Chapter 72: The Interlude

  The subsequent search force combed through nearly every inch of land within a hundred miles of the royal capital. Yet they discovered several magical arrays in the woods with little effort. Upon inspection by the church's priests, these were indeed the necromancers' tools for summoning evil creatures. Fortunately, a significant portion of them had minor flaws, resulting in only a handful of monsters being summoned.

  Yet even that “small number” of monsters was enough to throw the Empire—indeed, the entire Eastern Continent—into utter chaos. The Necromancer Guild's sinister intent was now glaringly obvious: they sought to transform the assembled dignitaries of various nations into undead monsters akin to vampires, to be manipulated at will. This evil mage organization had finally revealed its true colors, drawing the serious attention of all nations. Grafenhardt XVII, thoroughly shaken, even discussed with the Archbishop the immediate dispatch of the Paladin Order to storm Diya Valley.

  At this moment, Archbishop Ronis fully demonstrated his far-sightedness. Though he had persistently advocated for a united campaign against the Necromancer Guild, he now showed not the slightest hint of impulsiveness or rashness. He patiently explained the current situation to His Majesty the Emperor, advising that they first unite neighboring nations to jointly petition His Holiness the Pope. Only after securing the Holy See's support should they gradually implement the plan to subdue the Necromancer Guild.

  Bishop Ronis declared that the priest and noblewoman had vanquished the vampire because both had visited the cathedral that very morning to pray fervently. They had been sprinkled with holy water and received the bishop's personal blessing, thus imbued with sacred power.

  A spirit of unity against the Necromancer Guild now permeated the entire Eastern Continent. Though the road ahead remained long and the plan vast, Bishop Ronis had indeed taken this first step exceptionally well.

  In the small study of the cathedral at the Magic Academy, Ethan stood beside Bishop Ronis.

  His wounds had fully healed with the priests' aid, though he'd slept for an entire day after exhausting both his physical strength and magic.

  The bishop's gaunt hand held a report listing the names of those who had perished at the hands of the vampire.

  After carefully reviewing the names, Bishop Ronis smiled with satisfaction and nodded. “Well done.”

  “Huh?” Ethan, standing beside him, wondered if he'd misheard. He'd been anxiously expecting the bishop to reprimand him for turning this minor demonstration into a bloodbath.

  "Most of the dead were from the Erney family. In truth, my original intent was to use this opportunity to eliminate some of them. This serves as a valuable lesson for His Majesty. He'll finally realize that those who entertain him aren't necessarily the most useful. It should encourage him to favor the virtuous and distance himself from the treacherous. Moreover, with this shift in power, the military faction will gain influence. That will greatly aid our future battles against the Necromancer Guild." Bishop Ronis smiled, his approval resounding once more. “So, they died well.”

  “Ah. Oh.” Ethan nodded like an idiot. After a moment, he added, “But those guards... they died rather unjustly.”

  Bishop Ronis waved his hand dismissively, his tone detached. “That couldn't be helped. Those men had to die, no matter what.”

  “Oh.” Ethan nodded, feeling a lingering unease. Such words seemed more fitting coming from the duke's mouth.

  “Now then, let us discuss this vampire's true nature.” Bishop Ronis's expression and voice grew somber. "Such an extremely dangerous undead monster has not appeared on the continent for a very long time. According to eyewitness accounts, the vampire itself claimed to have been awakened. This timing coincides perfectly with the gathering of dignitaries from all nations, and with Captain Roland absent from His Majesty's side due to our arrangements, security is at its laxest. I firmly believe this cannot be mere coincidence."

  Ethan frowned. "Are you suggesting someone deliberately released that vampire to cause chaos? Who could it be? Could it truly be someone from the Necromancer Guild? But how would they know our plans?"

  “There's little they don't know,” Bishop Ronis's voice grew colder, the light in his eyes sharper. "I used to merely suspect—suspect that among the capital's high society, there were ministers or church officials who were their spies, perhaps even a guild member. Now I am certain. This must be someone exceptionally well-hidden, deeply embedded. Perhaps someone who blends completely into their surroundings, never drawing attention—an unremarkable official, a devout priest. More likely, they hold a prominent position as cover. I suspect this person might be closer to us than we think, otherwise they wouldn't have timed this so perfectly."

  “Close?” Ethan was half confused, half skeptical. The idea of a Necromancer lurking within the upper echelons of the bustling imperial capital was already hard to fathom. But Bishop Ronis implied they knew this person—perhaps even quite well. He mentally scanned every familiar face he knew, yet none seemed worthy of bearing the sinister title “Necromancer.” Shaking his head, he protested, “No way. Not a single person I know fits that description.”

