The Starving Chieftain
The zombies had grown to six.
“Krek!”
The Subterraneans greeted the undead with fierce hostility, and the results were overwhelming.
“Uuuuugh.”
Thanks to the adjustments, each individual’s abilities matched those of the Subterraneans. The stiff movements unique to corpses acted as a demerit, yet with the Heavenly Martial Body correction it posed no problem. On the contrary, they felt no stiffness even when damaged, so they held their own in pure contests of strength.
“Knowing how to use tools and even unfurling sword techniques, they cannot help but overwhelm, I say.”
There were times when more than ten Subterraneans swarmed them at once. Monsters capable of clinging to walls and ceilings for three-dimensional movement. Sometimes they leapt clean over the zombies.
“Putting their own heads into a tiger’s maw without realizing it.”
Though smaller in frame than the Subterraneans, Sir Isra received a 50% stat correction and was far hardier. With movements swifter than the zombies’, she severed a Subterranean’s torso clean through.
“Oh dear. My clothes might get ruined.”
“You’ve got the leisure to worry about clothes while fighting?”
“A knight must always maintain dignity. The flower of the battlefield is never sullied, no matter where.”
I was starting to find Sir Isra’s knightly lectures almost persuasive. Had every knight on the Erasia Continent been this fastidious? Tch. Whether it was a personal quirk or not no longer mattered. Sir Isra’s martial prowess was certain. I could overlook a little battlefield fussiness about cleanliness.
Cumulative experience has increased.
Level has increased.
Limit level reached. One bonus stat point has been granted.
Khh. What a waste, what a waste.
Once you hit the grade limit of level 50, growth slows dramatically. Experience requirements freeze at the level 50 amount, while the stats gained plummet. My own growth had stagnated for years precisely because I had failed to rank up.
Just wait two more days. I’ll rank up soon and make up for every lost stat!
“How long do you intend to hunt?”
“Until the bag is full.”
“You push yourself rather hard.”
Even with the zombies leading the charge, I was far from idle. After each fight I repaired damaged undead parts and harvested the mana stones embedded in the Subterraneans’ torsos, packing them into my bag. The bag grew steadily heavier. By the time we had slain over a hundred Subterraneans since entering the gate, my shoulders ached.
“Still, it’s fun, isn’t it?”
Ever since advancing into a necromancer subclass, I had never once fought like a proper necromancer. I had taught myself undead crafting, and every battle left me busy repairing zombies or skeletons while calculating whether I had broken even. Things were different now. Zombies made without extra catalysts overwhelmed the original Subterraneans one-on-one. That was the power of enhanced motor nerves and Imperial swordsmanship.
“Hup.”
The weight felt ready to tear my shoulders off. Time to head back. The light seeping from the bones was growing faint. Duration was roughly six hours; we had been inside the gate for about five.
“It’ll be trouble if our vision goes dark.”
“It matters not to me.”
“Some knightly virtue?”
“This body does not pierce the darkness.”
Huh. Really?
“It is an undead racial trait. It seems you truly did not know.”
“Whoa.”
Getting looked down on by my own familiar. Was this one of those master-servant reversal worlds?
That aside, the return path was the real problem. Since we hadn’t carefully marked our route while moving, I had to prepare myself to get a little lost.
“Worry not. I remember it all.”
“Oh. Sharp head on you.”
“Remembering the line of march is a knight’s accomplishment.”
The knights of your world are remarkably capable.
Guided by Sir Isra, we were making our way back when—
Clang!
From the opposite passage rang the clear, pure note of metal striking metal.
“Someone is being pursued.”
“You can tell that from the sound alone?”
“It is a knight’s accomplishment.”
I was growing more and more curious about what exactly a knight from another world was supposed to be.
Urgent footsteps drew steadily closer. We waited around a single corner with the zombies out front.
“Hah, hah. Hurry and ru— Undead?!”
“What the hell!”
By pure coincidence, the hunters who rounded the corner were familiar faces. A man and a woman with Hwarang badges on their chests. What were you two doing here?
“Hah, hek, kuh.”
The Hwarang guild member who looked like a mage could barely catch her breath. I asked the relatively intact big guy instead.
“Being chased by the boss?”
“You bastard— you, no, you. You’re a necromancer?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question.”
“It was a variant. The boss.”
“Drop the awkward honorifics too.”
Every word out of his mouth was an eyesore. The situation was clear enough. Two Hwarang rookies and three last-hitters had gone after the boss, found they couldn’t handle it, and were now retreating. Normally a boss monster never strays far from its territory. The fact that it had come this far meant these Hwarang idiots had properly pulled aggro.
“There’s a limit to how much trouble you should cause others.”
A boss monster is stronger than a monster one full rank higher. In an E-rank gate, that meant D+ combat power at minimum. A variant added extra on top. These fools had shoved a monster they themselves couldn’t handle onto someone else.
“I’ll be collecting payment for this.”
The big man’s face was beet red; he could only regulate his breathing and give no reply.
“KREEEEEEEK!!!”
A roar several times louder than any ordinary Subterranean’s shook the cave.
“Well then. At last it is Sir Isra’s turn to take the field.”
“Did you not say you would handle the hunting yourself, my lord?”
“Boss monsters are the exception.”
“To think my lord would be so frivolous as to say one thing and mean another.”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the boss monster?”
Blue light flashed in Sir Isra’s eyes.
“Insulting chivalry is something I cannot tolerate.”
“Ah. Right.”
“You! Do you have time to act leisurely in front of a variant boss?”
