The misadventures of the necromancer

Chapter XXXVIII

“So, what do we do now?” Grumpy asked.

At first, it seemed like a reasonable question, considering what had just happened. After all, the conflict they had just experienced almost led to the revelation of the truth about the mule. Going back to Central Crossing in the short term definitely was not a good idea.

“We keep moving,” was his reply, believing it to be the best option.

“Keep moving? To where? And what about the eggs?” Grumpy asked. Two questions in one breath, his concern making him more efficient.

And honestly, his last point also made him a little tense. He still had quite a few eggs. And the risk of something happening to them would mean a significant loss.

“We head to Sagrat. We should be able to sell the eggs there also.” He revealed what seemed to be the best idea to him.

“Oh, I thought you wanted to avoid Sagrat,” said Blondie in his irritating little sweet voice.

“Yes. But it’s not like we have another choice now?” Grumpy responded, his tone clearly irritated with Blondie.

Which, considering the mess the idiot had caused, was more than justified. If it weren’t for the idiot, they wouldn’t have had to leave the city like this.

Part of him wanted to shout at Blondie, but another part agreed with what the fool had tried to do. The bastards like those should be exposed to the world as the crooks they were. Thanks to people like them, others died unnecessarily.

On a personal note, it was probably because of issues of honesty like this. That helps to prevent him from being able to simply make a living selling potions. He was caught up in this mess because of jerks like them.

That’s what made him hold back from criticizing Blondie. He couldn’t even suggest that the assholes weren’t a group of bastards who deserved to burn in the depths of hell.

“Adar, I know. But I thought Nero might have another plan,” Blondie replied to his friend’s comment. Without even realizing he was being criticized. Leaving the other one shaking his head in frustration.

Maybe he could smooth things between the two by revealing that he had always intended to pass near Sagrat. Although it was never in his plans to actually go to the city itself. On the other side, Grumpy giving Blondie a hard time might do him some good. Ensuring he wouldn't repeat this.

“Are you sure of what...” Grumpy began. Trying to knock some sense into his friend’s head before being interrupted.

“Hey, are those people?” Blondie exclaimed, pointing to a spot behind them.

Looking in that direction, it did indeed seem like a group of people were traveling along the path they were on. This revelation caused them to exchange worried glances.

After all, they might be being followed by people from the city. And if they were being pursued, it was very unlikely for good reasons. Maybe their exit hadn’t been as clean as he had thought.

“Grumpy, the map you bought.” He said to Grumpy, extending his hand, indicating that he wanted to see the map.

The young man didn’t hesitate and reached into his robe, retrieving said map.

“What are you thinking?” Grumpy asked as he handed over the map.

“We have unknown people approaching. It could just be a caravan going about their business, but it’s better to be prepared.”

The two nodded in agreement, waiting for him to continue.

“Look here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map of the region.

“This looks like a bridge crossing a river,” he said, finding the point that interested him.

“Yes, yes. It is, and it shouldn’t be far from here,” Blondie agreed, confirming his opinion. All his experience watching war documentaries and playing combat games told him it was the best place to confront possible attackers.

“You want to head to that bridge?” Grumpy questioned.

“Exactly, it seems to be the best location if there’s trouble,” he said, considering that at least there, they couldn’t be surrounded. A good thing for him since he doubted they could defeat him in a head-on confrontation. “Let’s go.”

With that decided, they set off making their way to the bridge.

As they followed the plan, he started to feel more uneasy. For a moment, he really thought he might be seeing things. But as time passed, that became increasingly implausible. The pursuing group was getting closer and closer.

What his experience in this world told him was highly improbable. The three of them were young, and by now used to covering long distances. Adding the fact that their undead mule didn’t need to slow down or stop. As such, a caravan, whose maximum speed was the speed its slowest member could maintain, shouldn’t be able to catch up with them under normal circumstances.

So, with their pursuers closing the distance, the three of them exchanged increasingly stressed glances as they got a better view of the group behind them.

This partly revealed how they were able to keep up the pace. This wasn’t a caravan but a group of about seven people on foot without any pack animals. This confirmed that whatever was about to happen. It was unlikely to be something he would enjoy.

