It had no will. Skeletons weren’t supposed to have free will. But they weren’t supposed to level either, and the [Skeleton Warrior] was now Level 2. It didn’t know how to feel about that. It had one function: to serve. If leveling helped in that capacity, it would level.
But he was still only a Level 3 [Skeleton Warrior]. He had no way to level except in the [Barmaid] class, and Toren felt that this would not be particularly helpful.
Toren was a Level 11 [Skeleton Warrior]. That was his purpose, his name and sense of being. That wasn’t one of the three things he remembered, though. It was just who he was. That was what the voice in his head told him.
Toren was a Level 11 [Skeleton Warrior]. That was what the voice in his head told him. But he never bothered to remember that. It wasn’t important. There were only three things Toren remembered. One was the orders that bound him to this world. The second was the voice which whispered to him, which spoke to an entire continent and called the dead.
He was currently a Level 14 [Skeleton Warrior], thanks to the battle with the enchanted suit of armor, but that wasn’t nearly good enough. Toren had seen Rags’ tribe fighting, seen Relc and the Antinium and Skinner and the hordes of undead. He could tell how weak he was compared to all of them, so he was determined to gain strength.
He was a [Skeleton Knight] now? Was that different than a [Skeleton Warrior]? And did that mean he had the [Knight] class, or was that different from being a skeleton? Toren had no idea, but he looked at the metal armor in the snow and decided that whatever the mysterious message in his head was telling him, it was a good idea.
Az’kerash eyed Toren. Only the skeleton’s head and upper torso were repaired. He had been a basic skeleton, a [Skeleton Warrior]. Now? He was a kind of undead that would have fit among the Village of Dead’s elites—if only the lower echelons.
