The Path of the Holy Necromancer
When I opened my eyes again, a familiar ceiling greeted me.
“Home—!”
You're noisy, you brat.
I knew I was making a fuss. But I couldn't help it. Right up until the moment I closed my eyes, a thread of anxiety had still been tugging at me.
Who could say for sure?
Maybe there's one more demon out there?
Perhaps the necromancer who had summoned them would show up late and start a whole new mess. But the fact that I had made it home in one piece suggested otherwise.
“What happened?”
The Ancestor was fundamentally bound to the shield, yet if he put his mind to it he could move freely within a certain radius. On paper that made him perfect for scouting.
Surprisingly, though, blocking spirit movement like that isn't hard, so it's not as useful as you'd think.
Our territory was the exception. We hadn't even managed basic defenses of that sort. Thanks to that shortcoming, the Ancestor knew everything that had happened while I was out cold.
I'll start with the survivors of House Merlin. Total of two—the pair we saw are all that's left.
“Then those two…”
Fortunately, they're fine.
“Phew.”
We had stopped the war. But wait.
“What about the other soldiers? Milo and Herben…”
They're safe too.
Apparently the demon had been in such a rush that it simply punched straight through them and headed deeper into the cave.
It was probably planning to swallow the core and recover its strength.
“Does that even work?”
Only for certain individuals.
Hmm. So it really had been that strong. Looking back, it would have been stranger if something with that kind of power had turned out to be small fry.
And the territory mage Ren identified the demons.
Oh, know-it-all Ren.
“What were they?”
The first liquid monster was a Doppelganger. The main body is similar to a slime, but it can steal the form of any target whose wavelength matches its own.
“Huh.”
So it really had been a Doppelganger.
According to Ren, it's a race that crosses into the intermediate world fairly often.
“And the one with the sword?”
Shadow Clan.
“Not a swordsman?”
Well, the creature was decent with a blade, but that was only a secondary tool. Its true power comes from the shadows, he said.
“Huh.”
A chill ran through me. Even its swordsmanship alone had been that terrifying—and that was just the backup option? If it had fully recovered its strength, what then? A full-blown catastrophe, right?
Still, a question lingered.
“But the way I figure it, something on the level of a Shadow Clan should have easily killed the Doppelganger before we even arrived and swallowed its core. Why didn't it?”
Maybe they simply hadn't known the other was there?
…Or so I thought. Wrong again.
Ren's investigation turned up a summoning circle. Naturally, one for calling demons.
Utterly vile!
But the true vileness lay in the intention woven into that circle.
A restriction is placed on every summoned entity…?
What kind of restriction? Non-aggression.
A binding that prevents any being that passed through the same circle from harming another.
The realization sent another wave of goosebumps across my skin. Why? Because it meant someone had been deliberately flooding our territory with demons, trying to turn the place into a demon den.
“Who the hell would do something like that…”
A bastard who deserved the wrath of heaven and earth. What possible grudge could he hold against our land? I wanted to leap out of bed, hunt the necromancer down, and thrash him within an inch of his life—but that was impossible.
Because—
Just as you guessed, that laboratory belonged to your former master candidate.
“Ah.”
Of course it did. There weren't many people twisted enough to pull a stunt like this.
Which left one problem.
“So… the guy's dead. Why did the circles still activate? The fog circle and the summoning circle both.”
Had Ren and Vilheim botched the cleanup?
…No.
Someone entered the ownerless laboratory and finished the circles. Whether that person shared the dead necromancer's ideals is unclear, but one thing is certain.
What was certain?
That person wants chaos in the world.
Seven times.
That was the number of demon sightings in the surrounding territories.
Seven times.
Depending on the context the number could feel large or small, but when it followed the words “demon appearances,” it became uncomfortably large. After all—
In this whole region, for nearly a hundred years, even the first syllable of the word “demon” hadn't been uttered?
One small mercy, I supposed: the damage hadn't been too severe.
Our territory wiped them out before they could really get started, and the ones that showed up elsewhere weren't particularly powerful specimens.
Of course, there was no way to be sure. Some stronger individual might still be hiding, undiscovered.
Fucking terrifying.
Goosebumps crawled up my spine. The thought that another monster like that one might still be out there…
But something even worse followed.
If my guess is right, there was an accomplice who informed the Shadow Clan of the Doppelganger's death.
“What? Why would anyone do that…?”
Well… perhaps they thought it would be an easy way to restore the Shadow Clan's power. Of course, the fact that they never showed up even after the fighting ended is strange.
“Hmm.”
So we really had come within a hair of dying.
And the situation still wasn't good.
“Doesn't that put us in danger?”
Why?
“Because we're holding the cores right now—the Doppelganger's and the Shadow Clan's. You did grab them, right…?”
I grabbed them, you brat.
Phew. Relief washed through me at the news that the loot had been secured, yet the worry refused to leave. The danger I was thinking of came from the cores themselves.
Demons can't kill each other because of the restriction, but it looks like they can still absorb the cores of ones that are already dead.
Which meant any demon hungry to recover its strength could come knocking at any time!
So what then?
I don't want to just throw them away.
Wasn't there a quick way to get rid of them?
“Hmm…”
While I was turning the problem over, the Ancestor answered.
Purification seems to work.
“Purification?”
Once purified, they become magic materials more useful than mana stones.
