Chapter 4

Necromancer.

"What the hell, Skeletons?"
"Change formation! Gather in one place! Hurry!"

Who would've thought the young master they assumed had no power whatsoever would use necromancy?
Though flustered, Dalton's mercenaries swiftly organized themselves with disciplined precision.
At the same time they surrounded and protected him, the swordsmen moved to the front while the crossbowmen took the rear.

Meanwhile, the Skeletons Klein had summoned formed a circle around them.

"They're not even armed."
"Then why do they look like that? Are those black things really bones?"

Black skeletons shrouded in dark smoke.
One of the mercenaries muttered as he stared at them.

"A Skeleton is supposed to reanimate the bones of a corpse, right? But around here…"

They had scouted this place beforehand and stayed hidden here for several days.
During all that time, they hadn't even seen the bones of a fox cub.
So how in the world had these Skeletons been created?

"Ha! Hahaha! Hahahaha!"

While the mercenaries were thinking that, laughter burst out from behind them.
It was their employer, Dalton.

"Skeletons? You made such a big deal about this, and these worthless grunts are all you send out?!"

Several mercenaries agreed with him.
Skeletons were the most basic undead used by necromancers.
They might work against ordinary civilians who didn't know how to wield weapons, but to trained mercenaries like themselves, they were nothing special.

"Worthless grunts?"

However, Young Master Klein didn't seem to think so as he asked Dalton back.

"Of course they are! Mindless skeletons like these? I've smashed thousands of them during missions!"

Dalton shouted confidently.
The other mercenaries, including the one with the shattered ankle, grinned as they tightened their grip on their weapons.

"Damn it, to think I'd get my leg wrecked by Skeletons…!"
"Kikikik, I'm gonna make you pay for this later."

At that moment, the man commanding the mercenary group addressed the assembled troops.

"Take care of the ones blocking the front first, then the rest will break us a path out. Load crossbows!"

The crossbows that had been aimed at the young master were now pointed toward the Skeletons.

"Fire—!"

Tutututut—!

Ten crossbows fired simultaneously at the command.
Their crossbows were of the same caliber used by first-line military units, and their aim was precise.
There was no way Skeletons hastily made from buried bones could withstand those quarrels.

…They definitely shouldn't have.

Kakakang—!

A metallic clash that should never have been heard echoed through the forest.
The mercenaries' eyes widened as their bolts were blocked.

"W-Wait, what was that just now?"
"A shield? They didn't have shields before…!"

A shield blocked the front of Klein.
The black smoke surrounding the Skeletons had gathered together and materialized into shields on the spot.

"Two hundred years really is a long time. Not a single one of you recognizes this undead."

Young Master Klein's childish voice sent chills down their spines.
The face smiling at them no longer looked like that of a boy.

"First unit, release defensive formation. Prepare to charge."

Chwarrrk—!

At Klein's command, the black skeletons surrounded by smoke drew their swords.
Their movements were disciplined like a trained army.
The mercenaries' faces turned pale white at the sight.

"If they were ordinary Skeletons, it'd make sense for you to think that way."

With his arms folded, Klein watched them and smiled faintly before speaking again.

"But if they're my Skeletons, then things are a little different."

All the quarrels already loaded on the crossbows had been expended.

"Charge."

As if he had confirmed it, the young master immediately ordered the Skeletons surrounding them to attack.

"Kiiyaaaaaah—!"

The Skeletons wrapped in black smoke charged toward the mercenaries from all directions.

"W-Wait a second?!"

They were running.
That fact alone doubled the mercenaries' shock.
Skeletons were supposed to slowly shamble forward and lazily swing their weapons.
Unless they attacked in hordes numbering in the thousands, everyone knew they weren't particularly threatening undead.

"Stop reloading! Drop the crossbows! Close combat!"
"What kind of insane Skeletons run at people like this?!"

Everything they thought they knew was being overturned.
The mercenaries hurriedly tried to draw axes while loading their next quarrels into the crossbows.
But the Skeletons didn't wait for them, immediately crashing into the formation and tearing it apart.

Tukwahang—!

And that wasn't all.
Some Skeletons dodged swinging axes, while others snatched the axes away and buried them into their owners' heads.

"Aaagh?!"
"Damn it, these aren't Skeletons! They're monsters!"
"This bastard predicted my movements on purpose—?! Kraaagh!"

Tactics, speed, coordination.
In every aspect, the Skeletons completely overwhelmed the mercenaries.
Watching the scene unfold, Dalton shouted in disbelief and charged forward.

"You pathetic idiots! You can't even stop a few Skeletons?!"

With that, Dalton leapt into the front lines and swung his sword at one of the Skeletons.

Slash—!

Whatever his personality, he was still a knight who had reached a high level.
Unable to block the upward slash, the Skeleton's body was blown apart entirely.

"Destroy their heads! Then these bastards won't be able to rise aga—!"

Mid-sentence, Dalton suddenly twisted his head to the side.

Swaaak—!

A sword tore through the place where his head had been only moments ago.
It was the very Skeleton whose upper body he had just blown apart.

"Wh—?!"

The black smoke clinging to the dark skeleton was restoring its body.

"So you people at least know how to deal with corpse-made undead."

Watching the stunned Dalton, Klein smiled in satisfaction.

"But unfortunately, these ones aren't made from corpses. They're made from mana."

At the same moment he spoke, five Skeletons charged at Dalton.

