Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbing July 3)

Dero had watched in silent fascination as Tybalt’s entire energy changed and swelled out of control - as his mana surpassed even hers, from what she could see, and then continued to grow. As he experimented with his power.

So, that’s what it means for him to use that skill, she thought.

It was such a large difference that she dared allow herself to wonder, to hope something she hadn’t truly hoped even when Tybalt had asked for her help attacking the dragon earlier. She hadn’t believed it could work. Not really.

But lending support was just something one did as a member of a team.

Dero could be selfish at times, she knew that. Yet she also knew that taking away someone else’s hope, shutting down their solution to the looming problem when you had none of your own, was not a constructive act. So she had gone along when Tybalt asked her to make him invisible and help him with a sneak attack.

Now, though… Now she allowed herself to believe that the impossible might be possible.

She cleared her throat, and Tybalt turned to look at her expectantly.

“The dragon is coming,” she said slowly. “While you were powering up, I had time to think. I remembered something. I was going to suggest that I could… hide you somewhere, a place I have prepared in the void, in case of emergencies. It’s very sealed off, very difficult to reach for anyone without my specific powers… but that would only be a temporary solution. The dragon would still hunt you down once you came back out, unless we could find some way to deal with this issue permanently. But maybe hiding isn’t even necessary. Maybe, together, we could actually do it. This power boost you’ve got going, my mobility…”

“No,” Tybalt said softly but firmly. “Thank you for all your help, Dero. You’ve done so much. Risked your life over and over. But I don’t need any more assistance.” The words sounded cold, but then his eyes landed on her, and she felt the coldness melt. “Sorry, no, I’m saying that wrong. The transformation… changes how I feel things. How I communicate. I just mean I don’t want you to get hurt. Please stay out of the way and go wherever the others are hiding. You’re beginning to be important to me.”

These latter words were far more careful than usual from the necromancer. That was how Dero felt instantly certain that they represented his considered feelings.

She quickly pushed past that.

“What do you mean you don’t need my assistance?” she asked roughly. She teleported behind him and shoved him forward. “Did you forget how slow you are? You can’t even dodge me! Here’s a little secret: that dragon is faster! Faster than you, faster than me. He’s been playing with us this whole time, trying to kill you in the quickest, kindest, most gentle- ”

“I know.” He turned his head back and looked at her. “I understand all of that.”

“Then you know that you need me. Your slow ass won’t be able to get around that fucking ancient dragon- ”

“Your teleportation seems to move you around pretty quickly,” the necromancer replied, grinning. “I think I’ll try that.”

Tybalt disappeared, and Dero’s mouth opened slightly.

That’s… new.

The dark elf felt his presence behind her, and she stifled her impulse to jump. Instead, she turned slowly to face him.

“How the fuck- ?” she began.

“I’ve seen you use it so many times, I was starting to understand it on some level, but this last one was the first time I saw it with a lich’s eyes. Eyes that can dissect everything magical.” He leaned down so that his gently glowing emerald eyes were just a couple of inches from hers. “Seriously, Dero, please get out of town. I’ll feel better knowing you’re with the others.”

She swallowed. Maybe… he actually doesn’t need me. Is that possible, in this situation?

But there was still one thing that didn’t quite sit right.

“I’ll stay out of the fight. If that’s what you want. But if you get the chance to negotiate with the dragon, take it.”

“Why would we negotiate?” Tybalt asked. “He wants to kill me. I want to live. It’s an impasse.”

Yeah, his confidence is up in the stratosphere.

“Dragons don’t lie,” Dero said softly. “They’re such purely magical beings that even their words have power. Binding power. Almost divine, if they don’t abuse their words. If they abuse the power, it deteriorates. So he won’t lie. If you get him into a position where he’s willing to agree to call off the fight, just do that. Make peace. You have lots of advantages in a conversation that you don’t have in a fight. You can lie. For the reasons I just described, he can’t. Remember, this dragon only wanted to kill you in the first place because of your plague. Right? It’s not impossible that you could get him to change his mind. If he’s like most of his kind, he’s lived centuries dedicated to a single purpose that he chose for himself. If he sees himself as a protector of humanity, you can use that. All you have to do… is not be yourself. Not the arrogant, brash Tybalt who’s willing to casually sacrifice thousands of humans for his end goal. Show him something he’ll believe in.”

