Chapter 40
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: The Lich's Demise
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"Move!! I said move!!"
"Sure, I'm at the 5th Circle, but do you think the necromantic mana I wield is just on the level of a typical 5th Circle necromancer?"
The vast necromantic mana I possessed had already reached the pinnacle of a Death Lord.
Even if my flesh was weakened, the mana itself had touched a singularity that some 6th or 7th Circle upstart lich could never comprehend.
If the Sword Hall and Fist Hall granted merits of extreme physical enhancement through massive quantities of aura...
...then the merit from the Hall of Necromancy was my dominance over necromantic mana.
"Your output might be too weak to seize it outright, but I can at least freeze it in place."
With those words, I took one fearless step after another toward him.
"This might sting a little."
"D-don't come any closer! I said stay back! Don't approach me!!"
He screamed in terror, spreading his necromantic mana like he was setting himself ablaze, but by then I was already right in his face.
There was a Death Knight I hadn't fully suppressed yet, but a single Death Knight couldn't stop me.
Crack!!!
I closed the distance in an instant and slashed open the lich's chest, pulling out the red orb hidden inside.
Even as a facsimile, a sword beam lived up to its reputation.
The red orb pulsed faintly in my hand.
It was the lich's core: the Life Force Vessel.
Overconfident liches tended to carry their Life Force Vessels inside their own bodies.
After all, they believed their flesh was safer than anywhere else in the world.
"Grrrk... Impossible... How could a monster like you exist among those pathetic, fallen necromancers...?"
Yeah, I could definitely see how modern necromancers had fallen off.
They had no clue about the fallout from neglecting security at a fundamental level.
But I had my own take on it.
"I've given it some thought. For necromancers, security is the foundation. So why push it aside for progress?"
"......"
"Then I saw your magic, and it clicked."
Magic evolves over time.
The problem was that the current direction of magical evolution had some serious flaws.
"You trimmed away anything deemed unnecessary to boost efficiency and firepower. Security was probably one of those things. Yeah, I'll give you that."
I shrugged as I laid out the brutal truth.
"Necromancy's roots lie in hacking, but it's not as simple as it sounds."
"You bastard...!"
"Right. Strip out the space for security and cram in something else, and sure, efficiency goes up. Then you turn around and trash your ancestors' magic as inefficient garbage."
All while oblivious to the massive hole they'd punched in their own evolved system.
"Over time, bad habits solidify, and the old truths get forgotten. They don't even recognize security as an issue anymore. By my standards, you're no different from those other necromancers over there."
To me, present-day necromancers and this centuries-old lich were fundamentally the same.
"Who... just who the hell are you?"
Terror finally dawned on the lich's face.
"Leon Cascadia. To you, I might be some blood-clot kid or an ancient monster older than you."
"L-Leon, s-sir... spare me."
The lich made a snap judgment.
"Spare me, and I'll pledge my eternal loyalty."
"Is that so?"
"I'll even swear a geas if you want! You won't regret it! I'm quite capable!"
I pondered as he desperately shouted his plea.
Everyone else caught in the lich's magical influence—including Muyoung and the other undead—had already been moved outside. So only the lich and I were affected.
We had a bit more time now.
"What can you offer?"
He'd lived a long time, so he had to have something rare. The kind of thing money couldn't easily buy.
At my question, the lich frantically pulled out his hidden treasures.
"This is the Madman's Skull Scepter! It boosts the efficiency of necromantic spells..."
"Pass. Next."
Did he finally accept that rejection meant death?
He hurriedly pulled out the next item.
"The Reaper of Death! Crafted by a magitech artisan centuries ago... made from human skulls..."
"Do I look like a cannibal psycho to you? Next."
As I coldly dismissed it, he grew increasingly frantic.
His condition was deteriorating under the spell's magic. And as a lich—not human—the spell itself was lethal poison to him.
"H-how about these, then?"
What he showed next was a corpse golem and Death Knight made from Goldsen Vidar's remains.
I eyed the Death Knight closely.
"That Death Knight seems like it's not living up to its potential."
"Well... it's in the process of becoming an independent named entity... Of course, given time, it'll grow stronger. Even more than a standard Death Knight! The original human was on the verge of Sword Master strength before death."
