The day after the massacre, his village smelled of blood. The grass turned red.
Entrails and limbs are splattered on the grass, and villagers are torn to pieces by giant wolves; not even for food, but for pleasure, like a cat playing with a mouse. Most of the houses were overturned and the ruins were frozen by the biting winter winds.
Only he survived, hiding in the grain cellar beneath his house. His parents said they would go with him and the neighbors. They never did.
The teenager found only the remains of his father, torn in half at the waist; he heard his mother being chewed and eaten. Now he's doing his best to sew the remains together, even if his fingers are frozen.
He heard the sound of horse hooves, raised his head, and faced two terrifying figures. Both ride sickly, pale horses, but they provide a stark contrast to each other. One of them wears a black cloak and gloves, hiding every piece of skin on his body, while the other is a strong knight wearing black spiked armor. Sword and sorcery.
"Are you okay, kid?" The knight's sword was soaked with wolf blood. How could his pale horse carry such heavy armor? "We're here to help."
Too late.
The teenager looked at them suspiciously, fearing they might be scavengers trying to ransack an abandoned house. Although he was more concerned about the bodies inside, he'd rather avoid a fight; he'd had enough of the blood.
"I am Medelot, a knight of the Pale Serpents, and my companion is the Archmage Asclepius. All the wolves are dead, and you are safe with us."
"You underestimate yourself, my friend," the cloaked figure croaked, his words sounding more like the death throes of a man than the voice of a healthy man. "My boy, he was once a royal knight. A great hero."
"That was a long time ago," the armored knight replied, his voice dripping with contempt. "I quit."
Maybe they said that to reassure him, but the boy didn't care. After witnessing the horrors, after hearing his parents' screams, he felt as dead as the bodies around him.
"What is your name, son?" the knight asked first.
"Walter".
"What are you doing with these bodies, Walter?" the cloaked figure looked at the bodies and asked his own question. Walter glimpsed two green haloes under the hood, where the eyes should be.
The wolf breaks them. I'm working on fixing them. "If he could preserve his brain until his heart was beating...
The two riders exchanged glances. “The body is a machine,” Walter said. "Like a mill. You have to put the pieces together."
"It's a little more complicated than that." The cloaked figure took off his hood, revealing his "face."
Tai had heard of the undead, but this was the first time he saw a wizened, ashen-skinned man with an otherworldly light in his eyes. The living dead had his teeth replaced with magical crackling gems, the upper left corner of the skull was missing, and darkness seeped in.
"Are you a lich?" the young man asked.
"You're not afraid," said the walking corpse. "good".
"Can you save them?" Wa asked. "You like it?"
"Maybe. The soul must be willing to resurrect the corpse and become an undead with free will." The wizard raised his hand, and an obvious atmosphere of death enveloped Tai. His father's body was covered with a purple shroud and disappeared. The skeleton made no secret of his displeasure. The soul refused. This guy doesn't want to come back. "
"I'm sorry," Medlot said sympathetically.
"Why?" Walter asked confused. "Why would anyone choose to continue dying?"
"Perhaps he is in a happier place than Helheim. He would rather remain in the arms of their gods than risk an ignominious death, even for you."
"Do you have any other family members?" the knight asked. "Maybe he's a distant uncle from a neighboring village?"
Walter shook his head.
"Don't you understand yet, Medlaw?" Asclepius said, observing the young man with his empty eye sockets. "He belongs to us."
day now.
It must have been several years since Ty left Lyon and its surrounding areas.
The small fishing village in front of him reminded him of his hometown and evoked memories of his past. There must have been no more than 50 people living in mud huts in this area at the time, living off animals caught from the river banks. The town was eerily quiet, almost deserted; and the morning fog only made the area look even more unwelcoming.
With his face hidden under his cloak as his teacher had once done, Tai walked towards the village cemetery. It's not difficult to find, considering the large number of stone circles in the meadow; each one demarcates a grave.
