The Developer Reborn As Archmage

“Seris! Get behind me!” Fominel pointed his manablade at the ground.

“Eeh!” Seris squealed, running over as if she had been harassed by something utterly disgusting.

“What was it, Seris?” Darya asked apprehensively. With the way she was acting, Darya wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“By the light, something grabbed my foot! Ew!” Seris said, hiding behind Fominel while shaking her leg. “I-it was speaking too!”

Fominel scanned the grass with his manablade. Slashed wet grass blades fell as the blue ray of light passed through. He leaned forward, holding Darya tightly to his body with his left arm.

“Do you see anything?” Darya asked, peeking from under his face.

“Something is in the grass!” Fominel said, his frown deepening.

Seris was clinging to his cape from the back. “S-see I told you! It grabbed my ankle!”

Since this thing could talk, Darya wanted to try a different approach than poking it. She gently grabbed Fominel’s forearm before he made kebab out of this possibly sentient being.

“Hello?” She called out loudly. “Who are you? I heard you speak earlier!”

There was no sound.

“Princess! You shouldn’t talk with strange creatures! Who knows what cursed soul this is! This brings misfortune!” Fominel said, trying to shake his hand free.

“Yes! Damned ankle-grabbing pervert! Slice it up, Fomi!” Seris said, hiding behind the cape, keeping her feet well out of sight.

“Wait, if it could talk, we should at least hear it out. Who knows if it’s got something to do with Sarka? Maybe it’s someone he warped here with!” Darya said, narrowing her eyes at the wet grass.

“You have until I count to five to talk. If you don’t, I’m going to let my friends do what they want with you, I’m sure you heard them!” Darya said loudly into the darkness before her.

Seris quietly located her wand with the blue light from Fominel’s manablade. The tip started to glow after she whispered an incantation. This time, the glow was brighter. She had used a more powerful spell with whatever mana remained.

Darya started counting. “One!”

The grass shifted. Fominel gripped the manablade hilt tighter, ready to dice everything in that general direction. Darya held his forearm from springing forth.

“Two!”

The grass shifted again. This time, she caught a glimpse of a dark shape moving. From what she saw, it had tiny limbs and a big, fat tail too heavy to lift.

What the hell was that thing! A spider with a log of a tail?!

It creeped her out, but she had to remind herself that this thing could somehow speak.

“Three!” Darya said. “I changed my mind. I won’t count to five. It’s now or never! I already saw you! Speak up!”

There was no sound.

“Fominel!” Darya said, loosening her grip on his forearm. “You see it too, right?”

“Yes!” Fominel grunted eagerly, staring at the dark shape on the grass.

She held his hand for a moment longer, letting the silence hang as the storm winds blew between them. The dark thing moved when she was just about to let go of Fominel’s hand.

“Fine! I yield!” it said dramatically. “I surrender, fair lady!”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?!” Darya asked, tightening her grip on Fominel’s forearm again. He seemed to want to stab it more after it spoke, not less.

Seris moved from behind Fominel and flicked her wand in the direction. A ball of light detached from the tip of her wand and illuminated the strange shape before them.

“What the hell!” Darya exclaimed.

“Eeh! Kill it!” Seris screamed as the light flickering as she pointed a panicked hand at it. “Kill it with fire!”

“Let go of my hand, princess!” Fominel hissed.

The thing that stood before them was a hand. It was Sarka’s severed arm. The spider that she saw had its fingers. The tail was the larger muscles of the arm. She had sliced it off above the elbow with the warblade.

“Wait, how the hell is that thing speaking!” Darya asked, still holding Fominel’s hand. There was no plausible way for a hand to make a coherent speech, especially in RLP.

“Doesn’t matter, this is a trap!” Fominel hissed.

“This is no trap, I reassure you, swordsman! If you wish to get rid of this wretched hand, I shall not get in your way!” the voice said again. It was deeper than any of theirs, but it was quiet enough to blend with the wind.

Wretched hand? Why is it insulting itself?

“Last question, who are you?” Darya asked. She thought Fominel was right. This could very well be a trap. Although it didn’t make sense why Sarka would’ve resorted to it.

“This may be shocking. I am Sarka, the first Archmage Supreme of the White Grove. Third seat of the Goliante Council,” the hand said without a pause.

The answer made Fominel wrench his hand free from Darya and drive his manablade forward. The blue ray cut across the hand, and he quickly pivoted, dicing it up in a flurry of quick whip-cracking motions. Darya was impressed by how quickly he could turn something into slices of itself.