  “Like? What do you think someone like that would be like?” Bishop Ronis glanced at Ethan.

  “Well, like a Lich, of course—a face like a skeleton zombie, wearing a mask and cloak to hide themselves, moving in secret, never seen in public. Or like old Sandro, always circling around corpses. Isn't that what a Necromancer is like?”

  Bishop Ronis smiled faintly. "Consider Ramado, the royal mage of the Duchy of Rhondes ten years ago. Not only did he master all schools of magic, but his expertise in the pure white magic of light was also remarkable. He was generous and chivalrous, giving away half his annual stipend to aid the poor and orphans. His reputation was unmatched not just within the duchy, but throughout the entire Eastern Continent. But let me tell you, he was a necromancer. The decade-long, unending wars between the duchy and its neighbors were all instigated and manipulated by him alone. I petitioned the Holy See for five divine paladins. After meticulous planning, we acted together—myself included—and expended considerable effort to quietly eliminate this individual."

  "Norbolin, the continent's most renowned magic merchant, is also its wealthiest and most powerful trader—and a highly accomplished mage himself. He maintains intricate connections with every mage organization and is a favored and respected confidant to numerous royal houses. Though lacking concrete proof, I suspect he must be a member of the Necromancer Guild, holding at least a nominal position. Rumor has it he spends two months each year vacationing on some remote island overseas, but I suspect he's actually in Diya Valley."

  "Then there's Agrael, former head of the Imperial Adventurers' Guild. His magic and martial prowess rank among the continent's top fifty. Overall, he's likely counted among the continent's five strongest masters. Said to be the last heir of the Assassin Guild, he's discovered countless hidden realms and unearthed untold treasures, amassing wealth rivaling nations. He is also a member of the Necromancer Guild, having once served as co-leader alongside Sandro."

  Ethan's jaw dropped. He knew these names—indeed, few had not heard of them. To countless young people chasing wealth, glory, martial prowess, and magic, these men were idols, goals, the very fuel driving their relentless training, battles, and adventures. Yet the very notion that these three radiant names could be linked to the filthy, evil organization known as the Necromancer Guild was as mind-boggling as the Pope of the Holy See having multiple wives and concubines. Had this not come from Bishop Ronis, Ethan would have dismissed it as the ramblings of a madman.

  “It took me twenty years just to uncover these three individuals. Due to their unique status, I dared not publicize it. Even after eliminating Ramado, I only announced his death as a result of illness. There are undoubtedly other renowned figures who are also guild members. However, there are likely many more like Sandro—individuals utterly disinterested in fame or fortune, appearing merely as slightly eccentric commoners.” Bishop Ronis gazed at Ethan as he spoke slowly. “Now you understand what sort of people these Necromancers are. Never lower your guard. Regardless of their status, anyone around you could be a spy for the Necromancer Guild—or even a Necromancer themselves.”

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  Ethan froze for a moment before regaining his composure. This organization was clearly far more than just a group of twisted dark mages who dabbled in corpses.

  “Wait!” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly struck by a brilliant idea. “We could interrogate that old man Sandro! You could order him to reveal the other guild members, couldn't you?”

  “Order him?” Bishop Ronis gave a rare smile. "I doubt anyone in this world could command him. We're merely ordinary acquaintances; he's here entirely of his own volition. I've certainly asked him about these matters before, but he refuses to speak due to guild regulations. There's nothing more I can do."

  Bishop Ronis paused before continuing, "Fortunately, the Necromancer Guild lacks a strong leader, making its organization weak—one might even call it a loose collection of individuals. Members act independently, pursuing their own agendas, and their actions are largely driven by whim. But their danger is absolutely not to be underestimated. These Necromancers may lie dormant, but once they act, they become utterly formidable. Consider this operation—though we achieved great success, it was also incredibly perilous. Just imagine if that vampire had truly turned His Majesty the Emperor and several ministers into his minions. What kind of situation would that have created?"

  Ethan swallowed hard. The emperor and ministers of the empire all becoming a vampire's minions—one didn't need a genius to imagine the consequences.

  “Therefore, our future actions must be executed with utmost caution, advancing step by step. You must also remain vigilant toward everyone around you. Even if you know something is impossible, approach it with a ‘what if’ mindset—investigate, question. Understood?”

