Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: The Necromancer's Offer
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“Ahem!”
“Huh….”
“That is….”
The meeting room was filled only with pointless grunts. Even nobles hardened by political infighting struggled to comprehend the current situation.
A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirled chaotically in their minds without settling.
First and foremost was their fury toward Imur. They had been told not to adopt a black-haired beast, yet despite receiving such massive benefits, he had been ready to stab them in the back at any moment. It infuriated them.
But Imur was long dead, buried beneath the sand. With no target for their anger, it festered within.
“We could eliminate these pests right now.”
What disconcerted them most, however, was something else entirely.
It was the fact that Damian had come to them with these documents and proposed a deal to discard them.
Imur had only known how to bully people, but the contents of the documents were meticulously detailed.
The various threats, violence, extortion, manipulations, and embezzlements committed by the council during its takeover of Byzantine.
Seeing it all laid out like this made the extent of their misdeeds hit home viscerally.
“A-Are you serious?”
Strengthening influence over the south had been the grand dream of emperors past. Armed conflicts had even erupted over it, only to revert to the status quo each time.
Now, a powerful card had fallen into the imperial family's hands. If the documents were woven together cleverly, they could even substantiate charges of rebellion.
If the imperial army's elites moved, the southern nobles would have no choice but to surrender.
And yet, Damian had proposed a deal. That was what they couldn't understand. As a member of the imperial family, this was a chance to rack up massive achievements.
Though his status as an illegitimate child made it nearly impossible for him to become the next emperor, it was more than enough to boost his presence within the imperial court.
Conversely, there was no reason to refuse Damian's deal. What he demanded was simple compared to the fallout if these documents went public.
Of course, they couldn't be certain he had brought every last piece of evidence, but their only option now was to take the deal.
As all the council members agreed, a green flame ignited at Damian's fingertips. The burning documents were reduced to ash in an instant.
Seeing the signature green hue of black magic up close, some nobles let out gasps of admiration. Others even fawned over Damian ingratiatingly.
After all, he was a member of the imperial family. Their first meeting had been awkward, but this could forge a useful connection.
‘How naive.’
Of course, Damian had no reason to form an alliance with them. They would only hinder his revenge, not help it.
“May I ask one question, Lord Damian?”
“Do as you please.”
“Why make this offer?”
“Because even if these went public, nothing would fundamentally change.”
If Damian reported these documents to the Imperial Assembly, the council would simply be replaced by imperial loyalists.
They might grovel before the throne for now, but given the south's geographic nature, it would inevitably drift from the center again.
Damian had no intention of defending the southern nobles' corruption, but crimes like these were commonplace among nobles, known or not.
The new rulers installed in the south would soon commit the same sins—or worse—to recoup their investments in climbing the ladder.
Before his regression, there had been a commoner-born reformist in the south.
A man who had long hated corrupt nobles, he never backed down from perilous battlefields and racked up achievements.
He even possessed some talent, eventually earning recognition from Michael.
But after rising to a high position, he changed.
He mimicked the very noble abuses he had despised and loathed, ultimately meeting execution for treason.
Whether power changes a person or merely reveals their true nature was unclear.
But forcibly replacing those in power would undoubtedly cause massive chaos.
Not every southern noble would comply meekly, and some would genuinely plot rebellion.
To the empire's ordinary citizens, who sat above them mattered little.
As long as their daily peace was preserved, they cared not what schemes the rulers hatched.
“Just handle the underworld mess yourselves.”
With that, Damian left the meeting room. The council members, reminiscing on the storm that had just passed, could finally breathe easy.
* * *
Zenon Schutgart. His life began twenty years ago at the empress's funeral.
There, he saw him. Though just a boy, he possessed the qualities of an emperor.
When Zenon kissed his hand, he was certain.
‘This is the one.’
The liege he must serve for life. The one who would soon claim the empire's highest seat.
From that day, Zenon resolved to become Michael's shadow. He began training in necromancy afterward.
He wanted to be Michael's strength. To be of use to him. He would use any means necessary.
Necromancy wasn't as taboo as black magic, but it hardly enjoyed a good reputation.
Its utility was undeniable, yet using others' corpses drew poor looks.
Thus, the Mage Tower had no dedicated department for it; it was passed down secretly only in magic families.
Even in the Schutgart family, few heirs pursued necromancy.
Its true potential shone in large-scale wars, which hadn't occurred in nearly a century.
There was no reason to brave public scorn for such magic.
—War will come. Inevitably.
At the funeral, Michael had told Zenon as much. And to grow strong. The Schutgarts' necromancy would be a great power, he said.
Zenon abandoned his position at the Mage Tower and returned to his family.
He trained the handed-down necromancy to its limits. It was the unique value only he could offer Michael.
As Michael predicted, strange undercurrents stirred in the empire after the new empress entered the palace.
The emperor secluded himself after his lover's death, while the empress openly flexed her power in the Imperial Assembly.
Michael and the empress's feud. Many optimistically believed it wouldn't escalate to bloodshed, but Zenon knew better.
