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The Hundred Reigns 9: The School of the Doomed (4)
🕑 Added 2025-09-18 09:02:12 +0000 UTC-----
Simon bashed the zombie’s skull in with his morning star and sent it flying back.
The creature ended its deadly course into a pool of murky green water at the center of the room, down into depths it would not rise again from. Another barnacle-encrusted shambling corpse tried to ambush Simon from behind, but its nauseating stench and grisly growling gave it away. A blow to the chest tore it in half and caused its already ripe flesh to rot at the point of impact.
Simon had found the morning star in his father’s archive. According to Duchar, it had been enchanted to devour the lifeforce of anyone who touched it, but since the Overlord Perk Unyielding Essence I protected Simon from curses, he could use the weapon with no drawback.
Although Leonard tried to familiarize Simon with multiple weapons and Balzam Magnos prized the sword over all others, he was growing fonder and fonder of mace and polearm weapons. There was something strangely appealing about the noise of cracking bones and the feeling of shattered limbs yielding to his steel.
Is it me that rejoices, or the Overlord Class? Simon wondered while basking in his victory. Four undead lay defeated at his feet, their putrid blood dripping down his morning star’s spikes. No matter, I suppose. This victory is my own.
Duchar’s voice echoed through the dark room’s hall. “Is Your Majesty satisfied with his performance?”
“Not yet,” Simon replied. Killing weaklings only provided meager experience. Simon could feel it in his bones. He was slowly approaching level 10, but nowhere near as quickly as he had hoped.
Come to think of it, could he put a Brand of Sloth on himself and benefit from its increased yield? Simon wasn’t sure enslaving himself was the right decision, but he could always remove the mark at any time.
Simon tried to summon the Devil Brand and apply it to his skin, only for the phantom mark to fizzle out in his palm. He guessed an Overlord could not contract themselves.
One of the room’s stone walls magically transformed into an open door, as had been the case for the other rooms in the underground maze so far. Simon thought the experience of traveling through dark rooms infested with undead would have been rather harrowing, but he found it quite relaxing compared to his usual schedule.
His first week at the Academy had flown by without issue, mostly because he had little time for himself between the courses in the day, the after-hours training with his retainers, and what little sleep he could get afterwards. Today was his first free day of the week, and Anna insisted that Simon waste most of the morning with the dueling club, a session which mostly consisted of him watching Anna trouncing other students in fencing duels–without using her Class–and failing to convince him to join in. So intense was his schedule that he had made very little progress in investigating his father’s notes since he arrived in Telluria.
Perhaps I should ask Anna to train with me here, if she wants a real challenge, Simon mused as he stepped into the next room. This one housed a jade throne sitting atop a dais, and on which waited a skeleton. Two glowing, bluish-white flames burned in its eye sockets, and unlike all other undead so far, this one was armed with two fearsome scimitars and light armor. This one looks like a cut above the rest.
Simon warily advanced across the room, with the door closing behind him. The skeleton rose from its throne in eerie silence in response. The way it climbed down the dais and wielded its scimitars betrayed a hint of intelligence, unlike all of its predecessors.
Simon’s suspicions were confirmed when the skeleton suddenly lunged at him in a dash of speed that took him aback. The undead swung its scimitars with dexterity, the blades dancing in a blur of steel. They easily broke past Simon’s defense and slashed at his armor in an attempt to find a weak spot.
A Class outfit was an extension of its user’s mana, a shell born of human will; so while Simon didn’t feel pain at the contact, he could sense the blows hitting him and slowly draining his energy. He swung his mace in an attempt to slay the undead, who quickly dodged with a backstep.
However, Simon did not relent.
Simon was beginning to notice the influence of the Overlord Class’ stats now that he could actually use his full strength. He felt he had become a little quicker on the draw, a little better at picking up details as befitting of the D-ranked Agility and C-ranked Perception, but it was the S-rank Strength and B-Rank Endurance that showed his greatest improvements. Simon had slaughtered his way through dozens of rooms so far without feeling even a little bit winded. He kept swinging his mace left and right without tiring, forcing the skeleton back towards the dais. The undead attempted to block and disarm him by striking at his gauntleted hand rather than flee, which proved a fatal mistake since it allowed Simon to close in.
