Chapter 18: Act 9 – The Battle of the Necromancers
Junior necromancers are proficient in two spells, the Dark Veil and the Corruption Spell. Both of these spells are classified as black magic with the ‘evil’ element.
In the game, black magic was brought to the land by the Minren, servants of the Dark Dragon. During the chaotic age before the start of the First Epoch, they lived on the frozen plateaus north of Cruz.
The Minren shamans were adept at using necromancy and dark witchcraft. Later, these two types of spells, along with all offensive spells outside the elemental, natural, and sacred schools, were collectively referred to as black magic.
After the Holy War, the Flame King Gilt banished these dark dwellers to the cold East, and it was said that no one had seen them since.
But the Minren must have existed. In the Black Codex, the Dark Lords exiled to Madara learned the traditions of black witchcraft from these demon folk.
However, calling the Dark Veil black magic is somewhat misleading, as it is actually an auxiliary concealment spell. This spell can conveniently obscure the movements of a small squad of skeletal soldiers.
Of course, this is not complete invisibility or disappearance. Imagine a camouflage that blends into the dark background. Yes, it does not mask sound, smell, or any non-visual factors, and it is also limited to a certain range.
But in the dark of night, this spell becomes the best cover for Madara’s undead army, which is also the main reason why Madara’s forces often act at night.
As for the Corruption Spell, this fearsome black magic had already been witnessed once by Freya and the others on Joson.
This is a malicious attack spell, and also the primary offensive method of necromancers. It erodes enemies through negative forces, and the more severe the enemy’s negative emotions and the weaker their willpower, the greater the damage from the spell.
Until death.
This spell, like most black magic, functions by amplifying negative forces to produce a destructive power.
Mysterious black magic, commanders of thoughtless skeletal soldiers—necromancers themselves are also stronger, cunning, and changeable, making them seem to be an enemy difficult to defeat.
However, Sophie knew a secret: necromancers themselves do not inherently possess spellcasting abilities. Their true power comes from the bone staves in their hands, a powerful magic item specific to each necromancer, which becomes just a regular stick if it is taken away.
Understanding this point, one could then see how tactics against them should be devised.
As another skeleton soldier fell, under Sophie’s reminder, Freya and Aissen, the best swordsmen among the militiamen, approached the necromancer from both sides who was just preparing a spell.
“Attack its hands. Black witchcraft isn’t as mysterious as you think,” Sophie pointed out the undead creature’s weakness from behind: “Can you see its gestures? Interrupt it from completing the spell, seize the bone staff…”
The necromancer suddenly looked up and locked eyes with Sophie, its green phosphorescent orb glinting with malevolent light. Sophie faltered, her throat suddenly dry, and she knew she’d captured its attention—though our protagonist quickly calmed down, this corpse was impossible to bypass the militiamen and attack her directly.
However, being targeted by a lifeless, cold, and unfeeling monster is not a comfortable feeling, and Sophie had to pause to wait for Freya and Aissen’s attacks to take effect.
The necromancer let out a sinister laugh, swinging its bone staff, and the darkness around it wavered like ripples engulfing it. When Aissen’s longsword stabbed like a flash of snow, it only struck air; the previously occupied position of the undead monster became nothing.
“Hmm?” The young man frowned for a moment.
Sophie remained unfazed, too familiar with their tricks: “Aissen, to your left!”
Aissen didn’t react in time.
However, Freya, who had caught up from behind, swung her sword straight down. The blade cut through the dim environment, drawing a straight silver line. It was just about to reach the position Sophie referred to, but before that, the necromancer had staggered backward.
Everyone saw the shadow flowing backward like water.
“Human, who are you! You are not some militiaman!” A sharp voice erupted from the shadows, the necromancer appeared somewhat agitated.
Indeed, militia men couldn’t possibly know that much, and some of what Sophie said even circulated only among the wizards in Madara.
