Chapter 205
Chapter 205
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 204
Chapter Title: 18-Year-Old Black Necromancer
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As I took my seat, glasses and bottles of liquor flew toward our side.
The Black Necromancer gestured with a hand, saying let's start after a drink, but I shook my head.
"It's a waste of time to send you off drunk."
The Black Necromancer hesitated at my words for a moment before sighing and returning the bottle and glasses to their original spots.
Perhaps because there was nothing left to distract herself with, an awkward atmosphere settled in, and the Black Necromancer tossed out a casual remark.
"Did Han So accept it well?"
She didn't seem particularly curious.
Even so, I answered the question.
"Yeah, he said he'd fight the Archdemon to the end as a martial artist."
I expressed my thanks to him once more, but the Black Necromancer wore a subtle expression.
"Is that really possible?"
"......"
"I get your judgment that we're fakes. But that means we're ultimately beings created by Learic."
Since Learic had established the Dream Demon War, they were ultimately beings created by Learic.
"Can we truly stand against Learic?"
It wasn't wrong.
Yeah, to be honest.
"It's impossible."
It was blatantly impossible.
The Archdemon of Deception must have pulled this stunt countless times.
Countless heroes must have lingered in Room 110. There might have been murder dramas where they fell for Learic's tricks and killed each other.
There must have been times when, like us now, they tried to resist and fight the Archdemon.
"Beating Learic right now is impossible from the start. I don't have souls I can command or the Holy Grail."
"The Holy Grail?"
She reacted to the Holy Grail with an irritated look but continued after brushing it off as nothing major.
"But the good news is that Learic isn't an Archdemon obsessed with combat."
He wasn't the type like the Archdemon of Struggle Valkyria or the Archdemon of Pride Dune, who found satisfaction through battle.
Learic was the sort who got his thrills and pleasure from deceiving and manipulating others.
"Even so, won't he just kill us all if things don't go his way?"
That was possible.
If Learic were human, anyway.
What I'd learned fighting four Archdemons this time was that they showed fanatical obsession toward what they desired, but little attachment to anything else.
"What Learic wants isn't my life. He just wants me to follow the ending he's set up for the Dream Demon War."
"Hmm."
"So conversely, we just need to give him an ending he doesn't want."
"An ending he doesn't want?"
"I'll explain later."
There was no need to explain now, and doing so would waste time.
The Black Necromancer seemed to understand my intent and didn't press further.
Silence returned briefly. Unable to stay still, I naturally pulled a black gem from my pocket and handed it to the Black Necromancer.
"This is......"
The Remegaton she'd searched so desperately for. It was the item I'd obtained right after arriving at the Dream Demon War. I now knew it wasn't real either—just a replica usable only here.
As the Black Necromancer reached for the Remegaton, she sensed it resonating with her and swallowed hard.
She was feeling the effects of injecting the blood of the girl from the story who'd desired the Remegaton into herself.
"It really existed."
Even as she said that, a bitter aftertaste tinged the end of her words.
She'd finally obtained the treasure she'd longed for so desperately, but realizing it was all an illusion left her hollow.
"I've actually handled the real Remegaton multiple times. You can think of this as exactly the same."
"You've handled the real Remegaton? Does that mean you found it?"
"Thanks to that, I could take you as my master."
Only then did she let out a faint tone, understanding why she'd accepted me as her disciple.
I took a deep breath and spoke to her.
"It might be selfish, but I have a personal request."
I knew the actions I was about to take would be quite cruel to the Black Necromancer beside me.
"Would you hear a story?"
"A story?"
Still, there was a story only the current her could hear.
"The story of the bond between you and me, starting from this gem given by the Archdemon of Deception."
I unraveled our unexpectedly long tale.
* * *
Deeeeng!
The long tolling bell announced that another day had passed.
I'd spoken quite a lot, uncharacteristically, so my throat stung, but I didn't leave my seat and waited for the Black Necromancer.
I'd told her that the Remegaton she'd searched so desperately for was actually just a pathetic tool in the Archdemon's prank.
I'd also shared that in the future, she'd vaguely regret the path of necromancy she was walking so diligently now.
And finally.
She learned about her own death.
It must have been quite hard for an 18-year-old Black Necromancer to accept, but I told her everything without hesitation.
All the stories the Black Necromancer and I had gone through.
In the end, the story of her—who'd spent more time with me than anyone, the same person yet another.
"......"
Her head hung low, her face hidden by her hair. All sorts of thoughts must be swirling.
