The situation inside the pit was literally reminiscent of pandemonium. Tangled together,
the zombies squirmed. Between the rotting pus and fluids seeping from their bodies, all manner of
insects and maggots writhed.
The stench was so foul that the nearby vegetation had yellowed and withered. Once he confirmed all the zombies had entered,
Daemon withdrew the dark mana he had imbued them with.
Gathering mana was by no means an easy task. No matter who one was, the amount one could gather
was never great, so there was no reason to waste it.
Once the dark mana was withdrawn, the zombies reverted to mere corpses. With an expressionless
gaze, Daemon looked at them and began casting once more.
"I shall grant you eternal rest now. Incinerate!"
Fwoosh.
Fierce flames suddenly surged up from between the piles of corpses. Among the mana distributed in the atmosphere, a high-tier spell that selected only
mana with the fire (火) attribute and ignited it all at once had been cast.
The tangled corpses blazed up rapidly. In truth, because of the pus and fluids, setting the
pile of corpses on fire was by no means easy. But due to the intense heat of Incinerate,
the corpses lost their moisture in an instant, and as the fat burned in a chain reaction,
it even enabled spontaneous combustion.
Crackle.
The pile of corpses burned fiercely. It billowed black smoke and a fetid stench in all directions.
Daemon, watching this, scrunched up his face.
"This bastard is worse than me. To think he slaughtered this many people
simply to gather dark mana……."
Leaving behind the bodies gradually turning to ash, Daemon turned away. With the intention of covering them with dirt once the fire died down
to make a burial mound. This was all
he could do for them.
But his steps halted abruptly. It was after he saw a shadow standing at the cave entrance.
A triumphant smile rose to Daemon's lips.
"So you've finally shown yourself?"
Staring at the necromancer presumed to be the master of the cave, Daemon's eyes gleamed.
"Damn it all…."
The face of the necromancer Winterdale, who had finally revealed himself, was hideously twisted. He couldn't help but be shocked to see the corpses he had gone to such lengths
to gather burning to nothing. His resolve to never come out no matter what
crumbled because of this.
Just as Daemon had expected, he had been gathering dark mana through the corpses' corpse qi (屍氣). It was the only means by which he could grow stronger. Since his plans had turned to naught,
there was no reason to remain holed up any longer. Right now, he was glaring at Daemon as if he would devour him. A voice that sounded squeezed out through clenched lips escaped.
"W-why on earth did you do that?"
"……."
Daemon was speechless. The necromancer's appearance was so grotesque having revealed himself,
that was the reason. Winterdale's face was truly hideous. Not only were his hair and eyebrows completely gone,
but his skin was covered in blisters, with fluids dripping constantly.
His appearance was like that of a ghost. If someone with a weak heart saw him, they would likely faint on the spot,
so horrific was his appearance. It was presumed to be from living long amidst corpse poison. Daemon, who had been staring in shock,
finally managed to open his mouth.
"You certainly have an appearance that could compare to my former self."
At Daemon's non sequitur, Winterdale's face twisted even further.
"Seeing as you practice Necromancy, you must be a fellow necromancer, so just why are you
interfering with my work? Let us hear your reason."
Winterdale pressed on as if he had nothing left to lose. In truth, unable to read his circle,
his opponent was clearly stronger than him. In other words, no matter what happened, he could not subdue his opponent—
that was what it meant. Even the slightest difference became a fatal factor
in a clash between mages. But because his lifelong ambition had been shattered to pieces, he had half lost his reason.
"You and I made a contract with the Demon King and learned the summoning arts; our situations are the same. So why
are you picking a fight with me?"
"Then why did you mess with those people?"
At Daemon's sudden retort, Winterdale's mouth snapped shut.
"Well, that's……."
"You killed people and turned them into corpses for your own purpose. Is that not so?"
"Y-yes."
"The same goes for me. I interfered with your work to achieve my own purpose."
At such a brazen reply, Winterdale seemed to have lost his words. With a relaxed expression,
Daemon stared down Winterdale.
"Those people died by your hand because they were powerless. Does that not make the situation clear? If you have the power, then stop me—
that is all there is to it, is it not?"
"Wh-what is your purpose?"
Daemon reached out his hand and pointed at the cave. At that, Winterdale's complexion
changed drastically.
"D-do you mean my dwelling is your purpose?"
"Indeed. I need a place to hide and gather dark mana. Because you have spread quite enough notoriety,
this place is perfect for me."
