༺ Necromancer ༻
“Your Majesty!”
With a hurried sidestep, Tyren Ol Velocus, a Mage Tribunal Judge, knelt on one knee upon the filthy prison floor.
Given that the two people before whom he must kneel in this kingdom had appeared simultaneously, Tyren had no choice but to forgo further words.
Looking down at him, Archmage Ropelican chuckled and spoke.
“It seems that you also have business with this man. Would you be so kind as to yield to us for a moment?”
“Yes, understood.”
It was under the guise of a polite request, but in reality, it was a command from Ropelican. Tyren retracted his stance, though his expression still held veiled animosity toward me.
As he left, Ropelican clicked his tongue and muttered.
“He’s too hot-headed. If you’re in that high of a position, you should be cold and composed.”
King Orpheus smiled as he replied to Ropelican’s criticism.
“His passionate nature keeps our kingdom safe. It makes him all the more trustworthy.”
“Well, if Your Majesty says so.”
When Orpheus sided with Mage Tribunal Judge Tyren, Ropelican didn’t add anything further.
Only after their exchange did their gazes shift to me.
“You’re the madman who openly confessed to being a Necromancer?”
King Orpheus looked at me with arms crossed, as if I were an intriguing artifact.
As he circled around me, I had the opportunity to feel like a valuable object in the hands of an appraiser.
“You are aware of our kingdom’s laws, aren’t you? Dark Mages can be executed on the spot at the discretion of the Mage Magistrate.”
“I am aware.”
The kingdom’s suppression of Dark Mages was more stringent than one might imagine. In medieval times, immediate execution without a trial was an exercised right, and in the modern world, it would be unimaginable.
But [Retry] was a game in a medieval setting.
And considering the kingdom’s history, their strict measures against Dark Mages were somewhat understandable.
“Are you Heralhazard’s reincarnation or something? Are you planning on single-handedly bringing ruin to our kingdom?”
Heralhazard.
A name that could send shivers down the spine of any citizen of Griffin Kingdom.
He was a monstrous figure who, as a Necromancer, almost single-handedly brought the kingdom to the brink of ruin.
Even the main storyline of the game involved tracing his steps and unraveling the secrets of the kingdom.
“No.”
As I answered calmly, King Orpheus let out a long, seemingly exasperated sigh.
“Then why did you confess? Did you feel guilty for your crimes? I heard something unusual happened at Loberne Academy; no official reports have arrived yet, though. I assume you might be related to it?”
Not even two days had passed since that incident at the academy.
It was normally impossible, even for a king, to have immediate knowledge of such a supernatural event.
“Everything I do is for the kingdom.”
“Hmm?”
Upon my declaration, both King Orpheus and Archmage Ropelican, who was silently standing behind him, had a slight tremor in his eyes.
“You must have read my letter.”
I never sent a letter to the king. It was nearly impossible to do so, to begin with.
The letter was sent to the Mage Tower where the Archmage resided.
Under normal circumstances, a simple letter would have never reached an Archmagus. That was why I had enclosed a special idea of my own in the letter, something he couldn’t simply ignore.
Ropelican slowly reached out his hand.
A transparent membrane, akin to a fish tank, materialized. Inside it was a lively, blue mana cluster—the very thing I had included in the letter.
“Setting aside the contents of the letter…”
King Orpheus, who was intrigued, observed the lively mana.
Ropelican seemed to have a lot to say too, but restrained himself given the presence of the king, who slowly started speaking.
“…How is this mana moving on its own? Is this some kind of necromancy? Even our royal family’s Archmage, who is said to have mastered most forms of magic, came to me with wide eyes just thirty minutes ago due to this unique magic.”
Ropelican coughed awkwardly, avoiding eye contact but not denying the statement. The Archmage then took over the conversation.
“The notion of mana moving autonomously is truly astounding. If properly managed, this could result in a groundbreaking source of energy that requires no resources.”
