Chapter 3

This Damned Household

"Pwah—!"

Early morning.

The day of Klein Leinrant, second son of House Leinrant, began with a refreshing session of water torture.

"You fucking lunatic priest bastard—!"
"Oho, now you can stay underwater for an entire minute!"
"Young Master's just like a fish~!"

As I shook holy water from my drenched silver hair, Arin and Father Garrison clapped while looking at me.

"Why the hell has the time doubled again today?"
"Hahaha, I sensed an ominous aura coming from your room, Young Master. So I may have overreacted a little."
"You sensed an ominous aura, so you decided to torture someone sitting quietly?! What the hell is wrong with you…!"

Knock knock.

Just as Father Garrison and I were in the middle of our exorcism-like chaos, a knock sounded at the door.

At my shout to enter, a neatly dressed maid stepped inside and bowed politely.

'Judging by her face and uniform… she's not from our household.'

Sure enough, the seal stamped on the letter she presented belonged to Count Cornwell's family—one of my maternal relatives.

Dalton's family.

The same Dalton who had sparred with Delline yesterday.

"Young Master Dalton has sent an invitation."
"Dalton?"
"Yes. He said he wishes to apologize for what happened at the training grounds."

With that, the maid handed the letter to Arin.

Once she quietly exited the room, Arin hurried over and gave the letter to me.

"What does it say?"
"I can't read it!"
"You've been studying letters."
"It's boring!"
"Yeah. What a thing to brag about."

Come to think of it, I was the one who read letters from her hometown for her too.

Thinking that, I opened the invitation and read through it.

"…What is this?"

By the time I finished reading, my expression had twisted strangely.

"What's written there?"

Arin asked with a cookie stuffed in her mouth.

I explained it to her.

"A hunting competition?"
"Yeah. Hosted by the Count's family. Apparently they want me to come too."

I answered Arin while she continued talking around the cookie.

That immature idiot apologizing now?

"There's another motive behind it, isn't there?"
"Obviously. This letter clearly came from the Count himself, not Dalton."

I said that while scanning the list of nobles attending the hunting competition.

"What do you intend to do?"

Dunkel asked.

I waved the invitation around as I answered.

"If I go, there'll be trouble. If I don't go, there'll be even more trouble. So it's better to go."
"Will you be alright?"
"I'll be fine."

As I said that, my eyes drifted toward the wooden sword standing in the corner of the room.

"It's not like I have nothing to rely on anymore."

At my words, Dunkel thought for a moment before nodding.

"Understood. I'll prepare the carriage."

The moment the word carriage came up, Arin immediately shot her hand into the air.

"A carriage! Me too! Can I come too?"

Dunkel scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Miss Arin, wild animals may appear, and more importantly, the other nobles…"

Before he could continue, Garrison interrupted.

"In that case, what if I accompany them as well?"

Dunkel looked surprised by the suggestion.

Of course, so was I.

"If Father, an Executor of the Order, accompanies us, it would certainly be reassuring… but is there another reason?"
"Hahaha, didn't I already say so?"

Even while answering Dunkel, the priest's gaze remained fixed on me.

"I sensed an ominous aura."

***

Clatter-clatter—

The carriage carrying us rattled through the forest alongside the sound of pounding hooves.

Inside the violently shaking carriage, Arin had already fainted long ago.

"That's why I told you not to come…"

After tossing another pillow onto her, I looked outside at the passing scenery.

"So much has changed."

This place had once been a frozen wasteland—Leinrant's western forest.

The ice fields, once buried beneath corpses created by war and plague, had transformed over two hundred years into lush greenery.

"Young Master. We've arrived."

At Dunkel's voice from outside, I opened the carriage door and stepped out.

Carriages three times larger than ours were lined up everywhere.

"Fine horses. They rival the Empire's war steeds."
"Look at the carriages! They're like princesses from fairy tales!"

At the admiration in Father Garrison and Arin's voices, I let out a weary sigh.

To pour this much money into what was basically a children's gathering.

It really drove home just how much wealth the collateral branches had siphoned from the ducal family.

"Ah, there he is."
"That's him?"
"Well, his face is decent enough. Maybe I'll use him as a servant once he grows up."
"Hahahahaha!"

Following the voices dripping with contempt, I saw a familiar face.

Dalton Cornwell.

Dressed in extravagant hunting clothes atop a white horse, he looked like some prince out of a fairy tale.

Well, to be fair, he was pretty handsome.

"Hey, Klein! Hurry over here! We're heading out immediately!"

Since when were we close enough for him to call me by name like that?

As I thought that, Dalton kicked his horse forward.

The others followed him into the forest.

"Keep up to the end, Klein!"

Shouting that at me, Dalton disappeared deeper into the woods.

"Hah. Well now."

By now, the other noble children were already nowhere to be seen.

The intention behind it was painfully obvious.

"Sir Dunkel, please take care of the other guests."

Another noble spoke to Dunkel after confirming Dalton had left.

Unlike the way they addressed me, his tone toward Dunkel was polite.

"I am Young Master Klein's guard knight. I cannot casually leave his side—"
"It's fine, Dunkel."

Stopping him, I handed him something.

A scroll engraved with signal magic.

"Where did you even get this?"
"Stole it. From Father's study."

For a brief moment, Dunkel's eyes became distant.

Ignoring that completely, I continued.

