The words floated in front of me, glowing faintly in the gloom.

  Recommendation: Create undead. Would you like to raise Grib - Goblin Leader?

  Your current soul counter is 0/1.

  I stared at the prompt, my thoughts tangled in a knot of disbelief and guilt. Create undead? Are you serious? This thing was telling me I could bring him back? Grib, who had fought for me when I didn’t even fight for myself?

  But could I? Should I?

  I looked at his body—well, his halves.

  His split form lay in a pool of blood that had long since stopped spreading. His right hand was still clenched, as if gripping a spear that wasn’t there anymore, while his left had fallen slack. His face, or what was visible of it from this angle, was frozen in determination.

  Grib had believed in me. Fought for me. Died for me.

  How could I not try?

  “I owe him.” My voice cracked under the weight of it. “I owe him at least this.”

  The prompt flickered, waiting for my decision. “Yes,” I said, the word brittle as it passed my teeth. “Do it.”

  The system responded instantly:

  Corpse reanimated. Grib - Goblin Leader is now Goblin Zombie.

  A groan arose from the body. Horrific and pained, coming from either side of his mangled mouth.

  Would you like to retrieve his soul?

  “Retrieve his soul? What… yes?” I managed to stutter, looking at the escalating horror before me.

  Soul restored. Grib - Goblin Zombie is now Grib - Awakened Corpse.

  The light of the prompt dimmed, and for a moment, the room fell silent. I waited, holding my breath—not that I needed it anymore—but nothing happened.

  And then something did.

  Grib’s two halves twitched, then yanked apart, like a wishbone splitting under tension.

  I froze as his right side tried to sit up while his left half scrabbled against the floor, kicking itself in circles in the process. His right torso twisted, movements jerky and confused, like a puppet with two hands on different strings.

  “Grib?” I said, my voice trembling. Relief and horror fought for control.

  His right hand flailed upward, his fingers curling weakly before slamming back onto the ground. His left leg tried to do the same, but without the rest of him attached, it mostly ended up booting his other half.

  “Oh,” I said, staring in mounting panic. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no.”

  The two halves were now fully animated, each moving independently. His right side twisted aimlessly, waving it’s arm in uneven circles, flailing like it was searching for something—or possibly trying to fight the floor. His left tried to stagger upright, its good foot wobbling before promptly losing balance and collapsing into a kicking, writhing mess.

  “Grib!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to—stop moving! Just—oh, no. What do I do? What do I do?”

  Grib’s right hand managed to prop himself up briefly before slipping sideways again, his movements jerky and uneven.

  I froze, staring as his mangled jaw flapped in what I could only guess was an attempt to form words.

  He started making noises like a man gargling water and smooth rocks, which, by some miracle, i seemed to understand. Talking. He was talking.

  The right side spoke up. “Boss! Grib... Grib alive! Grib confused! Where’s—gghhkk—rest of Grib?”

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed his left half lurching upright in an unsteady wobble. It took a step. Then another. Then a weird little spin, like it had somewhere important to be.

  Grib’s left side groaned, his half-mouth slurring the words like he was chewing gravel. “Boss! Gggghhkk... Grib’s other Grib being rude! Tell—ffzttch—Grib come back to Grib!”

  “Oh my god,” I muttered, pacing in a tight circle as panic clawed at my ribs—or, well, the metaphorical space where ribs used to be. “Grib, I... Oh no. Oh, no no no. This is bad. This is so bad.”

  Grib’s left side, unburdened by any sense of coordination or decency, lurched forward again. It slipped on the blood, kicking up a spray before collapsing in a heap. His right half let out an indignant squawk as it flopped onto its side, one arm flailing for balance before falling to the floor and lurching its way over to the other half.

  “Grib!” the left side of his mouth managed to rasp out, the words slurring into each other. “Grib half here... grhhrghh... and half there! Boss fix?”

  “Boss fix!” the right side of his jaw echoed, slightly clearer but no less horrifying. His voice was like two broken wind chimes trying to harmonize. “Grib strong! Just... just need... ggk...!”

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  “Hold still!” I shouted, waving my hands in what I hoped was a universal gesture for stop moving. “Please, just—stop! Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.”

  Grib’s left side twitched as if offended by the suggestion. It heaved itself upright again, shaking off excess blood like an oversized dog, before launching into a sideways charge straight toward the rest of him.

  “Other Grib!” the left side gurgled. “Other Grib—stop—grbbbghh—attacking Grib!”

  “Grib fine!” the right side retorted, though the flailing arms and smacking limbs suggested otherwise. “Boss... tell legs... work with Grib!”

  I was pretty sure I was going to lose whatever remained of my sanity when the system chimed in, its infuriating neutrality cutting through the chaos:

  First undead created. Skill acquired: Mend Undead.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said through gritted teeth, glaring at the prompt as if it could feel my frustration. “Couldn’t have mentioned that sooner, could you?”

