# Chapter 29
—
Staring at the fallen Jeannie, the Necromancer muttered,
“Are you sure she’s really not your companion?”
“I told you she isn’t. And… is it okay if you let your guard down like that?”
The Necromancer flinched.
At some point, Arthur had closed the distance and was already right in front of him.
Startled, the Necromancer hastily cast the spell he had been preparing, but Arthur’s blade struck first.
*Chuk.*
The head separated from the body and fell.
As the Necromancer’s face rolled across the ground, Arthur moved in to crush it beneath his heel.
But this time, the Necromancer’s mouth was faster.
“One life to give, another to live.”
With those words, his face burst apart.
And yet, the Necromancer revived, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Teleportation? No… bloodline power?”
“Who knows?”
Arthur answered, then once again cast Spatial Leap.
But the Necromancer wasn’t about to fall for the same trick twice.
*Kkii-ek?*
He raised a wall using the undead.
They looked every bit like a shield of corpses, but Arthur raised his gun without hesitation.
*Bang!*
With the gunshot, a hole was blown through the corpse-shield blocking his view.
Through it, Arthur’s eyes caught the Necromancer mumbling an incantation.
At once, Arthur pulled the trigger again, while also stirring up the Frakil bloodline’s power.
*Bang!*
*Kwaaang!*
With two overlapping blasts, the Necromancer’s head was blown off once more.
At the same moment, Arthur’s body burst into flames.
But thanks to the Frakil bloodline’s power he had prepared in advance, he remained unscathed.
“…What the hell was that? Don’t tell me the teleport was just an artifact, and that’s your real bloodline?”
The revived Necromancer questioned.
Arthur replied while activating Spatial Leap again.
“Who knows?”
And with that, his blade once again rushed for the Necromancer’s throat.
The Necromancer clicked his tongue.
*‘This guy’s more troublesome than that deaf one… just what the hell is he?’*
The aura he sensed from Arthur was no more than a single circle.
And yet, the boy used Spatial Leap, manipulated his body, fought with both sword and gun.
Mercenaries were known for their unpredictability, but such a mix was rare.
*‘Can’t let this go. I’ll have to summon the swordsmen of the dead. I don’t have many lives left anyway.’*
With that thought, the Necromancer ripped open his palm.
The blood that dripped drew its own magic circle.
Once complete, swordsmen of the dead emerged through the summoning gate.
Arthur, watching, drove his meteor-steel blade into the Necromancer’s chest.
*Paaat!*
Blood sprayed as the Necromancer collapsed.
Fortunately, he had finished casting his spell beforehand.
Revived once more, the Necromancer gestured to the summoned swordsmen.
“They’re useful ones I gathered long ago. Not easy to cut through.”
“Oh… they do look it.”
Arthur answered, then promptly cut the throat of one swordsman who had charged from behind.
A clean strike that showed a clear gap in skill.
The Necromancer was left speechless.
“…Is swordsmanship perhaps your specialty?”
“I can do other things too, but the sword is my strong suit, yes.”
“Unbelievable. You’re all over the place.”
The Necromancer’s words had barely left his mouth before the slain swordsman revived and charged again.
Arthur cut him down once more, not even bothering to turn his head, and tilted his own slightly.
“Huh?”
Looking closer, he noticed more swordsmen emerging from the summoning circle.
About eight in total.
Arthur scratched his head.
“This is a hassle.”
“I never said there was only one.”
With that reply, eight blades rushed toward him.
Arthur invoked the gnome’s ability to parry the blades while simultaneously pulling the trigger.
*Bang!*
The shot rang out, but when he tried to use Spatial Leap, the Bayern blood within him refused.
Apparently, the number of leaps was limited.
*‘Hmm… then I’ll just have to break through.’*
Arthur tightened his grip on the sword.
And against the charging swordsmen of the dead, he began a dance of blades.
*Chwaaak!*
Blood sprayed as heads rolled.
But the undead, having already died once, did not fall.
So Arthur cut their legs.
*Kkii-ek!*
Even legless, some still raised their weapons.
So Arthur severed their wrists as well.
When they still tried to move, he dismembered them limb by limb.
Arthur continued until the swordsmen could no longer move.
The Necromancer blinked at the sight.
*‘He’s butchering them like a slaughterhouse butcher?’*
With something close to awe, he tilted his head.
Had this mercenary encountered Necromancers or Dark Mages before?
Was that why he fought like this?
Otherwise, such butchery made little sense.
After some thought, the Necromancer asked,
“Have you perhaps met a Necromancer before?”
“Hm?”
“Or maybe a Dark Mage?”
As he severed the last swordsman’s limbs, Arthur answered,
“Uh… yes, I have.”
“And did you fight like this then too?”
“Hm?”
“I mean, did you cut them down without flinching? Normally, most freeze at the sight.”
Arthur scratched his head.
“Mm… no. With one I fought, and with one I just talked.”
“Just… talked?”
“Yes. A man called White Beard from an organization called Sky Island. We only had a conversation.”
The Necromancer’s eyes widened.
White Beard of Sky Island.
A legendary Dark Mage, ruler of the underworld across the continent.
He was the aspiration of every Dark Mage—a living myth.
The Necromancer scowled.
“If you don’t want to answer, you could’ve just said so. Why lie?”
