Hey, Yoahim!

Yoahim heard Ethan's voice.

"Hey, Yoahim!"

Yoahim ignored Ethan waving at him and headed straight for the orc warriors' corpses. Even the orc warrior he'd resurrected had met its end again. He extended the hand holding the crystal toward the bodies.

Bwoooong!

The crystal vibrated, emitting a purple glow. In response, smoky wisps rose from the corpses. The smoke was sucked straight into the purple crystal. For a split second, something like a scream echoed faintly.

As expected. Yoahim nodded to himself. This crystal absorbed the souls of the dead. He didn't know the details, but once it had taken in enough souls, it would regain its original power. At first, when he'd acquired it, it couldn't absorb the kobolds' souls, but now it was pulling in the orcs'. It seemed like it required Haellagos's power to activate.

Well, it was something Haellagos had made, after all. What would happen once the crystal fully regained its strength? He'd surely gain some new power. For now, Yoahim stored it in his inventory. He'd tried absorbing the dead mercenaries' souls at first, but that hadn't worked.

"Y-You... you're a black mage, aren't you?"

Ronin and Ethan were pointing at him, eyes wide in shock. To them, Yoahim sucking in the orc warriors' souls looked just like black magic. And come to think of it, hadn't he resurrected an orc warrior as an undead?

Shit, I showed them too much.

Black mages were unwelcome everywhere. They were shady by nature, and their actions were always suspicious—no great injustice there. Of course, Yoahim wasn't a black mage; he was a Dark Knight, so it was a bit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠different. Still, he'd just saved their asses, and this reaction felt unfair.

Yoahim let out a small sigh before speaking.

"What happened today—"

He flicked his hand, conjuring a green flame. The unnatural color was enough to instill fear in Ronin and Ethan. He'd planned to settle this with words if possible. But they wouldn't listen to explanations, so he'd scare them into keeping quiet instead.

"—don't breathe a word of it to anyone. That's the price of me sparing your lives..."

"You filthy black mage scum! I knew something was off when you begged to join the caravan out of nowhere—you had this scheme all along! Die!"

Fuck, what the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hell?

Yoahim was caught off guard as Ronin and Ethan suddenly charged him. But his body reacted on instinct, even if his mind lagged. He hurled the flame at Ethan, knocking him down, then swung his sword to block Ronin's attack. In a blur of speed that surprised even him, he smacked Ronin's sword from his grip, sending it clattering to the ground, and pierced his throat.

It was an anticlimactic fight. Their levels were similar, but the gap in combat experience was vast. Yoahim finished Ronin in a few exchanges and turned to Ethan, who was writhing on the ground, flames licking at his body. With a sigh, Yoahim swung his sword at Ethan's neck.

A merciful death.

"...Self-defense. That's all this was."

Yoahim's voice was flat. He'd killed men, but he felt no remorse. This wasn't a world of laws and justice. Kill or be killed. He'd simply acted on that truth. It was bittersweet, realizing he was adapting to this dogshit world.

Better this way. Easier to hunt a black mage alone. And no annoying rumors.

Yoahim decided to think positively. Even if he'd threatened the mercenaries into silence, rumors would spread. If they reached Hassen Village about a sword-wielding black mage, it'd spell trouble for him. A glance at the carriage showed the merchant passed out from the orc fight. No need to kill an unconscious man.

Yoahim turned away.

"Rise!"

He resurrected the orc warrior as an undead once more. From now on, he'd hunt the black mage.

"Take me to your master's lair."

Undead retained residual thoughts. Some faded or intensified over time, but this freshly dead orc warrior's were intact from life. In other words, he could track the black mage through it.

"Uuuuugh..."

The orc let out a beastly groan and shuffled off. Yoahim followed slowly. Slowly was no exaggeration—the orc's leg injury made it plod along. Yoahim regretted not checking the corpse more carefully before reviving it.

"Hey, walk faster."

