Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Necromancer
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“ Your Majesty!”
Tairn, the Magic Judge, hurriedly stepped aside and dropped to one knee on the filthy prison floor.
In fact, with the two people in this kingdom whom he had to show such deference to appearing at the same time, Tairn had no choice but to hold his tongue.
Looking down at him, Grand Archmage Rockpellican burst into hearty laughter.
“It seems the Judge has business with this man as well. Could you yield him to us just this once?”
“Yes, understood.”
Under the pressure disguised as a request from Rockpellican, the burly Tairn tucked in his tail and withdrew.
But his expression still radiated thick killing intent toward me, so once he left, Rockpellican clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Tch, his temper’s too fiery—that’s the problem. Someone in a judging position ought to be cool-headed and sharp.”
King Orpheus chuckled in response to Rockpellican.
“With such a passionate personality guarding our kingdom, that’s all the more reason to trust him.”
“Well, if Your Majesty says so.”
Since Orpheus had defended Tairn, Rockpellican didn’t press further.
Only now did their gazes turn to me.
“So, you’re the madman who turned himself in, confessing to being a Black Mage.”
Orpheus eyed me with interest, arms crossed. His circling around me made me feel like a priceless artifact laid out for an appraiser.
“You must know our kingdom’s laws. Black Mages can be summarily executed at the Magic Judge’s discretion.”
“I do.”
The kingdom’s crackdown on Black Mages was stricter than imagined. Summary execution without trial was a rare privilege even in medieval times, unthinkable in the modern era.
But this was a medieval world—and a game.
Especially given the kingdom’s history, the suppression of Black Mages was somewhat understandable.
“Are you some reincarnation of Heralhazard? Planning to destroy the kingdom single-handedly?”
Heralhazard.
A name that made any citizen of the Griffin Kingdom tremble just hearing it.
A monstrous Black Mage who, alone, had nearly annihilated the kingdom.
Even in the game’s main story, players chased his footsteps to uncover the kingdom’s secrets.
“No.”
Orpheus let out a long, frustrated sigh at my flat response.
“Then why turn yourself in? Overcome with guilt for your crimes? I heard there was some odd incident at Lovern Academy, though no report has come in yet—it might be related.”
It had been less than two days since the incident at the academy.
Even a king couldn’t instantly know about an event tantamount to the supernatural.
“It’s for the kingdom.”
“Hm?”
At my firm declaration, King Orpheus’s eyes twitched, as did those of Rockpellican, who stood silently behind him.
“You must have seen my letter.”
I had never sent a letter to the king. I had no such direct line.
The letter I sent was to the Mage Tower, home of the Grand Archmage. A simple letter wouldn’t have reached him, of course.
But I had enclosed a special device unique to me—one he couldn’t ignore.
Rockpellican slowly extended his hand.
A transparent barrier like a fish tank rose, containing a lively clump of blue mana—the very thing I had placed in the letter.
“Setting aside the letter’s claim of self-surrender for now.”
King Orpheus peered at it with intrigued hum.
Rockpellican looked like he had much to say, but he held back in the king’s presence.
“How is the magic moving on its own? Is this some kind of Black Magic? Even I, who’s mastered most spells, was stunned when I brought this here just thirty minutes ago.”
“Ahem.”
Rockpellican cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his gaze—but he didn’t deny it, and continued.
“Magic moving independently is monumental. If harnessed right, it could yield a semi-permanent power source without resource drain—a breakthrough.”
“……”
I stared at him as if to say he was stating the obvious, and the Grand Archmage gave a wry chuckle, nodding.
“Right, of course. The inventor himself wouldn’t underestimate his own genius.”
Then, with a low groan, Rockpellican addressed me.
“If your claim of serving the kingdom and His Majesty is true, could you explain the principle? This wondrous miracle where magic gains a will of its own.”
I replied indifferently to the Grand Archmage, who lavished praise on my magic.
“It’s Necromancy.”
“……”
“You said it acts as if it has a will—and indeed, it does. It’s magic that thinks and acts independently.”
Because.
“It’s made through the souls of the dead.”
The Grand Archmage’s and king’s faces visibly twisted. They had suspected, but hearing it from my lips stirred complex emotions.
Composing himself, the Grand Archmage feigned calm and asked.
“I understand you’re a rare Necromancer among Black Mages. But from what I know, Necromancers extract mana from souls, mix it with grudges, and wield it as magic.”
“……”
“I’ve never heard of souls gaining ego and becoming self-moving magic like this.”
Of course not.
No other Necromancer could commune directly with souls like I could.
“That’s why I’m special—and why the kingdom needs me.”
“Hm?”
King Orpheus, who had been listening with interest, glanced slyly at me.
“Your Majesty, I am a Necromancer. One of the few sages on the continent who knows the truth beyond death.”
“Ho?”
Realizing I was trying to persuade him, Orpheus smirked, leaning back against the bars with arms crossed.
“It pains the faithful, but there is no world after death. The dead simply close their eyes and find repose.”
No embracing arms of Goddess Yustia, no eternal feasts of luxury in God Bellas’s palace.