A single blow to the chest pulverized the skeleton.
Simon couldn’t describe it any other way. The skeleton’s beastplate could have likely stopped most normal humans’ mace with a few dents; instead, his blow shattered it, smashed the ribs apart, and caused the body to splinter into a dozen fragments. He flung them across the room until they snapped against the throne.
This is the Overlord’s essence, Simon thought as he basked in the pleasurable rush of a new level-up. An unyielding and unstoppable advance.
Level 10 Perk: Miasmic Archmage I (Passive): You can learn and cast spells up to Tier I, but only those fueled by miasma.
Simon had heard that spells were usually categorized in ten tiers based on their power and complexity, with Tier I being the basics of sorcery and Tier X the realm of the divine. However, he had no idea which spells required miasma of all things.
“That’ll be all for today, Duchar,” Simon said.
A hidden doorway immediately opened to the throne’s right. Duchar walked out of it alongside his daughter, the latter of whom sighed upon glancing at the skeletal parts spread across the room and complained, “Another failed design.”
“Was it your creation?” Simon inquired against his better judgment.
Cassandra nodded slightly. “The vessel used to be a great warrior once. I sought to preserve him in death, but all I could save were his skills.”
“What matters is your progress, my daughter,” Duchar reassured her. “Preserving the soul of the dead is the apex of necromantic science. That you allowed your creation to retain enough of its fighting skills to briefly challenge His Majesty is an achievement in itself.”
“I’ve heard that undead are the result of souls touched by the Dark’s malice and prevented from reincarnating,” Simon said upon recalling his Divine Mysteries course, “and that only the Light of Pharis’ mercy can free them from this torment.”
Cassandra smiled faintly. “I hope Your Majesty does not believe in that nonsense.”
“There are a Light and Dark, but to assign them intentions like malice, let alone opposition, is a farce,” Duchar added. “These forces are no more intelligent than time or gravity.”
“Interesting.” Although Simon didn’t particularly trust a pair of aspiring necromancers, hearing the same story from multiple sides was always wiser than listening to only one. He guessed he could compare their tale with his Divine Mystery course to ascertain the truth for himself. “Is the Dark the Abyss from which demons sprang for?”
“Not quite. The Abyss is a most potent wellspring of the Dark, but the Dark stretches far beyond this place or its demonic denizens. The unnatural, the undead, curses, miasma, fear, anxiety, fury… The Overlord.” Duchar chuckled darkly to himself as if laughing at a joke only he could understand. “All of these things are of the Dark. It is an invisible force permeating everything that our senses cannot perceive unless it is heavily concentrated.”
His tone brimmed with reverence, and the glimmer in his eyes was as bright as any zealot. Simon could tell that the man would gladly answer any question on the subject and then some.
“I’ve heard miasma is mana corrupted by the Dark,” Simon inquired. “Is that true?”
“Corrupted is such a vile word, and inaccurate,” Duchar almost purred. His enthusiasm for the subject was palpable. “Miasma and mana are two sides of the same coin. Mana is the essence of all living things that sprang from the Worldtree. It is, shall we say, a colorless force, easy to manipulate and soaking in the emotions of its users. Does a mage ‘corrupt’ mana when shaping it to their will? Miasma is merely mana that is soaked in the essence of the Dark.”
A verbose and academic way to say that yes, miasma was Dark-corrupted mana; which probably explained why Duchar argued the Overlord to belong to this force, since the Class was uniquely powered by miasma rather than mana.
“Spells using miasma cover what some traditionalists would consider ‘unnatural’ magic, such as necromancy, diabolism, curses, rituals, some branches of astromancy, and chronomancy, too,” Duchar explained. “It is a narrower branch of sorcery than what is taught in most institutions, but a potent one nonetheless.”
