Nectar
“Ah… no.”
Medeia’s voice trembled thinly as she looked down at Kael, collapsed on the cold earthen floor.
“Cough.”
A rush of crimson blood spilled from the corner of Kael’s mouth.
With shaking hands, Medeia seized his and hurriedly began to chant.
“O death. It is not yet your time—withdraw, and await another day.”
Green mana enveloped Kael’s body. It was a necromantic art originally meant to halt a corpse’s decay, but she used it now to stem the bleeding.
The flow of blood lessened at once. But it was still not enough.
Then, from the distant tents of Rian and the Rene sisters, voices rose.
“What’s going on!”
“It must be an undead attack!”
“We’re on our way!”
They had heard the earlier explosion and were racing toward them. The battle was already over, but they had no way of knowing that.
“……”
Medeia slowly touched her own hair.
Saaaaaah—!
Ssssss!
With nightfall, her hair had transformed into serpents. She could not let them see this hideous form of her curse.
And yet she could not simply leave Kael here alone.
Nothing was going as she wished.
Crack!
Anger flared in her. Anger that Kael had been reduced to this for protecting her—and anger at herself, for being able to do nothing for him.
“…I’m sorry.”
Medeia rose to her feet. Remaining here would do Kael no good at all.
She stretched a hand toward the sky and loosed a burst of mana—so that Rian and the others could find him.
Then she turned and vanished into the darkness.
The retreating figure of her back looked somehow lonely.
Professor Zius of the Academy’s Necromancy Department was drenched in cold sweat.
What kind of lunatics pulled a stunt like this?
He was the one who had prepared this practical exam at Headmaster Ileina’s request.
When the Crown Prince had come fleeing in tears not long after the exam began, Zius had thought little of it. But once night fell, he had suddenly sensed a vast surge of black mana.
None of the undead placed in the examination grounds could have emitted black mana of that magnitude.
Sensing that something had gone wrong, he raced to the scene at once. By the time he arrived, however, it was already too late.
The first thing that met Zius’s eyes was a student reduced to little more than a half-corpse.
“What in the world is going on here!”
“P-Professor…!”
The students were desperately continuing treatment in an effort to save the half-dead one. All of them appeared to be clergy, but their skill alone was not enough.
“Out of the way.”
Professor Zius pushed the students aside and examined the fallen student’s condition. His face hardened at once.
His internal organs are completely wrecked?
He could not begin to imagine what the boy had endured to end up like this.
Then another trace caught his eye.
Marks of necromancy?
Someone had cast a necromantic art on this student. It was no curse. They had adapted the technique used to halt a corpse’s decay in order to stop the bleeding.
Flawless.
Even in the midst of the emergency, Zius could not help but admire the measure. Most people thought of necromancy only as a means of laying curses and commanding corpses—yet here was this kind of application. He almost wanted to meet the caster’s face once.
Not right now, of course. There was work to be done first.
“If you move him to the Temple quickly, he can still be saved. Take this one to the Temple.”
After ordering Rian’s group to transport Kael, Zius slowly surveyed the surroundings. Suffocating black mana still hung thick in the air.
Then his gaze fell upon a jet-black greatsword driven into the ground. That alone told him which undead had attacked the students.
“What madman set a Death Knight loose?”
Zius immediately began reverse-tracing the residual black mana. If the undead had been summoned through necromancy, a link to the caster would still remain.
Before long he found the summoner. Opening eyes he had closed in concentration, he spoke in a low voice.
“Rise.”
The instant the word left him—
Hiiiiiiing!
A horse’s cry rang out as the earth split open. Through the fissure emerged a single mount—a Skeleton Horse, with patches of rotting flesh still clinging here and there.
And astride it sat a knight clad in pitch-black armor.
A Death Knight and a Skeleton Horse. Having summoned both, Zius gave his command.
“Don’t kill him. Bring him back alive.”
The Death Knight nodded without a word. Then it spurred the Skeleton Horse, and both figures vanished into the darkness in an instant.
A short while later, the Death Knight reappeared, gripping a man by the nape of the neck.
“L-Let go of me! Do you know who I am! I said let go!”
The captive man thrashed, but he could not break free of the Death Knight’s grip. Zius looked down at him and asked,
“Was it you? The one who released the Death Knight and attacked the students.”
“……”
“No intention of talking, I see.”
Zius glanced at the Death Knight.
Crunch!
