Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 1274: Awakeners In The Land Of Origin [3]

A group of women carrying baskets stopped speaking when he passed them. Two stared openly at his face, while the third whispered something that made the others laugh.

"Bok, is that really you?" one of them asked.

"Did you steal someone else’s skin?"

"Perhaps he finally washed himself properly," another replied.

Their laughter followed him down the road.

Some villagers complimented him. Others mocked him.

A few claimed he looked sick and advised him to visit the village healer. One old woman grabbed his chin without warning and turned his face from side to side before declaring that he had either been blessed by a forest spirit or cursed by one.

Bok pulled himself free and hurried away.

The attention made him increasingly uncomfortable. In a place like this, where everyone worked under the sun for most of their lives, having tanned skin was normal, but being fair despite all this was abnormal, so Bok naturally drew a lot of attention.

Fortunately, most of the villagers were simple, good-natured people and did not press him further.

Bok kept his head lowered and walked faster while thinking of how many hours he should spend under the sun in the next few days to get back his tanned skin.

His family’s house was located on the western side of the village. If he could reach it without attracting any more attention, he could shut himself inside and think about everything properly.

Bok was already close enough to see the roof when someone shouted from behind him.

"Bok!"

His entire body stiffened.

He recognized that voice.

Slowly, Bok turned around.

A broad man was marching toward him from the centre of the village.

The man wore a thick leather apron over a stained shirt. His forearms were nearly as wide as Bok’s thighs, and a heavy knife hung from the belt around his waist.

This was Garr.

The village butcher.

He was also Bok’s master.

Bok had served as his apprentice for almost three years.

Garr stopped in front of him and frowned.

"Where have you been?"

"I..."

Bok looked toward his house.

He was painfully close.

Unfortunately, Garr followed his gaze before placing one large hand on his shoulder.

"You can go home later."

Bok nearly stumbled beneath the weight of that hand.

"Master, something happened to me."

"Something happened to me too," Garr replied. "I received the largest order I’ve seen in six months, and my only apprentice disappeared."

"I didn’t disappear intentionally."

"Good. Then you can intentionally return to work."

Garr turned him around before Bok could resist and began guiding him toward the butcher’s workshop.

Bok reluctantly followed.

Along the way, Garr finally seemed to notice his appearance. He glanced at Bok’s face, then at his exposed arms.

"What happened to your skin?"

"I don’t know."

"You look weak."

"I feel fine."

"You had better. We have fifty pigs to prepare."

Bok stopped walking.

"Fifty?"

"And several dozen chickens."

A large order had arrived from a nearby town that morning. Garr had initially assumed it was for one of the wealthy households there, but the messenger claimed that several merchants were preparing for a long journey and required enough preserved meat to feed their guards and workers.

The payment was generous. The deadline was not.

Most village butchers handled only a few animals each day. An order this large required preparation, additional hands, and almost every usable section of Garr’s workshop.

However, Bok was Garr’s only proper apprentice in the village.

He was the only other person Garr trusted to sharpen the knives, separate the valuable cuts, clean the organs, and prepare the meat without wasting large portions of it.

By the time they reached the workshop, several temporary workers were already gathered outside.

The pigs had been divided among multiple pens behind the building. Their squeals filled the air, mixing with the clucking of chickens and the shouted instructions of the workers.

Garr shoved a folded apron into his hands.

"Stop staring."

Bok nodded obediently, tied the apron around himself, and entered the workshop.

The interior was large and surprisingly clean. Knives of different sizes hung along one wall, while hooks, buckets, ropes, and wooden tables occupied the rest of the space.

Bok picked up one of the knives.

The weapon felt natural in his hand.

Garr watched him test its edge and nodded.

Bok rolled his eyes but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Whatever had happened to him was troubling, but standing around worrying would not fill his stomach.

He still needed to work if he wanted to eat.

His master provided him with a small wage, but most of Bok’s meals came from the portions of meat Garr allowed him to take home. If he lost his apprenticeship, he would have one less source of food and income.

With that thought, Bok forcefully pushed the distractions from his mind.

He could examine the changes to his body later.

For now, there was work to be done.

Several villagers had already begun heating large pots of water in the yard. Others carried ropes, cleaned the worktables, and moved the first group of pigs away from the crowded pens.

Garr handled the largest animals himself while Bok worked beside him.

Slaughtering livestock was not pleasant, but Bok had grown accustomed to it. Garr had taught him to work quickly, both to avoid making the animals suffer unnecessarily and to prevent the meat from being ruined through careless handling.

The first pig was brought forward.

Bok checked his knife again, steadied himself, and began his work.

Everything felt normal.

His hands moved with the familiarity earned from nearly three years of repetition. Despite the strange condition of his body, his strength had not disappeared. If anything, he felt less tired and had more energy than he normally would have at the beginning of such a demanding order.

It did not take long for him to finish.

The moment the pig died, a faint sound rang inside his head.

Ding!

A translucent blue panel appeared directly in front of his face.

[You have killed a Domestic Pig.]

[Experience gained: 4.]

Bok froze.

His knife slipped from his hand and struck the wooden floor.

"Ghost!"

The shout echoed throughout the workshop.