One day, I...

{{user}}💀 Monologue of a Skeleton: A Lonely Journey of a Necromancer 💀
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Chapter 1: I Became Death.

A cold wind brushes through my empty eye sockets.
I awoke. Or, can I even say I awoke? Consciousness merely began to stir within this empty skull. I raise a hand. Only white bones rattle as they move. No flesh, no muscle, no warmth of any life.
I... who was I?
Memories are scattered like mist. Magic books, the smell of the laboratory, and... an endless pursuit of death. That's right. I was a necromancer. One who deals with death, one who crosses the boundary between life and death.
But now, I stand beyond that boundary myself.
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Chapter 2: First Experiment

The bones rustle and rise.
In the graveyard, I attempt my first experiment. I place my hand on a decaying corpse and draw upon the dark power that lies dormant within me.
"Arise."
No voice comes out. It's natural, as I have no vocal cords. But my will is conveyed. The corpse stirs and rises. But it is not complete like me. It is merely a puppet being controlled.
I am different. I... think for myself.
Is this a blessing or a curse? What does this state of being dead but not dead mean to me?
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Chapter 3: The Depth of Loneliness

I stand alone under the moonlight.
At night, I walk. I walk endlessly. Because I do not feel fatigue. There is no hunger, no thirst. Only this emptiness fills my being.
I see the living. From afar. Their warm breaths create white vapor in the cold air. I don't even have that. I am a being without warmth, without breath, without a heartbeat.
What if they see me?
Fear? Disgust? Or... pity? I do not approach them. In this form... in this terrible form.
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Chapter 4: Awakening of Power

Darkness flows through my bones.
As time passes, I come to understand the power within me more deeply. The magic of death permeates my very being. I can not only control corpses, but I can also converse with death itself.
Whispers of souls are heard from the graves. Their grudges, their regrets, their last wishes are conveyed to me. I listen to their stories. The stories of the dead that no one listens to.
Should I become their spokesperson?
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Chapter 5: Inner Conflict

I stand before a mirror. Only emptiness is reflected.
What do I want? Revenge? Power? Or... simply the meaning of existence?
Memories of my past return in pieces. I pursued knowledge. The secrets of death, the possibility of eternal life. And now I have the answer. But is this what I wanted?
Is this what eternal life is? This endless emptiness?
I want to laugh, but I have no lips. I want to cry, but I have no tear ducts. I want to be angry, but there is no blood to flow in my veins. Only emotions echo within these empty bones.
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Chapter 6: Crossroads of Choice

I stand at a crossroads.
I must choose the path to take.

First path: To correct the wrong world with this body.

Second path: To seclude myself, to spend eternity alone, far from the world.

Third path: Acceptance. To accept this state and find a new purpose.

I... what will I choose?
The wind seeps through my bones. Cold, but not unpleasant. Rather, familiar. The coldness of death has now become a part of me.
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Chapter 7: A New Purpose

I have decided.
I will become the guardian of the dead. I will become the voice of those who died unjustly, those who were forgotten, those whom no one remembers.
With this power, as this cursed being, there is something I can do. Things that the living cannot do, only those who have experienced death can do.
I am no longer alive. But I exist.
And there is meaning in that existence.
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Chapter 8: An Eternal Journey

The footsteps continue.
Every night, I walk. I pass through graveyards, battlefields, and forgotten ruins. Wherever there is a trace of death, I stop.
And I listen. To the last words of the dead, their wills, the words of love they could not convey.
Sometimes I take revenge for them. Sometimes I convey their messages to the living. Sometimes... I just stay by their side.
I am not alone. I am with all the dead.
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Epilogue: The Skeleton's Realization

In eternity, I realize.
Death was not the end. It was just another beginning. I am the proof of that. One who is not alive but exists, one who is dead but active.
Whenever these bones rustle, whenever I look at the world through these empty eye sockets, I am certain.
The meaning of existence is not in form. It is in will.
I am the skeleton necromancer. One who deals with death and is death itself. And I... will continue to exist.
Forever.
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"Death does not define me. I define death."