The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon

"You're saying these are people you know?" I asked.

Naneow nodded. "The Melody of Autumn, Drac Noir. Born 925. A famous bard. Everyone thought he lived to eighty-three and died peacefully… but here he is, fresh as ever."

She pointed toward a man carved like a sculpture. He was shorter than Naneow and had delicate features, eyes closed in repose. His long auburn hair drifted softly in the clear fluid.

Isaac scoffed. "Hmph. Bard, my ass. More like Dissonance, Drac Noir. If you heard him strum a harp, you'd bleed from seven holes. Don't tell me this kind of trash is your type?"

"That only happened when he faced scoundrels. For ordinary folk like me, his music calmed the heart. It even helped heal."

"You were actually a fan?"

Naneow ignored the crow's incredulous tone and went on. "Let's see… Architect Dalsim Garmion. The Fool's Gambler Nia Colson. Prophet Elisha. Althera's Flame Emperor Okhozma. There's Piker Lin, Scarlet, Betty Murick… aren't those Kiyan and Hiiragi? Those are all the familiar faces I see."

The list went on, name after name, but naturally, I recognized none of them.

How could I recognize faces from hundreds, or even decades, of years past?