But Sophie remained silent. And Freya’s second sword strike quickly arrived. The green light in the necromancer’s eye sockets flickered; it disdainfully raised its bone staff to deflect the young maiden’s sword. Necromancers have 1.7 levels of strength, and Freya surely wouldn’t match Brendel’s strength more than likely.
The pigtails girl’s attack was easily deflected to the side. She tripped forward several steps before stopping and instinctively covered her left shoulder, frowning slightly.
The previous arrow wound seemed to have reopened…
“Sister Captain, let Markmey handle this, your injury…” Aissen noticed this, fending off the necromancer’s attack while calling out.
Markmey and Little Finnis rushed up from behind.
“Little Finnis, you stay back!” But Freya stopped the young fellow with her sword in front of him, sternly ordering him.
“But I’m also a militiaman!” The youth protested.
“Stay back, did you hear me—!”
Little Finnis turned red in the face and neck out of anger, yet even so, he didn’t dare defy Freya’s orders. Among these young people, Freya had always been the leader. The young maiden was kind-hearted, had her own principles, and everyone respected her as a team leader.
And Sophie nodded from behind, the battlefield was not a place for quarrels. Nonetheless, Freya’s determination impressed him. In his world, girls like her were rare.
“Let all four of you fight together,” he said from behind.
“Brendel, you—!” Freya inhaled sharply, involuntarily looking back. The young man lying on the rock—Romaine—stood by his side, looking innocently at this side and even winking at her.
That girl, she had defected so quickly!
She couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance.
“Necromancers are hard enemies, and the four of you can cover each other effectively,” Sophie replied earnestly.
“But Little Finnis…”
“He is also a militiaman.”
Freya bit her lip. She glanced back just then to see Markmey and Aissen falling back under the necromancer’s attacks. If the undead monster found the opportunity to cast a spell, this group would lose more members.
That was more than she could bear.
With that in mind, she could do nothing but nod. “Alright.”
“Cheers! Brendel, you’re amazing!” Little Finnis cheered and unsheathed his sword instantly. But Freya caught his collar from behind and sternly ordered, “Stay with me and don’t go out of my cover, understood—”
“Uh…” A disappointed voice.
When Freya and Little Finnis joined the fight, the situation immediately shifted. She and Aissen were already outstanding in swordsmanship among this period’s militiamen in Buche, and surprisingly, Little Finnis was no less impressive—using Sophie’s words, this child had strong offensive intentions, his sword attacks were decisive and accurate—not like the Eluin military sword technique which integrated attack and defense, but more like the aggressive battle array sword techniques of Cruz.
But no matter how one looked at it, from the perspective of an experienced warrior, this was already a very high evaluation.
Sophie thought that perhaps when Little Finnis grew to be as tall as Brendel, his swordplay might be no worse, though he would slightly lack his flair—because to him, Brendel was simply born for combat.
He sometimes wondered, if that young man hadn’t died in history but had grown in this war, his final achievements would probably not pale in comparison to Freya’s?
Unfortunately, the world is unpredictable, and there is no ‘what if’ in history.
Of course, the most crucial point in this battle was the reminders from the young man nearby. Sophie seemed to have completely seen through the necromancer’s thoughts; even the smallest intentions of the enemy could be pointed out by him.
What is it trying to do?
Why is it doing this?
Is it preparing a spell?
When should we interrupt it?
The necromancer became increasingly startled as the battle progressed. Undead cannot feel fear, but they can become disoriented. In the end, it almost screamed, “Who are you, necromancer? Or a black knight?”
This was met with Freya’s merciless thrust of her sword, and it’s claw gripping the bone staff flew high, emitting a terrible scream, the green fire in its sunken eye sockets dimming.
“Detestable humans…”
The battle ultimately ended with a regular thrust from Markmey. Before that, the necromancer was already struggling under the pressure. After its hands and bone staff were shattered, it screamed in protest as the bright sword pierced through its skull.