An old man in his sixties was keeping vigil, holding a lantern in one hand and an ax in the other. "Are you the gravekeeper?" Tai asked, and the man became nervous as he approached.
"Who are you?" asked the tombkeeper.
"I'm here for the victims," the Necromancer said, hiding his face. "I'm an investigator."
"You're a little late," the old man replied suspiciously, and pointed in a direction with his lantern. "The priests buried them under the oak tree over there."
good. That's what he wanted to know.
"(Sleep)," Tai told the old man, letting him rest on the grass; hoping he wouldn't remember the meeting when he woke up. The Necromancer then moves to the location of the grave and digs it out with [Molten Stone].
There were five victims, all girls aged between 8 and 20; each of them was brutally tortured. Someone dug a hole in the chest of four of the men and removed the heart and some organs; the fifth man may have died before going through the horrific experience. After lining them up on the grass, Ty first analyzed the remains with magic; to his annoyance, the priests had purified the corpses, making it nearly impossible to resurrect them as undead.
Considering the time crunch, he could still cast [Nagel's Method Prototype], but not with the missing heart; even his [Repair Corpse] spell couldn't repair such a serious wound. He could take them back to the lab, alchemically replace the missing organs, and then bring them back to life for interrogation. Tai considered the possibility but decided to perform an autopsy before discovering the fifth victim.
In addition to the obvious missing organs—the shape of the hole in the chest suggested that the ribs had been shattered by a hammer and the contents eaten by tusked beasts—the victims were riddled with wounds. All are whips or hooks. Finally, the corpses were injected with large amounts of magical venom, and one victim, who retained all his organs, died of a poison overdose. Not a hook, but a fang, Tai thought as he examined the wound carefully. Raise snakes.
Why five women? What do they have in common?
…
"Virgin sacrifice, is it true?" The Necromancer shook his head. "Why? Why virgin?"
Walt had never paid much attention to the Catastrophe Cult. Of course, the necromancers have heard of their activities and know a thing or two about their methods. But fundamentally, he still doesn't understand what drives people to worship those hell-bent on destroying the world.
He knew that the followers of Hrim were the most "visible," savage savages who openly and proudly displayed their loyalty. Their tribes live in the eastern lands beyond, honing their skills for Ragnarok, when their warships will join the armies of the giant Jotunheim. Ironically, this also makes them the easiest to manage. Apart from occasional coastal raids that were repulsed by royal forces, they were insignificant.
The followers of Fenrir, the god of disaster in Niflheim, are an evil bunch whose tribe massacred his homeland. They are carnivores that hide in woods or small villages. They hunt humans like wolves hunt sheep; sometimes, they are actual werewolves.
Jormungander, the servant of the Midgard Serpent, is no better. They worship snakes and like to feed people to the giant reptiles. Sut's servants were warriors, arsonists, and blacksmiths. They were organized marauders and warbands who were a constant thorn in the side of the royal army.
Loki's cult is perhaps the most dangerous because they hide in plain sight. They could be your brothers, your parents, people you never thought about when you were working. You never know until they do it.
Tai knew that while the cults operated independently, they often collaborated on special occasions; or at least, they worked well together like a chaotic bunch of lunatics. Was this massacre the result of such an alliance? The savage state of the corpses suggested worship of Fenrir, but the traces of snake venom were the hallmark of Jörmungandr's worshipers.
Both cults focused on controlling or turning into monsters. The more Tye thought about it, the more he became convinced that the massacre was a joint ritual. These victims were ritually offered to the snakes and then sacrificed to Fenrir.
"[Nagelfar prototype]," he told the fifth victim, asking her personally and confirming his theory. After what she'd been through, the Necromancer hoped he could convince her to start over somewhere else and stop asking.
"Here you come, my thief slave."
Ty froze as something broke the spell on him and moved the corpse's lips.
The body was that of an eight-year-old child, but the voice...
"(break down)!"
The Necromancer fired a beam of green light from his left index finger, turning flesh to dust.
