Hugo

After my little chat with Ilymhyrra and Elun, I made my way back to Anton and the others.

“Finished?” Anne was the first to greet me, with her usual “folded arms” pose.

“Yeah, we’re finished,” I answered.

“What were you guys talking about, anyway?” Amelie asked with curiosity.

“Nothing much. Just her basically telling me to be careful.”

“And you’d better be heeding her advice,” Anton came in with a worried look. “Honestly, I got a bad feeling about this whole thing. You say that she’s a good person, but all the soldiers she had killed and zombified certainly would say otherwise.”

“Zombified?”

“Yes, zombified,” the soldier that had been attending to us spoke up with a grave look on his face. “Not only would she set up traps and monsters to kill our good men and women in the dozens, she would also steal their corpses right before our eyes, before reusing them later on as part of her accursed undead army. Truly horrid stuff. Thankfully, we have the Inquisitors who could purify those zombies, bringing them the rest they deserved.”

“...I see.”

That’s exactly something a bad necromancer would do.

...Maybe she really is evil, after all.

But on the other hand, with her being this terribly outnumbered, it would only make sense for her to use her necromancy that way. Pragmatism over idealism. If I were in her position, I would do the same, so I can’t exactly blame her, can I?

“Anton, you can’t cast any of those purifying spells, can you?”

“No, I cannot.” He shook his head. “Like I’ve said before, the only Holy spells I know are the low-level healing spells.”

“Are fire spells effective on them?” I asked the soldier.

“The reports show that they are indeed effective,” the soldier replied. “It’s better than just cutting their heads or arms since they could still move afterwards.”

“Good. Then Amelie, you know what to do.”

“Yep! Don’t you worry about it!” She patted her chest.

“Well, take us to the dungeon. We’re ready to go now.” I told the soldier.

He nodded. “This way.”

----------

To be frank, we didn’t need to be guided by the soldier, as it was all too obvious where the dungeon entrance was. From afar, you could already see the large doors, not to mention the crowds in front of it.

Hmm? Crowds?

“Everyone! Please listen! Do not throw away your lives! This necromancer is too strong for any of us!”

In the middle of the crowd was an elven man. Judging by his attire, and the staff he held in his right hand, he seemed to be a mage of some sort. The guy clearly had seen better days. His hair was all over the place and his face was ghastly white. Not to mention the way his entire body was shaking.

Behind him was a human woman, around in her early twenties. She was hugging him—her eyes glanced frantically at the people surrounding them.

“What’s going on here?” I asked one of the guys in the crowd.

“Just some poor sods whose party got wiped by the dungeon.” The man sighed. “Lost their minds in the process. Now they’re trying to tell us not to go inside. And they weren’t the first too.”

My gaze went back to the two. Those expressions on their faces… I don’t think one could fake them even if they tried.

“Maybe we can get some valuable information from them.” Anton suggested with a nervous look.

“No dice.” The man shook his head. “They said they couldn’t remember how the necromancer slaughtered their party. The fright must have chased all the memories out of their brains. No maps or useful notes either.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Anton replied with a sigh.

Yeah, information on what Felicia’s capable of would naturally be really valuable, along with the layout of the dungeon and all the traps that waited.

We decided to move away from the crowd before resuming our conversation.

“What do you guys think?” Anton asked. “Should we just abandon this whole thing?”

“Then we’ll leave this guy on his own then.” Anne pointed her thumb at my direction. “This guy”? That’s pretty rude.

“Yeah! We’re sticking together, no matter what!” Amelie followed, in her usual spirited manner.

“You’re fine with this, Hugo?” Anton looked at me with a frown. “You’ll have to protect us, if your friend really is evil all along. As you no doubt know, we’re nowhere near as strong as you, unfortunately enough.”

I paused for a bit, thinking for my answer.

“... You’re right. I think I should go on my own after all.”

“Hugo!” Anne and Amelie protested near-simultaneously.

