The Birth of Dark Holy Golgol
After Khtun ordered them to stay put, Golgol and Tiktak wandered the inner keep at a leisurely pace until they settled into a secluded corner.
The two squatted down and heaved a long, heavy sigh.
How to put it…
Lately, things had started to feel dangerous. Their presence was fading, somehow.
This sense of crisis was nothing new. If one had to pin down the exact moment it began… yes.
It had been ever since they faced the demon known as the Mouth of Targis.
Honestly, everything had been fine before that. Just as their master had said, they had fully expected to become Holy Golgol and Holy Tiktak and rule the world.
But what happened instead?
They had thought holy power would solve everything—until a demon of a caliber where holy power meant nothing appeared.
And that was not even the worst of it.
The real thorn in their sides was the existence of the former demon hunter, Myuhan.
Golgol.
Tiktak-tiktak!
Unlike the two of them, who could only make sounds like that, here was an undead who could actually speak proper words. He was even more experienced than their master, and braver to boot.
And them?
Tiktak.
They could not speak. They had no experience.
Golgol.
Were they noticeably stronger than Myuhan? Not really.
Still, that much had been tolerable. After all, the fact that they were their master’s first and second undead never changed, and Myuhan, who had joined last, was nothing more than a late garnish.
In other words: We’re closer! The real problem, surprisingly, was not Myuhan.
Then what was?
Zeke and Milo. Especially Milo’s existence grated on Golgol’s nerves.
And for good reason—even Golgol now understood just how important Aura was.
Remembering the theory Ancestor Ark had once spoken of—“one Milo equals one Golgol”—being outdone by Milo was a tragedy worse than death.
And now that same Milo had officially become a knight.
A knight!
Meaning that, unlike before when he had been a mere soldier (of sorts), he had become a loyal retainer who stood at their master’s side and protected him.
At that point, Golgol had no choice but to face reality.
Stronger than Milo? No.
Better at speaking than Milo? No.
Smarter than Milo? Yes.
In the end, aside from intelligence, Golgol was nothing more than a mere undead who could not surpass Milo. And even in intelligence, being only slightly better than Milo was hardly an advantage when one could never match their wise and brilliant master.
Was that excessive self-deprecation?
No.
The proof was right there: the number of times they had been summoned lately had dropped sharply.
Before the item called the Vessel existed, they had at least been brought along as pack mules. Now that most luggage fit inside the Vessel, they could not even serve as porters.
And so Golgol had fallen into a severe identity crisis.
What can I even do?
What? The exploits in the cave?
The Necromantic Essence had long since run dry. All that remained were pale, fragile bones.
Holy Aura?
Tsz, tszzzz—
Golgol gripped the greatsword it always carried like an extension of itself and tried to pour holy power into it. What had worked so easily before now refused to respond at all.
Golgol…
Finally accepting that it was just an ordinary skeleton inferior even to Milo, Golgol grew despondent.
Tiktak patted Golgol’s drooping shoulders.
Tiktak, tiktak.
Gol…
Honestly, Tiktak could not have cared less about Golgol’s worries. It was simply upset that their master had not been summoning them much lately.
How long did the two undead spend comforting each other like that?
Then a welcome voice rang out.
“Golgol! Tiktak!”
It was their master.
Tiktak!
Tiktak reacted first. After sulking this much, surely their master would have noticed by now.
Golgol, however, unlike Tiktak, dragged its feet forward with lifeless movements.
Tiktak?
Tiktak asked where it was going, but Golgol did not answer. It simply trudged away with slumped shoulders.
“Tiktak? Where’s Golgol…?”
Tiriktak…
Tiktak answered while staring in the direction Golgol had vanished. Ancestor Ark interpreted the sounds for Khtun.
[He says it seems Golgol has left.]
‘What? Left? To leave you’d have to go the other way. Should I go after him and at least show him the path?’
[You really are…]
Ark let out a sigh.
Showing him the way out… that had been a joke, of course.
Even I would never actually push Golgol to leave. No matter what anyone said, Golgol was my first undead and the first in history to receive the title of Holy… even if I was the one who gave it.
Anyway, after listening to Brother Myuhan, I finally understood why Golgol and Tiktak had been sulking.
But how was I supposed to soothe their feelings?
Any other necromancer would have barked, “Silence! How dare mere undead—!” but as a modern-born necromancer with a rich emotional life, I decided to resolve it through conversation.
Empathy first, of course.
“I see. So our Golgol and Tiktak felt really left out. You’ve been hurt because it seemed like I wasn’t paying attention to you lately.”
Tiktak…?
[He’s asking if you’re being sarcastic.]
Then what was I supposed to do?
Whether Tiktak understood my consideration or not, it looked ready to cry. Being a skeleton, it had no expression, yet somehow that was the impression it gave.
In the end, Tiktak only softened after I offered a long, heartfelt apology.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t take better care of you. From now on I’ll summon you more often and let you get some fresh air outside.”
Tiktak!
Tiktak nodded happily.
“Great. Then today, go out and play.”
Tiktak?
[He’s asking if he doesn’t have to train.]
Hmm, training.
It was true that when Tiktak trained, my necromancy experience points increased. But today I had clearly realized something.
Golgol and Tiktak were not machines. They were beings with personalities.
Which meant proper leisure time had to be guaranteed as well.
Tiktak, tiktak!
[He’s asking if he can go down to the village.]
“To the village?”
Well, there was no real reason to forbid it.
