"You look even worse than I do, Taserman."

Anselm took his time getting Leriva, the poor woman was hounded by all the Cultists down there once I made my escape. Her body has been scorched, bruised and sliced in several places, she still bled from cuts.

"Why didn't you do that before?" she jabs her finger at the brave and unrelenting ghoul I created. It's down two limbs now and still fights, hopping and biting and slicing with its nails; obedient to my single order.

My eyes pierce her with a warranted suspicious gaze. How long has she been aware of my class? That I'm a Necromancer? Could she have set a trap for me all along?

Her Diviner. She must have dispatched them to whatever central authority is best qualified to deal with a threat like me. That must be why we never saw one in the village.

Better just to ask I decide. "How long have you known?"

"Known?"

"Please don't play dumb, I'm in a hell of pain and very irritable." I warn.

"Since I set eyes on you. Since our very first meeting I realized it during that meeting too." She groans and shifts on the grass, slapping away insects that sought to worsen her pain with their bite.

"How did you know? I've never been here before."

She chortles, her eyes gleam with delight despite the pain she so obviously endured, "You made the news, why, anyone would after killing a B-rank Mage and incumbent ruler in a challenged combat."

"I'm assuming there was a reward included in this letter, for my capture?"

"Reward? No, nothing like that." She shakes her head, "But any loyal servant of the Synagogue would put you down for the threat you represent. Necromagic is a dark, powerful and sinister form of magic that has, in the past, set Kingdoms ablaze and silent with the reapers scythe. It's in my best interest to see that you don't live very long."

"So what? You're going to fight me? Why didn't you do that in the beginning anyway?"

She smiles and only looks dead ahead. The Cultists. They'd long ripped my Ghoul to shreds and now were all standing in a circle, looking up at us. Their leader stood at the centre, laughing madly and praising Phien.

"Right. You needed my help."

"Yes, only I didn't think you'd be so weak."

Well, that's just uncalled for.

"Weak? The creature I created from a single corpse held off the Cultists for more than long enough to grant us an escape, and I'm sure you've met Anselm, he saved you and he's a spirit under my call!"

"And yet we didn't win. Instead, here we are lying in the grass, exhausted, our assault broken and your leg gone to oblivion-"

"It's not that bad-"

"And worse, all the men, many of the men that volunteered to aid us in battle, to redeem their home from this siege, this cornering. They have all but died and the rest fled back in mass retreat. You are weak."

"And you're not?" I bite back.

"No. My Hounds and I held back their leader, the first one. Keeping him distracted with our persistent attacks is what made the other cultists not have magic. I expected that a Mage capable of killing a B-rank should be more than able to slaughter all the powerless Cultists like fodder. Seems I was wrong to put my faith in your abilities, and here we are."

A cold silence washes over after that. Her words stung as the truth often does. I'm the reason we're in this mess. Overestimating my abilities, being in such a hurry to get power I didn't bother to learn the background of my enemy, or listen to Leriva, someone with vastly more experience in the field than I.

And all because I was playing power fantasy. I am so dumb.

"You're right. I am weak. I just gained the ability to create that creature, that's why I couldn't do it earlier." I confess, "But with it I'm sure, I am certain I've gained more powers as a Necromancer."

She shakes her head at me. "Sounds like you have a plan. What is it?"

I grin, "Just the two of us, well three if you count Anselm." I hastily add, knowing he'd mention it when I summon him again, "We're all we need for this. With my new powers, I am sure I can destroy those Cultists, but I'll need your help."

"Of course."

"You need to hold off the leader again." Her protest began on her face so I quickly added, "Just long enough for me to send out as many creatures as I can. I'll be with you afterwards, and when the Cultists are all dead, you'll have my undead on your side too."

"Undead…" she mutters, regarding me with suspicion. "Fine. I assume you're simply bidding your time, until your mana replenishes itself."

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"You're not worried about your leg. Must be something mana can fix then."

I snort. She is way more perceptive than I give her credit for. In this moment, I'm sure a lot of her reaction during that breakfast was just a ruse, keeping her cards hidden until the final moment.

What a fucking bureaucrat.

***

Over the many minutes we spent waiting for our reserves to refill, the cultists changed nothing. Well, the leader finally stopped laughing. That was a relief, could finally think and plan.

