Chapter 77
Chapter 77
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: Necromancer
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Necromancers.
They typically act alone for the most part.
That's because the necromancer class is practically a one-man army.
They command undead, wield poisons and curses, and more.
The skills at a necromancer's disposal are singularly unsuited for group tactics.
As such, necromancers are inherently individualistic.
That tendency softened a bit back when the Gray Mage Tower still stood, but after its collapse.
Hunted by the Empire, the necromancers scattered far and wide, their isolationism growing even more pronounced than before.
That's why folks still call necromancers a breed that never cooperates, no matter the era.
But lately, a seismic shift rippled through their ranks.
Suppressed by the Empire for so long, necromancers began erupting into open rebellion here and there.
Even so, not even they could take on the Empire solo.
In the end, groups started forming among the necromancers.
One such band of necromancers.
Monkey Hand
The leader driving Monkey Hand.
Curse Necromancer
Harban
He gripped a staff crowned with dozens of monkey heads.
The legendary weapon [Zanabi].
A staff that boosts every curse-related ability across the board.
Atop a hill far from the lake.
He pressed Zanabi's tip to the ground and peered down intently.
A wooden structure towered at the lake's heart.
A curse spell blanketing the entire lake hummed to life there.
Four curses active in total.
Blockade Curse [SS]
Prevents entry even from outside. Languor Curse [S]
Drastically degrades physical performance. Veil of Darkness Curse [S]
Blinds vision to utter obscurity. Scar Curse [S]
Stops wounds from healing.
Every one an S-rank curse or higher.
Without curse sorcery expertise, they're unbreakable—even famed guild masters can't shrug off the effects.
And his gear amplified them to the extreme.
The ultimate authority on curses.
That was Harban.
A smirk crept across his face beneath the monkey mask.
"They advertise for attacks on the lake lodge. How could anyone resist?"
Necromancers raiding the Flower Deer lodge filled his view.
Thanks to their prepped curse-immunity gear, the curses didn't touch them.
Survivors of the Empire's purge.
No amateurs here.
More than enough to tangle with the debuffed guild masters.
"Pay the price for scorning necromancers."
No other necromancers on their side.
No winning for them.
"Guess I'll prep the rest."
Harban muttered to himself and slammed his staff down.
Layered black magic circles etched beneath his feet.
While his necromancers stirred chaos battling the guild masters.
He'd unleash the next curse.
Wail of Destruction [SS].
On activation, it shreds through all defenses and gear alike, twisting the souls of everyone in range.
He'd deliberately waited for every guild master to cluster.
'Killing off major guild masters will rattle the Empire a bit.'
Raise them as undead, and they've got firepower.
Plus, the real prize in this raid.
Hard-won intel.
The Serinbam guild master was the Bluebird Knight Order captain's sister.
'The right to interrogate the Abyss is mine.'
He grinned wickedly, picturing necromancers doubled over in agony.
"Ahh, O Abyss."
He loathed the Empire.
They'd crushed his beloved curse research.
He'd cursed them his whole life.
And now.
The Abyss had nudged him to stand against them.
Embracing that will, Harban hoisted Zanabi.
"I join your curse aimed at the Empire."
He cackled like a madman.
"What curse exactly?"
A voice pierced his ear.
Harban's body locked up.
No presence anywhere around.
Curse-trap spells layered thick.
Yet a voice?
He whipped around, hunting the source.
"Right here."
A man stepped from the tree's shadow.
His body pitch-black, face impossible to make out.
But one thing was clear.
He was a necromancer.
And his shadow mastery? Elite-tier, unmatched.
'...Never seen shadows handled like this.'
The power lurking in that shadow? Unfathomable.
"Who the hell are you?"
No shadow necromancer in his memory hit this level.
And the vibe from this guy felt off.
Mid-tier pioneer, 9th Ascension tops.
'That black skin-coat jamming my senses?'
Made the man even harder to read.
Harban tested the waters.
"You looking to join Monkey Hand?"
The man burst out laughing at that.