Look at that—causing trouble and already getting his neck stiff again. I was about to snap something back when Sir Isra closed the distance right up to the big man’s nose.
“Weakling. Do not wag your tongue lightly.”
“A-a mere summon—”
“A knight shows mercy to the weak only once.”
Faced with Sir Isra’s presence, the big man collapsed onto the spot.
“Sir. Don’t waste your strength on the wrong target.”
Our real opponent is over there. A red Subterranean poked its face around the corner. The Starving Subterranean Chieftain entered the range of the luminous grass.
“Ugh.”
Twice the size of a normal Subterranean. Even crawling on all fours, its bulk was oppressive. The variant point was clearly the “Starving” part.
Thud! Thud-thud!
Footfalls echoed from all over the cave—the sound of the Starving Subterranean Chieftain leaping. Its movements were springy, like a bouncing ball, and it raced at high speed across walls and ceiling alike.
“J-just tracking it with my eyes was all I could manage.”
The big man stammered. They had been beaten one-sidedly and barely escaped.
“It’s that fast?”
“One of us fell.”
“So you fed a comrade to it and ran. Got it.”
You people are even bigger trash than I thought. The big man tried to protest but only worked his lips soundlessly.
A variant that had one-sidedly crushed a last-hit party that included two Hwarang rookies. Fine. To my “eyes,” the variant’s movements were crystal clear. Probably the Heavenly Martial Body’s influence. That meant Sir Isra would be able to react as well.
“Krek!”
After kicking off the walls dozens of times, the variant boss leapt straight at us. The red blood coating its forty-centimeter claws was vividly clear. Fascinating. The instant it leapt, everything slowed as if I were reading a slow-motion video. It wasn’t my first time, so the surprise was milder, yet the sensation remained wondrous.
“Such vulgar movements defile my eyes.”
Clang!
Sparks flew in midair—the friction heat from claw meeting bone blade. Sir Isra’s arm bent the wrong way under force she could not fully receive. The variant’s center of gravity shifted and it tumbled across the floor with a crash, landing right where the zombies had formed ranks.
“Stomp it!”
The order left my mouth without passing through my brain. The moment the command fell, the zombies flailed their bone blades wildly. Disciplined sword strokes carved the variant’s body to shreds.
“KREEEEEEEK!”
Its thrashing arms. Zombies caught in the trajectory of those claws were torn apart. Even stiffened by rigor mortis, they could not withstand a variant boss’s power.
“Uuuuugh.”
Even with upper and lower body separated, a zombie groaned and clung to the variant boss. Body breaking or not, it swung its sword as ordered; when hands failed, it bit.
“You grasped my intent at once.”
“I express-delivered the zombies right to it. Only an idiot wouldn’t get it.”
Sir Isra stared straight at me.
“Something on my face?”
“It seems you possess at least the minimum qualifications.”
“What’s with the qualifications talk?”
“I meant your judgment is excellent.”
With that single remark, Sir Isra leapt high. Ah. Now I could see it a little—the flow of mana running from thigh down to the sole of the foot, released all at once like an explosion to propel her upward. So this was the mana utilization method Sir Isra had spoken of.
A bone blade aimed at the crown of the head. The variant Subterranean swung its long arm.
Clang-clang!
Bone blade and claw collided once more; part of the blade chipped away.
“Hmph. It is not a proper weapon, so it cannot be helped.”
The weapons I had given the zombies were already barely recognizable as blades. The fact that she had met the variant’s attack head-on without being pushed back was impressive enough.
“Can you match my timing?”
“Might as well try.”
With Sir Isra at the lead, the zombie pack pressed the variant Subterranean Chieftain even harder.
“KREEEEEEEK!”
The thrashing variant boss suddenly straightened its body. Blood poured freely and its claws were shattered, yet the hunger and murder in its eyes only grew denser.
“We must bind its feet.”
One Subterranean zombie spread both arms wide and charged—an embrace as violent as a celebrity stalker’s. The variant Subterranean, just about to leap, froze awkwardly and swung its arms.
Subterranean zombie has been destroyed.
The zombie lost all strength and collapsed from a single blow. When the variant Subterranean shoved the piled corpse away in anger—
“Excellent.”
Sir Isra’s thrusting bone blade did not miss the fleeting opening and carved a wound into the variant’s shoulder.
“Gah!”
What made the variant dangerous was its unique mobility. Bouncing off ceiling and walls made it hard to land hits while exposing every gap on our side. The first attack had sealed that movement. We could not give it another chance to run wild.
Subterranean zombie has been destroyed.
Subterranean zombie has been destroyed.
With every zombie that fell, a fatal wound was carved into the variant Subterranean as well.
“We’ll help—”
“Don’t even think about sticking your spoon into a meal someone else prepared.”
I didn’t even glance at the Hwarang rookies. If you join in, the picture just gets weirder. Spoon or not, the decisive point was that the Hwarang rookies simply lacked the sense to face a variant Subterranean.
“Just because I’m a necromancer doesn’t mean I have a hobby of cleaning up corpses.”
I refocused on the fight. The variant Subterranean’s ribs were now exposed, and green blood oozed steadily from the gashes on its arms and legs.
“KREEEEEEEK!”
“Sir Isra. Let’s finish this.”
I could see it gathering strength for a final thrash. Waiting for a transformation or ultimate technique is the virtue of a proper villain. I’m a good person, so let’s end it before that. I sent the two remaining intact zombies charging in to pin the variant that was preparing its last strike.
“A fine judgment.”
Slash!
The bone blade swept across the throat. The variant Subterranean gasped a few times, then simply crumpled where it stood.