Fortunately, the group wasn’t fast enough to catch up with them before they reached the bridge. And it was better than he had expected. The river itself wasn’t that wide, but its bed was two or three meters below the banks. Trying to fight while climbing that, wouldn’t be easy, making the whole position around the bridge highly defensible.

“You two go on ahead. It’s better if the mule remains unseen.” The two nodded and continued along the path that, after the bridge, turned following the course of the river.

With this choice, he had just given up one of his trump cards, the undead mule, which was still his most valuable asset. The creature’s usefulness remained, and risking losing it was quite unpleasant.

Not only that but the fact that it carried the rest of his eggs. If this ended in a fight, they could be damaged. So, sending it away seemed like the best option.

Honestly, he only did it because he had little doubt about the outcome of this possible dispute. Since he had awakened Nero’s powers, especially the Draco's Flames spell, he hadn’t encountered anyone capable of facing him.

Good God, up until now, he had essentially terrorized two villages into submission thanks to the spell. It was unlikely he would face trouble now in the middle of nowhere.

For a moment, the idea that they might be a group of Nintar crossed his mind. A group that, in the right conditions, would be a real threat. But he doubted the pseudo-ninjas of this game would attack him so openly. Besides, it was unlikely they would have found him here.

As such, the most likely scenario for the identity of this group was that they belonged to the potion sellers’ group and were here to settle scores. This was possible because they had only seen the effects of the Will of the Flame, so they didn’t know the true extent of his powers.

As they got closer, his mouth became increasingly dry, and in contrast, his bladder felt fuller. A sensation he had experienced before when facing the giant spiders. Revealing that this was how his body reacted when preparing for a potential fight.

For a moment, he even considered if he should relieve himself, but by this point, the group could already see him clearly, and he doubted that action would project a good image of himself. And image counted for a lot at this moment. As he planned to scare them away without real violence.

Something that made him feel a bit bad. This seemed more like the behavior of a bully. But it was better than the alternatives available to him.

To help distract himself, he began planning what he would do. Seeing a tree in the distance, he concluded that this was the best spot for the group to stop. Halfway between him and the tree was a boulder, which seemed the best spot to hit with one of his fireballs. It was a point where the blast wouldn’t hit him or them.

Starting this way would demonstrate his offensive capabilities while, with a bit of luck, discouraging any aggressive stance they might take.

But if they were stupid and tried something, the distance would give him more than enough time to roast the whole group before they could get close enough to become a real threat. That not being possible, he could just retreat onto the bridge, ensuring that the numerical advantage of whoever remained disappeared.

Or maybe he should retreat right away and destroy the bridge; perhaps that was the best solution. Unfortunately, the river didn’t seem impassable, meaning he might just be delaying the inevitable. And then he might have to face them under worse conditions.

With them almost at the tree, he decided to leave that point for later. Now, having to choose how to start the interaction between them. Should he start by launching a fireball at the boulder, or would it be better to try talking first?

Seeing them well, the group had eight people. One of them seemed to be somewhat old. His long white hair was visible from afar on his tall, slender body.

The presence of someone so old gave him some reassurance concluding that bringing someone apparently so fragile to a fight didn’t make much sense.

So, he cupped his hands trying to project his voice, and shouted, “Hey, what do you want? You’ve been following us for some time now.”

As he had hoped, they stopped beside the tree while talking among themselves. This small success made him smile, reflecting that things might go well.

Shortly after, a young man with dark hair and a blue robe stepped forward and responded, “We heard some things we want to verify.”

A response that didn’t say much. Or perhaps it said a lot. It all depended on what they had heard. This could even be a group interested in buying spider eggs. On the other hand, they could simply be looking for trouble.

“And what did you hear?” he shouted at them while seeking more information. He also wanted to prevent them from advancing any closer to him.

Another guy moved beside the first one. And then the newcomer, who looked more like a teenager, shouted, “Necromancy!!”

If his mouth was dry before, now it felt like sandpaper. The worst thing he could have heard. This left him with very few options.