Michael was preparing for war. Recruiting Imur from Byzantine's underworld was part of that.
Figures with growth potential who wouldn't challenge the emperor's authority. That was the profile Michael sought.
Such people were gathering empire-wide, soon to launch as the reformists.
Then Imur was suddenly assassinated. Michael was currently handling monsters beyond the northern mountains, with no time for reports.
Thus, Zenon came to Byzantine himself. He identified who played the decisive role in Imur's ousting.
The merchant Hilton family—and a collateral branch at that. Why they stirred this mess was unknown.
But since Zenon had come this far, he would produce commensurate results.
“You're here. Looks like you received my 'gift' well.”
Eric Hilton—Damian narrowed his eyes at Zenon.
He had shattered Saliba's soul fragment and called it a gift. His twisted personality hadn't changed since the past.
No need for chit-chat. Damian circulated mana, ready to unleash black magic at any moment.
“Take this.”
But Zenon tossed a small gem as if mocking him.
“Give that fragment to the traitor's heir you've been carrying. It'll awaken soon.”
Saliba's soul fragment. The main reason Damian had come here.
He handed it over without conditions, as if his victory was assured now that Damian was here.
Indeed, unlike Damian in full battle readiness, Zenon exuded leisure.
Leaning defenselessly against collapsed rubble, he showed no consideration of even the slightest chance of defeat.
“Relax. I didn't arrange this meeting to fight you.”
Zenon suddenly spread his arms wide, as if praying to the heavens.
“I'll grant you a chance unlike any in your wretched life.”
His expression was like a rich man tossing alms to a beggar. Damian grimaced, knowing what came next.
“My master. I'll give you the honor of serving him.”
Zenon spoke with ecstatic fervor. It wasn't mere exaggeration; he truly believed he was bestowing a grand favor.
Imur had been ousted by Eric Hilton. Plans in Byzantine and the south would suffer setbacks.
Simply retaliating against Eric Hilton was shortsighted. Since he had overwhelmed Imur, offering him a chance made sense.
His skills were proven, and his background ideal.
A money-grubbing merchant family, and a mere collateral branch at that— no matter his exploits, power wouldn't concentrate excessively.
“His name is….”
“1st Prince Michael von Edbalt.”
“Yes, soon to claim the title of Empire's Greatest Swordsman….”
Zenon's impassioned voice cut off abruptly.
A brief silence. His brows furrowed.
Nothing in their conversation thus far hinted that Michael was his master.
Which meant Eric Hilton already knew whose orders Zenon followed.
Thus, his clash with Imur wasn't coincidence but deliberate.
Was it the empress or another prince's backing? As Zenon pondered how to handle it, Damian acted first.
“Tell him to eat shit.”
With firm refusal, Damian launched a Stone Scales boulder.
He had invested ample time and mana while the fool prattled.
Maximum-power Stone Scales. The price pinned him in place, immense pressure crushing his body without moving a toe.
Haha. But instead of a scream, hollow laughter escaped Damian's lips.
It was honestly amusing. In his past life, Michael's offer came well after he began black magic.
Now, less than half a year had passed. And as Eric Hilton, after mere weeks of activity in the south.
He was growing incomparably faster than before, and experiencing it firsthand felt different.
“Insolent…!”
Zenon gritted his teeth and drew a vial from his bosom. He didn't know Eric Hilton's affiliation precisely, but that changed nothing—this offer couldn't be refused.
Even if he was the empress's man, one should seize the chance to follow 1st Prince Michael.
Yet he spat such filth. He seemed useful, but couldn't judge properly.
Ultimately, Michael would be the next emperor. That was immutable truth, Zenon believed.
Crash! The vial shattered, unleashing the massive lump of flesh slumbering inside.
A Corpse Wall undead—with limbs, but functionally useless. Modified solely for defense.
Crunch! The boulder tore into flesh. Blood and chunks sprayed, but it never reached Zenon.
As maximum-power Stone Scales, pulverizing the mass was easy, yet the Corpse Wall regenerated faster than it penetrated.
The tangled flesh ensnared the boulder, leading to a standoff of seconds.
It couldn't hold long at max power.
Ultimately, the boulder crumbled to dust, and the Corpse Wall returned to pristine form as if nothing happened.
Though the outcome was expected, rage still burned on Zenon's face. More infuriating was Eric Hilton's attitude.
But his necessity remained unchanged. Returning empty-handed would displease Michael.
He didn't doubt Michael's overwhelming aura, but war wasn't solved by one man's prowess alone.
The more useful limbs, the better.
“I'll give you one more chance. Choose your answer wisely.”
Of course, even if Damian groveled now, Zenon wouldn't accept at face value. He'd administer thorough re-education.
“Hm?”
But before a reply, the surroundings shifted. Sudden immense heat. Zenon's lips cracked, unable to endure it.
And simultaneously.
Whoosh! Green flames erupted skyward. The shockwave fully collapsed the ruins' ceiling, and even the Corpse Wall's regeneration faltered.
“Eat shit, you deaf bastard?”
Damian advanced toward Zenon, parting the encroaching green conflagration.