Kuna was sat comfortably at her desk, reading up on some of the tomes she had brought down with her from the castle library. Her laboratory was quite a distance underground, so it was hard to carry such a stack of books, but luckily she could offload some of them to the three skeletons she had already created.

Although she still had to carry them for a bit, since the normal workers in the castle could not know about what she was doing. The higher-ups were made aware, but the general populace would go crazy if they heard that one of the Heroes was a Necromancer.

But it did not bother her.

The others knew what she was doing and fully supported her.

While she was studying up on the few records of Necromantic Magic she could find officially, and whatever she could procure not so legally, the three skeletons were having their own little meeting, conducted through a variety of clacking sounds of their jawbones and writing on small chalkboards.

Their motor skills had improved drastically, even over just a few days. Getting used to their bodies, getting minor improvements by Kuna and the fact that the summoning itself improved for the other two, it all contributed to this.

And it resulted in this writing:

‘Work. How should we split it?’

‘One cleans, one cooks, one attends?”

‘Good. Next Ritual. Tomorrow. I attend. Norm cooks. Femur cleans.’

And just like that they all stood up and moved to their respective tasks. The cleaning was simple enough, so the latest addition, Femur, could handle it with ease even with minor experience. Being the latest, they were also more adept at smaller movements so even the nooks and crannies got properly cleaned, and books could be handled with care.

Norm, the second, had begun learning how to cook. Of course, Kuna could be serviced by the experienced chefs of the Royal castle, but her Skeletons had already figured out that she got too absorbed in her studies to bother. Thus, one of them decided to learn cooking to help their Master even more. The fact that Norm remembered he used to be a chef themselves helped immensely.

Then there was Kid. The first one that Kuna raised. The oldest, by a day, of the bunch. Yet, while she was the one least used to forming sentences, she was the one with the clearest sense of self. A sense of self that helped her maintain conversation with Kuna and attend to her.

“Kid, what do you think about this? Think it could help with improving your speech?”

“…May..Be… NEEEEED…. MOrrree… Ma… Ma…ManA..…”

“Hmm… Could work, but Kal did have a point. Maybe… changing this sequence instead might work. Kid, you’re okay with me trying it out right now?”

An affirmative clack of teeth.

The tea had already been served along with some small snacks, but she did not even register them, laser-focused on improving the life of her subordinates. Mana flowed out from her hands that held Kid’s skull between them. Her jawbone moved in response to the minor trembles in the flow as Kuna began rearranging the sequence that kept together her core.

It was a tranquil scene as their foreheads touched and the azure light enveloped them. A scene that lasted for minutes as neither moved, both caught up in the flow of Mana as it began improving her design.

She released her hands as the modification finished and the light dissipated almost immediately. Being efficient also meant cutting the supply the moment the spell is done. Instead of speaking up she only nodded towards Kid for her to speak.

“…Testing… I am…talking…”

“Much better. Still needs a little work, but this is doable. I can give you all your lives back. Just you wait. I got this far in just a few days… I’ll recover my prowess from the Goddess’ Realm in a few months at most. By that time you’ll be almost indistinguishable from living, breathing Humans. Trust me. I’ll make this right.”

“…Yes… Thank you… Master…”

“Now, you made me some tea, right? Let’s take a break then. I do want to run some ideas by you, especially now that conversation will be faster and smoother.”

“… About Amadeus… again?”

“Well… yes. But also about other stuff. Amadeus isn’t all I talk about, you know?”

“…But… a high… percentage…”

“Hey, you’re using words like ‘percentage’ with no trouble now! You really are quite quick at adapting. But that is something to think about later. Now, what should I start with. Oh yeah. Femur, get over here, you wanted to hear some fairy tales from my home, right? Let’s start on that.”

And the day fizzled out with an impromptu story telling session. In the middle of it Norm joined them with Kuna’s food, a simple stew, piping hot and ready to be served. Being in the middle of telling a story was unfortunate and did result in it being lukewarm by the time she took a moment to eat, but it didn’t detract from the excellent taste.

