REBORN AS A NECROMANCER : BUILDING THE ULTIMATE UNDEAD ARMY-Chapter 43: Paying homage to the haters

The next day evening after the whole drama with Gwen and Rebecca, Kaine stood in his apartment with a notepad, methodically writing down names. Marcus watched from the couch, his pale eyes tracking the pen’s movement across the page.

"You know what the problem with being broke for six months is?" Kaine said, not looking up from his writing. "You discover exactly how many people in your life are complete assholes."

He’d been thinking about the system’s warning all day—how Chad would seek revenge on his behalf, acting on his subconscious desires. The thought had led him to a disturbing realization: he had animosity with a lot of people. More than he’d admitted to himself.

"Let’s see," he muttered, reviewing his list. "We’ve got Derek from the electronics store who ’couldn’t help’ me when my phone died and I needed to make an emergency call. Sandra from the unemployment office who treated me like I was scamming the system. That prick Tony from O’Malley’s Pub who cut me off when I was three drinks in—on a Tuesday, mind you. And let’s not forget Mrs Dilalo from the corner store who followed me around like I was going to steal something just because I was counting change."

Marcus tilted his head, the gesture somehow conveying curiosity.

"I know what you’re thinking," Kaine said. "This is petty shit. But when you’re down and out, every small cruelty feels like a knife in the back. People show you who they really are when you’ve got nothing they want."

He folded the list and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "Come on. Let’s go check on my haters. Make sure they’re all still breathing before I meet up with Gwen."

They left through the fire escape, moving silently across the rooftops. The city spread out below them, millions of lights representing millions of people going about their mundane lives. Most of them probably decent enough, but Kaine had learned to focus on the exceptions.

Their first stop was Derek’s apartment building across town. The electronics store clerk lived in a nice complex with a doorman and everything—the kind of place that made Kaine wonder how someone who sold phone cases could afford better housing than a former Shadow Guard operative.

Through the third-floor window, they could see Derek in his living room, sprawled on an expensive-looking couch with a woman who definitely wasn’t his wife. The woman from his Facebook photos was brunette and petite. This one was blonde and built like she’d stepped out of a magazine.

"Well, well," Kaine said quietly. "Looks like Derek’s got more problems than just being a dick to customers."

Marcus crouched beside him on the fire escape, perfectly still.

"You know what the funny thing is?" Kaine continued. "His wife seems like a decent person. Saw her at the store once, all smiles and kindness. She deserves better than this cheating piece of shit."

They watched as Derek poured wine for his companion, the two of them laughing at something on the television. The man looked happy, comfortable in his deception. It made Kaine’s jaw clench.

"See, this is what I’m talking about," he said to Marcus. "The universe doesn’t balance itself out. Bad people don’t get punished. They just get to keep being bad while good people suffer."

As much as Kaine wanted to sit there all night and watch and maybe pray Derek’s wife would just show up, he had other things on his agenda.

They moved on to Sandra’s house in the suburbs. The unemployment office worker lived in a tidy two-story with a well-maintained garden. Through the kitchen window, they could see her serving dinner to what looked like a happy family—husband, two kids, everyone smiling and talking.

"Perfect," Kaine muttered. "The woman who made me feel like garbage for needing help gets to go home to domestic bliss."

Sandra was laughing at something her daughter said, her face bright with maternal affection. She looked nothing like the cold, bureaucratic harpy who’d made Kaine jump through hoops for basic assistance.

"You know what she told me?" Kaine said. "That maybe I should consider whether my ’lifestyle choices’ were contributing to my employment difficulties. Because apparently being a private investigator makes you unemployable."

Marcus remained silent, but his pale eyes never left Kaine’s face.

"I mean, what the fuck does that even mean? Lifestyle choices? Like I chose to have my team die and myself set up? Like I chose to spend my savings on a fake funeral because I had to stay dead?"

They watched the family finish dinner, the kids helping clear the table while Sandra supervised with obvious pride. The scene was so normal, so wholesomely sweet, that it made Kaine’s chest tight with something that might have been envy.

Tony from O’Malley’s Pub was their next stop. The bartender lived above a barbershop in a rundown part of town, which somehow made Kaine feel slightly better about the universe’s sense of justice.

Through the window, they could see Tony sitting alone in a cramped studio apartment, eating what looked like microwave dinner while watching television. Empty beer bottles lined the windowsill, and the place had the general air of someone who’d given up on life.

