I Became The Academy's Necromancer Chapter 47

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Chapter 47: Necromancer

“Your Majesty!”

With a hurried sidestep, Tyren, the Chief Magistrate, knelt on one knee upon the filthy prison floor.

Given that the two people before whom he must kneel in this kingdom had appeared simultaneously, Tyren had no choice but to forego further words.

Looking down at him, Grand Magus Rockfelican chuckled and spoke.

“It seems, Chief, you also have business with this man. Would you be so kind as to yield to us for a moment?”

“Yes, understood.”

Under the guise of a polite request but, in reality, a veiled command from Rockfelican, the imposing Tyren retracted his stance, though his expression still held a thinly veiled animosity toward me.

As he left, Rockfelican clicked his tongue and muttered.

“Ah, what a hothead. If you’re in such a position, you should be cold and composed.”

King Orpheus smiled as he replied to Rockfelican’s criticism.

“His passionate nature keeps our kingdom safe, making him all the more trustworthy.”

“Well, if Your Majesty says so.”

When Orpheus sided with Chief Magistrate Tyren, Rockfelican didn’t add anything further.

Only then did their gazes shift to me.

“So, you’re the madman who openly confessed to being a Necromancer?”

King Orpheus looked at me, arms crossed, as if I were an intriguing artifact.

Soon, I really felt like a valuable object in the hands of an appraiser, as he circled around me.

“You are aware of our kingdom’s laws, aren’t you? Dark Mages can be executed on the spot at the discretion of the Mage Magistrate.”

“I am aware.”

The kingdom’s crackdown on Dark Mages is more stringent than one might imagine. Even in medieval times, immediate execution without a trial was a rarely exercised right, and in the modern world, it would be unimaginable.

But this is a medieval setting—and a game.

And considering the kingdom’s history, their strict measures against Dark Mages were somewhat understandable.

“Are you the reincarnation of Herald-Hazard or something? Planning on single-handedly bringing ruin to our kingdom?”

Herald-Hazard.

A name that could send shivers down the spine of any citizen of the Griffin Kingdom.

A monstrous figure who, as a necromancer, almost single-handedly brought the kingdom to the brink of ruin.

Even the main storyline in the game involved tracing his steps and unraveling the secrets of the kingdom.

“No.”

As I answered calmly, King Orpheus let out a long, seemingly exasperated sigh.

“Then why confess? Do you feel guilty for your crimes? I heard something odd happened at the Robern Academy, although no official reports have arrived yet. You might be related, I presume?”

Not even two days have passed since the incident at the Academy.

Even for a king, it’s impossible to have immediate knowledge of such a supernatural event.

“It’s for the kingdom.”

“Hmm?”

Upon my declaration, both King Orpheus and Rockfelican, who was silently standing behind him, had a slight tremor in their eyes.

“You must have read my letter.”

I never sent a letter to the king. There’s no hotline for that sort of thing, to begin with.

The letter was sent to the Mage Tower where the Grand Magus resides.

Under normal circumstances, a simple letter would never make it to the Grand Magus. That’s why I had enclosed a special device of my own in the letter, something he couldn’t simply ignore.

Rockfelican slowly reached out his hand.

A transparent membrane, akin to a fish tank, materialized. Inside it was a lively, blue mana cluster—the very thing I had included in the letter.

“Setting aside the contents of the letter, in which you confessed...”

King Orpheus observed the lively mana, intrigued.

Rockfelican seemed to have a lot to say too, but restrained himself given the presence of the king, who slowly spoke.

“...How is this mana moving on its own? Is this some kind of necromancy as well? Even Grand Magus, who is said to have mastered most forms of magic, came to me with wide eyes just 30 minutes ago due to this unique magic.”

“Ahem.”

Rockfelican coughed awkwardly, avoiding eye contact but not denying the statement. The Grand Magus then took over the conversation.

“The notion of mana moving autonomously is truly astounding. Properly managed, this could result in a groundbreaking, almost perpetual source of energy that requires no resources.”

“...”

