17. Necromancer
Before long, half the territory had fallen under Behena's control. The garrison, which had barely been hiding at the foot of the mountains, relocated to a fortress in the central mountains of Soboro County.
Thanks to that, we moved along with them. Our cramped barracks with their flimsy cots were upgraded to a room with a fairly luxurious bed.
"...Ugh, nothing to do today either."
I sprawled on the bed in that room, bored out of my mind.
Bella was off handling her subordinates' affairs or heading to the front lines with the Red Evil Mercenaries. Cheong-ah tagged along to help her out and keep her edge sharp, or so she claimed. What edge was she worried about rusting, anyway...? When I asked, she just chuckled and said something like, "You don't need to worry about it, honey," so whatever.
Without Cheong-ah or Bella around, my days in the rear guard consisted mostly of lounging around like a slob.
Of course, I wasn't skipping my workouts. My mana-less, feeble body would weaken even more if I slacked off for just a day. Not physically, but mentally—people are sneaky like that. Miss one day, and you start craving a second. Even without Cheong-ah here, I kept up my routine: solo conditioning, some weight training, the works.
Thanks to that consistency, by this world's standards, I was well above an average civilian now. A notch below your typical knight, maybe.
Plus, watching Cheong-ah, Bella, and Dina spar all the time—getting tossed around in the process—had toughened me up. I could handle mana-less civilians or regular soldiers with ease now. Against knights with decent mana talent and training, I'd still come up short. But without mana, relying on raw strength and skill? I wouldn't fold easily.
That was my current level. And without mana, I probably couldn't push much further. Still, I couldn't stop trying. Even if this was my peak, letting myself slip wasn't an option. I kept grinding every day.
The problem? Once workouts were done, I had jack shit to do.
"Haa..."
At least I had one silver lining.
"Yeonja, why the sigh?"
"Nah, it's nothing."
Our adorable little Dina was still here as company. She looked up from her picture book at my sigh, tilting her head curiously. I shook my head quickly.
Man, I'm really at loose ends...
Bored to death.
I wanted to take a stroll around the fortress, but that wasn't happening. No telling when the count might send assassins after Behena—or Regina. Dina had to stay put in the fortress, and I couldn't leave her side in case of trouble.
They might target me on the battlefield? Seemed like overthinking it. What would be the point?
"Yeonja, are you bored?"
I was pondering picking up a book like Dina when she looked up and asked.
How'd she know?
"That obvious?"
"Painfully so. Sighing nonstop, staring out the window—who could miss it?"
I scratched my cheek sheepishly at her words. Didn't mean to bug her. Sorry about that.
"My bad, interrupting your reading."
"This one is fine. Especially since it's you, Yeonja."
"Uh, yeah."
Her mature tone momentarily stumped me. Then it hit me—Dina calling me "Yeonja" harked back to our fated bond from ages ago. I was the only one who could lift her eternal youth curse.
Like in that dungeon against the Death Sorcerer, when I absorbed her curse. I remembered her grown-up form then—not her usual childlike self, but mature and womanly.
After clearing the dungeon, the curse somehow returned to her for some reason...
A blessing, huh.
Some blessing—it's basically a curse for her.
Come to think of it, why hadn't Dina asked me to absorb it again?
"Hey, Dina."
"Yes? What is it, Yeonja?"
"Back when we fought that Death Sorcerer... I absorbed your blessing, right?"
"Mm, indeed. Why bring it up now?"
She tilted her head, staring at me intently, then smiled brightly.
"Just wondering if you wanted to go back to that grown-up form."
"I wouldn't know."
"Why? Weren't you thrilled about growing up?"
"True, I was happy. But not because this one grew."
Not happy about the growth from losing the eternal youth? Then what?
I asked, curiosity piqued.
"Then? What made you happy?"
"Hmm, well..."
She hopped off her chair, came over, grabbed my hand, and placed it gently on her head. Looking up at me with sparkling eyes, she said,
"Yeonja stroked this one's head with this hand, did he not? This one was happiest that Yeonja chose me."
"...Dina."
"Yeonja, so..."
She started to say something, lips moving—
—Enemy attack!
A booming male voice from outside. Then the massive bell at the fortress entrance clanged clang-clang-clang!
Dina's soft smile froze into ice in an instant.
"Yeonja."
"Got it."
We exchanged a glance and bolted from the room without a word.
Unexpected timing, but not unforeseen. We raced straight to the commotion.
Enemies pouring from what looked like a sewer. Soldiers encircled them, holding the line decently at first. But soon, our troops started giving ground.
No surprise—these foes charged without a care for their own bodies.
"...What the hell are those?"
Limp, strengthless bodies. Vacant eyes, awkward gaits. Shambling forward, impaled on spears, slashed by swords, riddled with arrows—zero regard for their own flesh as they lunged at our men. Reminded me of zombies from some movie.
Reanimated corpses. The most basic undead monster.
But these differed from typical zombies. Regular ones scream "dead body" at first glance. These looked pristine—no severed limbs, no bite marks, no rot. More like sleepwalkers rising intact.
Like somnambulists shuffling around. Though somnambulists don't shrug off stabs and slashes while trying to kill you.
"Dina, zombies, right?"
"Different from the zombies this one knows, but yes, they seem to be."
Her expression hardened as she nodded.
"The aura is definitely necromancy. But these aren't ordinary corpses."
"Not ordinary? What do you mean?"
She nodded at my question.
"As you know, Yeonja, typical necromancy uses the dead—war casualties, disease victims, old age. That's standard."
Necromancy originated to return battlefield or roadside dead to their homes. Even as a recognized magic branch with advanced spells, it demands respect for the deceased. Mock their dignity, insult their death? That's power-blind fools contracting with the demon king for selfish gain—Evil Spirit Sorcerers, no different.
"But these are different."
"Different how?"
"No signs of death. No stab wounds, no disease. They look young—no old age."
Her face turned frigid.
"The aura feels like pure necromancy, not evil spirits. But whoever commands them has defiled death."
Those controlling them weren't true necromancers—they were Evil Spirit Sorcerers in all but name.