“Hm?”
“How would trash like you ever meet Lord White Beard? Even if you did, how would you still be alive?”
Arthur blinked.
Meanwhile, the Necromancer launched into a heated explanation.
“He is the myth of all Dark Mages, one who made a direct pact with demons! Every Dark Mage chases his footsteps, but none survive! Why? Because he never lets those who stand before him live—except those he deems useful—”
The Necromancer’s words cut off.
At some point, Arthur had managed another Spatial Leap and drove his blade into the Necromancer’s mouth.
“Oh—sorry to interrupt.”
“….”
“But you’ll revive, right?”
The Necromancer, retreating as his torn mouth healed, muttered,
“Madman.”
“I hear that a lot. But tell me, how many more deaths before you actually die for good?”
The Necromancer pulled something from his robes.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
In his hand was a Teleportation Scroll.
A consumable artifact that could instantly transport the user anywhere.
Arthur fired rapidly, but the Necromancer spoke before dying.
“Why don’t you find out yourself? We’ll meet again on the first floor. A foe suited to you awaits.”
And with that, the Necromancer vanished.
Arthur clicked his tongue.
*‘Troublesome… to revive even after so many deaths—he really is a Necromancer.’*
Arthur now pondered how to break through this sudden obstacle.
*‘Elder Willet did warn me… but this, I didn’t expect. What now?’*
He could still escape alone.
A Spatial Leap would be enough.
But this mission was to guard President Tartan, and Furis’s spatial ability couldn’t take others along.
*‘Which means I have to fight off that Necromancer while also guarding President Tartan… huh.’*
Naturally, protecting someone was far harder than killing.
Arthur was mulling it over when the most crucial point he had overlooked struck him.
“Oh? Come to think of it—President Tartan, is he safe?”
Arthur lifted his head.
Fortunately, Tartan’s office was intact.
Beyond it, he could hear his rough, but steady, breathing.
Arthur turned toward it to secure the client’s safety.
That was when a faint voice tickled his ear.
“…elp…”
“…?”
“Please… help me…”
Arthur turned his gaze.
There lay Jeannie, bleeding and near death.
Arthur let out a surprised remark.
“Oh? Miss Jeannie, you’re still alive?”
At his words, Jeannie’s pointed ears trembled.
But unable to speak, she looked at Arthur with pleading eyes.
Scratching his head, Arthur pressed down on the wound in her abdomen.
“…!”
Her face twisted grotesquely in pain—so much so she no longer looked beautiful but ghostly.
Arthur plucked the bullet from her wound and muttered in admiration.
‘She endured with body reinforcement. Impressive skills.’
If her opponent hadn’t been a Necromancer, she might never have been taken hostage.
Arthur rose to his feet.
“Well then, take care.”
“….”
“I pulled the bullet out, so if you get the wound treated, you should… survive.”
Arthur bowed his head lightly and turned toward Tartan’s office.
But Jeannie suddenly grabbed his ankle.
“Please… save me…”
“….”
“I’ll do anything… anything you ask… please…”
Arthur turned his head.
Tears streamed down Jeannie’s face—once sharp and thorny as a rose, now pitiful and soft.
Arthur raised his brows in surprise, then after a moment’s thought, asked,
“Anything I ask?”
“Yes…”
“Anything at all?”
“Yes…”
Arthur stroked his chin, then pulled out a potion he had picked up earlier in the fight.
“…!”
Jeannie’s pupils trembled violently.
That potion could heal the wound in her abdomen.
But Arthur’s words were merciless.
“I picked this potion up while clearing the undead on the first floor, Miss Jeannie. But… honestly, it’d benefit me more than you if I used it.”
“….”
“You’re a sniper, right? Against a Necromancer, that’s the worst matchup. So it feels like a waste to use it on you.”
Jeannie’s jaw dropped.
*‘What the hell is this lunatic saying!!’*
Even if he had no sense of camaraderie, how could he say that to someone dying before him—someone he himself had put in this state?
But Jeannie soon realized.
*‘This bastard… isn’t sane. He’s completely deranged.’*
His conversation with the Necromancer.
The swordsmanship he displayed.
Everything was abnormal.
But the most chilling part was his expression.
When he had aimed the gun at her, there had been not a shred of emotion in his eyes.
That was when she understood.
This man was insane.
Otherwise, he could never act this way.
Yet her will to live outweighed the fear he inspired.
In the softest voice she could manage, Jeannie tried to persuade him.
“I… I can be very useful…”
“In what way?”
“If you spare me, I’ll cover your back, Lord Donn. With a sniper’s support, it’ll be easier to fight the Necromancer. And… I also have a way to contact Elder Willet…”
Arthur stroked his chin.
It didn’t sound like a bad deal to keep her alive—but something felt missing.
After pondering, Arthur realized what it was.
“Oh, Miss Jeannie.”
“Yes…?”
“I’ll save you.”
“…!”
Jeannie’s eyes widened in shock.
Tears streamed as she lowered her head.
“Th-thank you… I’ll never forget this favor…”
“But in return… could I get some of your blood?”
“…?”
“Not much. Just a handful. That’s all I need.”
Arthur smiled brightly.
“Your blood, in exchange for this potion. If we trade, then I’ll let you live.”
—
