Chapter 37.0 – A Demonstration
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Here's the deal. I'll soon be starting Uni once again so I won't have as much time as before when it comes to writing. As such, I'll probably be uploading 1 chapter a week, which would give me enough time to keep up the same quality, without burning out.

I might also create a patreon where I add the extra chapters I might manage to pump out (maybe at 3$ USD, for 2 chapters ahead and work from there, maybe a goal of like 5 patreon to start releasing a chapter every 5/6 days, we'll see). But I'm still not sure about it.

Any how, I'll start releasing chapters every week starting the 24th or 27th, depends on how busy I am when it comes to getting ready for uni. I'm also working on a map of the continent so that's also taking up some time.

Thnx for reading, and hope you enjoy.

Damon switched back to his dark elf form and wondered around the garden outside his house. Earlier, the duke had sent a messenger informing him that he’d approve Damon as Fergulio’s magic teacher if he was satisfied after a demonstration of necromancy.

Damon looked at the flowers. There were lilies, roses, foxgloves, black dahlias, and many others he had yet to see in this world. When he was in the forests, the weather seemed perfect for flowers, however, he hadn’t seen many. Perhaps they were too fragile to survive in this part of the world. But then where did they come from?

He crouched down near a black dahlia, he wanted to know if his elvish senses would make him appreciate or understand flowers. However, he didn’t feel anything. Lately, even the regular forests didn’t feel like his preferred residence. He only felt at home near the tree and the other leafless ones.

“I’ve heard that elves like flowers.”

Damon turned around to see a young lady with gardening tools in a wooden bucket. As with everyone in this region of the world she had black eyes and hair. Her nose had a slight bridge, and her eyes were small and round. Her hair was tied in a bun and soil stained her thick gardening pants up to her knees.

Damon felt a strong rejection at her statement and appearance, but he kept on the airs of what others seemed to think elves acted like. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for getting in your way. I need to head back to work.”

“If you want you can bring a couple of flowers inside,” she said.

“It’s fine, flowers are more beautiful when they stay in nature.” Damon started to walk back towards his house.

“Then goodbye Mr.…”

“Ke Stolas.” He turned around and went back to his house.

For the next few hours, Damon made a few potions. He didn’t know why nor what he would do with them. Maybe I could open a small store. Damon shook his head. I’m a magic tutor, not a salesman.

#

Damon wanted to visit the city; however, it wouldn’t look good if, while he was away, the duke came a bit ahead of schedule to see the demonstration. As such, Damon sat on a chair in his room and reminisced about the past few years. He also wondered how long he’d be stuck in odd jobs before he could create his religion. Plus, where should he create it? If he picked the human continent, then it would be rather easily done since they were relatively weak. Plus, he roughly understood the different customs humans often ascribed too.

But if he decided to go to the elvish continent to form his religion, although it might be much harder and take up his entire life, he would ultimately wield much more power. Enough to come back and subjugate the humans. He could even go for the dwarves or some other race he had yet to encounter. Anyways, he could think of this while he tutored the duke’s kid.

Damon heard a knock on the door. He snapped out of his daydream and went to see who had come. There, a maid with a trolley waited outside the door. He could guess the contents, “It’s fine you can leave it here. I’ll deal with it,” said Damon.

The maid bowed and left. This one was in her mid thirties. He wondered how many maids worked for the duke. Perhaps Stolas would ask him to seduce one in order to assassinate the duke, well that was for later.

Damon pushed the trolley through the main door; he removed the tarp. Inside a wooden box, four pristine goblins were packed like sardines. He took one out of the box and laid it on the operating table. The body seemed to have been slathered with preservation potions which was to be expected if one didn’t have a black mage.

Damon wiped away the viscous liquid which would impede his knife and cast a preservation spell on the goblin. Since the Duke hadn’t come yet he did the same for the other corpses.

As he finished the last one, he heard another knock. He opened the door. The one who knocked was one of the duke’s guards. Behind him, there was the duke, his son and three other guards.

