Chapter 101: ¹⁰¹The Necromancer From The Hollow
"He’s here," Ethan whispered. His voice was flat, yet it carried absolute certainty.
Valera grinned widely, baring her teeth. Her golden eyes burned with bloodlust. "Tch. That was too fast. I thought The Hollow would send another pack of scout rats."
Ethan rose from his chair with a casual movement. "Footsteps this heavy... he’s no spy."
"Let me chop him to pieces," Valera said quickly. She immediately drew her Zweihander, producing a sharp screech of metal.
"No." Ethan raised a hand, adjusting the cloak on his shoulders, then walked toward the door. "You wait here. Don’t come out until I’m done dealing with him."
Valera furrowed her brows, pouting in protest. "Huh? Wait, you’re telling me to sit tight in the room? Tch, are you afraid I’ll steal your spotlight, My Lord?"
Ethan turned his head from the doorway. His gaze was freezing. "I want him to know exactly... who is coming to claim his life."
The wooden door opened, then closed again. Valera could only snort softly, though the female knight eventually stepped closer to the window to watch the show from above.
Ethan stepped out of the inn. His black cloak fluttered gently in the north wind.
The streets of the Silent Village still flaunted the traces of their brutal massacre. The corpses of the Serpent’s Tongue members lay stiff, their blackened blood blending with the snow. The smell of foul incense and charred flesh from the logistics warehouse still hung in the air.
However, the most conspicuous sight was the human figure in the middle of that bloody stage. He stood right beneath the large wooden pole where Ethan had hung his prey earlier.
The figure had his back to Ethan. His body was scrawny and toweringly tall, wrapped in a dark gray robe whose ends swept the snow. His right hand tightly gripped a black wooden staff topped with a raven’s skull that continuously billowed gray smoke.
The temperature around the figure was strange. The air warmed unnaturally. The snow touching the hem of his robe hissed and melted, turning the frozen ground into a puddle of mud.
"You’re the one... who caused this mess in the village," the robed man’s voice broke the silence. Hoarse, dry, yet vibrating with magical pressure. He had not yet turned around.
"And you must be the executioner dog sent to clean up this trash," Ethan replied coldly. His steps halted ten paces from his target.
Hearing that insult, the man pivoted.
His face was a pale gray with sharply protruding cheekbones. His eyes lacked any whites; they burned entirely bright red like embers of hellfire from beneath his hood.
"Trash? Hah..." The man snorted, smiling condescendingly. "You dare call my masterpiece trash, boy?"
Ethan didn’t answer. Simultaneously, the Asmodeus System interface chimed softly in his head.
[Target Detected: Necromancer]
[Name: Orel]
[Rank: B-Rank (Peak)]
[Primary Threats: Corpse Manipulation, Dark Poison, Hallucinogenics]
"My name is Orel," the man introduced himself, lifting his chin arrogantly. "Grand Mage of the Silent Order, the right hand of The Hollow. I have buried more elite knights than you could possibly imagine in your short life."
Ethan remained silent. His eyes stared at Orel as if looking at dirty gravel on the side of the road.
Orel’s smile grew wider, baring his yellowish teeth. "You know, killing in a dead village filled with corpses like this... that was your biggest mistake."
Without warning, Orel raised his raven skull staff high into the air, then slammed it forcefully into the ground.
THUD!
A wave of pitch-black energy rippled from the point of impact, spreading like water ripples across the entire village street.
"ARISE!" Orel shrieked, his voice piercing the night.
The ground trembled. The flat mounds of snow now undulated. And from beneath those layers of ice... the corpses began to move.
Pale hands broke through the snow. Stiff faces with gaping mouths and whitened eyes surfaced. The corpses of the Serpent’s Tongue members slaughtered by Ethan and Valera rose again under the Necromancer’s dark magic.
Even the corpse on the gallows pole writhed. The rope around its neck creaked loudly, then snapped. The stiff body fell with a thud onto the snow, then slowly stood up. Its neck, almost completely severed by Valera’s slash, caused its head to loll gruesomely to one side.
In a matter of seconds, two dozen living corpses surrounded the village street. A foul stench immediately wafted thickly in the air.
From behind the second-floor window, Valera smirked in admiration. "A Necromancer... tch. How lucky my master is to get such a rare toy."
Down below, Orel spread his arms wide.
"Behold, Boy! An army that knows no fatigue nor pain!" Orel’s laughter echoed triumphantly. "Even a Gold Knight would be overwhelmed! Even an Archmage would run out of mana and die thrashing right here!"
Facing that exhibition of horror, Ethan merely let out a soft sigh. He shoved his left hand into his pocket with an overly casual gesture.
"And you think... junk toys like these are enough?" Ethan asked flatly.
Orel glared furiously. "You can judge that for yourself with your life!"
The Necromancer swung his staff. The two dozen corpses instantly swarmed Ethan. Their steps were stiff, yet incredibly fast. They clutched rusted daggers and sharp pieces of wood, driven by pure killing instinct.
Ethan didn’t budge an inch.
Right as the vanguard of corpses was a mere handspan from his face, Ethan reacted.
He unleashed the pure Sin Mana he had been suppressing in his core circuit all this time.
BZZZT! BOOOM!
An explosion of extraordinarily dense dark energy pressure erupted from Ethan’s body. It wasn’t a physical attack, but high-tier energy domination that manifested into an invisible protective dome.