“No, it’s just about you being weaker than me.” I quickly explained. “You guys are plenty strong already, especially after the training we did this past month. It’s just that—I think Flameu will be more willing to talk to me if I’m on my own.”

“Then, what do you want us to do then? Just stay outside and twiddle our thumbs?” Anne fired back.

“Yeah, pretty much.” I smiled dryly.

“I can’t believe this!” She tossed her head to the side. “I know that you’ll end up helping her! You’ll die to the Inquisitors, you know that?!”

“You know, you can stand to view me more charitably, after all we’ve been through.”

“What?! So you’re saying you won’t help her?”

“I’m saying that if I’m going to fight, then I’ll do it to win. I’m not some suicidal hero. I know my limits. I won’t pick up fights against an opponent I can’t win against just because of some woman I barely know.”

That’s not exactly true, though. I fought against Vera, after all. I had to, for Marina’s sake.

Anton put his hand on her shoulder. “Trust him, Anne. And you too, Amelie.” He gazed towards the other girl, who was also glaring at me.

“And besides, I can’t die before meeting Sherry again, can I?” I gave them my brightest grin.

Anne and Amelie huffed simultaneously, with the former adding an eye roll on top of it.

“Yeah yeah, your girlfriend. I forgot about her.” Anne put her hands on her waist. “Alright then. I’ll leave it up to you. We’ll just stay here and wait. But don’t you dare lose your life, alright? If you’re going to reject me for that Sherry girl of yours, then you’d better get to her at one piece!”

“Yep! I agree with Anne!” Amelie chimed in with a smile. “A gentleman like you should prioritize her lady above anyone else!”

Listening to the two’s response, I couldn’t help but think how odd it was for them to accept their loss gracefully. They certainly had a month to sort it out for sure, but usually, girls would hold grudges about this for far longer, right? 

Not that I’m complaining, of course.

“I promise.” I smiled, hopefully in a reassuring manner. “I’ll make it out alive and well.”

“Then, may fortune be with you.” Anton rested his hand on my shoulder.

------

Meanwhile, deep inside the dungeon, the slaughter continued.

“Aarghh!”

“Gaaahh!”

“Guwaahhh!”

Soldiers fell to the wayside one by one as arrows rained down upon them.

“Retreat! Retreat!”

Those who survived tried to make their way to the door they came from, only to find that there was now a horse of zombies waiting for them there.

“Damn it! We’re surrounded! Those guys from the 11th were supposed to secure our escape route! What the hell were they doing?”

“S-Sir! Look closer! They are the 11th!”

Indeed. Amongst the zombies that had pincered them were their own comrades, turned against them by the foul magic of the necromancer.

“We’re doomed! We’re doomed!!”

“I-I should’ve listened to her! Why am I wasting my life away for a king I don’t even know about?”

“Silence! I will hear none of those cowardly talks in my platoon! We’re going to fight ‘till the end, even if it’s the last thing we do!”

The lieutenant in charge tried to boost the morale of his men, to no avail. Even he himself knew going down here was a big mistake. He had family back home, goddamnit, with a beautiful missus who just bore his child. He didn’t want to die here and become a zombie!

Just when they thought all hope was lost, however—

*KABOOM*

With the sound of something heavy smashing pure stone, the ceiling underneath the 11th platoon zombies collapsed.

“W-what?!”

“Teehee, that was a bit too strong, wasn’t it? Or was the floor just too weak?”

Standing on top of the rubble was one of the Inquisitors. She was the silver-haired nun, and she was wielding a large mace in her right hand.

“Huh, I’m surprised the floor actually gave way. You tried hitting the wall before but you didn’t even manage to dent it.”

A young man then jumped from the hole above. He was part of the Inquisition as well—the dark blue-haired youth. His weapon of choice was a… book?

“Rrrhhh! Graaahhhh!”

The zombies, of course, were not defeated by mere stones falling down their heads. They began lifting the rubbles off themselves with some trying to claw and gnaw at the two Inquisitors.

