?I’ll talk, I’ll talk!!!” The necromancer, Franz yelled out loud. It didn’t take much to convince him. Valeria simply took out a needle, and asked him if he gets itchy under the fingernails sometimes.

  ( She didn’t want to damage his toes, as she was hoping he would save her the trouble and walk by himself. )

  He was already deathly terrified of her, so just that much was enough to convince him to cooperate. He lead Abram and Valeria to his hideout. Well, hideout would be a wrong word. It was pretty much a mansion, with three stories, a tall fence, and a few undead maids taking care of the place.

  Valeria thought about his nickname, ‘corpse pimp’ and decided to return the desecrated bodies to the ground.

  Out of curiosity, she pulled out her not – so – magnifying – glass, and looked through it at the undead.

  [Abomizombie]

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  Abram looked at the device in her hand, ad raised his brow.

  “You’ve got an identifying glass?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Those are pretty expensive. Can I see it?”

  “Sure, just don’t break it.”

  Abram took the glass, and inspected it.

  “Hm. I think they stopped manufacturing this model. It wasn’t very reliable, apparently. Have you considered buying any of the new ones? They would show you core affinities without the need for direct contact.”

  “Nah. I don’t really need such a function. Also, I didn’t buy this one either. A ghast had it in its pocket.”

  “In that case, mind searching the mansion? With this kid of luck, we can expect great things.”

  “Sure. Can you handle the maids?”

  “You mean the zombies?”

  “Aren’t they Abomizombies, technically?”

  “You said it yourself, it’s a mouthful. Oh, and names of manufactured creatures may be inaccurate, since this thing just names everything it doesn’t know by the name of the closest thing in its memory.”

  “I’ll repeat my question. Can you handle the zombie maids?”

  “Sure I can. Who do you think I am? Abominations are a difficult opponents because they won’t stop moving until their core is taken out, and they have their cores in unexpected places, but it’s pretty obvious where humanoids have it.”

  “It’s actually always in the centre of gravity in creatures’ natural resting position.”

  “How do you even know where that is?”

  “You look at the way it moves, and at its skeletal structure, and take an educated guess. Also, every living thing, barring a few exceptions will try to protect its weak points. Abominations are like that as well.”

  “So you’re still guessing.”

  “Yes, but it’s a guess based on careful observations.”

  “Then use those eyes of yours to find this necromancers’ treasure.”

  “I’m on it, boy. I bet I can find it before you can even finish with the maids.”

  Abram grinned at the challenge, ignoring the obvious fact that he was simply being tricked into hurrying up with his work.

  “Alright, what’re you betting?”

  “A ghasts core.”

  Oh. This one was a serious bet. Luckily, Abram had a few cores he acquired before his unfortunate encounter with abominations. That included a single ghast core of a lone beastie he found couple of days back. He had to risk his life to get it, but it was worth it.

  And now he would get another.

  “You’re on. Oh, but you’re forbidden from torturing mister Franz here.”

  “Don’t worry, he is still unconscious anyway.”

  Abram looked at the woman one more time, and bolted in the direction of the zombie maids.

  Luckily, they were doing chores separately from each other, and were armed in brooms and rags instead of polearms and maces.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The first one looked at him, and charged with every intention of biting him to death. Abrams’ spear, however, while not exactly faster, gave him enough reach advantage, and the maid ended up impaling its own stomach. Its core grazed, the zombie was no longer in ay condition to move, let alone fight.

  Next one didn’t charge. It was armed with a broom, and tried to stab Abram on sight. He parried with his own spear, which was both longer, and had a sharp blade, like spears often do. He reached the core on the third try.

  The third maid was armed with a woodworking axe. Abram was prepared to receive a charge, so when the axe was throw at him instead, he barely managed to dodge. Once the abomaid lost her weapon, the encounter ended the same way the first one did.

  He took some time to find the fourth one, and found it cleaning the floor on the second floor.

  It swung a mop, which Abram parried, but his clothes were sprinkled with some mysterious substance. He had no choice but to retreat for a bit, and take off the wool cloak, as it started to emit traces amount of smoke.

  ‘Acid!’

  Abram grabbed his spear by its very end to give himself more reach, and performed a horizontal cut. The zombie maid parried it with her mop, but without much success, as that was precisely Abrams’ aim. He cut the undeads’ weapon in half, and moved in for the kill.

  The fifth one was in the kitchen, and attacked him with a knife. Luckily, the kitchen counter was wide enough to block such attempts, but not enough to restrict his spearmanship. Right before he took out the last undead servant, however, Valeria stepped into the room, and called Abram.

  “I already found valuables.”

  Abram angrily stabbed his opponent, successful on the first try.

  “Damn it! Where were they?”

  “Behind a painting, of course.”

  Valeria shrugged, as if stating an unchanging law, like that people fall to the ground when they jump off buildings.

