17. Necromancer
It's cold. It hurts. I'm hungry. Everything before my eyes is pitch black. This is totally the look of a beggar. With that idiotic thought, I come to my senses.
A disgusting sensation, like something thick and viscous clinging to me. My body feels wrapped in a lump of fire, sunk into a swamp. I can't move it at will. A slow sinking feeling.
[How long are you gonna stay passed out? Don't you think it's time to wake up?]
Someone whispers right in my ear. I open my eyes, but... I see nothing. Just the voice echoing. A hallucination?
[Hallucination? That's a bit harsh, don't you think?]
"...Huh? What the hell."
[It's been so long, Ian. I'm thrilled to see you again like this.]
A woman's voice I have zero memory of. Crisp and refreshing just to hear, a clear soprano that etches itself into your brain—no way I'd forget it no matter how much time passes. But since I don't remember it, that means it's brand new. So why's she acting like we're old pals?
"Who are you?"
[How mean. Have you really forgotten me?]
Mean or not, if I don't remember, I'm gonna ask who you are. "Never heard before" means exactly that.
[Ian, you fucking T-type? An F?]
"What're you even saying? I don't buy into that MBTI crap."
[Ugh. So heartless. It's like this big sis never raised you...]
"Big sis? What?"
Sis. As in, female sibling. A sister, basically. Sure, I've got a little sister back home. But no way I'd forget her voice after some time apart. Hers sounds like a pig squealing at slaughter—not this refreshing, beautiful tone.
[Beautiful, huh? That feels nice to hear.]
"So, who are you?"
[Well, if you can't remember me, even if I told you, you wouldn't know.]
What the hell does that mean?
[Exactly what it sounds like. No point telling you if you haven't figured it out yourself. Otherwise, you'll just forget once you leave this place.]
"Uh, sure."
If you don't wanna answer, just say so. Why play mysterious and toy with me...? Anyway, where the hell am I? Why am I here? I glance around carefully.
Dark space. I definitely felt like I was sinking into a swamp, and it wasn't an illusion—my body's submerged in some weird liquid. Weird part is, I can still open my eyes, breathe, and look ahead. Though "looking ahead" just means staring at black nothing.
Is this even seeing? It's just dark.
[No, you are seeing. Perfectly, even. The darkness itself.]
"Glad to hear it."
[So, what do you see?]
"What kinda question is that?"
One second you're saying I'm seeing fine, next you're asking what? The voice won't reveal who she is but keeps dropping these cryptic lines to piss me off. I scowl and answer, and she soothes me like a sulky kid.
[Don't get mad. I asked what you see. Open your eyes wide and look straight ahead. Tell me what you see. What it is.]
"Hah, seriously."
Irritation boils over. Still, weirdly compliant, I grumble and stare ahead. What the hell am I supposed to see? Same black as before...
...Huh?
The background's still black. But something's there now. What I see is...
"Damn it, what the hell is this...!?"
"I don't know—let's get outta here first!"
"Let's regroup, quick!"
Stunned by Ian's wound suddenly vanishing, they'd been checking him over when the magic circle in the sky activated. That instant, the undead soldiers—which had frozen—lurched back into motion. Not just them, either. Even the ones shattered to bits clumped together, reborn as new elite undead variants.
Lucky break: no mage corpses around, so just zombie warriors and skeleton knights charging with raw physical power.
The sudden movement startled them. Cheong-ah hoists Ian onto her back, while Bella and Dina lead the charge, hacking a path to the main group.
"My queen! Everyone! Over here!"
"What the—Kalon?! You bastards! Perfect timing—nice one!"
Kalon's voice rings out right on cue. Under Karlson's orders, he'd brought his Red Evil Mercenaries to aid Bella. Seizing the undead's pause, they'd kept pushing, severing heads to clear a route.
"Hey, Ju Cheong-ah! This way—you can make it, right?!"
"Yes, we're coming."
"Whoa, feisty one! Ian's slipping!"
"Kyaa...! Catch my husband, Dina!"
"This lady's got her hands full—gah, Ian's falling!"
"Bellllaaaa...!!"
"...Fuck it, let's go!"
The group links up with Kalon's crew. The Red Evil Mercenaries immediately fan out, fending off undead and punching through.
Treating life like dirt, her men fight with suicidal bravery and loyalty. Bella glances at them.
"The queen's looking at me! Means fight harder!"
"Nah, probably the undead next to ya!"
Bella rubs under her nose at their antics.
"Heh, you punks."
Told 'em not to call her queen. Gotta tell Karlson to drill some discipline soon. Loyalty's one thing—insubordination's another.
Kalon bows at her expression.
"Sorry, my queen."
"Whatever, handle it. You know what I mean."
"Yes."
"Do good."
Unaware—or maybe aware—of her resolve, the mercenaries amp up to show off for their queen, speeding toward the main group. With Dina and Bella joining, they blast through to Karlson and Behena in seconds.
"My queen, are you alright?"
Karlson rushes over the moment Bella arrives, checking her. He looks guilty about the situation, face like he's about to grovel.
"What? Why the long face?"
"Well..."
"This mess? Not your fault. Drop it."
"...My queen."
Bella shrugs, reading his mind.
"I said I'm fine. Anyway, I'm good."
"Relieved to hear it. And your husband...?"
She scratches her cheek awkwardly.
"Dunno. Still out, but body's fine."
"Pardon? What...?"
Karlson blinks, confused. He'd seen the blade slice Ian's back, blood spraying. Then the count's army hit, chaos after... But fine? Maybe she packed potions?
"Ah, did you use a potion?"
"Uh, kinda... sorta."
Bella trails off.
...How to explain? Kid suddenly healed up?
Screw it.
She doesn't get it either—might as well fudge it.
"Something like that."
"I see. Good thing. As expected of you, my queen—foresight to bring potions."
"Eh? Oh, uh... Wasn't me, Cheong-ah did."
"Ah, got it. Thanks to Lady Cheong-ah, then."
"Nah, no biggie. It's her husband."
"Still worth thanking, no?"
"Enough, man."
Karlson's misunderstanding's funny, but good's good—she lets it slide and pivots.
"Anyway, status here? Why's the force so thin? Our guys look mostly intact... but Behena's troops? Heavy losses?"
They'd come armed for contingencies. Sudden ambush rattled 'em, but not enough to halve the ranks this fast. Karlson's no slouch, and every Red Evil Merc's knight-level. Even outnumbered, losing half in minutes? Nah.
Karlson winces guiltily again.
"Ah, damn. Sulk-face again. Spill—what happened?"
"Well..."
He explains: count's ambush, holding steady—then mass betrayal.
"Our own guys turned."
"What? Recent recruits?"
"No..."
Nearly half of Behena's retainers had split with their units. Traitors who'd eyed bailing when she looked weak.
"Sorry. Should've watched closer..."
"Nah, unavoidable. Traitors suck— not on you."
She pats his shoulder. He bows, moved.
"Thank you, my queen."
"Where's Behena?"
"That way."
Karlson points—Behena's there, fidgeting, eyeing Bella nervously. Worry in her gaze, but not for her traitors or Bella's wrath. More like, hoping Karlson doesn't get reamed... womanly concern.
Bella smirks oddly.
Karlson needs to settle down.
"Heh..."
"...My queen?"
"Whatever. Handle that later. Priority: evac."
"Yes, my queen."
"Go give orders. You're in charge now."
"...Yes!"
Karlson spins, bellowing at his men.
"Move out—now!"