After reaching the level nine and gaining enough proficiency in my Necromancy and Warlock classes to create an undead, I look through my list of spells. They are a great many of them, ever since that cave I see them as a gift of the last inhabitant of this body. My deep mana reserves are also a gift from Pluzur the Eternal Flame.

Thanks to him, I started out level one with a long list of spells to try out and nearly six hundred MP. Now at level nine I can finally try out more than four of these spells and had the MP to power it. With twelve hundred MP I definitely won't need to worry about Anselm.

But it seems Necromancy spells have a reoccurring theme to them. They needed sustenance. Continued, uncut sustenance.

Create Undead came with this caveat too, and more. If the Cultists hadn't put down the Ghoul it would have been free to roam this world, owing allegiance to no one.

Fortunately, there is a spell I could comfortably use without needing to passively support it with my mana.

Raise the Dead.

The spell spoke for itself. Any corpse in reach of this spell would immediately rise to do my bidding as a zombie.

But, it's a Necromancy spell so of course there's a catch. A single use of this spell costs fifteen MP per corpse, its cheap and effectively creates a horde of undead.

But zombies aren't as persistent as Ghouls, sure, they'd power through the rigor mortis and run after you but after you chop of a few of their limbs they power down as they lose out on much of the mana that raised them. And at level one the spell has a limited time use, just like Summon Spirit did back then, repeated use will widen that time.

But that's alright. I think I've got the ratio down. It would cost me three hundred MP to raise twenty zombies, not bad at all. I'd reinforce my zombies with a ghoul and Anselm, each of them costing a hundred and fifty MP. So, in total, I'd spend half of my mana in preparations.

"Are you ready?" Leriva asks, breaking further calculations. She has an entirely different set of skills with magic. For one she's a battle mage, or so she says. At C-rank she has managed to summon two familiars from alternate worlds to serve her purpose, she's also an intermediate Geomancer; many of the scattered rocks down there are her doing.

"Just get throw me a live Cultist, and gather the bodies in one place if you can." Seeing her scowl at the thought of feeding the bodies of her men to a Necromancer, "Think about the endgame. With this you'll finally get to use that summon in battle."

During our time waiting, I asked about her abilities. She is a Conjurer. Once I heard that I saw her in a different light, her abilities are what I could have had had I chosen Conjuration back in the cave. There's a powerful creature she wants to use in battle, merely summoning it drains her mana down to ten percent, but with me around she wouldn't have to worry about burning out early.

I just want to see more magic.

"Right, the endgame." She hops down the incline, mana in her swelling in preparation to unleash her summon.

"Summon Spirit." I call out, having Anselm present again.

"So, we're not running away." He says, exasperated.

"We would, but now I can use my other spells."

"Hurrah!" his praise is full of sarcasm.

"Just go help her out."

He picks up his spear and heads down with a grin on his face. He doesn't even know how bad he is at hiding his true feelings. Anselm is having a thrill fighting these Cultists.

A few moments later I hear a scream. A smile graces my face as the scream comes from a Cultist Leriva sent flying with a burst of Geomancy.

"Death Grip." My grip travels through the air faster than the maniac can fall and latches onto it. Quickly, before the necrotic damage of the grip can kill it, I draw it close and set my hand on its body. "Soul Drain."

Right in front of my eyes my blackened and scorched leg begins to heal, the flesh breaks through the black and grows over the bone. In a few short seconds, I'm back to normal. I'm not sure how long I'd have to wait before an injury becomes unhealable and I hope there isn't any time limit. But knowing this System, there likely is and I'm simply lucky this time.

"Ah. That's more like it." I say to myself, wiggling and stomping my feet. "Now let's raise some Zombies."

***

Jumping down the incline I find Leriva and Anselm on the defensive. Leriva strictly using Geomancy to fend off the many Cultists that want a taste of her and Anselm merely just killing whatever came too close, occasionally being knock out of the air by one of the many magical assaults thrown at him.

Like I'd asked, Leriva has gathered as many of the militia as she could to a point isolated by her rocks. I find that she'd gotten me a huge pile of them, although I see the means she used to gather them were less than gentle. Not that it mattered. If the Ghouls transformation earlier was any indication, these bodies will be even further condemned by my spell.

Speaking of, "Rise."

Pushing my mana outward I let the spell do what it does and feel its actions. My mana, green and sickening spreads out in a miasma and splits into branches from the source. It floats quietly, over the bodies, like a dog sniffing a suspicious piece of food and then, satisfied, it plunges in. Invading every vein and artery of the gathered decease.