No becoming beloved angels praising Goddess Hertia.
For people, death brings only repose.
“Hm, you say what would make priests go mad so casually.”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“Yet there’s no need to know the truth. This world has those saved by religion and those who make a living from it.”
“I have no desire to debate them bitterly and claim victory.”
“……Wise.”
Spreading this truth would plunge not just the kingdom but the entire continent into chaos.
It would spark fierce opposition from the religious orders, who would never accept it.
I had no intention of forcing acknowledgment or spreading it.
Whether religion was truth or lie didn’t matter to me—what mattered was that it existed because it was needed.
“However, Your Majesty must not turn away.”
I locked eyes with King Orpheus, my gaze piercing like a spear, leaving him no escape.
“For countless ages, the continent has accumulated the dead. Saturation is coming. Places for the departed to rest are dwindling.”
“……”
“Haven’t bizarre unsolved cases been rising year by year? Aren’t you suppressing them?”
Struck by an unforeseen blow, Orpheus’s arms unfolded as he leaned forward sharply.
“Those are the deeds of the dead?”
“So far, yes. There were still places on the continent for them to rest.”
But no longer.
“Can you hear the continent’s screams? The voices of spirits wandering, unable to find a place even after death?”
“……”
“Flesh rots, bones turn to ash, returning to the earth’s embrace. But souls do not. They endure eternally without decay.”
They simply remain.
“You had no choice but to bury the unsolved cases. Unresolved horrors breed distrust in the crown.”
“Ahem.”
“But burying isn’t solving. In the end, it will all erupt, threatening the entire kingdom.”
Rejecting Black Mages meant rejecting their entire field of study.
The kingdom, scarred deeply by Heralhazard, had forcibly averted its eyes from Black Magic and demonized it.
But ignorance’s price was arriving.
“Soon, countless departed will drag down the glorious divine beast called Griffin. That is the cost of averting eyes from terror.”
“Even so.”
Orpheus interjected. I fell silent, listening attentively.
“Even so, we cannot shatter two hundred years of rejecting Black Mages, inherited from our ancestors. That’s our history. We’ve suppressed Black Magic for two centuries.”
A long history indeed.
Two hundred years ago, when Heralhazard the Black Mage was active. Nearly destroyed by one man.
“Now, citizens see Black Magic as inherently evil, absolute evil. The church uses it to solidify their position.”
“……”
“Accepting Black Magic now? Those with convictions will rise in rebellion everywhere.”
Right or wrong didn’t matter. To them, it was immutable truth.
“The wounds Heralhazard left still ache bitterly.”
The king’s answer: unacceptable.
To Orpheus, who frowned and said it was unavoidable, I spoke again.
“Your Majesty.”
“……Speak.”
“Bandaging a wound forever means you’ll never know if it scarred, festered, or healed cleanly.”
“……”
“Must the Griffin Kingdom groan over Black Magic’s wounds eternally? How much time must pass for those scars to fade?”
“Their deaths will be remembered forever!”
Orpheus ground his teeth, eyes bloodshot as he unleashed his fury at me.
“The countless citizens slain by that vile Black Mage will live eternally in my heart, in our land! Do not insult them lightly.”
Yes.
Remembering the dead is right.
Their deaths were tragic, mournful.
But.
“Your Majesty.”
The dead are the dead.
“Look at the living.”
The dead.
Are merely the dead.
“See your citizens outside, toiling in sweat, unwinding with a drink after a day’s fatigue, sleeping in hope of tomorrow.”
King Orpheus was not the king of two centuries past, ruling those slain by Heralhazard.
He must see those alive in the present reality.
“Remembering the past is good. Honoring the departed is noble. But do not mistake priorities.”
Words only a Necromancer like me could say.
“Deus Verdi, who grasped Necromancy’s truths, standing closest to the boundary of life and death, I declare unequivocally.”
Only I, who sees both dead and living, can draw the line clearly.
“The dead cannot stand above the living.”
King Orpheus, lips pressed tight, cast his eyes downward. Turmoil swirled in his mind.
“Your Majesty.”
A mana sword formed in my hand.
Rockpellican behind me startled, ready to react, but Orpheus gestured him down.
“Behold this sword.”
His gaze fixed on the blade’s blue mana tip.
“It threatens you now. A slight move, and it could harm Your Majesty’s sacred form.”
But I slowly placed the hilt in his hand. Compelled, he accepted my sword.
Now, the blade pointed at me.
“With a mere turn of direction, a change of holder, it becomes the closest weapon guarding Your Majesty’s body.”
Sword between us, I met his golden eyes again.
“Will you deem the sword evil after one deep cut and never wield it again?”
Most things in the world are too ambiguous for strict good-evil labels.
“With poison control poison. Use one evil to vanquish another.”
The countless wounds and grudges from Heralhazard.
“The unhealed wounds left by Black Magic—I will soothe and heal them.”
“You, what right have you?”
The king’s slow words carried heavy weight.
To his demand, I replied with a naturally forming gentle smile.
“We call a woman who borrows divine power to save people a Saintess.”
And I.
“I, who borrows the power of the dead, am merely a Necromancer.”