“Thank you, but I’m not interested in talking.” The most sincere truth. He didn’t care if these people were big fans of necromancy, like the two idiots he already had with him. Or if they hated necromancy and wanted to build large pyres of fire with all the necromancers.

For him, both scenarios were bad. So, he continued with his plan of action. Extending a hand, he concentrated and whispered, “Draco's Flames.”

With the magic still gathering in his hand, he sees, to his great horror. The old man began running toward him. Unfortunately, by this point, the spell had already been cast, starting to leave his hand. In a quick response, he tried to divert the fireball. And instead of the rock that had been his target, he sent the fireball somewhere to the left and closer to himself.

As he saw the fireball leave his hand, he hoped this action would be enough to prevent the man from being engulfed in the flames.

Refocusing on the old man, he was surprised. “He runs well,” he thought to himself. Watching the elderly man run with a speed that made him think of a professional athlete.

Something that, in this case, was going to be quite bad for the runner. Because this running was putting him in the impact zone of the fireball's explosion. At this point, the only way for the man to be saved would be to turn back, and even then...

But the old man didn’t do that and continued running toward him. That’s when the fireball hit the ground, and the spell released its power. A flash appeared with an explosion, while a wall of flames centered on the point of impact emerged and began advancing.

The man ran as the wall of flames reached him and engulfed him. His mind froze with a single thought. He had just killed someone.

This wasn’t his intention. He only wanted to scare them a little. Why the hell did this madman start running?

That’s, when the man appeared out of nowhere through the flames, still running toward him. He, in turn, froze, thinking about what on earth he was seeing.

While still trying to recover from the shock, the old man reached him. And, to his surprise, kicked him in the chest. Projecting him backward, causing him to fall a little to the right of the entrance to the bridge behind him.

“You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting something as powerful as Draco's Flames. Fortunately, I used Ortan’s Shield,” said a deep and powerful voice. It took him a few seconds to realize that it came from the man who had just kicked him.

From the ground, he could see this old man, who despite seeming tall, appeared to be nothing but skin and bones beneath his robe. For a moment, his confusion only deepened—how could someone so frail-looking have the strength to knock him down like that?

“It’s easy to see that there’s more to you than meets the eye. We’re going to have to return to the city to continue our conversation,” declared the old man while starting to approach him.

Maybe it was the fear of what that could mean, but his brain began to work again. Something very important the man had said stuck in his mind. 'Ortan’s Shield' was something he recognized as the name of a spell, leading him to a conclusion.

This man was a mage from the School of Alteration. That’s how he could run so fast and hit so hard.

Fortunately, he recognized the spell the old man mentioned—it was a spell to enhance defense, giving bonuses to both physical and magical defense. It was one of the spells he normally acquired for his warrior characters. Now, the only question that arose in his mind was whether Nero also had the spell.

As the old man walked closer, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the spell. Imagining himself clicking the mouse on his computer as he selected the right spell, he said, “Ortan’s Shield.”

He felt his magic concentrate around his body like a second skin, only for the magic to simply fade, leading him to open his eyes in frustration.

“You were hoping to learn my spell just like that? I believe you’re talented, to be able to cast ‘Draco's Flames’ like that. But no one is that lucky,” said the old man with a smile that revealed all his teeth.

Then he pulled his arm back, clearly preparing to hit him with a punch.

The spell might have failed, but he now felt confident that he had given it to Nero. So, as the old man’s magically fortified punch came his way, he closed his eyes again and whispered, “Ortan’s Shield.”

Everything happened as before. But this time he didn’t feel the magic break. In fact, it felt stronger and more real than before.

When the punch connected with his face, all he felt was a weak slap on the face. This made him open his eyes again. Above him, the old man’s eyes and mouth were wide open, not expecting what had happened.

The two of them stood there staring at each other, unsure how to proceed. But the surprise began to fade for both of them. Fortunately, for him, he seemed to be the first to recover from the shock. This led him to kick the old man’s leg making him fall, before getting up and start running.

He ran in the open direction, along the river but away from the bridge. Immediately, he began to think.