She could vent resentment toward her past self for dying so futilely, or rage at me for casually revealing such a cruel tale.
"Why."
Of all the possibilities I'd anticipated, what came back was.
A low, somber tone laced with melancholy, yet resolute determination refusing to back down.
"Did you tell me that?"
It was a valid question.
There was no need to reveal such a cruel truth to the current Black Necromancer.
I could have vaguely lied, saying she was doing well so no need to worry.
But.
"I had to tell you. That way, you'll tell me about yourself."
To hear about the Black Necromancer, I needed to unravel the story of her and me.
She didn't like that answer either and slammed her fist on the table with a thud.
The dishes and food around us shook violently from the impact. Violet mana flickered like flames in her hand.
"So what? Why do you need to hear my story?"
The Black Necromancer had already anticipated my answer.
Her reddened eyes.
Her choked breathing from overwhelming emotion.
Everything showed how much pain she was in right now.
I closed my eyes calmly and gave my response.
"To learn what the Black Necromancer is hiding from me."
She knew the Black Necromancer I meant wasn't her, so the 18-year-old Black Necromancer gnashed her teeth in fury.
"You see me as just a tool?! Just something to use? To better understand the real Black Necromancer you talk about! You're saying you'll use me!"
It hit the mark exactly.
So I didn't deny it.
"You're not wrong."
The Black Necromancer I knew sometimes showed signs of wavering.
She'd make doubtful expressions watching me use necromancy, or disappear for days before slyly returning.
Then one day.
I worried she might just vanish for good.
"Through you, I want to understand more about the Black Necromancer I don't know."
"That woman is the same as me in the end! She's just a being doomed to disappear anyway!"
There were similarities.
The 18-year-old Black Necromancer who could only exist in the Dream Demon War.
And the Black Necromancer who one day would close her eyes and enter repose.
But.
"That's exactly why."
"......What?"
"The day the Black Necromancer closes her eyes in repose. To comfort her and give her a proper send-off."
"......"
"I need to understand her."
The necromancy shown by the 18-year-old Black Necromancer was completely different from the one I knew.
The truly ruthless side that treated souls merely as tools. The merciless witch who purely aimed to take lives.
The Black Necromancer had hidden this past carefully to keep it from me. But cowardly, I planned to uncover that secret this way.
"And this is also to remember you."
"......"
The reason I had to be so cruel to her.
Ultimately, to give meaning to her futile life—like Cinderella's glass slipper, confined to the Dream Demon War with a set expiration.
"I won't let you vanish here as a meaningless existence."
"Ah, aah."
"This is the only tribute I can give you."
Unable to contain her tears anymore, the Black Necromancer covered her eyes with both hands.
I'd acted as if enduring cruelty and revealing everything was for the Black Necromancer I knew.
As if telling her to sacrifice for the real one.
One could call it cruel on the surface.
But as someone bearing the name of Necromancer.
This was the only thing I could do for the 18-year-old Black Necromancer before me.
You'll disappear.
But leave a trace.
Just as Han So passed as a martial god.
I hoped the Black Necromancer would close her eyes that way too.
"You bastard."
I didn't deny it was an act deserving of resentment.
"I didn't want that."
I knew acting selfishly under the guise of "for the Black Necromancer."
"That my current self influencing my future self...... that's my reason for existing? My meaning?!"
Sorry, there's nothing else I can do for you.
"Is that your way of comforting me? Of leaving my trace?"
Still shedding tears nonstop, the Black Necromancer slowly curled up.
Her trembling shoulders surged with various emotions, but the tears wouldn't stop.
Even so, she forced back her sobs and glared at me.
"You......"
Swallowing.
"I hate you so much, Deus Verdi."
The Black Necromancer spat her resentful voice at me.
"I hate you for making me know this cruel truth. I loathe you! For my existence's value to end up being just that! I didn't want to know!"
But this was the only way the 18-year-old Black Necromancer could leave a trace in the outside world.
Simply burying her in my heart wasn't enough.
If this girl influenced the real Black Necromancer.
Then perhaps the 18-year-old girl before me would remain within the real one.
"Cold bastard."
"Even if it hurts, I wanted to give you a chance."
Not just vanishing meaninglessly.
A chance to leave something as the 18-year-old Black Necromancer.
"You're a Black Necromancer to me too."
"Damn it."
Her writhing in resentment toward me and agony from the truth lasted a bit longer.
But really just a bit.
"......"
When all the resentment finally bottomed out.
"I'll ask you...... a favor."
All that remained was a handful of sincere gratitude from the girl thankful to be remembered.