Episode 140: The Selection of Gasdal (1)
The Necromancy School.
A dark magic sect that enslaved the souls of the dead, treating them as mere tools. While other dark magic schools also dealt with souls, they primarily used them to generate dark energy. The Necromancy School, however, manipulated souls on a higher level, exerting direct influence over them.
The skeletons summoned by Gasdal were a prime example of this. By binding the souls of the deceased to bones, they were turned into soldiers.
“Horrifying.”
Damian could see it—the tormented souls shackled to the skeletons, unable to find peace even in death, exploited by a dark sorcerer. It was truly a dreadful sight.
“Rrrgh!”
Miya, too, must have seen the suffering souls. After all, Miya was a being born from the collective resentment of those who had fallen victim to necromancy.
“Rrrgh!”
Unable to suppress the murderous intent, Miya lunged at Gasdal. Hundreds of skeletons blocked the way. Miya enlarged her arms and swung at the skeletons. With each punch, the skeletons shattered and flew apart. Mere bones were no match for Miya, who tore through the skeletal army, closing in on Gasdal.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen such a well-crafted flesh golem. I’m curious about its creator.”
Yet Gasdal remained unfazed.
“Looks like I’ll have to get serious.”
Gasdal struck the ground with his staff. The shattered bones gathered before him, reassembling rapidly. Even the most damaged bones returned to their original places, leaving no time to intervene. This was the troublesome aspect of the Necromancy School. The skeletons could be endlessly restored, and the only way to stop them was to cut off the supply of dark energy.
The problem was that Gasdal, the source of this energy, was protected by the skeletons.
“Rrrgh!”
But Miya had anticipated this. She had faced skeletons before and knew that to stop them, she had to eliminate Gasdal himself. With this in mind, Miya charged at Gasdal once more.
“Rrrgh!”
Miya dove into the skeletal army again. If she could break them once, she could do it again. Just then, Gasdal struck the ground with his staff. A magic circle appeared beneath his feet, and the skeletons’ bones began to turn black. It was a dark magic spell known as Black Bone, which drastically increased the skeletons’ durability.
“Rrrgh!”
Miya’s enlarged fist struck a skeleton, but unlike before, it didn’t budge. The skeleton withstood the blow and retaliated.
“Rrrgh?”
The reinforced skeleton army pushed back against Miya’s fists, attacking with bone swords, spears, and shields.
“Kaeng!”
Miya was helpless against the skeletons’ assault, forced to retreat.
“Can’t even withstand this much? Seems your creator wasn’t a very skilled dark sorcerer,” Gasdal remarked with disappointment. Even as Miya was attacked, she glared at Gasdal.
“Rrrr… Rrrgh!”
Miya’s eyes burned with intense malice. Gasdal observed her with interest.
“An undead that despises dark sorcerers? How peculiar. You’re a rare find.”
“Rrrgh!”
Miya roared, as if to silence his nonsense. In that moment, flames erupted from Miya’s body.
“Hmm?”
The flames didn’t consume Miya; instead, they healed her wounds almost instantly.
“Wait, could this be… the Phoenix’s…?”
Miya charged at the skeletons. The flames engulfed them, reducing them to ashes in an instant. The path blocked by the skeletons was now wide open. Miya reached out to grab Gasdal.
At that moment, Gasdal struck the ground with his staff again. Shadows beneath him writhed, and black spears shot out, piercing through the flames and into Miya’s body.
”…Kaeng!”
The flames that had turned the skeletons to ash couldn’t burn the spears. Miya groaned, impaled.
“An undead using holy flames? Fascinating. I’ll have to take you for research. But first, I’ll need to disarm you.”
Skeletons emerged from Gasdal’s shadow, grabbing Miya’s limbs, trying to tear them apart.
Just then, Damian embraced Miya from behind, pulling her free from the spears. He swung his sword, releasing a crescent-shaped slash that cut through the skeletons and headed for Gasdal. But before it could reach him, Gasdal conjured a shadow shield to block the attack.
Taking advantage of the moment, Damian distanced himself from Gasdal, placing Miya in a safe spot. Her body was riddled with fist-sized holes.