Chunks of blackened flesh fell on the grass with splashes of clear liquid washing away in the rain.

“It is as I said, swordsman, fair ladies. You are free to get rid of the wretched hand. I am now intact and free!”

“By the light we’ve set his evil spirit free!” Seris yelled. “Eeh! Fominel! We should run before it can curse us!”

“I harbor no evil intentions toward the ones that freed me, fine lady!” Sarka said. The voice was still coming from the pile of flesh.

“We should leave! I don’t know what this is, and I don’t want to find out!” Fominel said resolutely.

“E-exorcism! We need to purge the bad energy out!” Seris muttered shakily.

“You two wait!” Darya said sternly. “I want to know what this is. Shut up and wait!”

“Princess!” Fominel said in protest.

“But…!” Seris paused when Darya lifted a hand.

“I’ll do the talking! Just stand by!” She said, patting Fominel’s hand to bring her closer to the pile.

“Most reasonable, fair lady!” Sarka spoke through the grass.

“You have one chance to explain yourself. What are you? How are you speaking? You can’t call yourself Sarka and expect to be left alone. You broke three of my ribs just a few minutes ago. Explain everything!”

“Heartfelt apologies, my poor fair lady!” The voice said in a tone of regret. “It is most regretful that my corpse is running wild, breaking the ribs of young women! It sullies the good name that I spent one hundred and seventy years building. I suppose this is my cross to bear. How despicable!”

“How are you separate from your corpse?” Darya asked. She was speaking with a disembodied soul hiding in a hand. This was some VRMMO-grade, super non-realistic, immersion-breaking bullshit that couldn’t be part of RLP.

“I unfortunately happened upon some cursed black spheres that produced some powerful undead mages. I ended my life shortly before I perished. This is all I could gather of myself into my trusty soulstone!” Sarka said with a solemn voice.

“Wait!” Seris cleared her throat.

“Shh!” Darya gestured at her to shut up. It was better if one person handled all the talking. She was sure Seris and Fominel had probably understood a lot more with their knowledge of history and context. It made her the perfect person to ask the questions because she was neither impressed nor shocked at anything this thing could tell her.

“You’re in a stone. You’re saying you put yourself in a stone?” She asked. She couldn’t remember working on anything like that.

Resurrection stones exist. Why not soulstone? Sure.

“Yes, fair lady! I had a soulstone ring. A mythical piece of jewelry that I discovered in my great expedition to the Rohareim kingdom of the dark sky!”

“Oh, so you’re a speaking ring now?” Darya asked, daring to peek closer now that this was confirmed to be an item. She was worried the voice was embedded in something gross, like a special piece of flesh.

A ring was a lot better.

“Yes! I was fused with the flesh, entombed in my own body as that wretched black sphere swallowed me!”

“Oh, you were stuck all this time. Why didn’t you make a noise while we were fighting the corpse?!”

“I couldn’t have. I was suppressed by the massive mana pressure!” Sarka said dismally. “ That curse is behind me now that you have freed me from the wretched flesh. I am currently lying in the grass, and I am unable to move. Should you leave me here, I will be in quite a predicament! I humbly beg you to locate me and take me with you, fair lady!”

Of course, he’s screwed if we leave him on an island in the middle of nowhere. Who knows when he’ll be found again?

Darya looked at Fominel and Seris. They were aggressively shaking their heads. They had their reasons for not having a cursed ring near them. Darya was thinking ahead about what real Sarka could do for them. He might know where the corpse warped off to. They might be able to narrow down the other two members without a seer.

She couldn’t find the ring herself because Fominel wasn’t letting her go. Her side was just beginning to hurt as the anesthetic effect from the healing spell was slowly fading. She couldn’t move on her own right now.

“Seris, find this ring for me, please,” Darya said, gesturing at the ground.

“M-m-me?” Seris mumbled, pointing at herself, eyes wide with fear.

“Just poke around with the wand, you don’t have to touch it, please?”

Seris gulped hard, moving forward timidly. She held her wand with both hands.

“Sarka, where are you? Help her find you quickly. It’s freezing out here, and I’m in pain!” Darya yelled at the ground.

“I’m here, fair lady! I don’t have eyes, but I can feel your feet on the grass!”

“Stop talking about feet! Y-you couldn’t have made it sound creepier if you tried!” Seris shuddered, crouching with the wand.

“Wait, let me help,” Fominel said with a sigh, carrying Darya close to the scene.