'What in the world is going on?'
Suddenly, I was learning Lightning Magic.
But my surprise didn't last long. I quickly sorted through the situation in my head. The name of the Grimoire I'd read—no, the one that had made me read it—was the Cumulonimbus Grimoire. And the name of the spell contained within it was...
'Lightning Bolt.'
Lightning Bolt was a spell that shot a bolt of lightning in the desired direction. Its power seemed strong enough to kill. Finally, I had a means to defend myself properly. Of course, I'd had Ignition before this. But that barely qualified as an attack spell. Plus, it only worked on foes up close, making it tricky to use.
Considering all that, this was my first real offensive magic. The mana cost of 25 was a huge burden, but it was still worth it.
'So why did this happen?'
I hadn't heard the Cumulonimbus Grimoire's voice, so I had no idea what its request had been. Yet it had allowed me to master it anyway. I racked my brain trying to figure it out, but no clear answer came. The best I could come up with were two guesses.
"Master, maybe Grimoires with Lightning Magic are just shy? That's why it acted so curt when we found the Cumulonimbus Grimoire."
"No, that doesn't fit. Other mages say Lightning Grimoires flatly refused them in no uncertain terms."
First guess, scrapped.
"Then it must be that Lightning Magic likes me."
"Lightning Magic likes you?"
"You said it yourself the day we met, Master. Grimoires are picky about people. But I've never met one that disliked me."
"...That's true enough."
Master pondered for a moment, then nodded. Seeing his reaction, I pressed on with conviction.
"Plant Magic, Water Magic, Fire Magic. I've learned spells from all sorts of fields so far. The Grimoires holding them were all favorable toward me. Admit it."
"Fine. If they hadn't been, you couldn't have learned the magic inside them to begin with."
"Same with this time. The Lightning Grimoire liked me too. Just more intensely than the others. Enough to let me learn its magic without fulfilling its request!"
Master scowled as he listened. But the wrinkles smoothed out, and he returned to his usual blank expression.
"There's... some logic to it."
With that opener, Master continued.
"But the sample size is too small. To test your theory, you'd need to interact with a few more Lightning Grimoires."
"Exactly. That's why it's just a guess."
"Either way, good for you. No more starving now. Any noble would welcome you with open arms."
Master patted my shoulder as he spoke. Clear praise. But I couldn't just bask in it. It felt like he was already thinking about parting ways. We hadn't known each other long, so it wouldn't happen right away. Still, I doubted we'd travel together forever. Just a gut feeling.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
We finished searching the hut and stepped outside. I'd gained a new spell, and Master had found the Necromancer's hidden money pouch. Pretty rewarding overall. But he didn't seem satisfied.
"Even thinking about it, one Grimoire doesn't balance the books. We need proper compensation."
"True. You went through a lot, Master."
He'd tried to get guard support but got dragged into this mess. He'd saved a village from vanishing, so Neville Baron had to reward that somehow. If not? He'd incur Master's wrath.
'Neville Baron will handle it right.'
Digori of the Live Burial. In this harsh world, such a terrifying nickname meant the man himself was that formidable. Crossing him? Like jumping into fire with dry grass. Barring sudden insanity, Neville Baron wouldn't mistreat Master.
"Whoa!"
Lost in those thoughts as we walked, I spotted a decapitated corpse. The Necromancer's. The Skeleton's work was so precise, the cut was perfectly clean.
"Look closely, Heros. This is a Necromancer's end."
Master spoke from beside me as I stared. His face was its usual blank mask. But I sensed deep regret there.
"Killed by another mage, hunted down by the Church's pursuers, or taking their own life. Necromancers don't die peacefully in old age. I'll probably end up just as pathetic as this one."
Master spoke flatly. The words carried heavy weight. Why bring up something so grim now? As I puzzled over his intent, Master revealed it.
"So if you ever learn Necromancy, don't use it in front of others. Plant Mage, Water Mage, Fire Mage, Lightning Mage—you can be any of those. No need to wallow in filth."
"But if you hate Necromancers so much, why stick to it? Why not just work as an Earth Mage? With your skills, Master, you could easily land a spot as a great noble's exclusive mage."
"Heros. I've come too far to turn back. So I'll die as a Necromancer."
At this point, curiosity burned. Why cling to being a Necromancer?
"Master, why did you become a Necromancer?"
A question I'd asked before. He'd always dodged it. Would today be different? I watched him expectantly. And finally, Master spoke.
