?Alright, we are finally getting out of this place! No more dangerous undead!”
Abram was quite happy. Why wouldn’t he be? Without necrotic mana, his wound would be stupidly easy to heal, not to mention his close encounters with death.
“Do you mean they can’t go beyond this tree?”
‘Which direction did she come from? Did she arrive by the boat on the other side?’
Normally Abrams would dismiss such an idea as completely ridiculous, but this woman’s behavior was way too alien, and her knowledge of local politics lacking as well.
“It would be more accurate to say that they don’t. Greenery means there is not enough necrotic mana to support any undead more dangerous than a regular skeleton, and even those get weaker as they venture away from places filled with death. That’s why they plant coniferous trees at graveyards.”
“As a biological marker?”
“I don’t know what that is, but if both yew and spruce lose their color at your local cemetery, prepare to fight off something more than a skelly that barely moves. But anyway, the undead with well developed cores are capable of existing in places without much necrotic mana, but don’t do so unprovoked, since necrotic mana is beneficial to them. That’s why those abominations are such a problem, since they move not based on instincts, but on necromancers command. And those guys are rarely without grudges against humanity.”
Necromancers themselves all say that their grudges are society’s fault, since necromancy is mostly illegal, but it’s not like anyone forced them to steal and play with corpses.
“Wouldn’t it be beneficial for you to hunt down the necromancer right away then?”
‘The what? We are running away, woman!’
“Are you crazy? I’m alone alone, and necromancers have their undead servants. Don’t think for a second that you’ve put down them all! Also, I’m wounded. Besides, how would you even find them?”
“First, you aren’t alone, since I am here as well. Second, those abominations are really nothing much when you see them coming. Third, I know that there are at least twelve left. Fourth, your wound is nothing much, stop overreacting, and finally, we don’t have to do anything to find him.”
“That number was awfully specific. And what do you mean we don’t have to do anything? You think they’ll just hand themselves over?”
“Hm? But they are doing it right now?” Valeria raised her brow.
“Could you repeat that? Who does what when?”
Abram thought he was hearing things.
“Twelve abominations are trying to surround us. I suspect their creator is nearby, since they would want to pick up those cores in my bag after we are dealt with.”
Abram wanted to panic, but got himself under control. The woman seemed strangely calm, so he assumed she has a reason for not freaking out, other than age.
He focused on his surroundings, trying to search out the wisps of magic. Obviously, sensing necrotic cores in places full of necrotic mana was difficult, but now that they were no longer in the city itself, Abram could feel wisps of presence.
‘They aren’t using their magics, that’s why I couldn’t notice!’
“Do you have a plan? How do you know it’s twelve?”
“I said there are ‘at least’ twelve abominations left. It’s because I had noticed at least that many different figures. Now, it’s possible there are hundred and twenty, ten each, but I found it unlikely, since this necromancer doesn’t seem like someone who repeats patterns, judging by my previous encounters with his works. The most difficult thing here will be locating him. Shall we ditch our bags and prepare? Oh. I suppose I should ask you whether making noise would be problematic at this point.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“No, here should be safe. Why?”
“No reason at all.”
The woman discarded her staff, and in her hand appeared an instrument of some kind, seemingly made of steel.
Behind her, an abomination emerged. It charged, but stiffened and stopped once it was struck.
Valeria didn’t even look at it properly.
Three more appeared.
She pointed her weapon in the direction behind him.
“Get down.”
Without thinking, Abram got on the ground.
*Click* *BOOM*
*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*
His ears started ringing. The source of the noise was without a shadow of a doubt the weapon in lady Valerias’ hand.
More abominations poured out of bushes. The woman fiddled around her weapon for a bit, and pointed it once again.
*Click* *BOOM*
*Click* *BOOM*
*Click* *BOOM*
*Click* *BOOM*
*Click* *BOOM*
*Click* *BOOM*
Their surroundings fell into silence, interrupted only by ringing in Abrams’ ears.
“Tsk. Thirteen after all, huh?” Valeria seemed displeased.
She turned in the direction of the city, and started running with surprising speed.
‘What in the… How is she running so fast?’
Abram knew that Valeria was everything but an average old lady, but he didn’t think she would be able to run at a speed surpassing his own!
“Start cutting those cores out! Leave the necromancer to me!”
In the end, Abram complied. He grabbed his spear, and started the harvest. Thanks to the holes indicating the locations of abominations’ cores, he had no trouble finding them.
He was once again speechless. The cores were intact, the only part of them the old lady damaged with her strange weapon being the membrane.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.
Every single abomination was still functional, although their cores were shaken up just enough to not let them move without being repaired directly by their master.
‘It looks like the work of a skilled butcher… except this isn’t a slaughterhouse… Or it shouldn’t be.’
Abram finished cleaning the cores off their membranes, and deposited them in his bag.
‘Now that I’ve finished my work, It’s time to find my lucky companion… It would be a shame if she ran into a trap.’
After her impressive display, Abram was convinced that hanging around this woman would let him achieve his goal the fastest. Of course, that meant he couldn’t exactly ditch her with the cores. Not that he trusted himself not to get caught.
He ran after the tall woman, doing his best to follow her advice, and ignore the pain. After all, if she was this good, then it shouldn’t be a problem for him to follow her advice.
He reached a crossroad, and focused his senses. This time, surge in necrotic mana was so obvious, it might as well have been a flare of a light mage.
Abram ran towards this sensation, but realized, that he was too late to help his companion.
She stood among carcasses of two more abominations, in her left hand a figure of a man was hanging limply, blood dripping off his face.
The man was clad in black, and had sickly appearance, was short in statue, and sported a dark red goatee.
A lock of blond hair fell down on the man’s face, reminding Abram, that the blood red beard couldn’t be his natural hair color.
“Have you finished your work?” The woman asked, turning her face towards Abram.
“Yes. All thirteen are in my bag.”
“I’m glad you listened. What do you think we should do with this man? I take it he is a criminal?”
“Taking his core to the Hermann residence should be sufficient.”
The limp man jolted, and turned his face towards Abram.
The life mage jumped in surprise, forgetting about his leg.
“He’s alive!?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m asking you what we should do with him.”
Abram looked at the man’s face, thinking it looked familiar. He imagined the man with different facial hair, and a few years younger. Finally, it clicked.
“Ah! You are the ‘Franz the corpse pimp! Lady Valeria, this man has one hefty bounty on his head, and whoever would bring him alive is promised gratitude of the Valkillo family!”
The man’s eyes widened. He swung his fist, undoubtedly with the intention of freeing himself, but got socked in his goatee, and once again went limp.
“Valkillo family… That’s different from your Hermann family, right?”
“Sure, but You can ever go wrong with sucking up to nobles!”
A year ago, such words would ever escape Abrams’ lips. But now that he needed nobles’ favor, he was no longer the same, prideful person.
“Please, help me turn him in!” Abram bowed to the older woman.
“Before I give you my answer, what did he do?”
“This man, Franz the corpse pimp, stole great number of bodies, animated them, and offered their ‘services’ in his brothel. Some of his regulars were fairly wealthy and influential, so he got away with really horrible stuff. Even getting some normal red light district clients drunk, putting them in beds with those zombies, and blackmailing them. His morbid business was going great, until he got a bit too bold, and managed to steal a corpse of Valkillo patriarchs daughter, who was known for her beauty. He probably expected them to pull the entire situation under rug out of shame, but they publicly declared him their grave enemy, and started hunting him all over the frontier.”
“Alright. Let’s tort… interrogate him. If we can find out where his hideout is, we might be able to get more cores.”
At this moment, in Abrams’ eyes Valeria looked like an angel.