“Magic words, hm?” he said. “Thank you for the tips.” But she wasn’t sure how seriously he was taking them.

She decided to try again.

“I know you think you’re invincible right now, and maybe you are - or close enough to it that you can taste it. I’m sure you could kill me if we fought one on one at the moment, assuming I didn’t find a way to wait out this transformation or run away. But an ancient fucking dragon is pretty invincible too. And he doesn’t have a limit to how long he remains a dragon. No matter what you think you can do… surviving is probably the only victory you can hope for here. I know humility won’t come naturally to you, especially right now, but…”

The necromancer shrank back slightly, his expression contemplative. He seemed to believe her.

They spoke for a little longer, a minute at most. He asked her to do something. She agreed.

Thank Mudo we got past that arrogance… this time.

Finally, Tybalt nodded.

“Thanks, Dero.”

Then he disappeared again.

***

The necromancer reappeared on the Whadesport streets.

He noted with satisfaction how effortless using mana felt now - like he had it at his fingertips as soon as he thought of needing it, with no casting time - and recognized why. The lich body was superior. The human form had a mana core, just like a monster, producing most of the energy the human used when he employed magic. In humanoids, that was the heart. In monsters, it was often a very different-looking organ that could exist alongside, within, or separate from the heart.

But a lich, by its nature, did not need to be attached to any specific body part. His aura was attached to every part of him, and mana was therefore available whenever and wherever he needed it. The closest thing to a core was the phylactery, but that wouldn’t contain any aura itself unless Tybalt’s body was destroyed or he needed to get something out of storage.

Magic at the speed of thought.

Skill Recognized: Teleport acquired!

Good. Now that he officially had the skill, his brain could stop analyzing how to convert his mana into something like Dero’s every single time he used it. The system would do the work for him. That would clear up a little processing power.

He expected it would be very useful, even if he couldn’t go too far with it given that the town probably had an anti-Teleport rune somewhere. From what Dero had said, he imagined that if he left and returned with the skill, he might get dismembered or something grotesque like that.

Although I suppose I’d recover, he thought with cool amusement. He factored that in as his brain continued considering strategies. The idea he had mentioned to Dero was not his Plan A. It was Plan C, and more plans were being constructed all the time.

His physical durability would be a major factor here.

Liches regenerated when their bodies were destroyed, as long as their phylactery remained intact. The necromancer knew that from Unholy Forces. Tybalt’s own Moderate Regeneration skill would hopefully accelerate that process. And his phylactery, the storage ring from Mudo, should be borderline indestructible as a divine artifact.

So he could freely use Teleport without worrying about self-injury. The real issue from overusing Teleport would be that it cost him more mana than it would Dero every time he used it, because of the conversion process. Some efficiency was inevitably lost.

He reached out and pulled harder on the zombies and undead of the town, trying to drain them faster. He would need the mana, the health, the stamina, even if they were all temporary. Because he could already feel it: a gentle tug on his body.

The dragon was flying closer, looking for him specifically. The great beast had marked Tybalt, a sort of mystical odor trail attached to the necromancer, and Tybalt had not yet established whether he could remove it. It was subtle, and he had only been able to detect it at all once he became a lich.

That was part of why he didn’t want Dero there. She wasn’t marked yet. She could survive this, even if Tybalt lost.

Should I Teleport to another section of Whadesport? Make him waste a few extra minutes getting the scent again? No, I’m burning through energy quickly enough already. Only use Teleport after the dragon initiates combat…

A slightly larger burst of energy entered Tybalt’s body, and a notification popped up.

Skill Acquired: Weak Life Drain!

Analyzing… A part of Tybalt’s mind, the ever-analytical lich section, began dissecting the skill.

The conscious mind reacted with annoyance to the new skill.

How unfortunate.

This meant that among these hundreds of unimpressive specimens, there had been an undead with a useful ability. Maybe a nachzehrer like Heimar, since this was a skill he also possessed.