The young man sighed. He opened his book—an ordinary looking one except for its larger-than-usual size and the white rune-covered cover, before starting to chant a spell.

“O Saint Milicis! Grant these poor souls rest! Turn Undead!”

A circle of light emanated from the man in a large radius. And then—

“Uaarrgghhhh! Aarghhhh!:

One by one, the zombies underneath the rubble turned into dust.

And just like that, the entire zombified platoon was put into rest.

“O-oh, thank you! Thank you for saving us!” The lieutenant ran forward and bowed profusely at them.

“We’re not helping you though?” The nun slung her mace over her back. “We were just fighting upstairs and I accidentally destroyed the floor in the process.” She shrugged.

“R-right…”

The lieutenant couldn’t believe that the dainty-looking girl could be that strong.

“Give us your map, lieutenant.” The young man spoke with an annoyed look. “Afterwards, you and your men are to reinforce our platoon.”

The Inquisitors had been granted the authority to order them around by the general.

“A-apologies, Milady, but our numbers are too exhausted to be of use to you, not to mention the number of our injured. We would prefer to be allowed to retreat instead.”

The lieutenant gave his most polite smile, hoping that they would agree with his words.

“Oh?” The nun smiled. “Are you and your men running away?”

“N-no!” The lieutenant quickly denied it. “W-we simply don’t believe—”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, lieutenant.” She took a few steps forward as her smile grew bigger, intimidating the older man to the point that he took a few steps backwards in response. “All you need to do is to obey your orders. Anything else would be insubordination. And for us in the Inquisition—” She smashed the tip of her mace to the ground mere inches from his feet. “That would mean death.”

Her face was now right in front of his. She was shorter than him so she had to strain her neck upwards. Still, it didn’t lessen the fear she struck into the lieutenant’s heart.

“R-right. Understood.” He gulped.

“Great!” The nun’s cheerful smile returned. “Then, tell your men to get ready. We’ll create a makeshift stair through that hole so our men could go down here.”

The poor lieutenant and his men simply couldn’t catch a break.

-------

Felicia

Tch, they’re really closing in. Soon, they’ll get here and I’ll have to fight them for real.

The necromancer was once again pacing back and forth in the central room of the dungeon, biting her thumb in the process.

At the very least, I want to kill at least one or two of them. But they’re smart enough to not fall for any of my traps. Should I really take care of them personally, like with those adventurers?

“Milady?”

She was broken out of her thoughts by the voice of a certain woman she was well-familiar with.

“Oh, hello Rowana.” She broke out into a smile. “Is there any reason why you’re here instead of in your room?”

“I-I’m sorry, Milady, but I’m simply too worried to stay there, you see. Would you mind if I inquire on the location of Lord Berault?”

Hearing her question, a lonely smile appeared on Felicia’s face.

Ah, the pure love of a wife to her husband. I truly created her well, even though she was my very first Perfect Zombie.

She still remembered as if it was just yesterday—the day where she first laid her eyes on Berault, the Black Knight of the Fiania Kingdom. She heard the gossip—how he fell into deep sorrow when his wife, whom he just married, perished from her illness. Never again he showed his face (supposedly quite handsome) ever since, covering it with his helmet in all his public appearances.

Their tale of love was one fit for the bards. The man was originally a commoner who fell in love with a lady of a noble standing. They were childhood friends, with him sneaking into the courtyard of her large mansion to play with her. They first met when she got lost in town after being separated from her attendants. After tearfully stumbling around the city, and ending up being surrounded by a pack of wild dogs, she met him. Like a knight in shining armor, he shooed away all the dogs, saving her in the process.

Naturally, it was pretty much love at first sight.

The boy was no fool, however. He knew that he could never marry her, not when he was still just a filthy commoner. And so he declared to her he would go on a journey to become stronger. And when he returned, with that strength, he would become a knight—one that was worthy of her hand.

She cried herself to sleep that day. But she believed with all her heart that he would return.

And indeed he did.