“Kaeng…”
Even Miya’s regenerative abilities couldn’t heal her properly.
“Neglectful master, watching your pet get to this state,” Gasdal taunted. Damian turned to him and replied, “She still has much to learn.”
Miya had charged at Gasdal in a fit of rage and paid the price. Hopefully, she learned the importance of gauging an enemy’s strength.
“Learning, you say… A risky decision. What if I had destroyed her instantly?”
“How many have you killed?”
“Hmm? What are you talking about?”
Damian pointed to the spears at Gasdal’s feet. “Those… they’re Wraith Spears, aren’t they?”
Wraith Spears. A secret spell of the Necromancy School, crafted by intertwining, merging, and compressing vengeful spirits filled with hatred and anger. It was said that even a mere touch could sap the life force of living beings, and a slight graze could be fatal. Most terrifying of all, they could resist holy power.
“How many people did you kill to make those skeletons and Wraith Spears?” Damian asked. Gasdal looked puzzled.
“What a strange question. Do you remember how many times you’ve breathed in your life?”
Damian chuckled, a low, drawn-out laugh. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard something so vile.”
He infused his sword with magic, the blade glowing with a blue aura.
“Finally, the master steps in?” Gasdal said, gathering his skeletons with a look of anticipation. “I hope you’re stronger than that creature.”
Gasdal struck the ground with his staff. Skeletons made of black bones charged forward, weapons raised. Hundreds of them.
There was nothing that couldn’t be broken. But even if he did, Gasdal would just restore them. Damian couldn’t waste time on such futile efforts.
He observed the skeletons, reading their movements. Though they lacked muscles, their skeletal structure was human, making it easy to predict their actions. A path naturally formed in his mind. Damian extended his sword and moved into the army.
-Screech!
-Screech!
Hundreds of skeletons formed layers of encirclement to kill Damian. They swung their weapons, attacking from all sides. Bone spears and swords aimed to wound him.
Damian found a safe path and stepped forward. The skeletons’ attacks repeatedly missed, slicing through empty air. Like water flowing between rocks, Damian moved effortlessly through the army.
“What… is this…?”
Gasdal’s face slowly twisted in disbelief at the impossible sight.
“You fools…! Why do you keep missing? Just stab him already!”
Gasdal’s orders were futile. Damian had already passed through the army and stood before Gasdal.
“This can’t be…!”
Gasdal struck the ground with his staff. Wraith Spears shot out from the shadows, piercing Damian. But in that instant, Damian’s form blurred, and the spears sliced through nothing.
”…!”
Sensing danger from behind, Gasdal turned. Damian’s sword, Dawn, sliced through Gasdal’s neck.
Gasdal’s head hit the ground. Damian didn’t stop there, slicing Gasdal’s body several more times with Dawn. The torso fell apart, collapsing into pieces.
“Such a pointless effort,” a voice came from below.
The disembodied head of Gastal chuckled as it gazed at Demian.
“It’s no use. This body is…”
“A fake, right?”
Demian’s words caused Gastal’s expression to freeze.
“This is just an undead puppet you’re controlling remotely. The real you is somewhere else.”
“How did you…?”
Demian had suspected it from the very beginning.
Though he was a swordsman, Demian was also a skilled necromancer. He could sense the discord in the dark magic emanating from Gastal.
Moreover, the skeleton army Gastal had summoned was far too weak.
It was hard to believe that a grand necromancer had conjured them.
“Who are you, really? A paladin of the order? Or perhaps…”
Demian crushed Gastal’s head underfoot, silencing it instantly.
Though the Gastal before him was a fake, for Demian, it was as good as finding the real one.
He extracted the dark magic from the fake Gastal’s remains.
It was fresh, recently released by the necromancer.
Exactly what Demian needed.
“With this, I can find where the real one is hiding.”
Demian used the dark magic to construct a spell, a necromantic ritual to trace back to the source.
After a long moment with his eyes closed, Demian lifted his head.
“It wasn’t the ruins.”
The detection spell pointed outside, to a place far from ordinary.
The Count’s estate.
Gastal was at the very heart of the duchy.