Alteration! What’s the best tactic to deal with a mage capable of that school? The best answer that came to him was to create distance. To avoid the superior physical abilities enhanced by magic. And keep him occupied at a distance while waiting for the defense buffs to fade. To then hit him with everything he had.

So, for now, the important thing was distance. To gain some he turned around. And seeing the old man starting to get up. Stretching out his hand, he shouted, “Draco's Flames.”

The fireball shot out from his hand to the old man, who once again threw himself to the ground to avoid direct contact with the fireball.

Without even looking back, he turned and resumed his run. He had never expected to hit his opponent, having actually aimed at some random point behind him. After all, even with the defense spell he just discovered, he would prefer not to be caught in a sea of flames.

With the sound of an explosion behind him, the plan of action solidified. Keep distance between the two, using his fireballs to keep the old man occupied and distracted. And when he detected a weakness in the other’s defense, he would attack with everything he had.

Timing could be tricky, and he wasn’t sure if he could avoid killing his opponent. But he was confident in his chances of winning. If he remembered correctly, 'Ortan’s Shield' didn’t last more than a minute. Keeping the old man occupied for a minute shouldn’t be that difficult.

As he prepared to turn back and launch another fireball, a memory surfaced. He recalled talking to the old woman whose house he had occupied to make his potions. He remembered discussing with her the duration of the spell 'The Last Light of Magic' and how he had realized it lasted longer than he had expected. This led him to understand that he was living according to the game’s time, not in real-world time.

At that moment, he had been happy because his reanimation spells would last longer, making them more useful. But now he understood that not only his spells were in this condition. His opponent's spells also lasted longer than he had anticipated.

So, he didn’t have to keep the old man at bay for just a minute, but for about five. Which was going to be much more problematic. On further thought, if he couldn’t take down the old man in the next five minutes. He doubted he had enough magic to keep casting something as intensive as Draco's Flames for ten minutes.

He felt himself pause, unsure of what to do. He didn’t know any other strategy that could guarantee him victory in this situation.

The only other alternative that came to mind was to start casting fireball after fireball. And hope that it would be enough to break through his opponent’s defenses. And it probably would be if he managed to hit him with a few. He should win. The problem was, how was he going to avoid being caught by the power of his own spells? At the distance they were at, he couldn’t see a way for that to happen.

“You can’t fall asleep in the middle of a fight,” said the old man’s almost mocking voice as he approached from behind. He then gave him a big bear hug, pinning his arms to the sides of his body.

For a moment, he was surprised that the old man had caught him. Only to then remember that the man must have had some spell to increase his speed. Giving him more than enough time to close the distance between them while he was distracted, thinking.

As the old man increased the pressure, it became harder to breathe. Leading him to conclude that all was lost. He was going to be captured, and he had a feeling that the interrogation about necromancy was going to be bad for him. And that he might reveal other things that could make the people of this world quite unhappy. After all, revealing that their world was at least based on a game might not go over well.

Considering the reaction to necromancy, this could all end very badly for him, in a style akin to being burned at the stake.

That gave him the energy to fight back, and he tried to free himself from the man. But things didn’t go as he wanted—the damn old man was as strong as anything.

The only thing that came to mind was to use both hands to cast fireballs simultaneously. The two of them would then be at the strongest point of the effect of the two fireballs. He doubted that the protection spells would withstand something like that. The problem was he would also be caught by the flames.

But his advantage was that he was certain Nero would have enough hit points to survive, even though it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience. Or at least, he was almost certain, considering he didn’t have all his usual equipment.

So he concentrated, closing his eyes and imagining what he was about to do.

“What are you doing? Stop!!!” the old man shouted at him, starting to squeeze even harder. But even so, he still had enough breath to say, “Draco's Flames”

When he felt the flames shoot out of his hands toward the ground below, the hands that had been holding him disappeared. As he became blinded by the intense light that appeared. All he felt was heat, an intense, oppressive heat that grew until his skin began to burn.

Finally, the light disappeared, and he felt something hit his back, increasing his pain even more. With difficulty, he realized that he was rolling down the riverbank until he entered the water. Between the pain and the shock, he can see the sky as the world fades into darkness.