#Chapter 32
—
Arthur thought to himself.
‘Hmm… this is dangerous.’
He acted as though nothing was wrong, but the situation was already tilting against him.
Finally, Tacen had manifested sword aura.
The necromancer was still alive and well.
Even facing Tacen alone, there was no chance of victory—if both of them came at him at once, this fight was essentially lost.
That was why, to turn things around, he needed something other than the sword.
‘Even if I can’t win… I need a way to stall for time. At least until Elder Willet arrives.’
As he furrowed his brows in thought, a conversation with the necromancer suddenly came to mind.
“…Hey, Mr. Necromancer?”
“What? You planning to surrender?”
“No. Instead of surrendering, I’d like to make you a proposal.”
The necromancer clicked his tongue.
“You’re making a proposal in this situation? Don’t you understand what’s happening?”
“Wouldn’t it be better to at least hear me out first? I promise it won’t be a bad deal.”
Instead of answering, the necromancer looked toward Tacen.
As if waiting for the signal, Tacen raised his greatsword wreathed in sword aura.
Whooosh—!
He had merely lifted his blade, yet the swirling gale was anything but ordinary.
The sword aura—called the dream of all swordsmen.
A technique said to be able to cut through anything had finally been manifested.
Arthur felt his guts turn cold, yet he casually reached into his inner pocket.
And pulled out a card.
“This is a card Lord Whitebeard gave me.”
“…?”
“If you withdraw, I’ll hand it over to you. Didn’t you say you wanted to meet Lord Whitebeard?”
At his explanation, the necromancer blinked.
He stared at the card in Arthur’s hand, then slowly opened his mouth.
“Wait, Tacen!”
“Shut up.”
“No, no!! Stop! Stop right now!”
At his shout, Tacen irritably swung his sword.
Slice!
The necromancer’s head was severed clean off.
But like a ghost, he revived instantly and hurriedly shouted.
“Stop that sword too! I only have one life left now! If I die again, it’ll be for real this time!”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“It has everything to do with you! When I die, what are you going to tell our master?”
Tacen closed his mouth.
At the same time, the chilling aura subsided, if only slightly.
Confirming the opportunity, the necromancer quickly turned his gaze.
“W-was it true? That you actually met Lord Whitebeard?”
“Yes. I told you already, I’ve met him before.”
“…You. Were you a dark mage?”
“No? I’m just a mercenary.”
The necromancer shut his mouth.
It was hard to believe, but Arthur’s answer was the truth.
There was no trace of black mana coming from him.
Meaning he had nothing to do with black magic.
‘But then… how in the world does he have Lord Whitebeard’s card?’
Whitebeard—the living legend.
A black mage belonging to Sky Island, capable of swaying the continent’s balance of power.
He was a figure who commanded both fear and respect from every dark mage in the underworld.
And now.
The card Arthur held was a kind of pass—proof of Whitebeard’s protection.
To harm someone holding it was the same as challenging both Sky Island and Whitebeard himself.
The necromancer could only bite his lip.
‘An unexpected variable. Not only did he meet him, he even has that card…’
After wrestling with the thought, the necromancer finally made a decision.
“Withdraw.”
“What?”
“We need to retreat. This is beyond what we accounted for. Even you know who Lord Whitebeard is.”
“….”
“That lunatic has his protection. This isn’t something we can handle. We must fall back, at least for now.”
At those words, Tacen glanced at him.
That emotionless stare made the necromancer flinch.
“P-please! Restrain yourself, Tacen! Come to your senses!”
Tacen smirked coldly.
Then he turned his body and began walking forward.
The necromancer hurriedly blocked his path.
“Are you insane?”
“No.”
“And yet you still want to fight that mercenary?”
“Yes.”
The necromancer groaned.
“Even you are nothing before Lord Whitebeard. For all you know, as punishment you could spend a hundred years as neither alive nor dead, experimented on like a specimen.”
Tacen declared firmly.
“If that is my fate, I’ll accept it. But right now, my fate wants me to fight him.”
Listening in, Arthur couldn’t help but marvel.
‘Wow… Mr. Tacen really is a warrior.’
By then, Tacen had passed the necromancer and raised his sword.
“I’ve lived by my fate until now, and this moment is no different. If I die because of this, then so be it—that is the end of my life.”
His unwavering conviction made Arthur raise his own sword.
“So, the negotiation failed.”
“I never intended to negotiate in the first place.”
With those words, Arthur and Tacen prepared to clash again.
The necromancer, watching, bit his lip hard and began chanting a spell.
‘What kind of cursed situation is this…? That I’d have to fight Tacen with my own hands.’
And just as the air grew taut with a completely different tension—
With a fierce shout, Tacen thrust his blade.
Arthur was just about to swing his own in response when—
BOOM!
A sudden explosion rocked the factory.
Tacen retreated.
Arthur’s eyes snapped wide open as he turned.
“Huh? Elder Willet?”
—
—
Willet stepped into the factory branch, glaring at Tacen and the necromancer.