A click, the soul’s flame erupted from its body, this creature’s final act of retaliation. However, under Sophie’s warning, only Aissen, who dodged slightly slower, sustained a minor burn on his right hand.
On the other side, the others took down the two remaining skeletons with a mere casualty, and when the forest returned to calmness, only the wind was heard rustling through the treetops.
Everyone couldn’t help stopping, glancing at each other.
Including Freya, each face displayed disbelief. They had won, facing four skeleton soldiers and a terrifying necromancer.
Markmey’s sword clanged to the ground first, followed by the others’ in a chain reaction. They couldn’t help hugging each other, shouting, and even some cried to vent their emotions.
Surviving after peril was indeed a state that made people dazed.
Sophie, however, remained quiet. He looked up and saw three golden dots flying out of the darkness into his chest. It seemed that no one around noticed this detail, not even Romaine standing by his side.
The merchant miss looked as if she had let out a sigh of relief.
Eh, could this be the only thing he could see? Sophie couldn’t help but feel curious.
He took a glance around and instinctively opened his character attributes, just as he would have done in ‘Amber Sword’ after combat, Sophie always first reviewed his successes and failures.
Glowing emerald numbers immediately appeared in his retina vision—
Strength 1.1, Agility 2.0, Constitution 1.0, Intelligence 1.1, Willpower 1.3, Perception 1.0.
Absolute Strength 3.5, Elements (Unrefined)—
Brendel, human male, level 1 (Strength System: Physical, Melee; Talent: Indomitable)
XP: 4 (Commoner Level 1:—, Militia Level 2, 6/10)
Life (Weak, Critical): 10% (Bandaged State, recover 1 point per day)
Profession (Free Skill Points: 1)—
Commoner [Basic Knowledge (Level 1), Geography Knowledge (Level 0), Regional Knowledge (Level 1)]
Militia [Military Swordsmanship (Level 1), Combat Techniques (Level 1), Tactical Theory (Level 0), Military Organization (Level 0)]
It can be seen that the attributes that have changed are Strength and Constitution, indicating that his physical fitness has improved from the militia profession’s training (leveling up).
Then, absolute strength increased by 2.5 levels, mainly due to the 1 point of Dexterity enhancement from the Wind Queen’s Ring, and secondarily due to changes in physical fitness.
Finally, from this battle, he only gained four experience points from the four skeleton soldiers and one necromancer. Only half of what he deserved, Sophie thought about it, and finally concluded – team penalty.
This was simply too absurd; how could there be such a thing in the real world? But as a gamer, he really had no professional knowledge to explain everything, after all, time-traveling itself was an even more absurd thing than that.
Wasn’t it?
At first, he wanted to figure out how the team penalty was calculated, but soon he realized it was futile, as it seemed to have nothing to do with that game at all.
“Miss Martha, thank goodness my brain is a bit thick…” He couldn’t help but feel a headache, rubbing his forehead.
But then Sophie looked at his militia level and hesitated for a moment. To be honest, he didn’t want to put points into this career. Militia was so useless it didn’t need describing, hence it was known as the NPC-exclusive career.
In his last life, he’d never imagined that he’d waste points on this profession one day.
And he even chose the Indomitable talent!
Miss Martha up there, there were so many suitable warrior talents, and Indomitable was the worst one out of them. This talent allowed him to survive a fatal physical blow, but he only had five minutes to prepare, unless he received powerful healing within that time.
But so far, he hadn’t seen a healing item more effective than a bandage, whereas in the game, these items were everywhere.
But Sophie wasn’t overly regretful; after all, this talent saved his life, didn’t it?
But the current state of affairs was the same. Realistically, he still couldn’t find a way to change careers at the moment. Moreover, he was urgently in need of strength, so the only option left was to fully commit to the militia line until the end.
Sophie couldn’t help feeling a bit depressed.
So, does he have to transform from a seasoned warrior into a seasoned militiaman? Feed, warriors weren’t already enough of a cannon fodder?
…
