The misadventures of the necromancer

He warned the girl before pushing her out of the temple. Her face was a mixture of confusion and surprise. But unfortunately, at this moment, that was all he could do.

Leaving the girls without any idea of the potential danger the boys might represent made no sense to him.

In principle, he did not truly believe the boys would turn on them the moment he was no longer around. But they had no idea how the three of them had met, and even less about the more than likely multiple crimes they had committed before that. As such, it was better for them to be cautious.

That was his last thought on the matter as he turned to face the real problem. A sight that made him let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, before grumbling to himself that if he had a time machine, he would go back and punch himself for having thought, back at that inn, that going to the Temple of the Divine Trials was a good idea.

Originally, he had considered the risk of the gods taking an interest in him to be low. After all, that had never happened in the game, unless it was part of the story. So, in the game, returning to the temple would have had no consequences. But as he already knew, this world and the game were not perfectly aligned. The systems seemed to be the same, but things were different.

As such, it was obvious that a stranger freely entering a hidden temple would attract the curiosity of the gods. And to make matters worse, the Temple of the Divine Trials was technically shared by several gods, so he had not drawn the attention of Omgur alone, who was responsible for the trials themselves.

Which had ultimately led him here, face to face with this monster that at the moment was roughly the size of his mule, which in turn was about half its true size. Behind him, they were making noise, talking among themselves, but he did not really care to listen.

Not that he would have any chance if a fight were to break out. Of that, he was absolutely certain. Unlike Omgur’s servant, he had already had the extreme displeasure of fighting the creature before him. Not as Nero, but as another character, a Knight of the Hundred, who had been given the mission of proving himself to the goddess of the hunt.

Logically, that would mean hunting something, right? No, of course not. He had had to travel all the way to Inverten to fight the goddess’s servant who lived in her temple, because that made perfect sense.

In a battle where he had only managed to pass the mission on the fifth attempt or something like that. And that had not been by defeating the servant, but by enduring the beating for long enough. That had been with a character who was basically a tank in heavy armor.

To make matters worse, this creature had to be the worst possible matchup for Nero, since his only real advantage was the fact that divine powers did not work particularly well on him. Unfortunately, his current opponent, unlike the servant of the gods in the Temple of the Divine Trials, relied primarily on physical attacks, supported by sheer strength and speed.

Everything pointed to his best option being to simply avoid this “conversation,” that he should have left the girls and the baby behind and gone away. And he was very close to doing just that.

But that would only work today. What choice would he have the next time the gods tried? Even if he escaped today, there was no guarantee for the future. Next time it might not be someone as reasonable as this creature, because everything he knew suggested that if the objective was truly to ask some questions, well…

It was probably being honest, a choice that other deities or their servants would not give him. They would go straight to torture or something of the sort.

The silence that falls tells him that the boys and girls must already have gone away, though he is not ready to turn around to check. But the creature’s lack of action leaves him unsure how to react. Until the idea occurs to him that this might be one of those situations where whoever speaks first shows weakness.

For a moment, he feels like making a snide remark, declaring that they both know the servant of the gods is stronger and that there is no need for this farce. Fortunately, his common sense—and his desire to avoid a terrible death—stop him. And, looking into the distance at the condition of the temple building itself, he concludes that he has a good way to skirt the issue.

“Before we begin, may I ask a question?” he inquires of the creature before him.

Which, in turn, with a slow but calm nod of its head, signals its agreement.

“Cool. I just wanted to know what happened to Inverten for it to end up like this.”

The creature takes a few moments to respond, until at last the deep voice that had been heard before echoes once more.

“The Deep Hallows.”

His mind goes blank—what the hell is that supposed to mean? But thinking carefully, he realizes that he knows that name… The Pit—that is what the ruin is really called. The Pit is simply what everyone calls it, including the NPCs in the game, but its true name is The Deep Hallows.

For a moment, he is about to ask how that could be possible, until another thought occurs to him.

“An outbreak…?” he asks the creature, which seems not to understand. “…The monsters from the ruin escaped and attacked the city.”

The being before him calmly nods its head in agreement.

Which immediately raises another question. “But how? The Pit should be the easiest ruin to defend. It’s a hole in the ground—just surround it with half a dozen minimally competent warriors and rain fire on anything that tries to come out.”

“Yes, indeed. But you still need those warriors. If you don’t have enough of sufficient quality…” replies the ‘dog,’ looking around as if explaining that if that fails, you end up with a city in this state.

He almost wants to ask how that could even be possible—how the city could have ended up in a situation where it didn’t have some warriors available. The city he had known would never have suffered such a shortage. And it wouldn’t even need that much, since the ruin was regularly visited by adventurers, making the risk of an outbreak practically nil.