  Grib’s right side managed to roll onto its back, his eyes wide with panic as his left side flopped on top of him, an uncoordinated tangle of limbs. “Boss!” one side wheezed. “Other Grib—gghhk—being mean! Grib needs fixing!”

  “Fix! Fix!” the right side agreed, though its attempt at enthusiasm was undercut by the fact that his upper half was currently trying to wrestle his own knees.

  I fumbled with the interface, my skeletal fingers trembling as I accessed the skill. A pale, steady light appeared in my hands, and I stepped toward the flailing mess that was Grib.

  “Mend Undead!” I shouted, pushing the light toward him.

  The effect was instant. The chaotic movements stopped as his two halves were enveloped in a soft glow. Bones clicked into place, sinew stretched and reconnected, and with a final, wet schlorp, Grib’s body snapped back together.

  He blinked at me, his two eyes finally aligned for the first time in minutes.

  His expression shifted from confusion to awe. “Boss fix Grib!” he patted himself down, pausing to wiggle his fingers and toes separately, just to be sure. “Grib... whole again! Better! Grib feel good! Strong! Like new bucket!”

  I slumped against the wall, letting my skull clunk back against the stone. “Great, Grib,” I muttered. “Glad one of us feels good.”

  Grib hopped to his feet like nothing had happened. “Grib ready for orders! Stab humans? Hug humans? Stab, then hug?”

  I groaned, rubbing at the spot where my temples used to be. “No stabbing. No hugging. Just... stay still. Please.”

  He plopped down instantly, cross-legged, grinning ear to ear. “Grib wait! Grib good at waiting!”

  I let out a slow, rattling sigh, my thoughts tangled in a chaotic knot of relief, guilt, and disbelief. The system had given me a way to bring him back… but what had I actually brought back? And what did that say about me?

  Grib tilted his head. “Boss need nap? Boss look tired.”

  A dry, humorless laugh scraped out of me. “Yeah, Grib. Something like that.”

  His grin stretched even wider. But something in his unwavering enthusiasm made my nonexistent chest tighten.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” I said. “You are okay, right?”

  Grib blinked, then wiggled his fingers, his toes. And, because he was Grib, his ears.

  He nodded so hard his head tilted to one side before snapping back into place with an audible click. “Grib okay!” he declared. “Better than okay! Grib perfect! Grib best!”

  I exhaled, the weight in my voice betraying how much I needed to hear that. “That’s... good.”

  Grib’s excitement dimmed just a little. His eyes drifted around the room, landing on the bodies of his fallen comrades. His ears drooped. The brightness in his expression flickered.

  He turned back to me, voice small. “Boss... can you bring back others? Like Grib?”

  The question hit harder than I expected. I followed his gaze to the scattered corpses, each one frozen in that awful, final stillness. They had fought for me. Trusted me. Died for me. And now they were gone.

  The system interface flickered to life at my command. The soul counter glared at me like an accusation.

  Soul Counter: 1/1

  I swallowed the answer before it could hurt. “I don’t think I can, Grib. Not right now.”

  Grib didn’t react at first.

  With a small sigh, he turned to the nearest fallen goblin. “Live for Bone King…” He reached out and patted the corpse on the back. “Die for Bone King.”

  I had no words for that.

  But I did have a choice.

  The interface flickered at the edge of my vision, patient, waiting. I hadn’t summoned it, but it was there anyway. Create Undead still glowed in the list. Ready. Available.

  The Soul Counter read 1/1.

  Full.

  I didn’t know the mechanics. Didn’t know the rules. But I was pretty sure that meant if I did bring them back, it wouldn’t be them. Not really. Not like Grib.

  Their souls were already claimed. By the System, by the afterlife, or by whatever the hell handled those things in this world. And Create Undead… It didn’t say Raise Dead. It didn’t say Resurrection. It didn’t say Cure Death Stuff. It was necromancy. .

  There had been a brief moment before Grib’s soul was restored. I saw his halves twitch. Groan. Move like something was pulling them rather than having any kind of agency.

  And I wasn’t ready for that.

  Not yet.

  So I said nothing.

  I glanced at the corpses. At Grib. At the faint blood trail leading to the exit.

  I wasn’t just some skeleton in a cave anymore. I was a dungeon boss.

  And I honestly had no idea what the hell that meant.

  The adventurers would come back. They’d said so, and I believed them. This time, they wouldn’t hesitate. They’d bring someone stronger. Someone who wouldn’t stop until I was dust.

  And I had to do something. I swallowed the unease creeping through me.

  “Grib,” I said. “We have work to do.”

  He perked up immediately, ears twitching. “Yes, Boss! What we do? More traps? Better mud?”

  “Not... quite,” I said, already thinking ahead. “But we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

  Grib grinned, full-force again. “Grib get ready! For Bone King!”

  He darted off before I could stop him, leaving me alone with the bodies, the blood, and the silence.

  I let out a long, rattling breath and turned toward the chamber opening that led to the dark entrance of the dungeon. The adventurers would be back.

  And all I knew is that I’d better be ready.