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Chapter 12: That Damned Necromancer
🕑 Added 2025-10-24 00:21:27 +0000 UTC"I can see you. Is that really so unusual? Can't... other people see you?" Orum keenly caught the key words in the skeleton's speech and pressed further.
Faced with the question, the skeleton fell into a prolonged silence without answering, only staring blankly at Orum.
Dozens of seconds passed, and the air suddenly became somewhat awkward.
Just when Orum thought this pile of bones had something unspeakable to hide, the skeleton suddenly spoke:
"Yes, other people... cannot see me."
"Dude, your lag is terrible..." Orum covered his face. This skeleton's reaction speed was truly something else.
"With you here, I finally have a chance to leave." The skeleton spoke again. This time, its speech was noticeably faster, with only a twenty-second delay.
Immediately after, the skeleton opened up like a floodgate and began rambling on:
"I should be from over a hundred years ago. The king at that time was Richard VI. He was a wise and enlightened monarch..."
Orum had no interest in listening to a history lesson. He stood up to leave, but then heard the skeleton continue:
"Though I've lost many memories, I still remember that I used to be a mage who studied the necromancy school..."
"A mage?"
Orum's eyes lit up instantly. He immediately found a relatively flat rock and sat down beside the skeleton, listening intently.
In this world, those who could be called "mages" were extremely rare.
Every single one was a precious dignitary, not someone a lowly adventurer of farmer origin like him could ever touch.
The scarcity of mages stemmed from one core reason: becoming a mage required extremely high talent!
When nobles learned combat techniques, they could still rely on abundant wealth.
As long as they were willing to put in ten years of hard work and practice repeatedly, combat techniques could eventually be mastered.
But magic was entirely different. To ordinary people, it was profound, obscure, like reading celestial script.
Without talent, no amount of study could grant entry.
Therefore, no matter how miraculous spells were or how destructive high-level magic could be, the number of mages in the world remained at a relatively low level, unable to be popularized on a large scale.
Orum had never imagined he would encounter such a "skeleton mage" in this desolate wilderness.
Though dead, it was indeed the first mage Orum had ever met!
After every few sentences, the skeleton had to pause for a minute before continuing.
Orum patiently listened for over half an hour and finally understood the skeleton's origins.
The skeleton was a necromancer who had forgotten her own name. Her time of death might have been a hundred years ago, or perhaps two hundred years ago.
As a necromancer, she had an extremely headstrong way of doing things, unconstrained by worldly rules, and thus had made quite a few enemies.
Finally one day, she was cornered and besieged by her enemies in Misty Forest.
That battle shook heaven and earth. The fighting was incredibly brutal, and both sides paid an enormous price.
The skeleton before him was one of the soul fragments that had been knocked loose from the necromancer.
As for whether the necromancer's main body had survived that great battle, the skeleton didn't know.
"Even if that necromancer didn't die back then, she should have died of old age by now, right?
Unless she could accept rebirth as a lich..." As Orum spoke, he suddenly saw the skeleton's gaze fixed on him and realized this statement was a bit foolish.
What psychological barrier would a necromancer have about becoming a lich?
It's like a latrine turning into a septic tank, no difference at all!
"Ahem, let's talk instead about what exactly you did back then that warranted a blood feud?" Orum coughed and changed the subject.
After waiting twenty seconds, the skeleton finally seemed to hear Orum's words and spoke hoarsely:
"At the time, I had a friend who was imprisoned in Roan City's prison."
"To rescue him, I reanimated the city lord's deceased father and mother as zombies, causing a disturbance at the prison gates to draw the guards' attention."
Hearing this, Orum immediately looked at the skeleton before him with newfound respect.
Indeed, every necromancer was a genius at stirring up trouble...
"By the way, have you heard a joke about necromancers?"
While recalling the details, Orum told the story with vivid expressions:
"Once upon a time, there was an adventuring party. The dwarf's brother was unfortunately killed by a demon, and he begged his teammates to help him take revenge."