The snow around Ethan was swept clean away down to the rocky ground. The air vibrated violently.
The charging corpses slammed into the wave of Sin Mana and... were pulverized instantly. Their flesh, bones, and armor were crushed to dust, flying apart like glass shattered by a sledgehammer.
The Rank B necromancy magic binding the corpses was forcefully severed, obliterated under the pressure of an S-Rank entity.
One by one, without exception, Orel’s entire prized army of corpses vanished into black dust upon the white snow.
And Ethan still hadn’t taken his hand out of his pocket.
Across from him, Orel froze. His arrogant smile evaporated without a trace. His gray face was now paler than his resurrected corpses. His glowing red eyes bulged in horror.
"W-What... what did you just do...?!" Orel’s voice trembled violently. The staff in his hand nearly slipped.
"So... is this the army you’ve been bragging about?" Ethan tilted his head slightly. "Disappointing."
Orel’s breath hitched. Terror crept up, swallowing his arrogance. He took a step back. His survival instincts screamed an absolute warning: Run.
However, Orel wasn’t stupid enough to die out of curiosity.
"Die!"
Orel abruptly flicked the left sleeve of his robe. Pitch-black fine powder spewed out, rapidly spreading into a mist. A respiratory nerve-paralyzing neurotoxin.
Without panicking, Ethan stepped very lightly to the side, evading the toxic cloud before its particles could touch his skin.
Capitalizing on that one-second opening, Orel spun his body and ran as fast as he could toward a narrow alley between two dark wooden houses.
"I will tell The Hollow your true strength! You won’t make it out alive from—"
SMASH!
That threat was cut short. An incredibly powerful kick slammed into Orel’s chest right at the mouth of the alley.
The mage’s scrawny body was thrown backward like a ragdoll, flying through the air before tumbling across the snowy street.
From the shadows of the alley, Valera Voss stepped out casually.
The female knight, who had apparently sneaked out through the back window, twirled a short dagger in her fingers while smirking.
"Where do you think you’re going, Bone Rat?" Valera chuckled. "Don’t rush home, the party is just getting started."
Orel coughed violently, spitting up clumps of black blood. He crawled in a panic, trying to get up, but Ethan’s shadow already loomed over him, blocking out the moonlight.
When Orel desperately reached for a dagger hidden in his robe with his right hand, Ethan’s boot stomped down on his wrist.
Ethan pressed his body weight down mercilessly.
CRACK!
"AHH!" Orel shrieked shrilly. His bones snapped. His eyes bulged as he endured the agonizing pain.
Ethan bent down casually, caught Orel’s struggling left wrist, and twisted it with a precise motion.
CRACK!
A second scream shattered the night. Orel flailed on the snow like a scorching worm. Tears of terror streamed down his face. Both his hands, his primary assets for casting magic, were now crushed and useless.
"Now," Ethan said, crouching down to bring his face level with the grimacing Orel. "Where is The Hollow?"
Orel laughed bitterly between bloody coughs. "D-Dream on... you’ll never find him... he’ll turn your corpse... into his newest collection..."
Ethan tilted his head. "Is that so."
The young man closed his eyes for a second, then unlocked his Lust Domain.
A dark, venomous aura thick with hypnotic arousal crept directly into Orel’s skull. The domain didn’t deal physical harm; rather, it forcefully tore apart the victim’s sanity.
In a flash, Orel’s reaction turned wild. His red pupils dilated. His breaths came in chaotic gasps. His eyes darted left and right, staring at empty air as if seeing the most horrifying terror combined with the most illicit temptation.
For a necromancer accustomed to cold death, being force-fed explosive illusions of life and lust was a soul-crushing psychological torture.
"H-hah... hah..." Orel babbled convulsively. "W-Women... their flesh is melting... t-they’re dancing... ahh... stay away! Don’t touch me! Hah...!"
Ethan stared at the madman without a single speck of pity.
"Where is he?" Ethan repeated softly, piercing through Orel’s subconscious.
Orel curled up like a fetus. His smile widened bizarrely before shattering into hysterical, tearful laughter. His sanity was finished.
"In the north... heehee... hic... the valley at the northern edge... behind the frozen waterfall...!" Orel raved uncontrollably. "In the depths of the Cave... you... you’ll rot in there... hahaha...!"
Ethan stood up straight. "You’ve said enough, Orel."
Ethan’s right hand extended. Velcrasia shot out from the void. The dark red whip pulsed with thirst. With one lightning-fast swing, the tip of the whip coiled around the Necromancer’s neck.
SNICK!
A wet, brief snapping sound.
Orel’s body instantly went limp. His head tilted at an impossible angle. Thick blood sprayed slowly onto the snow. The Grand Mage died with his eyes bulging vacantly.
Ethan retracted Velcrasia until it melted back into his hand.
Valera walked closer, sheathing her dagger casually.
"That was fast. I thought you’d play around a little longer with this corpse-skin," Valera commented as she kicked Orel’s skull staff until it snapped in two, then followed behind her master.
"North of the valley... behind the frozen waterfall," Valera muttered. "Hmm, matches the info from the prisoner at the mine back then. The coordinates are valid."
"Yes," Ethan answered, his boots stepping onto the inn’s wooden porch. "We are heading there."