This led them to begin talking about the past that each of them remembered. Norm, a royal chef that was poisoned by his apprentice. Femur, a labourer from the slums that was an unfortunate witness. Kid, who still had trouble remembering her time before meeting Kuna.

Of course, Kuna was still blaming herself for this, but the combined force of three Skeletons quickly cheered her up, or at least distracted her, with comedic antics that only Skeletons could do.

A nice end to the evening.

And a good reminder for Kuna.

These Skeletons, her creations, her children, her friends.

They trusted her wholeheartedly.

And she would not betray that trust.

She would give them their life back.

No matter how long it takes.

***

The Necromancer was wandering about in the night, restlessly stomping around the clearing in which he had temporarily set up a camp.

The shambling corpses he had raised stood perimeter and were ready to attack the first thing that moves. And through the connection he had with them they would inform him of an attack, so he could be at ease.

The camp was disordered, a tent that had definitely seen better days, the canvas mildewed and smattered with dark patches, blood that had dried ages ago. And in just this tent the Necromancer was reading up on a ritual that he would be performing later.

He would need some fresh corpses, but those would be easy to procure. After all, a regiment of his zombies had already been ordered to hunt for any lone wanderers. Some groups had in fact already reported success and were on their way to return.

Other than that, the small campfire just outside the decrepit tent was burning bright and hot, making the charcoal and ash that he would need to substitute some other materials. It would lower the quality of the ritual, but he wasn’t looking for the most refined slaves anyway. He just needed anything more appealing than a rotting zombie and a skeleton would serve well enough.

They would be able to help set up rituals and eventually contribute to the final goal by offering themselves, just like all the corpses he was busily gathering.

Even in just the few days that he had been active over a hundred corpses had entered his command and he was nowhere near full capacity. The gift bestowed upon him by the Master he pledged himself to was just that powerful. When before he could barely control half a dozen, now not even this many could put a dent in his strength.

The thought that this blessing would grow even more once his Master set foot upon this Earth sent pleasurable shivers down his spine and grew a heightened sense of urgency in him.

The police had not yet reported publicly about his continued murders and grave robbing, while he had yet to catch even a hint of the Association. But he knew that it was only a matter of time. Hiding such a big army for long periods of time is frankly impossible. And the larger it grows, the more this time frame shrinks.

But he was confident that he could at least defend himself a little by using these corpses. And that was all he needed: a force large enough to buy him time to finish summoning his Master to Earth. And even then, he hoped that he could finish before it came to a fight. With such inferior materials and resulting meat shields it would be difficult for him to win. The Master’s Magic would be important in creating better corpses to use.

In fact, the number of corpses killed with Magic was essentially non-existent to start with. And the corpses themselves were of normal people with no Mana to speak of. A constant point of frustration for the Necromancer as he had to deal with rotting zombies that could barely be considered moving if he didn’t support them.

It really did frustrate him to no end, but he persevered.

After all, it was a necessary price to gain more power from his Master.

Just as he was about to meet the zombies that had returned with fresh corpses, he felt the connection with a small squad sever. It did not matter who did it, but he was found out by someone that could kill zombies. They were able to use Mana. And the fact that the corpses did not have time to inform him of the attacker meant a certain amount of skill in stealth.

Frankly, his worst matchup.

So, he did not hesitate and began packing his camp and ordering the defenders he had retained to retreat. Of course, as miserable as they were, asking them to carry the fresh corpses would slow them down too much so the Necromancer had to let his harvest rot.

It was another annoyance, but his life always took precedence. He needed to be alive to gain enough power so that this would not happen again. But he could not linger on it for now. He had to retreat before the assailant would have a chance to find him. The disconnect from another group of zombies, this one closer than the last, ensured him it was the correct decision.

It was abrupt end to the evening.

And a grim reminder for the Necromancer.

The Demon he served, his Master, his Lord, his God.

It promised great power in exchange for entrusting this task to him.

And he would not betray that trust.

He would give it life on this Earth.

No matter the cost.