His action elicited a burst of amused giggles; from the mouth of an old dead woman came the majestic laughter of the Dark Queen. The corpse stood up and faced him, her eyes as white as pearls. "It's no use," the entity mocked him. "You can't kill death."
"(Decompose)!" Fear took over Tai's heart, and he evaporated the container out of pure instinct.
No sooner had his spell reduced that body to ashes than a third rose to its feet, the creature speaking with their lips more interestingly than anything else. "Have you got better of your temper, my dear Walter?"
The Necromancer took a step back, a huge pressure pressing on his soul.
She found him.
"What do you want, you beast of a goddess?" Tai replied threateningly, pointing at the speaker. He has enough SP reserves to last a whole day if needed. It won't hurt God, but maybe it will give Him a little time...
"You, my slave." Hel, the goddess of death, replied, thick black blood flowing from her veins now. "You fled my kingdom and became an abomination, stealing the souls of my kingdom. Come back to me. I will forgive your rudeness."
"Afraid that I will soon empty your kingdom?" the Necromancer replied, mustering up all his remaining courage. "If you could have done anything to bring me back, you would have come back a long time ago."
The corpse's lips pursed into a small smile, and she took a step in his direction.
"Back off!" Tai ordered, channeling magic through his fingers. "Back off, I said!"
"Are you afraid of my kiss, Walter? Maybe you'd rather see my other half, just like you show me your fake mask of life?"
The walking corpse in front of him shifted, transforming into an image of the goddess he had faced in Helheim. She has gray-grey skin, perfect crimson lips, and pure pale eyes. Her long white hair flowed behind her face and she wore a royal gown of dark black and white. She was even more beautiful than Joseph himself, but her brilliance was a dark, unnatural brilliance. Fatal temptation.
Before he knew what hit him, her hand caressed his left cheek lovingly.
Every nerve on the left side of his undead body tensed immediately, and half the skin peeled off under the invisible knife. He could feel the cold mist burning his exposed flesh, the leaves turning into razors as they brushed against his hands.
He had never felt such intense pain.
You lost half your HP and SP!
"Your escape was clever," the goddess said, as Ankou covered half of his skinned face. "I still don't fully understand how you did it, and that bothers me. But don't mistake patience for weakness, Walter. All things die, even the walking dead. Even the entire world."
Then she added, with the enthusiasm of a mother scolding a naughty child.
"Even you."
"Let's try it!" Tai responded defiantly, activating his offensive perks and brewing magical powers. "I escaped from you; I will do it again!"
"You stay here, frustratingly delaying the inevitable." She shook her head. Although her face seemed expressionless, the Necromancer could have sworn he noticed something else. Those disturbing things. "It confuses me, but I've never longed for a soul more than yours."
She ignored his magical defenses as if they didn't exist and placed her hands on either side of his face. The left side was cold, exacerbating the pain, while the right side was warm, pleasant to the touch.
"It is not enough for me to kill you, my slave," the goddess said, grabbing his cheeks like a lover preparing to kiss his lips. "If I do this, you will flee my kingdom for the third time. No. You must obey me first. I will break you, Walter. I will torture you until your heart accepts me. Only then can I Save you from this miserable half of your life.”
The third time? "Then you will live in disappointment. (Si
ma
a shield). "
His body releases a burst of scorching blue fire as hot as Muspelheim. The frost from the goddess instantly suffocated them.
"Your actions threaten the very fabric of this universe, and the cycles that sustain it," he whispered, sounding disappointed. "Whether human or snake, you selfishly desire immortality at any cost; is living as an immortal rotting corpse really better than my peaceful embrace?"
"Yes!" Tai replied, refusing to give in.
He said to him: "My slave, you may have stolen a few, but you have also sent many." "My hounds thirst for your blood, Walter. Do you hear that? They are howling for you." head of."
Then she kissed him on the lips. The contact felt bittersweet, both pleasurable and disgusting.
