Chapter 3

A New Body 

He had no body. 

That was the first thought that came to his mind as he awakened from the chaos. 

Then he stood—or, more precisely, floated—up. 

His body had been entirely destroyed during the journey between worlds. Now, without a physical form, he existed in a spirit state. 

Having a spirit form was enough. As long as he wasn’t dead, he could keep searching for the magic book, he thought. 

First, he would need to find a corpse, and then he could search for the book. 

He didn’t dwell on his current state for long; his plan was already set. 

In his experience, finding a suitable body wouldn’t be easy. The human world was peaceful, and fresh corpses were hard to come by—unless he was already in a graveyard. But if he was in a graveyard, while there would be plenty of bodies, the next steps would be tricky. He would have to dig up a grave—and in his current state, could he even do that? If not, he might have to wait until someone else buried a new body, and who knew how long that would take… 

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he “looked” around—and froze. 

Huh? Fresh bodies? And not just one? 

Not far ahead of him, he saw two people—one lying face up, the other face down. One was missing the lower half of their body, while the other had lost the left side of theirs. Their wounds were fresh, and blood pooled beneath them, seeping into the dirt, still wet and unfrozen. 

Further to the east, there was another corpse, even more mutilated—just a head remained. 

They must have been attacked by some beast that didn’t care for heads, he thought, drifting toward the two nearest bodies. 

Maybe he could piece together a working body from what was left… As he pondered this, a faint voice came from his left. 

“…Mia…” 

The voice spoke a language he didn’t recognize. 

Intrigued, he floated toward the source of the sound. 

He wasn’t great at judging human ages, but he could tell it wasn’t an old person—definitely a young man. 

The young man wore clothes the spirit had never seen before. There was a hole in his abdomen, and a strange beast, resembling but not quite a wolf, had been gnawing at him. But as soon as the spirit approached, the beast seemed to sense his presence. It abandoned its meal and fled, leaving the injured young man behind.

It was clear that the young man wouldn’t survive. 

“Mia… Mia…” he whispered the same words again. 

It sounded like a name, the spirit hovering above thought. 

Tears rolled from the young man’s eyes, gliding down his cheeks. He muttered the name once more, but this time, his voice was so faint it was almost inaudible. 

Then, with his eyes still open, he took his last breath. 

A fresh, newly-dead human corpse lay before the spirit. 

He entered it. 

When he opened his eyes again, his perspective shifted—from looking down to looking up. 

He stretched out his hand, first closing the dead man’s eyelids, then opening his own eyes fully. Afterward, he sat up. 

There was pain, yes, but it was manageable. 

Looking at the wound in the abdomen, he stuffed the dislodged organs back inside, pressing them in place until the bleeding stopped. Then, he searched the dead man’s backpack. 

…Unfortunately, nothing in it was familiar to him. 

Failing to find what he needed, he rummaged through the other three corpses’ belongings. Finally, in the bag belonging to the man who had been reduced to only a head, he found what he was looking for—needle and thread. 

Using a bottle of water he found in another backpack, he carefully cleaned the wound. Then, with a single hand, he threaded the needle and sewed the torn abdomen shut. 

After centuries of wandering, he’d become quite skilled at stitching things up. 

Once the stitching was complete, he bit the thread to cut it. Glancing at the three corpses nearby, then at the needle and thread in his hand, he realized: 

There was no way to repair them. But at least, he could give them a proper burial. 

With that thought, he stood up, used a shovel he had found in one of the backpacks, and dug three graves. He laid the bodies to rest. 

He threw the three backpacks into their respective graves—after all, humans liked burying objects with the dead, he knew. 

Shouldering the original owner’s bag, he set off. 

He didn’t walk aimlessly. His destination was east. The one who successfully inherited the Ped Magic Book was there—he could sense it. 

The moment his skeletal hand pierced the magic book and became part of the mark on that person’s hand, a connection had formed between them. 

No matter where that person was, he could find them. 

With the backpack on his shoulders, he marched steadily eastward. 

The landscape along the way was littered with ruins. Occasionally, there were buildings still standing, though overgrown with vines and weeds. In one particularly tall structure, he even saw a massive tree growing. 

The building was astonishingly tall—far taller than anything he had seen in the human world. Even though half of it had collapsed, it remained an imposing sight. Could it be a wizard’s tower? But if so, the other surviving structures weren’t exactly short either. If all these were wizard towers… 

He couldn’t imagine wizards living so close to each other! 

Wizards were solitary beings. Even the most sociable ones preferred to place their towers far from others, keeping a respectful distance for both social and safety reasons. 

This was not the human world he had traveled before—this thought grew clearer with every step. 

The architecture, plants, and animals were all unfamiliar. 

Along the way, he encountered several animals. Some resembled wolves, while others had strange, alien appearances. A few beasts seemed to catch the scent of blood on him, waiting for him to die so they could feast. 

He let them follow him. 

Eventually, the “wolf” lost interest and ran off, but the two other strange beasts couldn’t resist attacking. 

He swatted them to death. 

In the moment his hand struck their filthy pelts, he felt a faint pulse of energy. 

Ripping open the corpses, he found two small green stones inside their hearts. 

They looked… a bit like magic stones. 

Though useless to him, the stones were beautiful—bright and shiny. 

He slipped them into his backpack. 

And so, as he traveled eastward, he collected a small pouch full of colorful “stones.” 

He wasn’t alone in this new world. From time to time, he saw groups of people. But none of them traveled alone as he did. Whenever they noticed him, they eyed him warily, as if he were a dangerous beast. 

Not that he cared. He ignored them and kept moving. 

He made his way straight east, not taking a single unnecessary step. 

When night fell, he finally reached a city.