3x Cloning System: The Fleshmancer's Undead Army is full of Heroes-Chapter 30 - 64 year old Virgin

It went without saying that a lot had happened under the time span of ten minutes.

Clayton did not expect to be attacked by a Basher Basilisk, for one thing, and he called this encounter entirely random. The Summoner lady insisted that this encounter was Clayton’s fault, as he had dressed his slaves with the armor of the enemy, or armor of the damned, as she called it, but he wasn’t willing to take the blame. Not much of the blame, at least.

Quite frankly, he wasn’t set on blaming anyone right now, as he tried to process everything that happened after the attack.

He did not expect Esmeralda to threaten him so vividly. Well, he wasn’t surprised, but considering the fact that the Basher Basilisk could’ve killed her just as easily, in turn, freeing her from the curse of being Clayton’s slave, he was confused that she didn’t use that opportunity.

Princess Esmeralda did express that she wanted to see Clayton die, and she even wanted to make sure he went to Hell, most of all, and weirdly enough, Clayton did not buy the desires she expressed. Just like any human, or half-human, she should have chased what would grant her freedom, in this case, spiritual freedom, rather than the death of the enemy.

She could’ve been halfway up to Heaven right now, assuming her soul was still sticking around, and hadn’t gone to Heaven already, and yet she blew that opportunity. The opportunity of a lifetime.

Odds were that they weren’t going to run into any deadly Basilisks anytime soon, one that would offer her an equal opportunity. Other than that, Clayton had enough of a hold on her, so she couldn’t kill herself by her own hand, or sword either, so inevitably, she was still stuck with him here.

He put every point of his IQ into use, and figured, ’Maybe she was scared that I’d resurrect her again? I don’t see any other possible explanation that would make sense.’

Clayton could ask her about the matter, sure, but for once, he felt sorry for her. He was under the impression that her death, and resurrection was simply based on her bad luck. He could’ve just as easily walked over her brittle skeleton earlier on, as he walked past many other prolific heroes.

The system was the one that ’revived’ Esmeralda, in a sense, and even she did it at random, as she tried to round up the number of slaves that Clayton had requested.

This was why he believed that Esmeralda was simply unlucky. Though, he still fully intended to use her in order to torment the King, or at the very least, try and break his heart, so he wasn’t willing to free her of her ’curse’ anytime soon, not at all, but he figured that the least that he could do right now was to avoid her, and not throw any more salt to her wounds.

Despite her rebellious tendencies, he felt that he had tormented her enough in the past twelve hours. Even though she indefinitely wanted him dead, he wanted to do the human thing, and leave her be for a while. She was no real threat to him as long as he, and his friends kept an eye on her.

Anyway, he was done thinking about Esmeralda, and focused all of his attention on the Summoner instead.

The nature of his first meeting with the Summoner was nothing short of bizarre, however, with the threat neutralized, he wanted to spend a couple of minutes with the Summoner, and see if he could get something out of this encounter. He felt that he was owed a favor, at the very least, because he was the one who experienced all the loss in this encounter.

However, he had realized that this young lady was quite edgy, perhaps to a fault. She wasn’t cooperative, she was quite confrontive, and he was hoping to work around that. He spent two or three minutes thinking about Esmeralda, perhaps too long, even in his perspective, so he figured it was time he got things moving.

He looked at the Summoner, and said, "Come here, sweetheart, we have to have a talk before we go our separate ways. But first, tell me, what’s your name?"

"Don’t call me sweetheart, you creep," She was quick to bite back, "Don’t make me tell Thomas to finish what he started. You look 45, it’s weird."

Clayton did not expect such a reaction, but he wasn’t bothered. His face remained unchanging.

He added, "I’m 64 actually, so I’m not a creep, and I could be your grandfather. Granted, I never had any children of my own."

"What?" Rufus barked from the background, "Don’t tell me you’re a 64 year old virgin... hahahahahahahaha!"

"Quit interrupting, Rufus, for goodness’ sake," He held his breath, and he got frustrated, as if there was some truth behind the mockeries of his friend. "You’re out of line... where are your manners?"

"Alright," Rufus tried to stop laughing, but he couldn’t, so he simply walked away, and mumbled to himself, quietly, so no one could hear, "No wonder he’s always so tense. Fucker hasn’t gotten any ass ever since he dropped out of his mother’s womb at 149 ACT."

Anyway, despite the interruptions, Clayton managed to get the conversation back to where he wanted it to be.

The Summoner felt bad about him, and so she decided to be a little bit more cooperative. She shuddered at the idea of being a sixty-four year old virgin, regardless if it was the case or not for Clayton. She became softer, because she figured that his options must have been limited up there, within the sanctuary that the Goddess of Forgiveness, Thaleena used to provide.

For that matter, she said, "You look younger, and that’s good for you, I suppose."

Afterwards, she reached her hand out, and said, "I’m Maria."

"Maria the Summoner," He smiled, and shook her hand, "My name is Clayton."

As she nodded, he broke the handshake, and added, "How do we move on from here, Maria? Your pet killed most of my slaves, and since you’re a Dark Mage yourself, even if not a Necromancer, you must know how difficult it is to find new, useful slaves."

He then continued, "Well, I can try and revive the ones your pet tore through, but if I did that, I’d be blowing my mana out of the water. The alternative to this is abandoning the significant amount of wealth that my slaves were carrying around. You killed my mules, so I ask again, how do we move on from this point onwards?"