You have obtained [Kiss of Help private benefit. All damage will be halved, but the goddess Hel and her servants will always know your location.
A second later, he is kissing a lifeless corpse, which has fallen to the ground.
The necromancer wiped the taste from her lips with his hand in disgust before teleporting away.
"I had a dream last night, of silks and beautiful furs," hummed the black roots of Wanderma as he emerged from Nastrom's grand staircase into the ruins of the third floor; holding in his hand With shield and mace. "The pillow is deep, the pillow is soft, and the peace is undisturbed."
"Shut up, Hagen!" came the Duke's voice, as the [Zombie Lord] waited for him in the stone room above the city. [Li
o
m Demilich] coiled like a snake and stood at the entrance to Naströn. "You are deaf!"
"Hey, I'm trying to get better at Bud," Hagen joked, although he had to admit that Laufey's song sounded better. "Aren't you supposed to be patrolling the ruins?"
"I am," the zombie replied, pointing with his chin at [Li
o
m Demilich]. "I'm checking that thing out."
Tai deployed the undead dragon at the junction between the ruins and Nastrom, and tied it to the sealing stone tablet with a black shadow chain. While the creature is theoretically sentient, some of its malevolence remains, driving it to kill living humans. Its zeal for trying to kill the princess even threatened their big stage a few weeks ago.
However, the creature became eerily peaceful after the Necromancer managed to "repair" it and claim Nastron's possession. It didn't break free from its chains, it didn't attack anyone; it didn't even make a sound since. If it weren't for the focus of its gaze, Hagen could have sworn it had gone dormant.
Still, it's an impressive keeper. It easily reaches the ceiling, leaving little space in the room for an intruder to escape its breath.
"I don't believe it," Duke said. "It's solid, but it doesn't feel comfortable for some reason."
"It's still better than the puppet down there," Hagen replied. "I still can't believe they're on a higher level than me."
"How many do you have?" the zombie asked curiously. "I made some money on my last raid."
"52, including 10 of mine (Dullaha
) racial level. "His [Dark Knight] career is almost over, with only five levels left.
"Two floors above me," Duke complained.
"Unlike you, if my health drops to 0, I will die." The Headless Horseman replied. “I don’t have a head to hold onto.”
In fact, he doesn't even have any bones anymore, and his "armor" is his current body. At first, the lack of physical sensation was unpleasant, but Hagen grew to like the lack of fatigue and tiredness. The undead gave him an inner focus he never had before in life.
"But your racial privilege doesn't give you a horrible stench." [The Zombie Lord] had to cover it in perfume, much to his shame. "The other one only brings me joy when I'm eating fresh brains. Thankfully, I still have the thrill of fighting."
"You could read a book, or find a hobby," Hagen said. "I formed a bowling group with the goblins. I think the mice are interested too, although we're still working out the logistics."
"I am a human being of flesh and blood, not a thinking being," the zombie replied. "I think I was, even before I transformed."
"You also were..." Hagen continued. "you know……"
"What?"
"Eating brains?"
The zombie looked at him with a look of utter contempt. "How could you ask me that?"
"Really?" Hagen asked curiously. According to his sources, it tastes like spinach.
“No, I didn’t! That was cannibalism! Maybe my memory of the past is shaky, but I still remember table manners. "
Ah, yes. life. "How much do you remember?"
"It felt like...like a memory from a dream. I remember brief moments, but not the entire journey."
"What moment?" Hagen. While he clearly remembers most of his life, he has a special circumstance; namely the source of his (Dark Knight's) powers.
“A feast with many guests,” Duke said. "My clan, I suppose, from the time I was chief. Memories of the stuffed boar still make my heart race. Same thing with dueling someone else because my sword knocked his sword away. Death, I I remember it vividly too. The decay was in my lungs, the desperation was weakening me, and I begged a god, any god, to save me. My dying prayers had never been stronger."
"Maybe that's why you went to Helheim."