“…”
I gazed at him as if to question the obviousness of his statement, the Archmage chuckled and nodded his head.
“Yes, of course. The one who invented it would naturally recognize its significance.”
Then, Ropelican inquired further.
“If your claim to act for the kingdom is true, could you explain the principle behind this extraordinary marvel of magic? It feels as if… it possesses a will of its own.”
I responded, indifferent to the Archmage’s captivated eyes.
“It is necromancy.”
“…”
“That is right. The reason why it acts like it possesses a will of its own… is because it actually is a self-thinking, self-acting form of magic.”
Because…
“It is crafted through the souls of the deceased.”
Archmage Ropelican and King Orpheus’ faces visibly distorted.
Despite having anticipated this answer, hearing it straight from my lips seemed to stir a range of emotions in them.
Struggling to maintain composure, the Archmage finally spoke.
“I understand that you are a rare Necromancer among Dark Mages. However, as far as I am aware of, Necromancers extract mana from souls; they blend it with grudges to manipulate as magic.”
“…”
“I’ve never heard of a soul independently possessing its own consciousness and acting through magic.”
That’s only natural.
There are no other Dark Mages capable of directly communicating with souls like me.
“That is what sets me apart, and why the kingdom needs me.”
“Hm?”
King Orpheus, who had been quietly intrigued by our conversation, subtly turned his gaze towards me.
“Your Majesty, I am a Necromancer—one of the men on this continent who knows the truth about what comes after death.”
“Oh?”
Realizing that I was trying to persuade him, King Orpheus grinned slyly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the cell bars.
“Unfortunately, for the faithful, there is no realm beyond death. The deceased simply close their eyes and find rest.”
There is no future where one finds solace in the arms of Justia, or enjoys eternal feasting and luxury in the palace of Velas. There is no future where one becomes a beloved angel praising Hearthia.
For humans, all that awaits after death is eternal rest.
“Hmm, you casually speak words that would incense the priests.”
“It is because it is the truth.”
“However, there’s no real need to know the truth. This world has people who find salvation in religion, and there are those who make a living from it.”
“I have no particular desire to win any arguments with them.”
“…Wise.”
Spreading this truth would bring not only the kingdom, but also the entire continent into chaos.
And inevitably, I’d find myself at odds with the religious authorities who’d never admit this truth.
I had neither the intention to make them acknowledge it, nor to spread it.
Whether their religions are true or false is not something I intended to argue.
‘I too understand that it exists because it is needed.’
“However, Your Majesty cannot afford to ignore this.”
I locked eyes with King Orpheus. My gaze sharpened, ensuring that he had nowhere to escape.
“For countless eons, this continent has been a sanctuary for the departed. But now, locations where the deceased can find rest are dwindling.”
“…”
“Have you not noticed? Mysterious crimes are increasing and the perpetrators are never found… Are you not conveniently sweeping this under the rug?”
It was as if King Orpheus had been struck by an unexpected blow. He unfolded his arms and leaned forward.
“Are you suggesting that the departed are responsible for these occurrences?”
“Yes, and it was manageable up until now… There were still places on the continent where the souls of the deceased could find solace.”
But now, things were different.
“Do you not hear the screams of the continent? Can you not hear the voices of the restless spirits wandering aimlessly because they are unable to find a resting place even in death?”
“…”
“Flesh decays and bones turn to ash. In the end, they return to the embrace of the earth. But souls do not decay, even through the eternal passage of time.”
They simply exist, left in place.
“I understand that the unsolved, mysterious cases had to be covered up. But failing to find a solution to them would eventually lead to a loss of trust in the royal family.”
“Hmm.”
“Hiding them is not a solution. Eventually, all these issues will resurface and threaten the kingdom as a whole.”
Rejecting black magic is akin to the refusal to acknowledge an entire field of study.
Ever since suffering major damage from the Dark Mage Heralhazard, the kingdom had forcibly turned a blind eye and held hostility towards black magic.
And now, the price of their ignorance was coming.