"If that priest bastard disappears somewhere, tear this. That's all you need to do."
"Father Garrison? Why all of a sudden…?"
"You think I don't know why that man insisted on following us all the way here?"

After seeing the look in my eyes, Dunkel silently nodded.

"…Understood. Please be careful, Young Master."

Hearing his answer, I rode my horse into the forest after Dalton.

And when I finally reached the place where he was waiting—

"Hah. Well, look at that."

Standing before me, Dalton held a real combat sword in his hand.

"What exactly are you trying to do?"

I asked one final time to confirm it.

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time."
"This day?"
"Yeah. The day I kill you."

So in the end, he crossed the line.

With a heavy sigh, I looked around the forest he had dragged me into.

"If I die in such a public place, news will spread that much faster."

At my words, Dalton puffed himself up arrogantly and started rambling.

"The faster it spreads, the better! Your death will become a warning to the main house!"
"A warning?"

When I asked that, Dalton pointed his sword at me.

"I'll cut off your head and place it right before Heinkel's eyes."
"…"
"And then I'll tell him this! If he doesn't surrender the ducal seat, they'll be next!"

Hearing that, I slowly dismounted my horse.

"I'll give you one last chance to struggle. Draw your sword! I'll kill you with my own hands!"

With those words, Dalton tossed a sword toward me.

Its sharpened blade stabbed into the ground, waiting.

'With that priest bastard nearby, I wanted to end this without causing any conflict…'

I could feel my clenched fist trembling.

The reason for my anger was simple.

This damned family's situation was just too petty and pathetic.

They killed me only to create something this worthless.

The family of Berkel—reduced to filthy street thugs like these.

"Hah. So the runt's got some pride after all?"

When I pulled the sword free, Dalton sneered mockingly.

"Go on then, swing it around all you want! I'll generously play with you before killing y—"
"You ignorant little brat. I treated you gently, yet you keep climbing higher and higher without knowing your place."

My old manner of speech slipped out naturally for the first time in a long while.

Not the useless second son of the ducal family—

But the voice of the necromancer Archimond.

"W-What?"

Hearing the unfamiliar tone, Dalton finally seemed to realize something was wrong.

"H-Hah! So you were hiding something? It's useless anyway!"

As he raised his hand, mercenaries holding crossbows emerged from every corner of the forest.

"If I just give these mercenaries the order—!"
"Then go ahead and try."

Cutting Dalton off, I extended my hand.

Not mana from the dantian—the source of mana—

But black energy pouring from my heart.

The moment I felt it, the smile on my lips deepened.

Ah… this nostalgic sensation.

How many years had it been since I last wielded necromancy?

"Hah! What, are you trying to cast magic? You can't even use mana—!"
"It isn't magic."

I interrupted Dalton's forced bravado calmly.

This body had been managed by the Holy Order, preventing it from using mana.

But the Order had completely misunderstood the true source of necromancy.

Because this pure body, untouched by mana contamination—

Was the ideal vessel for a necromancer!

Woooooooo…!

The forest trembled alongside a chilling wail.

The sound of mana stirring.

It was the mana possessed by the souls bound to this forest.

"W-What is this?!"
"Where's that sound coming from?!"

The mercenaries looked around frantically, trapped in a situation they had never experienced before.

"W-What the hell?! What did this bastard do?!"
"Haunting. The cries of lingering spirits, as they call it. They're reacting to the demonic energy—the source of necromancy."
"The source of… necromancy?"

Hearing my explanation, Dalton seemed to realize something.

His face instantly turned pale as he stumbled backward.

"N-No! Impossible!"

Rumors surrounding the second son of House Leinrant.

And necromancy.

As those two things connected in his mind, Dalton shouted in disbelief.

"A-Archimond…?!"

Meanwhile, my demonic energy had already spread throughout the forest.

'With this body, thirty is probably my limit.'

I counted the spirits responding to my demonic energy.

This was the first time I had used necromancy since reincarnating.

Unlike before, the souls were unrefined, and the amount of demonic energy I could release was insufficient.

But this was enough.

Necromancy was the manipulation of contracted souls' mana through demonic energy.

Once the souls were summoned, the mana needed to form their bodies would naturally follow.

The mana of thirty souls was more than enough to butcher these fools.

"If you were hired for money, then you should've been prepared to die for money. Do not resent me."

Those words were not directed at Dalton.

They were meant for the mercenaries he had hired.

[Hear me, ancient spirits buried beneath the passage of time.]

The demonic energy I had scattered formed summoning gates according to my design.

One. Two.

The number grew until there were thirty gates, glowing eerily as they awaited my command.

[I shall drag you upward and let you stand once more beneath the light.]

"This is insane— that's real necromancy! Shoot him already—!"

Mana wasn't pouring from the caster himself, but from the summoning gates.

One mercenary realized this was not magic but true necromancy and hurriedly aimed his crossbow.

"You're already too late."

Crunch!

"Gaaagh?!"

The mercenaries preparing to fire froze in place.

Skeletons had already crawled out from the earth, seizing and snapping their ankles.

[Archimond commands you! Until your resentment is exhausted, devour, devour, and devour again!]

With those words, I scattered the demonic energy gathered in my hand in every direction.

Crack! Crack-crack!

Thirty black skeletons rose from the ground.

Soldiers forged from wandering souls and grudges—

Skeletons.

— KIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAHHHH—!