  “Understood.” Ethan nodded. But while he grasped the concept, the complex psychological state of “doubting even when you know there's no reason to worry” was beyond him. And given his nature, even if he understood it, he'd never be able to pull it off.

  “By the way, aside from Miss Mrak, are you absolutely certain no one else survived a vampire bite?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I don't think so.” But then he suddenly recalled the scar on Chris's neck, which Chris had once shown him like a badge of honor. Hesitating, he wasn't sure whether to mention it.

  The bishop's face hardened like raw iron, his voice equally stern: "No ‘seems like.’ Think carefully. Did it happen or not? Miss Mrak consumed Leaves of the World Tree. Her blood, like yours, repels dark monsters like vampires. She's safe. But if anyone else has been bitten by a vampire—even if that vampire is now dead—the magic and toxins left behind will still take effect, turning that person into a vampire too. We have no way to counteract that magic. We must confirm if anyone like that exists, and if so, they must be eliminated. Think carefully."

  “There really isn't,” Ethan replied immediately and firmly. Chris's wound was just a graze, not a proper bite.

  “Good.” Bishop Ronis nodded. “Truthfully, I hadn't anticipated the blood infused with the power of the Leaves of the World Tree would have such a profound effect on vampires. It seems your constitution might be exceptionally suited for mastering white magic of light.” Bishop Ronis gave Ethan a meaningful look. “I intend to arrange for Miss Mrak to study at the Magic Academy. What do you think?”

  “I don't care either way.” Ethan deliberately adopted a completely indifferent expression and posture.

  “By the way, how's your magic training going?” Bishop Ronis frowned as he looked at Ethan. “Logically speaking, your magic should be at least on par with that vampire. How did you end up suffering such severe injuries just to defeat him?”

  “Hmm, probably because I wasn't in top condition. Ah, right—Marquis is waiting for me. I should be going.”

  Ethan practically ran away from Bishop Ronis, dreading further questioning about his magic.

  Indeed, under the dual influence of the Leaves of the World Tree and the Sunwell, if he could fully master techniques like resonance and incantation, his current magical prowess should rival that of a seasoned high-level mage. Yet he remained utterly incapable of generating even the slightest controlled fluctuation in his magical energy, confined solely to basic fireballs and healing spells.

  He had already asked Sandro about this issue. Upon hearing his question, Sandro replied without hesitation or even lifting his head: "You began cultivating meditation before mastering other forms of magic. I don't know why that most difficult meditation practice advanced faster and reached a higher level than your most basic spells. What was meant to merely support other magic has now surpassed your ability to control it, instead suppressing your use of other spells. “Hmm. So now, aside from Necromancy, you likely can't use any other system magic. Do you want to learn Necromancy? I could teach you, but if Ronis ever discovers you know these things... well, it probably won't end well.”

  Ethan felt cold sweat break out as he listened. Bishop Ronis had once sternly warned him never to practice that dangerous Dark Meditative Art again.

  But it wasn't a matter of willingness—in critical moments, he instinctively relied on this survival skill. Especially since that night facing General Gru in Oufu, his meditation had advanced by leaps and bounds. During the recent assassination attempt by the Duke, he'd even channeled battle qi through meditation—a power he'd never consciously cultivated. Employing that meditation between life and death seemed to yield breakthrough progress each time. He grew more proficient and effective with every use.

  Moreover, inexplicably, the Sunwell and Leaves of the World Tree within him not only failed to reject this inherently dark-aligned practice but actually benefited from it, complementing each other. He was even beginning to relish the exhilaration of that crystal-clear control over his body, the sensation of power racing wildly through his veins and limbs. Yet, whenever this occurred, the icy, frenzied impulses and bloodthirsty savagery that surfaced in his mind left him with a lingering dread.

  He dared not cultivate necromantic magic, much less openly tell the Archbishop that his dark meditations were growing ever more profound and intricate. Until he could devise a better plan, he could only conceal it for now.

  Only upon arriving at the Marquis's residence and meeting him did Ethan feel a bit of relief.

  No matter the time or place, simply witnessing his elegant bearing and demeanor, listening to his words—a friend like the Marquis always brought a sense of ease and pleasure.

  “A truly dramatic development and conclusion,” the director and screenwriter marveled after hearing Ethan's account. “Who would have thought the power of the Leaves of the World Tree could slay vampires? Even the director and actors felt the thrill of the unknown variables—what a splendid performance.” He looked at Ethan. “Well? Thrilling, wasn't it?”

  “It nearly killed me with excitement,” Ethan replied after a moment's hesitation. “By the way, is she all right?”

