Necromancer Of The Black Bible (154)

Damian, who had been watching what had happened in the barracks training grounds until now, was displeased.

He had not expected it to be so disorderly, even if they lacked confidence.

At the same time, he also recognized the limits of Necromancy.

‘Having a self isn’t always a good thing, is it.’

Being able to grow without limit was appealing, but it was hard to control.

Because they were all individuals, they had to form proper relationships.

It was fundamentally different from Necroturgy, which merely did as it was told.

‘Then I’ll have to use a method everyone can accept.’

Whether human, elf, monster, or demon, all bowed to strength.

Faced with overwhelming power capable of annihilating them, they usually gave up resistance and submitted.

Among all his memories from his previous life, those who resisted such power either died or were crippled as examples.

And those who survived were so terrified they never dared rebel again.

Damian believed such fear was necessary.

Bolt’s soul crumbled and scattered from his hands.

Strictly speaking, it had been turned into primal energy and absorbed by Damian, but from the perspective of the other undead watching, it would feel very different.

It would feel as if their own souls were being destroyed.

‘Will this be enough?’

It was not enough.

Bolt alone was not the instigator of this incident.

Even so, if only Bolt were annihilated, those who went unpunished might think themselves special.

‘That won’t do.’

Rules had to be upheld.

Especially in this barracks, where soldiers were managed, rules were extremely important.

The outcome of the war depended on how orders were carried out.

Damian was not a soldier, but he understood the workings of war.

Among the countless books he had read in his previous life, many were about military strategy.

Military treatises always prized ‘hierarchy’ and ‘discipline.’

For those to be upheld, there could be no exceptions.

Damian called the next name.

“Giggs.”

The fellow who had stepped forward so boldly after Bolt was lifted into the air the moment his name was called.

Damian looked at him and said.

“You spoke to me very poetically. You said you wanted to feel the spring breeze swaying in the late afternoon. It’s still winter—have you felt the spring breeze yet?”

Giggs shook his head.

But Damian answered coldly.

“Then that was a lie.”

Giggs struggled desperately, but could not say a word.

Damian left him his final words as well.

“I despise those who lie.”

With those words, Giggs’s soul was ripped out and, like Bolt’s, absorbed into Damian.

Damian then called the names of the remaining three in turn and annihilated them before looking at Kael.

He was supporting himself on his spear, kneeling on one knee.

“I saw your martial skill well. Verdin would praise it.”

Kael bowed his head and replied.

“It was nothing impressive.”

“No.”

Damian shook his head.

“You don’t need to be humble with me. Speak as you are. Did you intend to take on everyone here by yourself?”

“…Yes.”

“Did you think you could win?”

“…I did not think that far.”

“And you fought like that despite having no chance?”

“There was no other way.”

A smile formed at the corners of Damian’s mouth.

It was an answer he liked.

A knight should be as such.

A being who advances as commanded, without weighing the odds.

When alive, there is the fear of death, and overcoming that fear would have been difficult.

But what is there for an undead already dead to fear?

Damian had long wanted to have many knights like this.

Only then did he think he could end this war.

He looked at Kael and spoke.

“Verdin wasn’t wrong. Welcome, Kael.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Even on their first meeting, Kael used the proper address.

Damian thought it was time to put an end to this commotion.

So he said to everyone.

“All of you, without a single exception, made a promise with me and earned this chance. You will have clearly seen what happens when that promise is broken.”

He could feel all the undead’s shoulders trembling faintly.

That was proof they were feeling fear.

The fear they had never felt toward any enemy, they were feeling chillingly toward their master.

“You have no death, but you do have annihilation. You needn’t fear death, but you will fear annihilation. So obey.”

“Yes, Sir!”

They all swore obedience in one voice.

Then Damian pointed to Kael and said,

“Kael is a legitimate commander who has been granted authority by my daughter Natasha. Anyone who disobeys Kael’s orders will be treated as if they had defied me. Remember that.”

“Yes, Sir!”

After everyone finished swearing, Kael lifted his head and asked Damian.

“Then am I to command them?”

Damian looked at him for a moment, then spoke.

“Not yet. For the time being, I will command them directly. You will wait for my orders.”

And so Damian joined Brandstein Castle.

It was a time when winter was almost over.

The news of my return sent the castle into chaos.

Since we had scarcely even communicated until now, Natasha could only greet me in a fluster.

But I didn’t care much.

I had come here to bring the war to an end.

To conquer the Empire and annihilate Illinas.

The office in Brandstein Castle was smaller than the one at the Ethereal Gate, but it was cozy.

Warm sunlight inappropriate to the season streamed in from the window, and thanks to that, the room felt warm even without a heater.

I looked out the window and asked.

“Even in winter, what makes it so warm?”

“It’s the power of the Elementalist. I adjusted the climate so the territory’s people wouldn’t shiver from the cold.”