  “Is that really something obvious?”

  “I also searched for a secret room behind bookshelves, but once I saw that this Franz guy had a painting of himself, I needed no further clues.”

  “How much did you find?”

  “I’m unsure about the value of precious metals around here, but I think quite a bit. Also, counting all the abominations and zombie servants, mister ‘corpse pimp’ has parted with fifty one cores of various sizes.”

  “That is an amazing haul!”

  “Very well. My ghast core?”

  “Sigh. Alright, there you go.”

  Abram had taken out a dark orb the size of a pea grain, very similar to the first core Valeria had ever seen. She wasted no time, and hid it away.

  "I want to clean off some grime. I think it should be safe if we boil the water, no?"

  "You just want me to get rid of necrotic mana, don't you?"

  "You know it doesn't affect me anyway. It's an innocent proposition motivated by the fact, that we both reek."

  Abram sniffed himself. "Alright, you may have a point."

  "Great. I saw buckets full of water on the first floor. You go grab the, and I'll get the fire going."

  'So that was her aim.' Abram felt he would be sighing a lot more in the future. Still, being ordered around reminded him of home, so it wasn't all that bad.

  He went to fetch water.

  After they both finished cleaning the worst of grime off themselves, the day had already ended.

  “It’s gotten dark.”

  “True. I think we’re both tired. I say we stay here for the night. The doors are really sturdy, should be enough to stop any undead living this far from the centre.”

  “Then it’s decided. While I don’t trust their cooking, I think searching the pantry would be an excellent idea.”

  Valeria headed towards the food storage, while Abram went to prepare a room for them to sleep in. At no point did he think it would be embarrassing to share one with Valeria.

  /

  “Hey, kid.”

  “Yes?”

  “There is this mead here. The bottle is sealed nicely, I don’t think it’s soured or anything. Want a drink?”

  “No, thank you. I still don’t feel entirely safe, especially since We’ve returned to the city. Getting sloshed seems counterproductive. But I will definitely taste the food from his pantry. Except for meat. You never know with necromancers.”

  “Well, good to know you’ll be keeping watch. All the running around made me pretty tired, and I need a drink or two. Get some sleep. Once I finish drinking, I’ll wake you up.”

  Valeria poured herself some mead, and tasted.

  “Not bad. Not great either, so I’ll have to sacrifice myself to make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

  Another glass was poured, one more bite of some astonishingly good cheese ( At least considering its origins. ) vanished in Valerias’ stomach.

  And another. And one more. And the last one. And this time really the last one. And this time really, seriously the last one.

  /

  Once Valeria finished the entire bottle, she tied the necromancer with additional three pieces of rope, and called out to Abram.

  “Hey, boy? You awake?”

  “Now I am. Is it my turn?”

  “More or less.”

  She showed him a tube full of certain ointment. (Which we will not be advertising here.)

  “I’m all stiff after today. Mind rubbing this in places I can’t reach myself? Don’t be shy.”

  “S-sure. Should you really be showing me your bare back?”

  “What, afraid you won’t be able to contain yourself?”

  “I’m not exactly attracted to drunk grannies. I was just thinking it’s a wonder you are still alive, considering all the scars.” The man replied. ‘And your age’ He thought.

  “I’m not sure myself, sometimes. But now that you’ve stared to your heart’s content, get to it.”

  Abram shrugged and took the tube.

  “What a curious container.”

  “Right? It’s a wonderful piece of engineering, no matter how much you squeeze out, there is always more as long as you just squeeze harder.”

  Abram ignored her. He shrugged, and begun rubbing the woman’s back. As a life mage, his greatest source of income back when he was just starting to develop his core were the massages.

  Most people knowing the battle hardened spear user Abram would find it funny, but vitality magic at lowest levels being good mainly for beauty treatment was the truth, even if it made young men practicing it a subject of ridicule.

  It was no surprise that he quickly fell into the kind of professional lull only people who enjoy their monotonic jobs experience.

  Abram started quietly humming. He had a lot to unravel here, considering how this woman seemed to consist entirely of knots, at least in some places.

  Like usual, he pushed some mana in, and pressed harder.

  Before he remembered that his magic would be useless thanks to the mana interference resistance, life mana found its grip, ad entered the woman.

  ‘What the…!? Didn’t she have that condition? What happened?”

  Abrams’ drowsiness was blown away immediately, and replaced by astonishment.

  ‘Am I treating someone with Mana Interference Resistace right now? With my magic?’

  This was important. Whether his own magic turned out to be special, this woman had a way of faking MIR, or her body was somehow different, it didn’t matter. Either of those things would be crazy.

  Who knows, maybe Abram could even get some kind of award? Being acknowledged as a researcher would probably be enough for him to support his family without risking Abrams’ own skin for the rest of his life.

  In the name of magical sciences, Abram continued kneading.