"Monkey Hand? What the fuck is that?"
Harban clocked it.
"Ah, a necromancer outside the Resonance World."
Made sense he hadn't heard if he skipped it.
"Necromancers' landscape shifted lately."
"Oh yeah? Do tell."
"You know the Abyss, right?"
The man shrugged casually.
Harban's lips curled.
"The Abyss appeared. Told us to show the Empire our power."
He puffed up with pride.
"Impressive, right? A talent like you—we'd welcome you with open arms!"
Harban bellowed, eyes wild with zeal.
Acting like he'd already toppled the Empire.
The man, arms crossed, drummed his fingers.
Then cut in.
"So, what's the play right now?"
"Got your interest? Major guild masters are holed up down there.
Wipe 'em out, and the Empire feels real heat."
Revenge on the Empire that dared stifle curse research.
The man quit drumming.
"So, guild masters today... nobles tomorrow?"
"Sharp one."
"You're an idiot."
Straight-up roasted.
Harban's brow twitched; the man let out a long sigh.
"You know hitting nobles means total necromancer genocide, right?"
"Scared of the Empire?"
"Damn right. We're nowhere near their power—that's reality."
The Empire was colossal.
Rulers of this world for good reason.
Their might dwarfed imagination.
The man sighed again at Harban's obliviousness.
"Why do you assholes never just hear the words? Always twisting 'em your way. What is this, SAT reading comp?"
"...No clue what an SAT passage is."
"Yeah, figured you'd be clueless."
The man—Leyzon—called it quits on talk.
Syria's crimson shadow rippled at Leyzon's feet.
'This prick's Monkey.'
Back in the Resonance World.
One of the necromancers Leyzon met.
A monkey-headed freak.
Group name, gear in hand, Zanabi.
Screamed monkey to anyone.
Plus that obsessive Abyss worship? Sketchy as hell.
'Dude never bothered hiding who he was.'
Above all, his fawning praise for the Abyss.
Even in Resonance World, Monkey hyped the Abyss sky-high.
Called him the idol of every necromancer.
'Brushed it off then.'
Deeper fanaticism than it looked.
"Monkey."
Leyzon used his Resonance World alias.
Harban's shoulders jerked.
"...How'd you peg me?"
Weirder if he hadn't.
"More like, you've hit Resonance World. You tricked me?"
Making shit up solo.
Leyzon dropped his arms.
"Your delusion, not my trick. Here to set the Abyss's orders straight."
This clown idolized the Abyss way too hard.
Leyzon held back on revealing himself as the Abyss.
"Abyss only wanted Bluebird Knight Order intel. Never said fight the Empire.
This just cuts necromancer lifespans short."
Leyzon laid it out, trying to reason.
Harban's brows slowly knit.
"...I get it."
Finally clicked?
Thud!
Harban drove Zanabi into the dirt.
Coiling mana surged around him.
"You're the traitor the Abyss warned about."
How the hell did it flip like that?
"Bullshit. We met in Resonance World. I passed the Abyss's request."
Leyzon yelled, exasperated.
Harban sneered.
"Now impersonating too? Pathetic."
Leyzon got it.
Harban was locked in his own bubble.
No reasoning with that type.
They'd doubt endlessly till it fit their narrative, then charge ahead.
Monkey to the core.
Leyzon exhaled sharply.
No talk? Fine.
Old wisdom: when words fail, try explosions.
"Your funeral."
Leyzon's lips curved into a wicked grin.
"Been dying to blow shit up lately. Keeps fizzling out."
Ever since the new skill.
Leyzon had no real outlets beyond dungeons.
Dungeons topped out at 9th Ascension.
Beyond that? 10th Ascension high pioneers only.
Full-throttle chances rare.
Low output one-shotted everything anyway.
But now.
A prime test dummy strolled right up.
Leyzon licked his chops.
Then hefted the Staff of Abundance, brimming with endless life.
An eerie chill radiated from it.
"Kinda pent-up."
So take it, monkey.