So learning more would be interesting—if it weren’t for the fact that the other participant in this conversation was basically a wolf the size of a van with divine powers, whom he suspects is not truly invested in this discussion. As such, he can only reply with an “Oh? I see.”

Seeing the silence stretch afterward, he decides it is better to concede and says, “I thought you wanted to ask some questions?”

The creature nods again, but asks nothing, leaving him wondering whether this is going anywhere at all. After all, this being might have an eternity to ask its questions, but he doubts he has the same privilege. Which leads him to think that maybe that is the plan—to leave him waiting here until he dies, assuming the conversation will start someday.

Until the animal looks back toward the temple and asks, “What was at the top?”

His mouth almost hangs open at the question. What the hell could it mean by that? Is he really being asked something so strange?

Fortunately, his experience with games and movies allows him to guess that he is being tested, since he had demonstrated knowledge he should not have had when he was in the Temple of the Divine Trials. Of course, that raises the real question: how should he answer?

Seeing no good reason to do otherwise, he decides to be honest. “Nothing.”

The creature looks at him, seemingly intrigued, prompting him to be as clear as he can. “The top of the temple was open. It was a good observation point. But there was nothing there.”

The creature listens carefully, nodding its head as if in agreement. Apparently, things are going well, but sensing what the creature really wanted as an answer, he continues.

“The Eye of the Hunt is on the floor directly below. Hidden inside the altar.”

The servant pauses for a moment, then forms what looks like a smile on its snout, as if very pleased with the answer, which makes him feel that he has just given the worst possible response.

“So you have seen it?” the animal asks.

Considering that he has probably already messed up, he decides to continue being honest. “Personally, no. But I was told about it.”

After all, the Eye’s benefits would not be useful to any of his characters. He rarely uses strategies suited to hunters—something especially true for Nero’s character. What would he do with the ability to temporarily count on the help of wild animals?

Once again, the creature nods in understanding, as if grasping the logic that the Eye would be quite useless to a necromancer inside most existing ruins.

“Have you heard of the Chosen of the Sky and the Earth?” the servant suddenly asks.

Once more, he is caught off guard, barely even recognizing what he heard. In the end, he has to restrain himself from laughing and simply shakes his head side to side.

The Chosen of the Sky and the Earth is the title used to distinguish the players. It is a way to justify why players are so different from NPCs. And the question clarifies what the being before him really wants—since, considering that Omgur’s servant could see what blessings he had, it must also be possible for them to see his status as a Chosen. Leaving their exact objective unclear.

As such, the only answer is, “Yes.”

With that, silence falls again, as the two observe each other, waiting for the next move. Remembering the previous contest of silence, he once more decides to declare his defeat.

“If I’m not mistaken, they are people destined for great deeds, with the power to change the continent.” The game’s advertising line, or something similar.

The creature nods and asks him, “Do you know any?”

Once again, he has to restrain himself from laughing while thinking, Several. But guessing the answer that is actually desired, he says, “Me.”

“And how do you know that?” the creature inquires.

Leaving him with quite a problem. It’s not as if he can say it was in the game’s introduction, upon which this world apparently was based. How would the gods, of all beings, respond to that?

“I don’t know. I just know. It’s as if Nero here..." he says while pointing to himself "...has known it since birth,” he replies, trying to dodge the question without actually lying—since his character, even before being created, already had that information.

In the end, he receives another affirmative nod from the creature.

Instinctively, he wants to ask why in the hell a servant of the gods would be asking such a thing. After all, if anyone should understand this, it should be them…

Unless they don’t! And from what he remembers of the game’s lore, the current gods were not the creators of this world. They were more like omnipresent, all-powerful administrators.

That being the case, it’s possible they don’t know exactly what the Chosen of Heaven and Earth are. Or perhaps they simply want to know how he is one.

“And you don’t know anything else?” asks the Huntress’s servant at last.

Once again, he’s left unsure how to answer. What more could he tell it? As far as he knows, the title doesn’t come with special powers or abilities.

“No.”

The creature tilts its head slightly, as if thinking—or, more troublingly, listening to someone.

Finally, it moves its head again and nods, as if answering something in the affirmative.

That done, the creature lunges forward at a speed that leaves him no time to react, slamming into him and practically sending him flying through the air and out of the temple’s space.

When he hits the ground, he hears the creature’s voice say, “All right. We’ll be watching.”

In pain and tasting the flavor of his own blood, he lifts his head from the ground to look at where the servant should be. Should be—because it has vanished.

With his ribs aching so badly he suspects something must be broken, he bites his tongue and doesn’t complain as much as he wants to.

“All this… for this?”

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