"So the paladin stepped forward and said, 'My sword is yours to command.'"
"The barbarian raised his greataxe and roared, 'And my axe, yours to command.'"
"The cleric clasped his hands together and said compassionately, 'And my holy light, yours to command.'"
"Then the necromancer said, 'And your brother, yours to command.'"
"In the end, the necromancer used the teammate's brother's corpse to cast corpse explosion and blew the demon away."
"Hahahahaha!"
As soon as Orum finished, he finally couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
However, the skeleton seemed to have no reaction to this joke, so Orum laughed for more than ten seconds.
Gradually, his voice grew softer and finally came to an awkward halt.
"Ahem, back to the point," Orum once again put on a serious face and changed the subject. "What should I do to save you?"
"I'm sealed here by an unknown magical array... You need to help me find spell materials from the necromancy school.
I can use them to restore my soul power. That way, I might gradually remember how to break the array seal on my own."
The skeleton paused, then added, "Or, you could find my main body and explain the situation to her.
She would definitely have a way to break the array seal."
"Of the two things you mentioned, the latter is more difficult. As for the former, I can return to town and help you search.
Within a month, I can give you an answer."
After thinking for a moment, Orum looked into the skeleton's hollow eyes and asked:
"If I help you, can you teach me how to learn spells?"
"I really want to learn magic!"
Orum wanted to try whether he could use the panel's power to rapidly learn magic in this world.
By mastering magical power, Orum's combat ability would undergo a qualitative leap.
At the same level, the destructive power of flesh and magic couldn't be compared at all!
However, requesting a mage to teach magic had never been a simple matter.
Hearing Orum's request, the skeleton didn't immediately agree but said, "In my era, the rules of spell inheritance were strict.
Unless you were a close person or a student, mages would not pass their spells to others."
"I once rejected countless geniuses... In my eyes, none of them were qualified to become my students."
At this point, the skeleton's hollow eye sockets seemed to gaze at Orum, as if peering through his bones to carefully perceive something.
"Moreover... in our era, there was such a saying."
"Whether a person can become a mage is often decided by the time they're six years old.
If by then they haven't shown any signs of affinity with magic, they're destined to have no connection with the Weave for their entire life."
Perhaps noticing Orum's expression showed slight disappointment, the skeleton added, "However, I can teach you some basic cantrips and let you try for a while."
"If you truly cannot resonate with the Weave, I'll find a way to compensate you in other ways."
"All right then, it's a deal. I'll return within a month with news. See you later, Skeleton Sis."
Orum surveyed the surrounding terrain and marked it on his map so he could recognize the path next time.
Before leaving, Orum examined the tombstone the skeleton sat upon.
This tombstone was carved from limestone, and after the erosion of whether it was one hundred or two hundred years, the inscription on it had been worn beyond recognition.
Orum leaned in to observe carefully and could only vaguely make out a letter that looked like "F."
Orum was startled. "Frieren?"
Well, that probably wasn't very likely.
...
From the skeleton's perspective, Orum shouldered his heavy pockets, his figure gradually receding until he finally disappeared into the deep forest.
For some unknown reason, during the long hundred years, Orum was the only person who could observe her and communicate with her.
"And moreover... he's a very patient person. He was actually willing to listen to everything I said."
Though the skeleton's thinking was slow, she clearly recorded this fact.
She noticed that the swordplay Orum had displayed earlier was a combat technique.
To master a combat technique at this age, Orum could undoubtedly be called young and promising, with a boundless future.
Such a person, even if he couldn't learn magic, would definitely achieve great things in the future, perhaps even become famous throughout the land.
The skeleton sat atop the tombstone, her slender, snow-white leg bones swinging back and forth.
Half an hour later, she suddenly hunched over, and her hollow chest cavity seemed to emit tremendous vibrations as she laughed so hard she doubled over:
"Hahahaha... your brother, yours to command... corpse explosion!"
"Hahahahaha!"