“Soon, countless lost souls will drag down the radiant divine kingdom known as Griffin. That will be the cost for turning your eyes away from fear.”
“That said…”
King Orpheus interjected. I did not continue, and instead closed my mouth and listened to him.
“We can’t just overturn a two hundred year history of rejecting Dark Mages..”
A long history indeed.
It was two hundred years ago that a Dark Mage called Heralhazard brought the kingdom to the brink of destruction, all by himself.
“And now, the citizens believe that all Dark Mages are evil, an absolute wickedness. Even the church has taken advantage of this to solidify their position.”
“…”
“To suddenly accept Dark Mages now? Believers from all corners in the kingdom would rise up in revolt.”
Whether their beliefs were right or wrong didn’t matter. For them, it was an immutable truth.
“The scars that Heralhazard left behind still painfully linger within the kingdom.”
It was a harsh refusal.
With a furrowed brow and a sense of resignation, King Orpheus heard me speak again.
“Your Majesty.”
“…Speak.”
“If we never tear off the bandage on a wound, we will never know whether it has healed cleanly, festered, or turned into a scar.”
“…”
“How long will Griffin Kingdom continue to nurse the wound created by a Dark Mage? How much time has to pass for the scars of that day to fade?”
“Their deaths are remembered forever!”
Gritting his teeth, King Orpheus’ eyes flared, venting fury towards me.
“The countless citizens who died at the hands of Heralhazard, a Dark Mage, will forever be remembered in our land! Do not insult them so thoughtlessly.”
Yes.
Remembering the departed was the right thing to do.
The weight of their deaths was undeniable—filled with sorrow, tragedy, and heartache.
Yet.
“Your Majesty.”
That was all it amounted to. The dead were just… dead.
“Turn your gaze toward the living.”
“…”
“Look at your citizens who toil under the sun, who seek solace in a single drink at the end of a weary day, those who close their eyes at night with hope for another dawn.”
King Orpheus was not a sovereign who could live for centuries. He was not a monarch who oversaw those who were lost in the calamity known as Heralhazard.
His concern needs to be for those living in the present.
“It is honorable to remember the past, and venerable to pay tribute to the deceased. But do not misplace your priorities.”
It was something that I, a Necromancer, could confidently say.
“As Deus Verdi, one who has deciphered the core tenets of necromancy and stands at the very borders between life and death, I speak with utmost certainty.”
I embodied these words, for I am able to see both the living and the deceased.
“The dead cannot take precedence over the living.”
King Orpheus tightened his lips and averted his gaze, his expression portraying a tangle of internal struggles.
“Your Majesty.”
A sword made of mana suddenly materialized in my hand.
Archmage Ropelican, who stood behind, visibly tensed, readying himself to protect His Highness immediately. But King Orpheus stopped him with a gesture.
“Look at this sword.”
His gaze landed on the tip of the sword, which was shimmering with blue mana.
“Right now, it is a weapon that threatens you. With the slightest movement, it could harm Your Majesty.”
But then, I slowly handed him the hilt of the sword. He accepted it.
Now the sword was pointed at me.
“With just a slight change in direction, with a different hand wielding it, the weapon that could harm Your Majesty has become the closest thing to protect you.”
With the sword between us, I looked at him once again.
“Would you forsake a sword entirely, branding it as evil, just because it once harmed you?”
Most things in the world are too ambiguous to be neatly categorized into a black and white framework.
“To treat poison, one must use poison. Similarly, it becomes necessary to utilize one evil to vanquish another.”
The countless wounds and grudges born from Heralhazard…
“Those scars left by the Dark Mage of the past, I will soothe and heal them.”
“And who are you to say that?
The King’s words felt like they had weight in them.
And in response to his question, a gentle smile formed on my lips.
“People call a woman who borrows the power of the gods to save others a ‘Saintess’.”
And then, I continued.
“As for I, who borrow the power of the dead; I am nothing… but a Necromancer.”