It seemed that when Tybalt drained an undead’s essence, he also acquired its skills. Most undead had none, so he hadn’t noticed earlier.

Skill analysis complete! Upgrade applied.

Tybalt ignored that. He felt the conscious knowledge enter his mind of how he could use Weak Life Drain more efficiently - which would make it simply Life Drain, without the “Weak” appellation.

But it still didn’t adequately compensate for what was objectively a bad situation. The necromancer could gain a million skills, and he’d be stronger, but not a million times stronger. Not even a thousand times stronger. Depending on the skills, perhaps ten times stronger, or a little more, but even that was pushing it.

If I didn’t need the energy, I’d rather have the bodies to throw at my enemies.

Skill Acquired: Paralyzing Touch!

Tybalt sighed. A perfect skill for a close combatant. Valuable in a ghoul. Value to me in my own skill list? Questionable.

The dragon was forcing Tybalt to destroy all these new undead just so he could be prepared to fight it. Such a waste.

Could Tybalt fight an army? Alone, probably not. Well, perhaps in his present form. But that would only be temporary.

Could the thousand undead that he was draining of power fight an army, though? Yes. They might possibly lose, but they could definitely fight.

This wasn’t even factoring in the fact that zombies and skeletons could grow, learn, and evolve. Tybalt had seen it, how his creations could develop beyond his expectations. Using Undeath Drain on the masses of undead in Whadesport was like strangling a small child in its cradle. There would be no chance for them to ever become anything.

But since the dragon had already been burning specifically the houses where the undead were, and in its pursuit of Tybalt and his creatures had apparently used his flames on much of the town even where they weren’t… this was the least wasteful option.

The massive purple shape appeared overhead as a great blur that suddenly blocked out most of the sky above the necromancer.

He didn’t Teleport to my exact location when he pinpointed it, Tybalt noted. That’s just speed.

“I found you,” rumbled the dragon. “Ready to stop running? Or shall we continue the chase until you run out of mana?”

The presence and the voice didn’t have the same effect they’d had before. Tybalt wasn’t paralyzed, he wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t even hesitant. He grinned widely up at the dragon.

“I’m ready to win,” the necromancer replied at his normal speaking volume. “I’ll defeat your might with magic.”

Combat incoming. Analyzing draconic physiology. Searching for weaknesses…

“Many better mages than you have tried,” the dragon replied, his tone almost wistful. “In fact… I learned much from them. Perhaps you will witness the fruits of my studies.”

The dragon is also a mage, I knew that when I realized he could Teleport. But he fancies himself a real student of magic?

“If you live long enough,” the creature added.

The great beast opened his maw again, and a huge rush of flames tumbled forth.

Analyzing.

As Tybalt’s lich brain tried to understand what he saw - he already knew they weren’t true flames but some sort of magical effect that just looked like fire - his body took action.

He raised a single hand. He wasn’t running this time. He didn’t have to. He knew that the attack was made of energy… which meant it was food.

Enervate.

This was the only non-intellectual skill he had gained from the lich transformation, the signature ability of a lich according to Unholy Forces: the power to drain energy.

The flames touched the air in front of his open palm, and then Tybalt’s mana sucked them in. To any observing eyes, a rush of unstoppable fire struck the necromancer’s hand and simply disappeared.

Only Tybalt knew the true effect.

What a rush!

The mana overflow he’d already been experiencing spiked harder than ever. This one energy blast had more power in it than a hundred undead.

The strengths of his lich mind asserted themselves again, producing conscious analysis.

Incredibly densely packed with mana. No elemental affinity, despite manifesting the appearance of flames and functioning similarly to flames. This energy is sheer destruction given physical form.

How interesting, thought the more human side.

Skill analysis complete! Ability copied.

The necromancer had already been grinning, but as the last of the flames vanished, the dragon’s body language - surprise that Tybalt was still standing there - brought him a surge of delight.

He doesn’t understand how I did that… but now I understand his primary offensive weapon.

The necromancer aimed his palm at the dragon and shot forth a response - a burst of fiery destructive energy of his own.