As I gazed at him, as if to question the obviousness of his statement, the Grand Magus chuckled and nodded his head.

“Yes, of course. The one who invented it would naturally recognize its significance.”

Then, Rockfelican inquired further, his voice tinged with a low groan.

“If your claim to act for the kingdom is true, could you explain the principle behind this extraordinary marvel of sentient magic? Which feels as if… it possesses a will of its own…?”

I responded, indifferent to the Grand Magus’s captivated eyes.

“Necromancy.”

“...”

“That’s right. As if it possesses a will of its own… No, it is actually a self-thinking, self-acting form of magic.”

Because…

“It’s crafted through the souls of the deceased.”

The faces of the Grand Magus and the King visibly distorted.

Despite having anticipated this, hearing it from my lips seemed to stir a range of emotions in them.

Struggling to maintain composure, the Grand Magus finally spoke.

“I understand that you are a rare necromancer even among dark mages. However, as far as I know, necromancers usually extract mana from souls, blending it with grudges to manipulate as magic.”

“...”

“I’ve never heard of a soul independently possessing its own consciousness and acting as magic.”

That’s only natural.

There’s no other necromancer capable of directly communicating with souls like me.

“That’s what sets me apart, and why the kingdom needs me.”

“Hm?”

King Orpheus, who had been quietly intrigued by our conversation, subtly turned his gaze towards me.

“Your Majesty, I am a necromancer—one of the few wise men on this continent who knows the truth about what comes after death.”

“Oh?”

Realizing that I was trying to persuade him, King Orpheus grinned slyly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the cell bars.

“Unfortunately for the faithful, there is no realm beyond death. The deceased simply close their eyes and find rest.”

There’s no future where one finds solace in the arms of the Goddess Justia, or enjoys eternal feasting and luxury in the palace of the God Velas. There’s no future where one becomes a beloved angel praising goddess Hertia.

For humans, all that awaits after death is pure rest.

“Hmm, you speak words that would incense the priests quite casually.”

“It’s because it’s the truth.”

“However, there’s no real need to know the truth. This world has people who find salvation in religion and those who make a living from it.”

“I have no particular desire to win any arguments with them, either.”

“... Wise.”

Spreading such a truth would bring not only the kingdom but also the entire continent into chaos.

And inevitably, I’d find myself at odds with the religious authorities who’d never admit this truth.

Moreover, I had neither the intention to make them acknowledge it nor to spread it.

Whether religion is true or false is not something I intended to argue.

‘I too understand that it exists because it is needed.’

“However, Your Majesty cannot afford to ignore this.”

I locked eyes with King Orpheus. My gaze transformed into a piercing spear, ensuring that he had nowhere to escape.

“For countless eons, this continent has been a sanctuary for the departed. But now, the places where the deceased can find rest are dwindling.”

“…”

“Have you not noticed? Mysterious crimes are increasing, the perpetrators never found... Aren’t you conveniently sweeping this under the rug?”

It was as if King Orpheus had been struck by an unexpected blow. He unfolded his arms and leaned forward involuntarily.

“Are you suggesting that the departed are responsible for these occurrences?”

“Yes, and it was manageable up until now… There were still places on the continent where the souls of the deceased could find solace.”

But now, things were different.

“Do you not hear the screams of the continent? Can you not hear the voices of the restless spirits wandering aimlessly because they can’t find a resting place even in death?”

“…”

“The flesh decays, the bones turn to ash, and they return to the embrace of the earth. But souls don’t decay, even through the eternal passage of time.”

They simply exist, left in place.

“I understand the unsolved, mysterious cases had to be covered up. Failing to resolve them would eventually lead to a loss of trust in the royal family from the people.”

“Hmm.”

“But covering up is not a solution. Eventually, all these issues will resurface and threaten the kingdom as a whole.”

Rejecting dark magic is a refusal to acknowledge the entire field of study.

Ever since suffering major damage from the dark mage Herald-Hazard, the kingdom had forcibly turned a blind eye and held a hostile attitude toward dark magic.

And now, the price of ignorance was coming due.