"To create the perfect undead."
"Perfect undead?"
"Undead indistinguishable from the living. That's why I became a Necromancer."
"Ah..."
"It's nearly impossible. I know that. Mortals can't reach perfection. But pursuing it is possible, so I cling to that."
Master gazed down at the Necromancer's corpse as he said it. But it wasn't satisfying. His answer only sparked another question.
"Then why make perfect undead your goal, Master?"
The dream of becoming the greatest Necromancer? No, that didn't fit. The Master I'd seen wasn't the romantic type. And my hunch was right.
"Because of my obsessions and stubbornness. Don't make my mistakes, Heros. I succeeded as a mage but failed as a human."
Failed as a human. For the first time, I rejected Master's words. The man I'd known was virtuous. Treating an orphan like me as human deserved praise. So I answered with silence.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Back in Withill, we headed to Neville Baron's fortress with the two soldiers who'd traveled with us. There, the soldiers recounted every detail before the Baron.
"Heros tracked the culprit's trail and found his hideout. Shockingly, the criminal was a Necromancer. The madman was killing villagers and turning their corpses into undead."
"The Necromancer commanded a horrific golem made of human flesh and hordes of zombies. He was a mighty black mage. Without Digori and Heros, the village would've been gone in no time."
Sincerity rang in their voices. Perhaps that's why Neville Baron's face grew paler as he listened. He finally grasped the gravity.
"To be precise, we took down one Flesh Golem and twenty-two zombies. And finally, the Necromancer controlling them."
Master stepped forward then. He met the Baron's eyes and spoke plainly.
"If Heros and I hadn't found the village, the Necromancer would've built up his undead forces undisturbed. Once strong enough, he'd have raised an army and attacked people. Maybe even raided here."
"Truly, thank you! Without you, who knows how it would've ended... Horrifying to imagine!"
Neville Baron shuddered and cried out. Gratitude filled his voice. But that wasn't what Master wanted.
"Baron. To be frank, the numbers overwhelmed us. I used up most of my magical supplies. The losses were immense."
I glanced at Master. No sign of the lie. Even I, who knew the truth, briefly wondered if it was real. Such natural acting. No wonder the Baron bought it.
"Oh no! What can I do?"
The Baron asked, face full of regret. Master shook his head.
"We didn't do it for rewards. But if you're insisting on compensating us, I won't refuse."
"Haha... I'll make it worth your while."
"Thank you."
Master successfully extracted extra payment. The Baron didn't seem upset. They'd eliminated a threat to more than one village—the whole territory. Without losing any soldiers. Not a bad deal for him.
"Ah, right!"
Suddenly, Neville Baron clapped. He shouted to the servant waiting by the door.
"Bring the Grimoire!"
The Grimoire he'd promised us. He meant to hand it over here.
"Yes, sir!"
The servant dashed out energetically. Meanwhile, the Baron questioned the soldiers to satisfy his curiosity. Then, moments later.
"Aaaah!"
A scream echoed from afar. The servant who'd gone to the warehouse. Master and I turned toward the hall, wondering what happened. But the Baron and soldiers remained unfazed. As if it were routine.
"I have it."
Soon, the servant returned with the Grimoire. His face was ashen.
"Saw another ghost?"
"Y-Yes... As soon as I entered, our eyes met. It was glaring at me, so I..."
"Good work."
The Baron commended him.
Ghost? A ghost in the warehouse? I wanted to ask right then. But I lacked the standing. I swallowed my curiosity—until Master voiced it.
"A ghost in the warehouse?"
"Yes. The lingering spirit of this Grimoire's original owner—the mage my grandfather executed."
"Hoh..."
Master glanced at me after hearing that. Our eyes met in the air. No words needed; I knew what he meant. The ghost the servant saw? Likely not a human soul, but mystical phenomenon from the Grimoire. And such phenomena usually meant...
'High chance the magic inside is Necromancy.'
Grimoires often manifested mysteries tied to their spells. 'Wonder what magic it's holding.' I stared at the Grimoire in the servant's hands, curiosity piqued. Then its voice rang out.
[Grimoire Awakens: "Kieeeek! Freedom at last! A hundred years locked in that warehouse is too much, don't you think?!"]
The Grimoire screeched in delight. Then it pointed at me.
[Grimoire Awakens: "You there, human chosen by the usurper! Take this book already! Time for me to get in on the benefits!"]
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