They Wanted a Hero. They Made a Monster: Born at the Bottom
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 22: Spoils of the Dead
Evan had indeed decided to search the stratum for a useful Haste skill.
He wanted a monster that could provide the skill reliably. The scout Puffcap on this expedition had been sent to investigate the Gnoll Forest.
Before it encountered any Gnolls, it found something else.
A dead human.
More precisely, a human mage who had only just died. His blood had not yet congealed.
Evan could not view a dead person’s Status Panel, but the standard mage’s clothing made his profession obvious.
The man had suffered terrible injuries and fled from the forest, leaving a long trail of blood behind him. He collapsed from blood loss just after reaching the open ground. By the time Evan discovered him, he was no longer breathing.
Human adventurers usually traveled in parties. Either this man had become separated or every companion had died inside the forest.
Life was difficult for low-level adventurers. They risked their heads simply to earn a living.
According to Elara, resurrection existed in this world.
To Evan, the process sounded more like calling back a soul. First, the body had to be restored perfectly by various means. Then the ritual consumed enough rare resources to impoverish a nation before summoning a hero’s soul into the repaired vessel.
No one organized such a ritual under ordinary circumstances. A resurrection had not occurred in more than a century, and most people probably considered the stories legends. Elara knew more only because her father was a duke.
The explanation alone made one fact clear. Resurrection had nothing to do with ordinary adventurers. It was beyond even most nobles. Only a truly legendary figure might receive such a chance.
Unlike games and stories from Evan’s former world, where death was treated as a temporary inconvenience, dying here meant death.
He searched the unfortunate mage’s satchel.
It contained a small metal plate bearing the mage’s portrait and other information, perhaps an identification card; a notebook full of writing Evan could not read; half a bottle of yellow potion; a few coins; and several gathered plants.
Along with the staff lying beside him, set with a C-grade Mana Crystal, those objects were the mage’s entire estate.
His robe had probably been valuable, but nearly half was burned away. The rest hung in tatters and was useless.
Something rustled inside the forest. Several hunched Gnolls emerged, carrying wooden bows or swords and shields.
One bloodstained sword and shield had been carefully maintained, a sharp contrast to the Gnoll’s ragged clothing. The equipment had probably been stripped from one of the mage’s dead companions.
So the mage had not truly escaped. The Gnolls had deliberately allowed their wounded prey to run until he exhausted the last of his strength.
They were more intelligent than they looked.
The Gnolls noticed the scout Puffcap beside the corpse. They exchanged glances and laughed with disturbingly human mockery.
The one holding the sword and shield put both away before approaching. It did not intend to kill the Puffcap quickly. It wanted to play.
Grinning, the Gnoll reached out with a bloodstained claw.
The claw vanished before it could touch the Puffcap.
“Graaagh!”
Its scream ended when another Spore Cannon blast pulped its head.
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