I stroked my chin at that.
A Sword Master-grade Death Knight.
To wraithify something that powerful and carry it comfortably, I'd need to break into 6th Circle—but that wasn't hard for me.
"Hand over ownership, then."
At my words, he quickly gestured, severing his link to the Death Knight.
He then handed me the magical core.
"H-here you go."
"Good."
I fully took over the connection authority for the Death Knight.
Sorry to the original soul, but there wasn't much I could do for the human it'd once been.
It wasn't like Parel, freshly dead and on the mend via artifact.
The Death Knight, now linked to me, stopped its resistance from moments ago and knelt before me.
"S-so... you'll spare me...?"
"Nothing else? Come on, not even a centuries-old lich has anything better?"
"I-I only just awoke from the seal... If you'll allow it, I'll start making things now. An undead legion for you, or an organization devoted solely to your service..."
He was scrambling for ideas, but honestly, it was pointless.
"Fine. Solve that, and I'll let you live."
I pointed to the corpse golem made from Goldsen Vidar's remains, and he tilted his head.
"Ah, you want to save that human? It'd take time, but..."
"No. I don't care if a scion of the Vidar Marquis family lives or dies. But revive the humans used as base materials for that thing."
His mouth snapped shut at my words.
The answer was obvious from the start.
He had no way to revive the countless humans who'd died horribly.
He could redeem souls, but not repair what was shattered.
And restoring Goldsen Vidar? Also impossible.
His "revival" was probably missing a lot. Not that I cared about his survival.
I'd pointed out the corpse golem not because I planned to spare him, but because I could see the remnants of souls hovering around it, weeping bloody tears.
Souls that hadn't fully perished, unable to enter the cycle of reincarnation, lingering in agony—it didn't sit right with me.
They must have been killed in some brutally cruel way.
Old folks, kids.
Little girls, boys.
Over thirty souls—living tombstones, every one.
The lich's eyes flickered as he fully grasped my meaning.
"D-damn you!! You never intended to let me live...!"
Slash!!!
Before he could finish, the Death Knight now under my command cleaved through his body.
"Did you really think I'd let you live, you son of a bitch?"
I looked down coldly at the neutralized lich and crushed the Life Force Vessel in my grip.
It couldn't withstand my strength, cracking before shattering completely.
The lich's black bones began to weather away, as if time frozen within them had resumed.
"This can't... I am the King of Death, Glevik...!"
The death of a lich who'd lived centuries was utterly anticlimactic.
Afterward, I reached out to the sprawled corpse golem on the ground and freed all the souls bound within.
Without a master, it was dangerously unstable—no defenses against interfering magic.
Unlike the Death Knight, 5th Circle interference was enough to nullify it effortlessly.
Those who'd lost all reason no longer begged for death; they simply dispersed into nothingness.
And among them was Goldsen Vidar's soul.
I glanced at the Death Knight staring blankly at me.
Traveling with a Death Knight would draw attention, and without wraithification, storing it in my shadow would be tricky.
I considered an artifact subspace, but those were owner-bound, and I was clueless about non-necromantic magic.
Different schools were like entirely separate subjects.
In the end, no choice but to keep it with me.
Still, I'd gained a subordinate with Sword Master-level potential.
"Muyoung, meet your junior."
I introduced the silently following Death Knight to my shadow wolf, Muyoung.
Muyoung was nearly a named entity like the Death Knight—stronger ego than expected.
And undead with strong egos tended to be blindly loyal to their master.
As the Death Knight stared dumbly at it, Muyoung slowly approached...
...and chomped right on its head.
"Hey."
Then, displeased, it even rolled a Death Roll on it.
Muyoung had always been like this. Was it really a wolf... or maybe a crocodile?
None of the necromancers behind the terrorist attack survived.
But wiping them out was a merit that wouldn't go unnoticed.
The cleanup was handled swiftly.
The royal family, who had initially kept it under wraps, immediately announced the necromancer purge publicly upon the news.
The greatest credit went to none other than Duke Berli.
I was the true hero, but I flatly refused any public recognition on that front.
What I wanted was rewards, not aggro for worthless glory.
More importantly, my choice stemmed from suspicions that the necromancers had backers lurking in the shadows.