the swamp was empty.

  They walked for half an hour, and, in that time, came across several kinds of undead. A few small, zombie birds darted from branch to branch, cocking their heads at the group—they even played with Birb a bit when it curiously approached and pecked at one.

  There were skeletal birds, too. The form of wild undead—whether they became skeletons or zombies—seemed to be mostly determined by their species, which was an intriguing observation. Was there a reason why the Curse worked like this?

  These skeletal birds couldn’t fly, of course, as they had no wings. They had, however, developed another means of movement: hopping—and watching little birds move around with tiny leaps was as cute as it was hilarious.

  Once, Laura squealed and tried to pick one up, only to hurriedly step back when the bird regarded her with a creepy, empty gaze. That was a valuable lesson; the fauna of the Dead Lands might not be wholly aggressive, but they remained dangerous, even in the smallest, most harmless creatures. That little bird wouldn’t hesitate to peck her eyes out if given the chance.

  It was a scary realization; and, at the same time, one that added to the brutal beauty of these lands.

  "I still can’t believe it." She pouted a few minutes later, seeing another skeletal bird hop past them, heading who knows where. "I only wanted to hug it."

  "But maybe it didn’t want to hug you ," Boney said, picking up the hopping bird; he was a skeleton too, so besides a curious stare, it didn’t resist at all. "See? It likes me."

  "Well, you’re equally brainless. Maybe that’s why."

  “We’re also equally skinny. Maybe that’s why."

  Her eyes widened. "You did not just say that!"

  "Oh look, a tree," Jerry said, walking right in front of them. "It’s like all the others we’ve seen. What an interesting conversation topic!"

  "Hmph." Laura snorted, shaking her head once before dropping the issue. "How’s the camp-searching, Jerry? Seen a good place yet? Because I haven’t."

  "Yeah, neither have I." The necromancer scratched his head. "The forests of Escarbot were much easier to work with. Here, everything’s damp and muddy. We might have to explore a little more before we find a suitable location."

  "How much more?"

  "Dunno. A week?"

  "Yeah… Thank Hydra we started early. Still, let’s hope we find something quickly. I would rather not walk too much."

  Jerry turned around. "Why?" he asked curiously. "It’s not like anything changes the more you walk."

  "I get bored and tired."

  "Oh, right. I can turn you into an undead if you want—then, you’ll just be happy all day long and skinnier."

  She blinked rapidly. "I can’t believe you."

  Tom and Jerry high-fived. "Nice one, Master!"

  "Heh. I was just kidding, Laura; you’re, like, super fit, and also stunningly beautiful."

  "Of course I am."

  "Oh, look, Master!" Boney said, pointing at a nearby tree’s branches. "See that bird?"

  Everyone looked over. "Yes."

  "Well, look closer; it’s actually a plant!"

  "What?" Jerry squinted at it. "Oh!"

  They were looking at a brown zombie bird just like all others, except its form was perfectly still—and, on closer inspection, it was not a bird at all, just a plant shaped as one. It sported multiple stems at different shades of brown, all wrapped around each other to resemble a bird’s standing body. Its black eyes were some kind of twin-headed flower, and a small network of roots stretched all the way from its feet to the tree’s trunk, where they dived into it.

  It could never hold up to scrutiny, but this plant could be mistaken for a bird at a passing glance.

  "Wow," Jerry exclaimed. "That’s really interesting. Why would a tree do this?"

  "Maybe it’s carnivorous and wants to lure prey, Master," Boney said, cupping his bone chin. "What kind of prey, though? Hmm. Is this bird-plant meant to attract potential mates?"

  "Can zombies even reproduce?"

  "Some can," Laura said, raising a brow at Jerry. "For a necromancer, you’re oddly uninformed."

  "And you’re the exact opposite.”

  "I told you, I’m a well-read girl."

  "In any case," Boney said, patting the trunk, "no matter what trick this little tree is trying to pull, it’s too dumb for us."

  The trunk’s gnarls formed into open eyes. Roots circled around Boney’s feet while branches shook, slowly moving to encircle him.

  "Oh, shit!" Boney backpedaled furiously, or tried to, but ended up falling on his bone butt. He raised his hands in panic. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re not dumb, I am!"

  The branches did not stop their advance, and more roots began to snake up his body.

  "Boney!" Jerry shouted. A black aura left his body as he slammed his soul force against the tree, trying to sever its threads. He partially succeeded; many branches and roots suddenly went still, while the rest recoiled in pain.

  Headless dropped his head and fell on the roots still binding Boney, as did Foxy, frenziedly pulling and cutting them as they could. As for Boboar, he did what boars do best; with an enraged oink, he rammed head-first against the tree, shaking it to the core and making its flexible branches wave through the air.

  With the tree no longer resisting, Boney was soon cut loose, and he hurriedly crawled backward until he was by Jerry’s side.

  "Oh, thank you, Master, thank you!" he exclaimed, shakingly climbing to his feet. "You saved me!"

  "Well, it wasn’t that difficult." Jerry smiled. "Just scary."

  "Yeah, all you lost was your dignity," Laura said, giggling behind her hand. "You admitted to being dumber than a tree."

  "I was just trying to trick it!"

  "Let’s pay more attention, okay?" Jerry said, suddenly eyeing the trees around him with suspicion. "There might be more hidden dangers here, and there is no guarantee the next one will be as easy to deal with."

  On cue, a sharp sting of danger reached him through his connection to Birb, and he looked up only to find a snake’s rotten maw inches away from his face. Before he could even think to react, an arrow whistled by, piercing the snake mid-air and nailing it to the tree behind Jerry.

  "Who are you," a hoarse voice said, "and what are you doing in my swamp?"

  They turned, and there stood a humanoid figure as pale as paper, but with dark eyes, hair, and teeth. Laura screamed.