At Natasha’s answer, I asked again.

“Wasn’t the Elementalist named Laerin?”

“Yes.”

The girl sitting at the far end of the table answered.

Now that I looked, I recognized her face from before.

She was the girl who had been nearby when I met Cirrhnua Matter in the mine at Silvaren Village.

She had seemed too young at the time, so I hadn’t paid much attention, but it seemed her power was far beyond that.

“How long were you under Cirrhnua?”

Laerin, who had been staring blankly at me, realized the question was directed at her and answered in a small voice.

“About seventy years.”

“How old are you now?”

“…One hundred and twelve.”

For an elf, that was a young age.

Even so, she had lived decades longer than I had, so the situation was rather absurd.

I laughed to myself and asked her again.

“How large an area can you change the climate of with your current power?”

“Well, it also depends on how many days I’d have to do it for….”

“Then tell me on the assumption that you change it for about a month.”

“A month would be… about twice the size of this place, the Grovebern territory.”

She said it casually, but this was no ordinary thing.

Grovebern territory was by no means small.

It was a broad region where the horizon could be seen in every direction, and she could change the climate of such a place for an entire month?

Even Eckhart, whom I had already annihilated, would not easily have been able to do that.

‘Climate adjustment. This is a huge advantage.’

Climate was very important in war.

In human nations especially, it could almost be called absolute.

No one moved troops in the sweltering summer or the bitter winter.

War consumed a great deal of food, and humans were heavily affected by climate, so it was inevitable.

‘But we’re different.’

The army I had built so far was not affected by food or climate.

If one had to be specific, winter could be disadvantageous because of the ice, but if Laerin adjusted the climate, even that drawback would disappear.

So this was the perfect time to start a war.

After sorting out my thoughts, I gave Natasha an order.

“Summon the troops.”

“The troops? How many?”

“All of them, leaving only three thousand to guard the castle.”

Natasha’s eyes went wide as she stammered on.

“So that means, then….”

Seeing her like that, I declared.

“Yes. We’re starting the war now. Tomorrow, we’ll depart for Graneum Castle.”

Graneum Castle in the Valbern Marquessate.

The grandeur of Graneum Castle, the largest in the Empire aside from the imperial capital, remained intact.

The fortress made entirely of red brick looked like a candle burning alone atop a snowy mountain.

But the blizzard that had struck there was no ordinary one.

It was fierce enough to extinguish that flame at any moment.

As dangerous as the castle looked from the outside, conditions inside were no better.

The audience hall was packed with petitioners because of the prolonged cold wave.

From the village chief’s complaint that all the vegetables and fruits stored in the warehouse had frozen solid and there was nothing to eat,

to the incident of the men who went into the mountains to gather firewood and went missing.

Even if the Margrave wanted to hear them out, the fierce blizzard made it difficult to act on anything.

“Let’s wait a little longer. We can only send people out once the weather improves even a little.”

“But, My Lord Margrave. If we keep waiting like this, my son will freeze to death.”

Even at the village chief’s earnest plea, the Margrave shook his head.

“I understand your situation is dire. But if we recklessly send people out, those people could all be sacrificed as well. At the very least, a village chief should understand what I’m saying.”

At the Margrave’s firm explanation, the village chief eventually lowered his head.

When noon came and the blizzard still showed no sign of stopping, the Margrave dismissed everyone gathered in the audience hall.

“Go home for today. Even if I want to hear you out, I can’t do anything with the weather like this.”

After speaking, the Margrave left the audience hall and went up to his own office on the upper floor.

An unexpected guest had arrived there.

“Uh… you are?”

A female knight with strong eyes.

It was Swordmaster Rietta Carmain.

Three months ago, she had been part of the reconnaissance unit dispatched to the Grovebern territory, but after a crushing defeat in battle, she was the only survivor who barely escaped to here.

The battle back then had left sword wounds large and small all over her body, and her face was no exception.

The rough scar slashing diagonally across her face only made her appearance seem colder.

Rietta greeted the Margrave of Valbern respectfully and spoke in a low voice.

“Please forgive my rudeness.”

“What is it?”

“Last night….”

After hesitating for a moment, she met Valbern’s eyes and continued.

“I had a dream.”

“A dream?”

If it had been someone else’s dream, he would have scoffed, but Rietta was no ordinary person.

A Swordmaster of top-tier ability in the Empire.

Among them, many were said to have prophetic dreams.

In particular, there was even a rumor that the prophetic dreams of the few female Swordmasters were eerily accurate.

Valbern, who had heard plenty about this, slowly nodded.

Then, sitting in his office chair, he looked at Rietta and spoke.

“Tell me what sort of dream you had.”

Rietta hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“The enemies… trampling this castle. I dreamed of the castle collapsing, and everyone inside being captured and killed by them.”

Rietta’s voice was calm, but the content was anything but.

Valbern’s expression froze cold.