"Now this," Kaine said, "is more like it." freewёbnoνel-com

Tony looked miserable. His hair was greasy, his clothes wrinkled, and he was drinking cheap beer straight from the bottle. The apartment was a mess—dirty dishes piled in the sink, clothes scattered on the floor, the general detritus of someone who’d stopped caring about appearances.

"Still a dick, though," Kaine added. "Just a miserable dick."

Their final stop was Mrs Dilalo’s apartment above her corner store. The elderly woman was alone, sitting at a small table with what looked like bills spread out in front of her. She was using a calculator, her face creased with worry as she worked through numbers.

"Struggling to make ends meet," Kaine observed. "Join the club."

Mrs Dilalo looked older than he remembered, more fragile. She was wearing a faded housedress and slippers, her gray hair pulled back in a simple bun. The apartment was clean but sparse, the kind of place where every penny was counted.

"You know what?" Kaine said after watching her for a few minutes. "Maybe she wasn’t following me around because she thought I was a thief. Maybe she was just scared. Old woman, running a store in a rough neighborhood, probably gets robbed more often than she’d like to admit."

Marcus tilted his head, the gesture somehow conveying agreement.

"Fuck," Kaine said. "I really am becoming a cynical asshole."

They headed back toward downtown, where Kaine was supposed to meet Gwen. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of rain and exhaust fumes. The city felt different at this hour—more honest, maybe. The pretense of daylight stripped away to reveal something rawer underneath.

At 11:47 PM, Kaine pulled out his phone and dialed Gwen’s number.

"Ready for our patrol?" he asked when she answered.

"Been ready for an hour. Where are you?"

"About ten minutes out from the warehouse district. You?"

"Already here. Meet me at the corner of Industrial and Fifth."

"See you in ten."

He ended the call and picked up his pace, Marcus keeping silent step beside him. The Soulrend hung heavy on his back, a comforting weight that reminded him of his purpose. Whatever else was going on in his life—the complicated feelings for Rebecca, the growing connection with Gwen, the responsibility of his undead companions—at least he still knew how to hunt monsters.

They were crossing through a narrow alley between two abandoned buildings when a group of men stepped out of the shadows. Five of them, dressed in dark clothing, moving with the coordination of people who’d done this before.

"Evening, gentlemen," the leader said, a thin man with a scar across his left cheek. "Nice night for a walk."

Kaine stopped, genuinely amused. "You’re kidding, right?"

"Wallets, phones, jewelry. Everything valuable." The man’s hand moved to his jacket, revealing the outline of a gun. "Nice and easy, no one gets hurt."

"Do you see this?" Kaine gestured to the scythe strapped to his back. "Do I look like someone you want to rob?"

"Look like someone who thinks he’s tougher than he is," another man said, stepping closer. "Carrying around a Halloween prop doesn’t make you dangerous."

Kaine glanced at Marcus, who stood perfectly still beside him, pale eyes reflecting the streetlight. "What do you think, Marcus? Should I be insulted that they think I’m harmless?"

Marcus didn’t respond, but something in his posture shifted. The ghoul’s attention was no longer focused on the robbers. Instead, he was staring into the deeper shadows of the alley, his body tensing like a predator scenting danger.

"I’ll give you one chance," Kaine said to the robbers. "Walk away. Find someone else to victimize. Someone who isn’t carrying a cursed blade and traveling with—"

Marcus suddenly dropped into a crouch, a low growling sound emerging from his throat. It was the first sound Kaine had ever heard him make, and it raised the hair on the back of his neck.

"What the hell?" the lead robber said, taking a step back.

But Marcus wasn’t growling at them. He was staring into the darkness at the far end of the alley, his pale eyes wide with what might have been recognition.

The temperature dropped ten degrees in as many seconds.

And then something stepped out of the shadows.

The wight looked nothing like the man who’d died in the cemetery. His skin was pale as moonlight, almost translucent. His fingers had elongated into claws that gleamed in the streetlight. But it was those eyes that made Kaine’s blood freeze—they glowed with a dull red light, like coals in a dying fire.

Chad’s attention was fixed entirely on the robbers, his head tilted at an unnatural angle as he studied them. When he smiled, his teeth were sharp and far too numerous.

"Oh, fuck," Kaine whispered.