They jerk.

The bodies begin a violent dance in response, much like the one performed by my first Ghoul subject. They fall off each other and roll about on the floor, hacking, coughing and spewing out the contents of their guts and perhaps even more, their body contorts to the will of the spell, the will of my mana, to my demand.

And then they go quiet, deathly so as the spell takes hold of the final bit required for completion; their heart. And then I feel it, their mindless loyalty, their eternal servitude and their plea for purpose. I give them one.

"Kill all the Cultists." For a moment I wonder if they know who the Cultists are, but their action tells it all.

My first zombie horde leap, crawl and run out to battle, paying no mind to Leriva nor Anselm, only their purpose. The hordes effect is immediately felt, they felt no pain and simply kept on coming, the Cultists are overwhelmed. I honestly thought they'd be slower in their attack but it seems my mana replaces blood.

"Looks like your plan is working." Leriva comments. Spiking a stray Cultist.

"Doesn't that cost you mana?" I ask. She was meant to preserve her mana for that powerful summon, the one that would weaken the Cultist leader severely.

"Not if you're good at it." She smirks. "I've practiced Geomancy since I was a child, it was meant to be my primary school of magic but, I found I had other talents."

"Huh. Interesting. Get ready, once I summon one more undead, I'll be with you."

She gives me a nod and jumps into the fun. The Cultists are beginning to get a hang of the Zombies. I don't mind though, the sudden reinforcement from mindless creatures only served to throw them off their assault, not deter them.

"Create Undead." The series of bone cracking that follows sickens me, the transformation from unfortunate militia to madden Ghoul is something I will struggle to get used to.

But with the transformation complete and my Ghoul joining the battle alongside the Zombies, the fodder Cultists will be held off long enough for us to take the head off the snake.

***

Once I gave the Ghoul the order to attack the Cultist, I was free to join Leriva. The leader still stood silently at the centre of the circle, unfortunately for him, the circle is no more, what with Anselm spearing down Cultists left and right and the Ghoul eagerly hopping from shoulder to shoulder, snapping heads and outright ripping them off.

We break through easily and present ourselves to the chanting maniac. Perhaps for the first time he paid us no mind, not even glancing our way or inviting us to join Phien. This is fine with both of us.

"Hope you're ready, Leriva. He's ignoring us, I say you pull out that summon."

She gulps but steadies herself. Meanwhile I pull out my blade, ready to try out another new spell.

Leriva takes position, her legs spread apart and raises her hands just above her waist. A second later mana spills forth from her every pore, swirling and swimming through the air, gathering at her hands to form an intricate circle of many layers and many unrecognizable symbols. A magic circle.

Once complete she slaps her hands together, crossing the circles with each other she twists her wrists and the layers and symbols turn on each other like gears and cogs in a machine. In a second it's done, the circle vanishes and a tear in the world is born right in front of her, a tear a monster burst through.

It slithered out with speed, flapping its wings once to gain flight and once more to soar. It turns and hovers over us three, each flap of its scally multi-coloured feathered wings push a breeze down upon us. The air is not unwelcomed.

Soon it lands and twirls its serpentine body around Leriva, completely enshrouding her behind the many feet of its scaly body. It hisses at me, forked tongue dancing about in the wind, then it turns, giant horned head moving slowly to glare hatefully at the Cultist leader.

Barely, I hear Leriva say something. The flapping begins anew, the summon unravels itself from her, taking flight and showcasing itself in the sky for a moment, glowing under a terrible moonlight; an Amphiptere.

Then it falls, plummeting with focus and intent to kill. The leader finally awakens, and just in time to form a barrier and shield himself from the piercing strike of the great creature. It hammers down on the shield with the long needle like stinger at the end of its tail, hissing in frustration as the ethereal dome holds.

"Asher!" Leriva screams at me, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Right. Time to help." I unsheathe my dagger and charge forward. Being this close to the Amphiptere makes me appreciate the size of it. It's as large as a house and many times longer.

"Vampiric Dagger." I whisper the name of the spell on the blade of my dagger and as per the spell's instructions blow out a mist of mana onto it, coating it. The Amphiptere delivers persistent strikes the barrier against its stinger, keeping the leader fairly busy. With nothing to stop me I stab the green misted dagger at the vulnerable Cultists kidneys. In a red flash, my strike is blocked and I'm blasted away by an angry red barrier that pops out of nowhere.