Winterdale's face twisted even more wretchedly.
"Th-then you could just find another place. Someone of your skill should be more than capable."
Daemon shot him down in a single sentence.
"Because it's annoying. Why go looking when I can just take it?"
"……."
Winterdale simply stared at Daemon, utterly dumbfounded.
"Gathering dark mana through corpses is a futile endeavor. Because it is so impure, it is difficult to summon a proper
undead. Shortcuts can never match the proper method. I advise you to stop wasting your efforts and disappear cleanly from this spot."
His tone was as if he were showing him mercy. But Winterdale shook his head stubbornly.
"I cannot. I have been preparing this for ten years."
At that, Daemon crossed his arms leisurely as if to say, 'Do what you will.'
"Then do you intend to fight me?"
Surprisingly, Winterdale nodded.
"Honestly, in terms of magic, you seem to be on a completely higher level than I. But if we fight using something else, I will not
go down so easily."
At Winterdale's surprisingly gutsy attitude, Daemon's eyes widened.
"Interesting. Then what category did you have in mind?"
"Let us use Necromancy. How about this? You and I each summon an undead
and have them fight each other."
"You mean a wager, then?"
"Exactly. If you win, I will back down. But if the undead I summon
wins, you will leave quietly. How about it?"
Daemon tilted his head at Winterdale, who puffed out his chest as if confident.
It was clear that some kind of confidence lay behind his opponent's actions. But Daemon did not
think long.
"Fine. Let's give it a try."
Watching Daemon agree readily, Winterdale repeated himself as if to confirm.
"You must keep your promise."
"I swear on my name."
Watching Daemon nod, Winterdale thought of his last hope. It was because he had something he firmly believed in.
'If we consider only magic, he is strong. But that does not mean his summon is strong as well. Though it is incomplete,
if I bring out 'that,' the chances are sufficient.'
Having finished his thought, Winterdale immediately set to preparing.
"It will take some time. Will you wait?"
"Of course I will."
Seeing his opponent nod, Winterdale quickly dashed into the cave.
"Wait just a moment. I shall awaken my champion…."
After Winterdale disappeared, Daemon stood silently in that spot. Looking forward to what kind of
undead monster he would summon…….
Winterdale, having entered the cave, hurried to one corner. When he made a hand seal,
a door cleverly disguised as rock slid open. Surprisingly, inside lay the corpse of a fully armored warrior.
His severed head rested at the foot of the body. At the sight of it,
Winterdale was finally able to regain his confidence.
"Durahann. With this, I can guarantee victory. Though it won't be able to display its full power due to insufficient mana,
mind you."
There was even a hint of satisfaction in Winterdale's eyes as he gazed upon the Durahann. And rightly so—
the greatest reason he had scraped together dark mana was precisely for this Durahann.
It was to be the most powerful aide to grant him strength.
Durahann (Durahann). An intermediate undead monster, it is a demonic beast that ranked at the top in terms of combat power among the warriors of the Dark Army. It is created from corpses beheaded at the gallows, and as is the case with most
undead monsters, the stronger the individual was in life, the more its combat power increases.
It possesses combat power not far behind that of a Death Knight, and the sight of it wielding its severed head
in place of a shield was more than enough to strike terror into the hearts of enemies on the battlefield.
Recalling the overview of the Durahann, Winterdale formed a hideous smile.
"Rise, Winslet. Show me your martial prowess once more for my sake."
A bluish light radiated from his hand and spread to the Durahann's body. Winterdale already
believed in the Durahann's victory without a shadow of a doubt. Because the Durahann had been an outstanding mercenary in life whom no one could oppose.
Winslet Cage. The name of an infamous murderous
mercenary (殺人傭兵) who had beheaded a staggering five hundred and forty people over ten years. He had also been the leader of the Crow Bandits (Crow Bandits:
Raven Thieves' Guild), a byword for terror, and was a high-profile bandit with an enormous bounty
on his head.
Originally, he was a renowned mercenary swordsman. One with such astounding martial prowess (武勇)
that his price had risen to the absolute limit as a first-class mercenary. His martial skill at cutting off enemy heads on the battlefield as easily as plucking fruit stems
was still spoken of among people to this day. Furthermore,
he was such a homicidal maniac that he could not sleep unless he cut an enemy's throat at least once a day.
However, before long, he found himself in a situation where he could no longer kill. Through the intervention of the Crossen Kingdom,
peace had finally come to the Arcadia Continent.