"I think so too. But I don't believe I ever hated a living person, before Helheim's torture. It was death, not life, that made me who I am today."
"Shame on you," replied Hagen, who had committed more felonies than all the undead in the entire dungeon combined, and not one of them had ever regretted it. Of those sentenced to Helheim Prison, he was perhaps one of the few who truly deserved it.
"Why are you here?" Zombie asks his fellow Elite. "Our master is gone, you are responsible for protecting Nastrom."
"I lost one of my trophies and I was looking for it," Hagen admitted. "A (sacred weapon)."
In addition, the underground city also made him feel stressed. Hagen couldn't quite explain it, but he could feel a thousand pairs of eyes watching him within its confines. Every minute he spent in that hole made him more paranoid.
"I thought only Earthlings could use [sacred weapons]?" the Duke asked.
"Yes, but I earned it under very interesting circumstances, so to speak, and it always puts a smile on my face." Hagen has no head, although he can "see" everything around his armor. "It was there yesterday, and then poof. It was gone."
"It's probably a prank by the ghosts," [Zombie Lord] said.
"He swore he had nothing to do with it and, most importantly, he was a disembodied ghost." Zombie shrugged in response, causing Hagen to turn to [Lynorm Demirich] for advice. "What about you, Sir Skeleton Dragon? Have you seen the Holy Sword?"
Of course, Long didn't answer
"Nidhogg."
Both undead elites froze as Linnom made a rattling sound. "Nyhog..." it repeated, moving its head in the direction of Nastrom's entrance.
Duke immediately drew his invisible [Masked Blade] and tensed when Hagen didn't do anything obvious. "What did you say?" Dullahan asked, his voice a threatening growl.
"Nihog..." the dragon replied hoarsely, repeating a word like a parrot.
"Why did you say his name?" Dullahan asked. "How did you know?"
(Li
o
m Demilich) didn't respond immediately, but when it did, it said another word. "Eternal Devourer..."
"Hagen, what does this mean?" asked the Duke, confused. "How can it talk?"
"I don't know." How did the maggot know the name? As far as Hagen knew, the chief shared the news only with him and the orcs. "Maybe it remembers the dream of life."
"Life..." the dragon croaked, its neck twitching. "Punishment punishment..."
Hit hard!
Suddenly, the dragon's head hit the wall, and the whole room trembled. It did this once, then twice, causing some stone fragments to fall from the ceiling. "Punishment..." the undead demon said hoarsely, not as a condemnation, but as a plea. "Nidhogg..."
"Hey, calm down!" Hagen. The twisted monster stopped, its skull hitting the stone.
"It behaves like a ghost," Duke said uneasily.
"I don't even want to see how it will react to being taken to Nastrom," Dullahan replied, approaching the dragon's head cautiously. He immediately noticed liquid dripping down the beast's cheeks.
tears.
The dragon is crying?
"elder brother……"
Hagen froze and turned to face Nastrang's entrance.
"Brother," the familiar voice came from below, repeating what Hagen's brother had said to him when he was impaled by his sword. "I'm bleeding, bro..."
"Hagen?" asked the Duke, and the ghostly voice fell silent.
"Well, that's a bad sign," Dullahan replied.
As if in answer to his words, an explosion resonated; but, as he had expected, from above rather than from below. A shrill voice echoed through the dungeon, signaling an attack.
"Those sirens," Duke said as Ghost Strings paced the ceiling, "what happened?"
"The intruders poured out of the gallery," replied the ghost. "They triggered the [Rune of Madness] and started killing each other, but more would come."
"Antlion?" Hagen asked, glad of the opportunity to change the subject.
"There are snakes and wolves at the door, my friend!" said the ghost. "There are also hooded people who smell like both of these!"
Ah, great. Believers. Finally something has changed.
"Kill the game?" suggested the Duke, smirking triumphantly.
"Killing contest," Hagen replied cheerfully, waving his scepter.
He never said no to a simple task.