“Soon, countless lost souls will try to drag down the radiant divine beast known as the Griffin. That will be the cost for turning your eyes away from fear.”

“That said…”

King Orpheus interjected. I did not continue my sentence but instead closed my mouth and listened attentively.

“We can’t just overturn a 200-year history of rejecting dark magic that has been handed down from countless ancestors either.”

A long and storied history indeed.

It was 200 years ago that a dark mage by the name of Herald-Hazard brought the kingdom to the brink of annihilation, all by himself.

“And now, the citizens naturally believe dark magic to be evil, an absolute wickedness. The religious institutions have also taken advantage of this to solidify their position.”

“…….”

“To suddenly accept dark magic now? Believers from all corners would rise up in revolt.”

Whether their belief is right or wrong doesn’t matter. For them, it is an immutable truth.

“The scars that Herald-Hazard left behind still painfully linger within us.”

It was an irrefutable refusal.

With a furrowed brow and a sense of resignation, King Orpheus heard me speak again.

“Your Majesty.”

“...Speak.”

“If we keep a bandage on a wound indefinitely, we’ll never know whether it has healed cleanly, festered, or turned into a scar.”

“...”

“How long will the Griffin Kingdom continue to nurse the wound created by dark magic? How much time has to pass for the scars of that day to fade?”

“Their deaths will be remembered forever!”

Gritting his teeth, King Orpheus’s eyes flared up for a moment, venting fury towards me.

“The countless citizens who died at the hands of the nefarious dark mage will forever be remembered in my heart and in our land! Do not insult them so thoughtlessly.”

Yes.

Remembering the departed is the right thing to do.

The weight of their deaths was undeniable—laden with sorrow, tragedy, and heartache.

Yet.

“Your Majesty.”

The dead are just that—dead.

“Turn your gaze toward the living.”

“...”

“Look at your citizens who toil under the sun, who seek solace in a single drink at the end of a weary day, who close their eyes at night with hope for another dawn.”

King Orpheus is no sovereign from centuries past. He’s not the monarch who once presided over souls lost in the calamity of Herald-Hazard.

His concern must be for the living. For the present.

“It’s honorable to remember the past, and venerable to pay tribute to the deceased. But do not misplace your priorities.”

It’s something I, a necromancer, can confidently say.

“As Deus Verdi, a being who has deciphered the core tenets of necromancy and stands at the very nexus between life and death, I speak with utmost certainty.”

I can clearly delineate the line, for my vision encompasses both the living and the deceased.

“The dead cannot take precedence over the living.”

King Orpheus tightened his lips and averted his gaze, his expression betraying a tangle of internal struggles.

“Your Majesty.”

A sword made of mana suddenly materialized in my hand.

Grand Magus Rockfelican, who stood behind, visibly tensed, readying himself to interject immediately. But King Orpheus quelled him with a mere gesture.

“Look at this sword.”

His gaze landed on the tip of the sword, shimmering with blue mana.

“Right now, it’s a weapon that threatens you. With the slightest movement, it could harm Your Majesty.”

But then, I slowly handed him the hilt of the sword. He accepted it, as if propelled by some unseen force.

Now the sword was pointed at me.

“With just a slight change in direction, with merely a different hand wielding it, the weapon that could harm Your Majesty has become the closest thing to protect you.”

With the sword between us, I locked eyes with his golden irises once again.

“Would you forsake a sword entirely, branding it as evil, just because it once harmed you?”

Most things in the world are too ambiguous to be neatly categorized into a binary framework.

“To treat poison, one must use poison. Similarly, it’s also necessary to utilize one evil to vanquish another.”

The countless wounds and grudges born of Herald-Hazard…

“Those scars left unhealed by the dark mage—I will soothe and heal them.”

“And who are you to say that?

In the King’s slowly spoken words, a palpable weight resonated.

And in response to his query, a gentle smile naturally formed on my lips.

“People call a woman who borrows the power of gods to save others a ‘Saintess’.”

And then, I continued.

“As for I, who borrow the power of the dead, am nothing… but a mere necromancer.”