Without hesitation, the Death Knight twisted and snapped the man’s arm.
“AAAAAARGH!!!”
Zius looked down at the screaming man and spoke.
“As a fellow necromancer, you should know well enough. I can kill you, enslave you, and extract the information that way.”
The man’s pupils shook.
“If you open your mouth now, I’ll let you go without pain.”
The man’s choice was swift. He spilled everything he knew. Once he had vomited up every scrap of information, the Death Knight’s blade took his head and ended his life.
Zius watched the scene in silence, then let out a deep sigh.
“To think they’d try to resurrect a witch who died a thousand years ago… The world has gone mad.”
A week passed from that day.
Kael still lay in a Temple infirmary, unable to open his eyes.
“He’s past the worst of it. But because of the black mana that has sunk deep into his body, he still hasn’t regained consciousness.”
At Rian’s words, Medeia asked,
“Then… what do we have to do?”
“We have to drive the black mana out of his body.”
“How?”
“If it were only a small amount of black mana, holy magic would be more than enough to purify it. But the black mana that has invaded Kael’s body is far too great. If we mishandle it, it could clash with the holy magic and detonate inside him.”
Rian paused for a moment, then spoke again.
“To resolve that, we need Nectar.”
Nectar. A potion that only an archbishop-level priest or higher could create by offering prayers for a full year. Its value could not even be measured in money. Having wealth was no guarantee one could obtain it.
Rian said that even without Nectar, Kael would likely regain consciousness given enough time—then left the infirmary.
Only Medeia and Kael remained in the room. In silence, Medeia wrapped Kael’s hand in hers and kept vigil at his side for a long while.
“Kael…”
How much time passed, she could not say. At last Medeia rose from her seat. Looking down at the sleeping Kael, she said softly,
“I’ll be back.”
With that murmur, Medeia left the infirmary. She slipped out of the Temple and hurried somewhere with quick strides.
The place she arrived at was a secluded alley within the Academy, where few people ever set foot. Someone was already waiting for her there.
“For a cursed wretch, you’re late even to a meeting.”
“…I present myself before His Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Tch.”
The one waiting for Medeia was the Crown Prince. He made no effort to hide his irritation at having been forced to appear here at all.
“Get to the point. Why did you call me?”
“You will recall the bet you made with us.”
At the word bet, the Crown Prince’s face stiffened.
“W-What bet are you talking about!”
“You said yourself that if we beat Your Highness in the practical exam, you would apologize to me and serve as Kael’s slave for a month.”
“……”
Only then did the Crown Prince seem to remember the terms of the wager. His face flushed red.
“S-So what do you expect me to do about it now!”
“I have no need of Your Highness’s apology. Instead, grant me one request.”
“A request?”
“Hand over the Nectar.”
At Medeia’s words, the Crown Prince’s face twisted sharply.
“Do you think Nectar is some common trinket? You can’t just ask for it and expect me to hand it over.”
He let out a sneer and went on.
“You’re dumber than you look. Well, if you want it that badly, it’s not as if I can’t give it to you. Though I have no idea when that might be.”
With that, he turned his back and tried to leave the alley—but he could not.
Crunch. Crack.
Rotten roots and vines burst up through the ground and barred his path.
“Hand over the Nectar.”
“W-What is the meaning of this! Clear the way!”
“Hand over the Nectar.”
Medeia said nothing else. Whatever the Crown Prince spat out, she repeated only that single line.
“Hand over the Nectar.”
“Eek! D-Don’t come any closer!”
“Hand over the Nectar.”
“I-I’ll give it to you! I’ll give it, so stay back! Here, take it! It’s Nectar! Nectar, I said! So open the way!”
A bottle filled with golden liquid rolled to Medeia’s feet. She picked it up. Without so much as a glance behind her, she left the place as she had come.
Left alone, the Crown Prince could not move from that spot for a long time.
“Kael…”
Back in the infirmary, Medeia tipped the Nectar into Kael’s mouth. But feeding anything to an unconscious person was nowhere near as easy as it sounded. The golden liquid kept slipping down the corners of his mouth. She tried again and again, always with the same result.
“…There’s no other way.”
She murmured it under her breath, then looked at the Nectar for a moment. As if she had made up her mind, she brought the bottle to her own lips.
Holding the golden liquid in her mouth, Medeia slowly bent down. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips to Kael’s.
She did not pull away until not a single drop of Nectar remained.