  "Rest assured, she's doing splendidly. Deeply moved by her courage, wit, and loyalty during the incident, His Majesty the Emperor offered her a generous reward. Yet she declined everything, requesting only an official position. Though my family's ancient, stuffy rules—old enough to breed bedbugs—strictly forbade it, many of those fools have since perished. And once His Majesty's decree is issued, who dares defy it? So now she serves as a fiscal official for the empire."

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She told His Majesty she wished to contribute her humble efforts to the nation's welfare. But who truly knows the real reason?” The Marquis glanced at Ethan, flashing a charming smile. “Perhaps it was for you. A pair of lovers temporarily parted, one becoming a priest fighting for the cause of light, the other a formidable woman serving her country and people—isn't that a splendid tale?”

  Ethan hastily waved his hands and shook his head. “Please don't joke about me like that.”

  But the Marquis deepened his ambiguous smile and said, “Why must lovers suppress their feelings? I've told you before—feel free to visit her whenever you have time. There are few people in my household.”

  By the time Ethan left the Marquis's residence, dusk had fallen. Even out on the bustling streets, the Marquis's suggestion kept circling in his mind, irritating him. To shake off this unease, he hurried back to the mansion, changed into plain clothes, and headed toward the streets now teeming with activity.

  The next morning.

  Ethan woke, stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly asked the prostitute lying beside him, “Actually, I've always loved one woman.”

  “Who?” The prostitute sounded both languid and suddenly alert. “Why tell me? Aren't you afraid I'll get jealous?”

  “Go eat shit. If you're jealous of everyone else, you'd have either rotted away or swollen up long ago.”

  “Fuck you. You wouldn't believe me if I told the truth anyway. I've only ever been jealous of two people in my life. The first, naturally, is the dashing, heroic paragon of youth, Sir Rodhart. Too bad he never came looking for me.” Mentioning her idol perked her up a bit. "Of course, he is noble and all that. The other bit? I’ll just give it to you out of pity. But since you don’t believe me anyway, forget it. Take it back."

  Ethan chuckled. “Then when should I introduce you to your idol? You’ll get your fill then.”

  “Wow, really? You’re full of shit! How could someone so famous and noble ever know a scumbag like you?”

  Ethan ruffled her hair. “Just listen to me. I've always liked this woman. She probably likes me too—though I can't be entirely sure. But she's married now. And her husband? He's a good-for-nothing jerk who never comes home. A real piece of work who never pays her any mind. Do you think I should go find her?”

  Ethan now realized he rather enjoyed being with this woman. Though her station seemed utterly mismatched with his own, he never cared about such things. The point was, he liked being around people like her. They weren't necessarily cultured or clever, but at least they were genuine. Compared to those pretentious priests, clerics, and nobles, being with them was far more relaxed and joyful. No wonder even someone as noble as the Marquis used to frequent these places.

  After listening to his outpouring, prostitute Xuan spat at him without mercy. “With that tone and those words, you're practically begging to go, aren't you? Go if you want to, as long as you don't mind getting caught. I hear there's a punishment called ‘drowning in a pig cage’ designed for scum like you.” Heh heh, I'll be sure to come see your miserable state then."

  “You're such a jinx,” Ethan chuckled, playfully tapping her head.

  Ethan left before dawn had fully broken. He wandered the streets for a while, then returned to the main house around the time Sandro would be up.

  Rarely did the main house have a visitor this early in the morning.

  It was immediately clear this was no ordinary visitor or messenger, nor even a sane person. For this guest sat conversing with Sandro amidst the corpses in the hall, Sandro holding a cup of tea. This was an even rarer sight. Ethan knew Sandro only drank such things when in an exceptionally good or exceptionally bad mood—moments that were already exceedingly rare. Not even in the company of Bishop Ronis had he ever seen him like this.

  The peculiar visitor wore a large cloak, revealing an oddly unremarkable face. Its strangeness lay in its utter lack of distinctive features—so ordinary it seemed it could vanish without a trace if lost in a crowd.

  This utterly ordinary man saw Ethan return and nodded to him.

  Ethan nodded back. He had never seen this man before, yet felt a strange, ominous sense of familiarity.

  “You're finally back. I've been waiting here all night.” Ethan recoiled like a startled cat at the hoarse voice, thick with the stench of decay, arching his back as his hair stood on end.

  Sandro glanced at Ethan, took a deep gulp of tea, and spoke in a voice that sounded like a snore.