The Amphiptere hisses in anger and changes its tactics. It stops flapping its wings and rests itself on the ground the promptly slithers around the newly summoned barrier; a red dome that prevents out attacks from reaching their target, it goes round the dome twice and much of its length remains when it starts to squeeze.

Immediately the effect is felt, the dome buckles under the immense pressure of the serpentine creature's vice, shrinking just a bit before being reapplied with conscious action on the leader's part. Scrambling to my feet I cancel Vampiric Dagger and rush over to try yet another spell.

Tentatively I climb up on the scaly body of the Amphiptere to reach the top of the red barrier. The summon pays me no mind and lets me step on it, I am not its enemy, not today at least.

"Death Grip!" mana shoots out violently at the barrier but is immediately nullified. "Shit, what type of magic is this anyway?"

Inside, the leader is visibly straining against the squeeze but his mana may well be abundant, the Amphiptere would tire before he breaks, or Leriva would run out of mana. Either way I needed to make a break and kill this bastard.

But how? My spells aren't brute. None of them wielded the strength to push through this barrier, at least, none that I've looked through and can perform with my current MP.

Desperate, I look about. Leriva is on her knees, barely hanging on. Anselm flew above idle as my undead made short work of what Cultists remained; without the magic from the leader, they were nothing.

Soon the only enemy on field would be the leader himself, and I can't fight him on my own. On my own? Wait. I'm not on my own. I haven't been ever since I came to this world. I've had Anselm with me.

Realizing that I swiftly knew what to do.

"Anselm!" At my call beckon he falls from the sky to my side. "Quick, get under him."

"What do you mean? How? I'm made of mana!"

"I know. So, get UNDER him!" I see it click in his head and quickly does as I ask.

He turns intangible and falls through the ground, leaving his spear behind. Next, I ready myself by recasting Vampiric Dagger, I'd have to go in physical for this, he obviously has more than enough mana and power to shrug off Death Grip.

Just as the Amphiptere loosens its squeeze to rest, Anselm sprouts out of the ground below the leader's feet, fists first, slamming into his jaw and sending him flying with an uppercut.

I don't have time to appreciate the beauty of the attack as it's my turn. I launch myself as far as my knees could bear with my dagger poised to strike. The leader snarls at me, his eyes glow and a green mist flows out of his mouth.

Poison!

Quickly I cut my breath short and follow through. My free hand grabs his and I plunge my blade into his wrist. He screams but I rejoice as my spell works like a charm, his HP begins to flow into me.

Slashing the blade up and down his arm in fury I make a good mess of it as we ungracefully land on the floor. He kicks me away but Anselm is already waiting for him, his spear makes a clean journey through the chest of the leader yet he still moves flailing at Anselm with swipes that produce blades of wind.

His mangled right-hand spews of puss and blood, my spells necrotic damage taking effect. I grin and dust myself off.

"Attack." I wave my hand forward and the remnants of my Zombies launch themselves onto every bit of his body, unbothered by the blades of wind that minced at their body.

"Arrghh! You refuse Phien! You refuse Phien! You refuse Phien!" He screams as the zombies munch and munch and munch.

"Oh yeah I do." I smirk. He'd killed off all of my Zombie now but they'd gotten the job done, before dying they had a hearty meal. His legs are gone now; felt like good vengeance for my injury earlier, and the mangled arm, infected with necrosis ate at him too.

"Well then. Phien, my Lord, my loving Lord makes an exception. He realizes his mistake and he condemns you! There shall be no peace, there shall be no love, you are condemned to be unloved by Phien!"

"A mistake? Does this Phien know me?" I know I should end him now but, his words, for once they aren't just fanatical chatter.

"Yes! Lord Phien knows all that need to be known. He had known and seen you since you crawled out of that cave and into this world. He has known you since your soul made the journey!" he shakes his head, "And he loved you! He loved you and he wanted you. He still wants you. Will you join him?" he gives his arm out for me to take, for me to join Phien.

Sighing, I resign that I won't get clear answers from him, and this wasn't the time for questions either; despite being a torso, he still posed a threat. "You make no sense." My dagger finds itself quickly embedded in his head with a flick of my wrists.

And finally, it is over. How do I know this for sure? Well, that's because…

[Great Spirit Wolf Lotar has bestowed upon you a Boon.]

[Spell Unlocked: Circle of Death]