He returned as a mercenary. And, as if Fate itself smiled on him, he received the opportunity to prove himself to the king right away.

And so he earned his knighthood, and he was finally worthy of marrying her.

She accepted without a second thought.

Alas, his happiness didn’t last long.

Months after their marriage, Rowana fell ill. It was an illness no cleric or alchemist could cure. In just three days of terribly high fever, she passed away.

Truly the prime example of tragic love.

And so, she offered her help—her expertise as a necromancer. She told him she could bring back her darling wife. Why? Once, she believed it was simply because he wanted a knight to be her loyal servant, and an ally in the Fianian courts. However, now she had accepted the fact that she simply was touched by his story. He wanted him and her to be happy. Such pure love should not perish from this world, she thought to herself. And so she was willing to risk her identity as a necromancer, for his sake.

And it was a risk that paid off. More than she expected.

Her first Perfect Zombie was a success. It didn’t matter if she had to replace some of her decaying body parts with the parts from other corpses. What mattered to him was that she acted just like she would while she was still alive.

It was all thanks to the part of her soul that she lent to the corpse. With her dark arts, she ordered it to act just like Rowana would. She had learned enough of her personality and mannerism from the knight, and so, she could make her be the ideal, loving wife he desperately desired to be with. It was the same with Leila and her father. She knew enough about him that she could order another part of her soul to act just like he would in front of his daughter. The same fact applied to the king’s zombie as well.

Still, she knew she couldn’t do this forever. She would hit a limit of the chunk of soul she could lend eventually, and when that happened, she could no longer create more Perfect Zombies. Thus, she came up with the next step of her necromancy.

The Gate.

She first learned of it from the book she stole from the Magocracy. It was written in an encrypted language that she could barely even decipher. It was a ritual that allowed a necromancer to summon a soul from the beyond and bound it into a vessel—a corpse.

It took her years to gather and refine the necessary amount of dark mana to activate it, not to mention all the other materials. She needed the concentrated, crystallized form of said mana, which she had slowly and painstakingly built over the years she was in this dungeon.

And now, when she was this close to activating it, those Inquisitors just had to come and ruin everything.

“Rowana, go back to your room.” She ordered the zombie. “They’ll come soon and you’ll only be getting in our way. Your darling won’t be able to fight in earnest if he has to worry about you.”

She had suggested to her to leave the dungeon as well. But she refused, telling her that she would rather be close to her lover.

And since Berault agreed, there was nothing she could do to change her mind.

“A-alright.” She looked down with a somber expression. She turned around and made her way back until she suddenly stopped and faced the necromancer once again. “Milady?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“I beg of you, please! Protect Lord Berault!” She clasped her hands together as she began to tear up. “He’s fighting for my sake, yet I can only hide in my room like a weakling and a coward! I can’t be of any help for him whatsoever! Unlike you, Milady! You are a great mage! You can help him! Please tell him that he shouldn’t die for my sake if things go bad! I-I know those Inquisitors would want an undead like me to be purified! I-if… if I had to… I would be willing to hand myself over to them!”

The necromancer’s expression softened. She walked over to her and gave her a hug and a pat on the head.

“Do not worry. I promise. I won’t let anything bad befall him.”

Up close, she could see the many discolorations on her skin. Thanks to the less-than-ideal condition of her corpse when she got her hands on it, she had to improvise by utilizing body parts from other corpses. And yet, the knight was still fine with it. To him, she was exactly the same as her late wife. He was even willing to make love to her, knowing full well that she was a cold, chimeric corpse.

It reaffirmed her belief, that if humans were to open their minds and see the truth, they would have no problem with the undead walking beside them.

She released her hug with a comforting smile. “Now go. Hide in your room until it’s all over.”

The zombie’s smile returned as she nodded. “Alright. I’ll do as you ask, Milady.”

Felicia watched as she made her way to the door. Just as she closed it behind her, however—

“You sure are having fun playing with your dolls. And I thought human girls at your age had outgrown them.”

It was Ilymhyrra.