Meanwhile, eight men appeared from somewhere, each raising their weapons and aiming at them.
Tacen, having retreated, looked on—then grinned with bared teeth.
“Willet… you’re still not dead.”
Arms crossed, Willet replied.
“I plan to live as many days as I’ve already lived. Got a problem with that?”
“Kuhuhu… still running your mouth with nothing to back it up, I see.”
“And you still can’t read the situation.”
At his words, the eight mercenaries released their auras.
Arthur’s eyes widened.
‘Oh… three of them are Fifth Circle. And two are as high as Sixth Circle.’
Just by their rings alone, there were even two stronger than Tacen.
Arthur instantly understood—the battlefield had completely flipped.
No matter how absurd Tacen’s bloodline was, he couldn’t possibly defeat these mercenaries.
And realizing the same, Jeannie collapsed to the ground, muttering.
“We’re saved….”
As that entirely new current swept across the field, the necromancer muttered.
“So it was a trap. A trap to draw us out. You even showed weakness on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Who knows. I figured someone would show up, but I didn’t expect it to be you lot.”
Willet’s eyes narrowed.
“\[Black Cross]. Who would’ve guessed demon-worshiping fanatics would target nothing more than a pharmaceutical company president?”
“Watch your tongue. We only serve God.”
“God does not count corpse-raisers like you among His followers.”
“Seems the god you know is different from the one I know. Our god is very pleased with us.”
The necromancer sighed as he said this.
He pretended to be calm, but he knew.
‘This plan has failed. Completely.’
A lunatic under Whitebeard’s protection.
A legendary mercenary, Willet, lying in wait with a trap.
There had been chances—but they’d been missed.
And now, there were no cards left to turn the tide.
It meant only one thing: time to withdraw.
The necromancer spoke to Tacen.
“Give it up and come.”
“….”
“Even if you’re a savage who chases battle, this isn’t the kind of fight you want, is it?”
Tacen gave a crooked smile.
Thud!
With a low, heavy vibration, he lowered his sword and turned away.
Passing the necromancer, he walked out of the factory.
Only once Tacen left did the mercenaries lower their weapons.
With that tacit agreement, the situation finally ended.
Watching the lonely figure of Tacen leave, Arthur couldn’t hold back and shouted.
“Hey, Mr. Tacen?”
“…?”
“It was fun. That fight with you.”
Everyone turned to stare in shock.
Among them, Jeannie’s reaction went beyond shock to sheer horror.
“That lunatic…”
Tacen stopped in his tracks and turned his head.
He stared at Arthur for a moment, then curled his lips into a grin.
“I’ll kill you. So stay alive until then.”
With that, Tacen vanished.
Willet looked at Arthur.
“You alright? Judging from what you just said, maybe you are.”
“Yes. Though I did lose my right eye.”
Willet tilted his head.
“Your right eye? It looks perfectly fine to me.”
“Huh? Really?”
Arthur touched his right eye.
‘It really is there? Wow… just how insane is the regeneration of a troll’s bloodline?’
He felt along his body in amazement.
Watching this, Willet let out a small chuckle despite himself.
‘What a truly strange fellow.’
But he quickly regained composure and asked the necromancer.
“Any last words?”
“You won’t get away with this. Even you will pay a price.”
“If I’d known beforehand, I wouldn’t have accepted this request. But now that I’ve intervened, I have no intention of backing down.”
Willet’s gaze hardened.
“You tried to kill my office’s mercenaries. I’ll protect them no matter what, even if that means war with the Black Cross.”
At his resolute answer, the necromancer shook his head.
‘He may be old, but he truly was once called a legend in this world.’
Indeed, otherwise he would never have survived here this long.
The necromancer picked up an eyeball at his feet and hurled it at Arthur.
“Madman.”
“….”
“Hey, madman.”
Arthur, catching it, answered.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. What’s your name? I’ll remember it.”
Arthur replied.
“Donn.”
“Donn… fine. Stay alive and let’s meet again. Next time, even if you have Whitebeard’s card, it won’t end like this.”
With that, the necromancer disappeared—teleport scroll in use.
Arthur scratched his head as he watched him vanish.
“Hm… in my experience, no one who says ‘let’s meet again’ is ever normal.”
And why did he keep calling *me* the madman?
When the one who kept reviving after dying was clearly the real lunatic.
At that moment, Willet suddenly stepped up and gripped his shoulder.
“I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“…What do you mean, Elder?”
“Exactly that. I don’t know where to start. This time… I’ve honestly crossed a line.”
He sighed.
“Do you want to hear everything now? I’ll explain if you do.”
Arthur thought, then shook his head.
“Mm… no. I’ll come by the office tomorrow and hear it then.”
With that, Arthur sheathed his meteor iron sword.
“It’s already too late. The sun’s up, and I need to get back. Curfew’s at six.”
Willet blinked.
“You have a curfew? Is that a joke?”
“Nope. Dead serious.”
At his reply, Willet burst out laughing.
“Hahaha….”
It was a laugh full of mixed emotions, but a genuinely warm one.
—