He poked its back with a stick, and the orc twisted its head back with a growl, as if protesting this was its top speed.

"At this rate, we'll get there by morning."

No matter how much he grumbled, the pace didn't change. If he were a full necromancer, he could've buffed the undead orc. Dark Knights could use Necromancy like necromancers, but the skill performance differed. Necromancers could max it at level 10; Dark Knights topped out at 5. Still, some items boosted skill levels. Yoahim made a mental note to find Necromancy gear later.

"Uuuuugh! Uuuuugh!"

After a long trek, the orc suddenly howled and pointed ahead. Yoahim looked—nothing but a cliff.

What the hell?

As he tilted his head, the orc shuddered and howled again. Something was off.

"What's wrong? Spit it out if you've got a problem. Quit yelling."

As if frustrated by Yoahim's words, the orc thumped its chest twice, then strode toward the cliff. Limp and all, it moved faster now. Before Yoahim could react, it slammed into the rock face.

Ziiiiiing!

That wasn't the sound of flesh hitting stone. Yoahim caught the cliff rippling briefly where it struck.

"Uuuuugh! Uuuuugh!"

The orc rose and pointed again. Yoahim finally got it.

"Smart bastard, huh?"

Sword in one hand, green flame in the other, Yoahim approached the cliff. It looked like solid rock, but it hid a cave entrance masked by magic. The orc, having worked with the black mage, remembered the spot perfectly. Saved him the wandering.

Yoahim flung the flame. It hit with a whoosh, burning briefly before vanishing. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cliff shook, cracks forming with sharp snaps. The magic tried to seal them, but Yoahim jammed his sword in and slashed downward.

Crang!

With a deafening crash, the illusion shattered. The orc nodded with a grunt, like it wanted praise. Yoahim ignored it and stepped inside.

No traps, it seemed. The black mage must've trusted his magic to hide the entrance alone. Pathetic, but lucky for Yoahim.

"You take point."

The orc nodded and led the way. Weaponless but bulky—perfect arrow fodder.

"Too quiet."

The cave was eerily still. Torches lined the walls, confirming the black mage lived here, but no signs of life. Maybe he hadn't noticed the entrance breach? Or dismissed Yoahim's threat as bluff? Didn't matter. Yoahim planned to kill him, grab EXP, and loot anyway.

"Keeek..."

Lighter footsteps than orcs, sharper cries. Rounding the corner, Yoahim smirked at the sight.

"Not all orcs, I see."

Goblins—about ten—guarding the passage. Yoahim wasn't worried. Level 10 trash mobs. With the orc warrior, no sweat.

"Perfect. More souls to harvest."

He drew his sword and charged. The orc followed; goblins screeched and rushed in. Each sword flash felled one. Yoahim had changed since his first hunt. He knew how to efficiently reap goblin lives. This world was real and a game. Mastering the tricks was quick; applying them in battle, easier.

Yoahim beheaded the last goblin amid the welcome chime.

The goblins' souls streamed from their bodies into Yoahim—or rather, the crystal in his inventory.

Souls must vary by monster.

Orcs gave +5 each. Goblins, just +1. Stronger souls yielded more, apparently.

"Makes sense. Otherwise, you'd just farm weaklings."

Yoahim shook blood from his blade and pressed on, orc in front. No more monsters appeared. The black mage must've used up his minions.

Bright light flickered around the next corner. Yoahim figured that's where he was. As the orc turned—

Thwack! Boom!

A massive explosion shredded the orc, embers charring the chunks.

Fuck, ambush.

Yoahim steadied his pounding heart and peered around.

"Arrogant fool. You think you can kill me? Come on, then! I'll show you the gap between us!"

A workshop in the cave depths. At its center, a raging black mage—Veros.

Yoahim faced him head-on. But his eyes weren't on Veros. They fixed on something only he could see.

Ding!

Yoahim sucked in a breath.

This is mouthwatering.