Mana stones burned out after a single use, like coal. Purified cores, on the other hand, could store mana like rechargeable batteries and be used again and again.
My eyes lit up.
They're basically auxiliary batteries!
The Doppelganger's core didn't sound especially promising, but the Shadow Clan's… that one looked worth getting excited about.
Then a sudden unease brushed past me.
“Do I have to ask the church for that…?”
Hmm. As expected of my descendant. Sharp.
“And to get them purified I have to make a donation too?”
Right again.
“Obviously not just a couple of coins, right?”
Perhaps because you take after me—truly genius-level deduction.
“Damn it. Shit.”
Shit?
“I was talking about those temple bastards.”
People who claimed to serve the gods, yet they were always so greedy for money. It wasn't just the time they forced that oath out of Viscount Hadion. During the whole mana-stone mine development business I had kept getting tangled up with the temple, and every single time those bastards had used “donations” as an excuse to bleed us dry. Armed robbers with swords, basically.
No—armed robbers with swords I can at least track down and smash over the head.
Robbers armored in faith were untouchable. The moment you laid a hand on them, the fanatics would come screaming about martyrdom with their eyes rolled back in their heads.
So what now?
“Guess I'll just keep them stored for now…”
Ah, no need to worry about that part.
“Huh? Why?”
Hmm. Perfect timing.
The Ancestor looked toward the door. Exactly as he said, a presence soon approached from that direction.
Who was it? My personal attendant, John?
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
At the sound of my voice John burst in, startled.
“Young Master! You've woken up!”
“Ah, yeah.”
He had knocked even though he knew I was unconscious. Truly, the ever-polite John.
But behind him stood an unfamiliar face.
“Um… the person behind you?”
“Ah, my apologies. This gentleman is—”
Before John could finish, the man stepped forward.
“A pleasure to meet you, Young Master Khtun. I am James Miller, a priest of the Twelve Hour Church.”
The Twelve Hour Church…?
Don't know it? Well, it isn't a widely spread faith, so that's understandable. They worship the Goddess of Rivers and Flowers.
Even with the explanation I still didn't really know what that meant—neither the church nor the goddess. Putting the awkwardness aside, I returned the greeting.
“Ah, yes… a pleasure. I am Khtun Falaon. But what brings a priest here…?”
“Ah, it seems you aren't familiar with our order. We have no fixed residence; we wander the world to destroy its evils. This time we came because demons had appeared in the area.”
For reference, every priest of the Twelve Hour Church is an outstanding demon hunter in their own right.
“Oh—so you're remarkable people.”
Wandering without a home, hunting demons for the sake of the world! I still had no idea what sort of goddess the Goddess of Rivers and Flowers was, but she clearly had excellent taste in followers.
And through the conversation that followed, I also learned why this particular demon hunter had come looking for me.
He came to check on my condition?
And free of charge, no less.
Were there really such good people left in the world?
“I'm truly grateful. To be so kind-hearted…”
“Haha, not at all. You woke up before I could even do anything—your praise is far too generous.”
“This must all be thanks to the Goddess's protection. Thank you.”
I meant every word. But my gratitude was only beginning.
“Haha, now that you've woken, I can finally ask. This was actually my main purpose.”
“Yes, please—anything.”
In that moment I decided: if the priest asked me to lend a hand with demon hunting, I was ready to travel with him for a full month.
But this kind and gentle priest remained kind and gentle to the very end.
“I heard you obtained the cores of the Doppelganger and the Shadow Clan. Cores, however, can bring great disaster if mishandled. So… would you allow me to purify them for you?”
“Huh. Is there any price I need to pay?”
“Nothing at all.”
He would purify the cores. For free!
I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking. Then I asked,
“Priest… are you by any chance an angel who has descended from heaven?”
“Haha, do I look like one?”
“Yes.”
“Haha, no. A sinner like me? But if I truly appear that way, it must be because of the good heart you yourself possess. Thank you. Thanks to you, this sinner has become an angel.”
Ah, Ancestor. From this day forward I shall join the Twelve Hour Church.
“Then, while we're at it, shall we go?”
“Huh—will you be all right? I was told you've been lying down for quite some time.”
“Priest, I cannot tolerate the existence of unclean remnants called cores in this world. Even now my anger is rising to the top of my head.”
Please stop the nonsense.
Nonsense? From today onward I am a Holy Necromancer. I will walk the path of the righteous.
“Haha, if that's the case, please remain here. I'll go fetch the cores.”
“Aigoo, no need for all that trouble.”
Brother James settled me back onto the bed with a warm smile and left. Some time later he returned.
“I've brought them. Then I'll begin the purification at once.”
“Ah—!”
The two unclean jewels, the moment Brother's hands touched them, crumbled into glittering dust and released a pure, radiant light.
And that was not all.
“Cores can hold not only mana but holy power as well. I was thinking of filling these with my own holy power—would that be acceptable?”
“Please do!”
“Then I'll start with the smaller one. The larger will take a few days.”
James infused the small core—the Doppelganger's—with holy power and held it out to me.
The instant it touched my palm—
Huh—?
A flash of inspiration struck me. The same kind of sudden insight that had come when I first conceived of Golgol, Bone Armor, Tiktak, and Bone Chain.
…Was the path of the Holy Necromancer truly opening before me?