Three skeletons sat around two Black Stones placed on the snowy ground. Demon language was carved into the stones—Death.
The three skeletons were undead creatures, completely unafraid of the frigid snowfall. They had likely been sitting here for a long time; snow covered their shoulders and bare skulls.
Under normal circumstances, Shade would have chosen to go around something like this. But he had come today precisely to search for clues, so he walked over. The skeletons ignored him, staring fixedly at the two Black Stones half-buried in the snow.
Undead, but corrupted by a demon. Their souls were imprisoned within their bones.
"She" softly reminded him, and Shade stopped with the suitcase in hand:
"Gentlemen, what are you doing?"
After he asked, he indeed received an answer. Of the three skeletons, the one in dark red clothing moved its jaw up and down:
"We are allocating the places for death."
"What does that mean?"
The skeleton in black said:
"We are hunters from a nearby village. A year ago, when we entered this forest to hunt, we chased a wild chicken here. The three of us fired at the chicken hiding in the bushes. When we went to look for it, we found the chicken lying at a man's feet. We threatened him to hand over our prey, and that was how we became like this."
There was unexpectedly the flavor of an operatic monologue in his speech.
"Aren't you already dead?"
Shade asked again, and the last skeleton, dressed in dark blue, answered:
"That man made us die, but he would not let us leave completely. He said that since we liked suspecting others of taking what belonged to us, we should decide for ourselves who this thing truly belonged to. He turned that wild chicken into two