“I see.” Simon nodded to himself and reached a decision. While he wasn’t especially keen on delving into demonic powers, strength was strength, and he needed more. “I have unlocked the ability to learn and cast Tier I spells requiring miasma rather than mana. Can you teach them to me?”
“I could teach His Majesty… but I would humbly suggest that you allow me to assign the task to Cassandra.” Duchar stroked his goatee. “Reviewing your father’s legacy takes time, you will agree, and I am at a very critical juncture in my research… I will be more than glad to take over Your Majesty’s training in a few years once you are ready to practice more advanced arts…”
In short, he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of teaching beginner spells to Simon if he could skip that step.
“Fair enough,” Simon replied before facing Cassandra. “Do you feel up to the task?”
“It would be a pleasure to initiate Your Majesty into our arts.” Cassandra seemed delighted by the proposal, much to Simon’s surprise. He would have expected her to consider it a chore.
“Wonderful,” Duchar said upon taking his leave. “I leave the matter to your tender care then, Cassandra.”
The old man left them alone without a word, with Cassandra studying Simon with a small, wicked grin. He suddenly realized he had never spent time with the woman alone before without her father.
“My own apprentice…” Cassandra chuckled darkly. “Your Majesty will forgive my enthusiasm. I did not expect to teach another mind for at least a decade or so.”
“I… I am glad you are happy about it.” She struck him as quite the odd bird. “I hope we’ll get along.”
“I am sure we will. Your Majesty is certain to become a quick learner through their Class.”
“Because of its Perks?”
“Because of its nature.” Cassandra joined her hands. “Most Classes are born of mana, and spells are merely mana shaped to achieve a desirable outcome. For most, to cast spells with miasma is difficult because it requires an extra step to alter the mana’s nature first.”
“So it is the reverse for the Overlord?” Simon guessed. “I will have an easy time casting spells from miasma, but normal mana spells will become harder for me to practice because my Class naturally channels miasma?”
Simon wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It was like closing off ninety percent of something just to have an easier time in the remaining ten percent; sure, miasma spells sounded stronger than the rest, but that power came at the cost of versatility, not to mention that rarity meant fewer competent teachers capable of guiding him.
Was that what Father’s notes on potential mentors referred to? Simon guessed he should put someone on the case.
Cassandra sensed his unease and swiftly soothed it. “Your Majesty will not mourn mana long when they see what our arts can achieve.” She pointed at the throne. “Shadowchain.”
Four black, barbed chains immediately burst out of the spot which she pointed at as if summoned from some infernal, shadowy realm beyond the naked eye. They coiled around the throne with such strength that its jade cracked. They then swiftly disappeared into a cloud of miasma.
“Shadowchain is a very simple Rank 1 miasma-powered spell,” Cassandra explained. “Your Majesty simply needs to channel their miasma onto a given surface, focus it, and then shape it into a chain’s shape.”
That sounded so simple and yet so complex.
“First, we will begin with mana and miasma detection exercises so Your Majesty might better understand the structure of spells even without his Class, and then we shall follow that up with practice,” Cassandra said. “Miasma answers most easily to aggressive emotions such as anger, fear, hatred… the Shadowchain spell will come easier to you should you picture yourself binding a loathed target.”
Simon glanced at the broken jade throne. “Who did you imagine sitting there?”
“My mother.” Cassandra’s lips curved into a dark smirk that sent shivers down Simon’s spine. “Can Your Majesty think of a hated one they would wish pain upon?”
The image of a certain Prince Thalas immediately came to mind.
“Yes,” Simon replied. “Yes, I can think of someone.”
—----
It barely took Simon an afternoon to learn Shadowchain.
Well, ‘learn’ might not have been the best word there. Simon felt more like he had rediscovered the spell, as if it were a memory the Overlord Class buried deep in his mind and only needed a little exercise to recall.