"Damn it, they revive even after being killed! This is…!"

The mercenaries were already half dead, and Dalton was completely surrounded.
Watching it all, a broad grin spread across my face.

"If they were merely mindless puppets, the continent wouldn't have gone to such lengths trying to kill me."

As I watched the soldiers appear before me once again, my smile deepened further.

This was the greatest reason why I, Archimond, had swept across the continent.

Not corpses that would rot away with time, but millions of spiritual bodies formed entirely from mana.
And every single one of those countless undead was not a horde of mindless zombies, but a true army capable of formations and tactics.

"Uwaaaaaah—!"

By the time most of the mercenaries had turned into corpses,
Dalton exploded all of his mana and charged toward me.

"Oh?"

"No matter how powerful the undead you summon are, if I kill the caster, it's over!"

Dalton's body was covered in wounds, yet he still gripped a razor-sharp sword in his hand.

'Haha… this really takes me back.'

An unforgettable scene from the past overlapped with the present.
Wasn't it just like back then?

Berkel charging toward me.
And I, Archimond, having my heart pierced by that sword.

"This distance belongs to swordsmen—!"

But this time was different.
Unlike before, when I died helplessly without being able to respond, now I could see it.

The sword path, the direction, the density of mana.
Everything contained within that bastard's strike.

Slash—!

I drew my sword and swung naturally as my body guided me.
The blade I swung cleanly severed both of Dalton's hands.

"…Huh?"

Dalton stared blankly at his own hands floating through the air before meeting my eyes.

"A necromancer… using a sword…?"

He had swung upward, yet my sword was already back in its sheath.
A speed that Dalton's eyes could not even perceive.

Before he could even understand what had happened, I unleashed the second strike into his chest.

Piiing—!

The secret art of Leinrant, executed together with the draw: Meteor Sword.
The blade sliced through the chainmail beneath his clothes as if it were paper and carved a long diagonal wound across his chest.

Thud.

Dalton collapsed, all strength gone from his body.
Then I looked over the mercenaries' corpses.

"If the caster dies, every creation of a necromancer loses its power. Archimond was defeated because he failed to overcome that weakness."

I looked at the undead waiting for my next command after completing their task.
Soldiers made not from corpses, but from mana itself.
This was the power of my past self, Archimond.

Then I lowered my gaze to the sword in my hand.

An overwhelming talent that could perfectly master another's technique after seeing it only once.
This was the power of my current self, Klein Leinrant.

"To think it was your bloodline that overcame that weakness. Isn't fate cruel, Berkel?"

I bitterly sheathed my sword.
A sudden reincarnation and a second life.
I only wanted to live peacefully, but the bloodline of my nemesis refused to leave me alone in the end.

"Since I've been reborn in this body, I can't exactly treat it as someone else's problem either."

I gripped the crest engraved upon my chest and smiled.
It felt as though all the worries and anguish I'd struggled with until now were finally settling into place.

"I'll personally fix this damned family of yours!"

"Then how about this story, Miss Arin? Back at the monastery, the young master once…"
"Ahahaha! He really did that?!"

Inside Klein's carriage.
The moment she recovered from her motion sickness, Arin became completely engrossed in Father Garrison's stories, her excitement visibly growing.

"Sir Dunkel, listen to this too! When the young master was little, he—!"
"I'll hear it later."

While the two of them were absorbed in stories about Klein's childhood, Dunkel's attention was fixed elsewhere.

"Why haven't they returned yet?"
"Did something go wrong?"
"What do we do? Until this is over, nobody can…"
"Why are they taking so long…?!"

Three hours had passed since Klein and Dalton disappeared.
The nobles who had returned after finishing the hunt kept glancing anxiously toward the forest.

'As expected… there was another scheme behind this.'

With the host Dalton still nowhere to be seen, Dunkel approached the stablehand as if seizing an opportunity.

"I'm going to search for Lord Dalton and the young master. Prepare a horse—"

"W-Wait a moment, Sir Dunkel!"

One of the nobles hurriedly tried to stop him, but Dunkel was the commander of the Red Carriage Knights under Heinkel.

"What is it?"

"W-Well… you are still assigned to guard the honored guests…"

The noble flinched under Dunkel's cold stare and failed to continue.

"The other knights have already returned. I judged that no further protection is necessary."

"B-But still!"

"And I am Young Master Klein's escort knight. I cannot leave him alone any longer."

Faced with the sharp glare of a commander-class knight, the others had no choice but to step back.

Having finally received a horse, Dunkel walked toward Klein's carriage with a hardened expression.

"Sir Knight, what's wrong?"

Arin, who had been nibbling on cookies Klein gave her in one corner of the carriage, asked curiously.

"The young master is later than expected, so I intend to go search for him. As for the Father—"

"The Father left earlier though?"

Dunkel froze at Arin's words and turned toward the carriage.

"When did he…? No, why would he leave without saying anything…?"

"He looked super serious! He said his bad feeling turned out to be right!"

At those words, Dunkel recalled what Klein had said before leaving.

'I don't know why that man insisted on following us all the way here.'

"…Don't tell me the Order is still after the young master?!"

Assuming the worst-case scenario, Dunkel hurriedly turned around and mounted his horse.

"Have a safe trip~!"

Leaving behind Arin's innocent farewell, Dunkel spurred his horse onward.

In the place where he had been standing lay a scroll torn neatly in half.