Afterword

Hey everyone, this is Bamboo. With this, the fourth volume of this book, “Living Deads Rising,” is officially over.

To be honest, this was the volume I first had the urge to write. But for various reasons, it ended up going completely off from what I originally imagined, and it’s also the one I’m the most, most, most unhappy with.

The title of this volume comes from the game “Being Tortured Noel S11,” my favorite season of my favorite game. I originally wanted to try and pass on to you, through this book, the emotions I felt when I played it for the first time.

But I clearly failed. I failed from the very beginning. My skills just aren’t enough to create that kind of powerful empathy. My language and plot control can’t keep up with the things and feelings I want to express. So I had a lot I wanted to write, yet in the end, nothing really made it onto the page.

I’m sure many people felt awful reading this volume. Because I felt it was crap writing it. Every single update felt like I was torturing myself all over again. Especially when I thought about the name it’s carrying. I’d hoped it could become something better. It didn’t. And neither did I.

Honestly, midway through this volume, I wanted to give up. Maybe I really am not suited for this kind of story. Or more likely, I’m just not good at writing long-running series at all.

My confidence in writing novels has been worn down. Right now I’m really worried whether I can actually write what I want to write, and whether I can really deliver to readers what I want to deliver.

I’m lost. Even though my head is still full of all kinds of wild ideas, I don’t want to write them. Because I’m scared they’ll end up like this volume—starting from a brilliant idea and outline, then being turned by me into trash that’s nothing but a waste of time and life to read.

I’m even wondering if I should keep going. From the second half of the last volume onward, what kept me writing was wanting to give Lilith some kind of complete ending. I don’t want this book to just get stuck here with no beginning or end. I want to give them the ending I see in my head.

But now I’m afraid that what I actually write might be worse than just stopping here. Maybe if I don’t touch them, the story of Little White Dragon and Nidhogg will stay, in my heart, as that best version I imagine, instead of the version I put into words—the version that even I can’t bear to look at.

I don’t know. I really don’t know how I should handle all of this.

I’ll probably still try to finish this book, but I don’t dare make any promises anymore. I kept thinking the next volume would be better, but the truth is, no matter how hard I tried, the quality of my writing didn’t improve. My ability hasn’t really grown. I only burned through one beautiful idea after another.

After dumping so many words and so much frustration, the story still has to go on. What needs to be written will not be cut.

The next volume will be Little White Dragon’s final stop on her journey. She’ll head to the Demon Realm to search for the last Reaper Fragment and restore the true form of the Grim Reaper, the Nameless One. There, what kind of companions will Little White Dragon meet, and what kind of challenges will she face?

Let’s meet again in the next volume—the final volume—Brass and Gold.