To learn was not the same as to master, though. Simon only managed to summon one chain compared to Cassandra’s four by the time the lesson came to an end. More practice would be required, but Simon didn’t mind. Picturing himself choking Thalas with shadowy chains of pure physical anger was quite the therapeutic experience.
“Your Majesty should rejoice over their fast progress,” Cassandra told him upon escorting him back to her home’s threshold. “It took me weeks to learn how to cast that spell, not hours.”
“Your praise should go to my Class, not me,” Simon replied. The magic almost came instinctively to him. “Miasmic Archmage and an S-rank in Magic make for quite the deadly combination.”
“Your Majesty sells himself too short. Miasma answers the caster’s will. The Class only strengthens it, and you are strong in the Dark.” Cassandra bit a nail, her expression thoughtful. “I wonder if that was the reason why Your Majesty’s father chose him for an heir.”
“I doubt it,” Simon replied. If he had an affinity for anger and unpleasantness, then the likes of Thalas had to be geniuses. “I might as well be a saint of the Light when compared to some of my siblings.”
“Is that so? Yet it is the brightest light that casts the deepest shadows.” Cassandra opened the door outside. “In any case, I will be happy to welcome Your Majesty for another lesson next week.”
“Only if it’s no bother to you,” Simon replied. “I do not wish to intrude.”
“Quite the contrary, I am looking forward to His Majesty’s company. The dead are good listeners, but I do enjoy talking to the living from time to time.”
Simon guessed that having a father like Duchar and being a closet necromancer didn’t lend well to an active social life. He thanked her for her assistance and then exited the house, with Cassandra softly closing the door behind him.
He barely took a few steps until he spotted a most unwelcome sight at the end of the alley.
Meredith.
Meredith was here, biting her lips.
“What are you doing?” Simon hissed in anger. Had she seen Cassandra? Thank the Light he had canceled his Overlord outfit at the lesson’s end. “I ordered you not to follow me.”
Meredith took a deep breath and held her ground. “Your Highness, is that woman–”
“It's none of your concern.”
“Your Highness forgives me, but it is.” Meredith straightened up like a soldier mustering the courage to face an angry superior, which she was. “I swore an oath to your father and Endymion that I would serve and protect you. Should any harm befall you, then Leonard and I will suffer for it, along with our families.”
Simon winced. He had forgotten that Balzam the Cruel was still alive and seated on the Crimson Throne as far as the rest of the world was concerned. Meredith believed that she would answer to him should anything happen to his son while he remained under her watch; an understandably frightening prospect.
“Your Highness, I wish you no harm, yet I cannot understand why you would visit this den of thieves without our escort,” Meredith said. “Is that woman blackmailing you, or–”
“I’m courting her.”
The lie flowed easily and had the desired effect. Namely, it took the wind out of Meredith’s sails and caused her cheeks to flush red. “Oh,” she stammered. “I, uh, I did not…”
“It is okay,” Simon reassured her. He would have to tell Cassandra about the lie to ensure there wouldn’t be any issues with the story. Meredith and Leonard would know better than to dig deeper afterwards. “You’ve seen Thalas, so you understand why I would rather wish to keep it a secret.”
“Y-yes, of course.” Meredith cleared her throat in embarrassment. “I am truly sorry to have doubted, Your Highness, but there is no need to keep your affairs secret from Leonard and me. We are sworn to service and secrecy.”
Oaths were wind. Simon knew better than to trust them. “Do you have anything to say besides interrupting my date?”
“Yes, I have come to give my report on my investigation of Casval.” Meredith sounded relieved for the chance to change the subject. “His family name is Ashmodai.”
Simon frowned. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Likely because they are not a noble house. Casval’s scholarship was supported by the marquis of Forneus, whom he apparently served as a retainer and man-at-arms. He seems to have impressed the marquis enough for him to pay for his tuition.”
“Forneus, Forneus…” It didn’t take long for Simon to remember the name. “Didn’t they side with Overlord Gargauth when my father and Euphemia revolted against him?”