Everyone in the territory already knew I was a necromancer. They might be a little surprised, but would it really be a problem?
So I gave permission.
“Sure, go play. Just be back before sunset.”
Tiktak!
This would also be a good chance to check how far the summoning range actually reached. Inside the keep the connection held no matter where they went, but I had never sent them this far before.
Anyway.
Tiktak’s taken care of.
Now only Golgol remained.
“Looks like he’s seriously sulking, doesn’t it?”
[Hmm. Calling it mere sulking might be a bit of a stretch.]
“Then what is it?”
At my question, the Ancestor pondered a moment before answering.
[From what I can see, Golgol has the heart of a knight. Completely different from that little sorcerer Tiktak.]
What was this oddly divisive remark?
Sorcerer? Was he comparing a necromancer to those sly magicians?
I bristled for a second, but what mattered right now was not the definition of “sorcerer”—it was Golgol’s identity.
“What’s wrong with having a knight’s heart?”
[What is a knight? A loyal sword that always devotes itself to its lord. In other words, like a sword, it must constantly prove its usefulness.]
What was he talking about?
“Sword” was only a metaphor, wasn’t it? Prove its usefulness?
When I made a face that clearly said I did not understand, the Ancestor let out a deep sigh.
[Forget it. What conversation am I even trying to have with a sorcerer.]
“Hmm.”
Honestly, it did not quite click. But the more I thought about it, the more the Ancestor’s words seemed right.
His condition looked a bit too serious to call it simple sulking, didn’t it?
That dejected back as he trudged away had looked exactly like the Ancestor’s.
Come to think of it, Golgol’s recent performances had indeed grown sparse.
“To be honest, aside from when he lends you his body, his presence hasn’t been all that strong.”
[Exactly. How upset must he have been.]
So what now?
I thought for a moment, then made up my mind.
I was planning to do it together a little later… but I might as well do Golgol first.
Do what?
Inject the Necromantic Essence!
Yes. With that, Golgol could properly play the role of a knight, right?
The time had finally come to upgrade Golgol.
“Golgol—!”
I wandered the keep calling for him. Golgol was holed up in a corner of the training grounds, looking exactly like a runaway cat that had jammed its head into a stairwell nook.
Yet its gaze was fixed strangely in one direction. When I followed that line of sight, my eyes met someone else’s.
“Young Master, you’ve come out.”
“Ah, Sir Milo.”
“Yes. Your loyal knight, Milo.”
“Looks like you were training.”
“Indeed. One cannot afford to neglect training even for a moment. Lately training has felt especially enjoyable. But what brings you here, Young Master… have you come to train as well?”
“No, I was looking for Golgol.”
“Ah, Golgol. He’s right over there. But… did something happen?”
“Why do you ask?”
“He just looks rather gloomy. And somehow it feels like he’s glaring at me.”
“Hmm, who knows.”
Something had definitely happened, but I had no idea why he would be glaring at Milo.
“I’ll take Golgol with me, then. Keep up the good work.”
“Yes! Loyalty!”
Milo saluted so loudly the training grounds seemed ready to collapse. Leaving him behind, I approached Golgol.
Was it just my imagination?
Golgol’s eye sockets seemed to be blazing.
What on earth…
I tilted my head and called out.
“Golgol.”
Gol…
“I’ve been too neglectful of you lately, haven’t I? I’m sorry. You must have felt really left out. I sincerely regret it.”
Gol…?
[He’s asking if you’re being sarcastic.]
So this approach was not it either.
I sighed and helped Golgol to its feet.
“Come on, Golgol. Time for an upgrade.”
Gol…?
Golgol tilted its head at me. I pulled a bone fragment filled with Necromantic Essence from my robes and showed it.
“It’s time for you to become Dark Golgol.”
Gol…!
Only then did it seem to understand my meaning. Golgol’s eye lights flashed.
Golgol!
[He says to hurry up and go.]
I watched Golgol already striding out of the training grounds and tilted my head.
Is this really it?
Truly, some things you just never fully understand.
Back in the workshop, I took out a box. Inside were bones brimming with Necromantic Essence.
“Golgol, stand here.”
Golgol!
I placed my hand over the pile of bones where Golgol stood.
I might have seemed completely absorbed in industrialization lately, but I had not forgotten necromancy either.
I knew this much:
Taking is easier and faster than making.
In this barbaric world, power was necessary.
Ah—of course I meant power to protect, not to take.
Anyway, after days of diligent practice, extracting Necromantic Essence was no longer particularly difficult.
Before, I was trying to force it out, so it was hard.
You could not just yank. It was more like opening a plastic bottle cap. If you relied on brute strength alone, even a world-class strongman could not open it; once you knew the trick, it was easy.
I skillfully drew out the Necromantic Essence and brought it to Golgol.
After that, it was simple.
Tsz, tszzzzzzz—!
The Necromantic Essence seeped into Golgol. Golgol’s eye lights sparkled as it accepted the power.
How much time passed?
Golgol…
Golgol gazed in wonder at its body, now completely blackened.
But it could not end here.
“Golgol. This is your sword.”
Golgol?!
What I held out was a greatsword thoroughly infused with Necromantic Essence.
I used up the remaining essence on this, so upgrades for Tiktak and Brother Myuhan will take a little longer… but when you do something, you should do it properly.
Golgol stared at the greatsword, then at me. Then it seized the blade.
Golgoooooooooool—!
A thunderous roar that shook the entire workshop!
Thus was Dark Holy Golgol born.