Damon bowed towards the duke, “Everything’s ready.” He door open, and the guard entered first and quickly inspected the room. The duke soon followed, as did one of the two guards. The last one stayed outside to guard the premise.

Although the procedure would take a long time the duke seemed rather fit, and probably belonged to the military so he would be fine. On the other hand, his son’s nose flared up when he entered the house, and his face lost some colour when he set his eyes upon the corpses.

Damon started his presentation. “As you can see, all these products around you are used for alchemy.” He moved his hand along the shelves where he stored his material, from blood, to organs, and glands. A bit of dust clung to his fingers. “If you wish to buy them prepared, it will cost you a pretty penny. As such, us alchemists like to do the work ourselves. Not only that but, black mages need to have a thorough understanding of anatomy if we wish to create undead. For this, practice is most essential.”

Damon went on the other side of the operating table. He dipped his hands in a clean bowl of water and used a cloth to dry himself off. First, he used tubes infused with wind magic to draw out the goblins blood into multiple containers. He then took a small knife and started to dissect the body with learned movements, and total concentration. After having skinned the goblin, he folded the skin in a neat rectangle and set it aside.

“Normally when we study the body, we remove each muscle individually to understand their connections. However, I will spare you from this.”

Damon placed the muscles in a small wooden box. Next came the organs. He explained their names, and their general use in alchemy. When nothing but tendons and bones remained, Damon cleaned them of residual liquids with the cloth he used to dry his hands to make it more presentable for his audience. Next, he stripped the skeleton of its residual mana, lathered it with a preservation potion, activated the potion with a spell, and cast the reanimation spell. The goblin sat upright and through telepathy Damon made it kneel in front of the duke.

Damon looked up to the spectators, he hadn’t done so ever since he’d started. There were multiple reactions. The guard looked at Damon like he was a maniac, Fergulio’s skin had lost all colour and showed signs that he’d vomited at least once. Since there wasn’t anything on the floor, he must have run outside a few times. On the other hand, the duke seemed rather interested, which made sense since he was the one who wanted his son to learn black magic.

The duke kneeled in front of the goblin to get a better look; however, the guard stepped in front of the undead.

“Careful, the undead are strong and can curse their opponents. With due respect my lord, you shouldn’t approach it.”

Damon didn’t want to say that this thing couldn’t even kill a rat if it tried, but no need for useless comments. He stood silently on the side lines and smiled. Perhaps this new habit of his had some roots in his new demonic blood.

“It’s fine,” said the duke. The guard reluctantly moved aside, and the duke touched the goblin’s skull. “Why did you pour that potion on it?”

“To prevent the mana from leaking. Since it’s an undead, it can’t control its mana, as such it would dissipate within a few minutes.”

“How long does it last, the spell that is?”            

“Around five days if it does nothing. However, the duration of use is largely determined by the quality of the preservation spell and potion.”

The duke nodded, “You’ll do.”

Damon’s eyebrows twitched; however, he couldn’t dispute the fact that he wasn’t a very high-leveled mage. Although the guards may be disillusioned by the rumours and prejudices surrounding black mages, Donnello was still a duke.

“Fergulio, you’ll study under Damon from ten to fourteen hundred everyday. This should also let you get used to blood. As someone who acts as tall as yourself, your display today was shameful.” The duke turned to Damon, “If you need anything, contact the head butler.” He pulled out a metal pin infused with magic, “this is proof of your employment. Since you used to be a noble, I’m sure you understand the rules.”

Damon bowed, “Of course.” He didn’t know what to add as an embellishment. He still wasn’t used to this noble etiquette. Stolas had only thought him the basics.

When the duke left, Damon went to the cellar and undid his transformation. He waited until the sun set and went outside near his house. He didn’t go too far in case the duke’s men got suspicious. They didn’t seem too thrilled about black magic, nor did he think showing them his demonic form would endear them to him. Damon looked at the few flowers near his house; however, his night vision drained them of their colours. He decided to climb onto his house and look up at the moon.

The moon, on the other hand, shone brightly in the night sky, perhaps this was why nocturnal beasts loved to stare at the moon.

Damon headed back inside to sleep.

            

 

 

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