“Indeed, Your Highness. Their misplaced loyalty cost them most of their territory once Gargauth fell. They have been desperate to regain their lost glory by lobbying other families for marriage alliances and by aggressively sending youths to the army to build new political connections.”
“Youths like Casval?” Simon guessed. “So that’s it? He’s just looking to forge royal connections?”
“I would assume so. Casval rose to the attention of House Forneus through his work and talent, so being useful to House Magnos could present new opportunities for career advancement.” Meredith cleared her throat, since she seemed to realize the situation could easily describe herself too. “Approaching Princess Anna directly might have been too obvious an attempt.”
So he decided to work his way up by approaching Simon, as he suspected would happen. Oh well, Meredith was right about one thing: Casval was useful, at least on the Kish research front. Simon saw no issues with introducing Casval to Anna, should he continue to help him with his investigation. That would be a fair price for his assistance.
“Good job,” Simon congratulated his retainer. “Have you found anything on the Kish otherwise?”
Meredith scowled in embarrassment. “I thought I had a lead, but…”
“But?” Simon encouraged her. “Anything will help.”
“The Kish beastmen are a very rare breed nowadays, but one of them entered imperial custody recently; an agitator with a Vassal Class trying to encourage rebellions among the beastmen groups Lord Dassein had pacified. Since she was quite the exotic beauty, your half-brother saw fit to transfer her to the capital in case His Majesty Balzam Magnos wished to add her to the imperial harem.”
Simon quickly put two and two together, much to his horror. “Don’t tell me that she was a prisoner at Frightwall?”
“She was.” Meredith gulped in embarrassment. “Unfortunately, Lord Louis decided to empty the dungeons, and I have not been able to ascertain her current location. I fear your lord brother had her executed.”
So the sixth prisoner was a Kish beastwoman? Simon grumbled as the pieces started falling into place. Father probably ordered Dassein to send her to him so he could interrogate her personally, until his death threw a wrench into that plan…
That lead was dead in the water. Such a pity.
“I am sorry I could not find out more, Your Highness,” Meredith apologized.
“No, no, you did very well, Meredith. Very well.” Enough that Simon was now considering putting her on the trail of his father’s ‘mentors.’ “I am happy with your service.”
“Your Highness is too kind.” Meredith bowed slightly. “If I can do anything else for you, you only need to ask.”
“Actually, there is something you could help with.” Simon crossed his arms. If she was indeed serious about her oath, then he could start exploring new options. “You wished to teach me weapon-enhancing spells. Do you know any Tier I spells using miasma?”
“I know one, Dark Saber. The spell infuses a melee weapon with the power of darkness for a short time.” Meredith coughed. “I would not recommend that Your Highness start learning weapon enchantments like that one. Casting miasma spells is… difficult for a beginner.”
“Of course, we’ll begin with easier ones.” Simon knew better than to show a unique affinity with miasma, since it was bound to raise suspicions. “Still, it won’t hurt if you just show me how it works.”
And once she did, he had a full school year and a secret maze to reverse-engineer it.
----
Comments
George R
Great chapter
Void Herald
The muse does as she will.
Garrett Smith
I thought the last chapter was it for some time. This story must be really flowing 😂
BlaueFeder
A cruel character normally makes for a bad protagonist.
Puri Iresan
I like that simon seems Highly competent and ruthless. He‘s not as cruel as his siblings though
Publius Decius Mus
Nah, she is off her rockers. Not worth it (will still happen probably).
gostsamo
courting is a classic, but what is the issue with saying that this is part of his father ordered studies/tasks. that would shut any inquiries. also, currently wondering if it is worth shipping Simon and Cassandra. :D
Void Herald
It is possible, but you need crestones for that and Simon has none yet ;)
Publius Decius Mus
Is there a way to multiclass in this world? While the Overlord class is very potent, it seems a tad bit untrustworthy, being sprung from the Darkness and all that.
Publius Decius Mus
Is it my fucking birthday?
