Draped in a tattered robe, the necromancer hovered a foot off the ground, zipping toward the castle's depths. EeDechi, hot on his heels, chased him relentlessly.
The necromancer occasionally spun around, flinging spells to slow EeDechi down, but it was a wasted effort. His ferocious death magic only splattered into puffs of gray mist against her, and the brief pauses to cast gave EeDechi time to close the gap.
In a flash, the fleet-footed adventurer captain leaped forward, closing in on the fleeing mage with speed no ordinary person could match. Her giant sword swung up, smacking the floating necromancer like a shuttlecock in a badminton game. A sickening crunch of snapping bones echoed as he crashed into the ceiling, leaving a massive dent, then crumpled to the floor like a discarded rag, motionless.
Moments later, Barrett, Sean, and Stella, the other adventurer teammates, arrived, panting heavily.
"Taken care of?" Barrett glanced at the necromancer's corpse on the ground, not remotely surprised by the outcome.
He hunched over, hands braced on his knees, gasping for air. Lugging a massive steel shield, he'd pushed himself to the limit just to keep up with EeDechi's pace. Any slower, and the three of them would've been left behind in the eerie castle.
This orichalcum-level adventurer, with stamina that seemed superhuman, charged ahead at breakneck speed, completely ignoring her three teammates struggling to keep up.
The necromancer was now nothing but a lifeless corpse, just as the rumors described. Likely from dabbling in magic forbidden to the living, his limbs and hands were shriveled, devoid of any fleshly hue. His head was a bald, skeletal dome, not a single hair in sight. Face-down on the icy floor, his filthy mage robe draped over his body, leaving only his bony hands and ankles exposed—a pitiful sight, in a way.
Barrett studied the necromancer's body closely. Something didn't add up. Despite being tattered and stained with blood, the caster's robe wasn't the grim, drab kind he'd expected. Instead, it was an ornate, luxurious garment with intricate patterns. Barrett made a mental note to loot the mage's body later, hoping to score something valuable.
Nearby, Stella stood and cast a Divine Magic spell to restore Barrett's and Sean's stamina. During the final stretch of chasing EeDechi, Sean had carried Stella on his back to keep her—the least athletic of the group—from falling behind. As a result, she was the least winded of the trio.
After finishing her spell, Stella cautiously approached the necromancer's corpse. She crouched halfway, using the tip of her magic staff to gingerly nudge the mage's head.
Seeing someone beat him to the punch, Barrett quietly frowned. This pretty cleric girl had learned to rummage through corpses for loot—guess she'd leveled up as an adventurer.
Stella's eyes flickered with panic. She crouched low, studying the necromancer's face, then suddenly dropped to her knees, leaning on her staff as tears streamed down her face. "Teacher Simon! How could it be you!"
Sean, still catching his breath, hurried over, and EeDechi, who'd just smashed the necromancer, stepped closer. They could see it now—the necromancer's gaunt face bore an eerie resemblance to James Simon.
When Stella pulled a magical insignia from the lining of his robe, it sealed the truth: the necromancer EeDechi had obliterated with one swing was none other than James Simon, the old mage they'd briefly met at the inn.
"No, this can't be! Teacher would never study necromancy!" Stella clutched her teacher's golden insignia, kneeling on the floor with James's head cradled in her lap, tears falling in heavy drops.
Back when James had taught her magic, he'd been a huge help, always kind and fatherly. Though family troubles later forced Stella to abandon her magical studies, she'd never forgotten his kindness.
Just days ago, they'd seen him at breakfast—a gentle old man. Now, lying before her as a withered corpse, the sight left her heart torn between disbelief and unbearable pain.
EeDechi cleared her throat, her expression cold. "He chose the dark path himself. Can't blame me for not holding back."
Barrett was quietly shocked. He'd met plenty of two-faced hypocrites, but based on what he knew about magic, there was no way a kindly, plump old man from a few days ago could lose all his hair and beard and morph into a skeletal necromancer in such a short time.
Either way, the castle's master was dead, which meant everything in it was up for grabs, waiting for someone bold enough to claim it.
With that in mind, Barrett rubbed his hands together, scanning the room. While EeDechi had chased the now-deceased James and the three of them had scrambled to keep up with her, they'd ended up in what looked like a grand living room inside the castle.
Towering mahogany bookshelves lined every wall, packed to the brim with stacks of books. Most were leather-bound, finely crafted tomes of magic.
To Barrett, who knew zilch about spellcraft, the books were useless. Even if he tried selling them, a mage might trace them back to their original owner, landing him in a heap of trouble.
"What the hell?" Stella's sudden cry broke the silence. Still kneeling, her staff glowed with magical light. In its flickering glow, a dark soul mark pulsed faintly on James's corpse, fading in and out.
Seeing the skull-shaped magical mark, Barrett's face darkened. That dark magic soul imprint meant this necromancer wasn't acting on his own free will. He was just a high-tier undead puppet, capable of casting spells and showing some smarts, but at his core, no different from the low-level undead they'd hacked through earlier.
Someone had killed James and used dark magic to turn him into an undead thrall.
Barrett's scalp prickled, his heart pounding like a drum. He wasn't pissed about James's death—he was terrified of whoever had done this.
He remembered James was no small fry. A high-tier mage with talent in both Arcane and Divine Magic, able to cast 4th Tier spells.
To kill a mage that powerful and turn him into an obedient undead slave? The culprit's magic had to be insane. Was it 5th Tier magic? 6th Tier? Hell, maybe even 7th Tier?
Humans who mastered 5th Tier magic stepped into the realm of legends—heroes! Even Fluder Paradyne, Baharuth's guardian and the empire's mightiest mage, a 200-year-old legend, only wielded 6th Tier magic!
A mage with that kind of terrifying power and ruthless streak—could they be lurking in this manor, watching them right now?
Sean clearly grasped the gravity of the situation too. He stood tall beside Stella, gripping his shortsword, his eyes warily scanning the room. Stella, who'd uncovered the truth, stayed kneeling, cradling James's head, sobbing softly.
Good thing we've got EeDechi. Wonder if she can handle this. Barrett thought, glancing at the only person in the room who still looked calm as ever.