Necromancer Of The Black Bible (23)

The newly hatched Sand Dragon hatchling looked much like a baby bird.

Its downy fluff was soaked with the placenta and fluids from inside the egg, leaving its thin frame fully exposed.

It rolled its large, round eyes around, then locked gazes with me.

At that moment, beneath the sharp horn on its nose, it opened its mouth.

“Piiik—! Pik, pik!”

Not just its appearance, even its cries resembled a baby bird.

Using its horn, it broke apart the eggshell around it and stepped out.

And so its full form was revealed.

A long body with four legs.

About the size of a wild dog one might see in the hills.

It blinked its eyes brightly and waddled over, rubbing its body against my leg.

[Oh ho. Seems no brainwashing is needed.]

[What do you mean?]

[This creature has imprinted on you, Honored Master.]

The word “imprint” made me pause.

Sand Dragons, descended from true dragons, are intelligent creatures. That one of their hatchlings would imprint on the first thing it sees?

At my doubt, Equinox chuckled and replied.

[Even dragons, when just born, form attachment to the first being they see. That is why they hide their eggs deep in their nests. It is a primal instinct of survival—to secure protection for their own lives.]

Well, that does make sense.

If this hatchling hadn’t imprinted on me and instead followed its natural instincts to attack, I would have killed it immediately.

I knelt on one knee and petted it.

With a little mana, I dried its body, and its fur puffed up softly.

Though short, it felt pleasant to the touch.

As I kept stroking, the hatchling rolled onto its back, belly exposed in contentment.

You’re good with animals. Did you keep a pet before, perhaps?

[No.]

A pet, seriously?

What kind of dark magician, skulking day and night, would keep one?

Dragging around an animal would risk giving away my location.

Of course, there were rumors of people on the continent who did.

Like hunters with direwolves five times the size of a man, or archmages who rode on giant brown eagles.

Even among black magicians, there was one named Kildraeke who was said to tame and travel with hatchlings.

But that had nothing to do with my past life. I had no such luxury then. Survival came first.

‘Anyway, what should I do with this one?’

If it had been brainwashed as Equinox suggested, it could be controlled absolutely.

But this one couldn’t.

[Try using the Voice of Souls.]

[Would that even work on a newborn?]

[The Voice of Souls was designed to communicate with those who cannot speak your tongue. It conveys primal images that any being born into this world can understand.]

At Equinox’s words, I nodded.

It was true—the Voice of Souls used imagery, allowing communication even with those who could not speak.

My master once told me that, with more training, one could even converse with plants.

‘Alright, then…’

I spoke to the hatchling enjoying my touch at my feet, using the Voice of Souls.

[Can you hear my voice?]

At that moment, the hatchling’s eyes widened, and it rolled over, looking around.

It seemed it could indeed hear me.

I spoke to it again.

[Here, here. It was me speaking to you.]

It looked into my eyes and opened its mouth.

“Piiik!”

As I thought.

It understood, but since it couldn’t speak with the Voice of Souls itself, this was the only way it could answer.

‘That’s fine. As long as it understands me, that’s enough.’

What more could one expect from a newborn?

Walking, moving, and understanding words already sufficed.

And since it was imprinted, it would obey most commands.

I asked it the most important question.

[Are you hungry right now?]

“Piiik!”

A clear affirmation.

The sound was simple, but the meaning was easy to sense.

I gestured around and asked again.

[Then, will you find something to eat here yourself? I’ll wait here.]

The hatchling glanced about, then moved to the broken egg, greedily lapping up the placenta that had oozed out.

Then it sniffed about, consuming the fragments of broken shell and leftover scraps.

Oh ho. Clever one, isn’t it? Seems you won’t even need to fetch food for it.

[Though not brilliant, Sand Dragons are still mystical beasts. They can at least find food for themselves.]

‘That means… I might be able to keep it with me.’

Sand Dragons travel underground.

If I told this one to follow me underground, I could keep it without drawing attention.

[A fine idea. Taming a Sand Dragon that way would prove useful.]

Does this one count as a companion too?

At Nocturne’s question, I quietly nodded, and it squealed with excitement.

Wow! Our party is growing fast. Already five of us! Or six, counting Belzemon? At this rate we could be a legendary dragon-slaying party!

[Really?]

I couldn’t help but chuckle at Nocturne’s joke.

There were indeed six minds, but to outsiders, it was just William and me.

Still, the number six carried significance.

‘Because in black magic, six signifies perfection.’

Ordinary folk saw it as ominous, but black magicians did not.

Six symbolized an unbreakable combination, eternal even in death.

It meant true immortality.

‘This life won’t be so lonely after all.’

Shy Nocturne had turned into a chatterbox, while Equinox gave wise counsel at crucial moments.

And now there were William and the hatchling Sand Dragon.

William would likely be quiet, preoccupied with the demon sword Belzemon, but the Sand Dragon would need much dialogue and bonding.

That was how it would come to know the world.

‘I’ll have much to tell my master when we meet again.’

But when would that be?

Would I seek him out, or would he come to me?

If I went, where should I go?

Even recalling all his teachings, I couldn’t guess.

As I pondered what to do next, Nocturne’s voice rang out.

Master. That little one… is it alright to just leave it like that?

Looking up, I saw the hatchling poised at the lava river’s edge.

It stared at the solemnly flowing lava for a moment—then leapt in.

Splosh—

With a sticky splash, it vanished beneath the lava. When it didn’t reappear for some time, Nocturne spoke with concern.

Did it… die?

[No. Not at all.]

To my eyes it was clear—the hatchling was swimming through the lava.

Its aura glowed crimson, faint and hard to see, but by focusing my senses I could follow its form.

It swam back and forth in the river with freedom, enjoying itself.

Like rolling around on a soft bed.

Watching it, I felt its comfort seep into me.

[You are bonding with the imprinted hatchling. That is very good.]

[But… will it really be okay?]

My question carried many meanings, but Equinox understood them all and answered.

[It will be fine. Brainwashing may seem convenient now, but in the long run, bonding like this is far better.]

[Why?]

[First, brainwashing requires mana. More importantly, it imposes undeniable compulsion. If for some reason the spell breaks, the results can be catastrophic.]

I roughly understood.

One could hardly think fondly of whoever brainwashed them.

[Precisely. Long ago, before necromancy was properly established, many mages who experimented with forbidden spells were killed by their own brainwashed creations. The techniques I teach you now rarely cause such outcomes, but still—relationships with creations are best kept natural.]

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

There was a vast difference between following by free will and following under compulsion.

That was exactly why I longed to escape the Demon King—because of this hated compulsion.

The prohibition binding me to the Demon King, forcing me to obey, felt more suffocating the more I thought about it.

As these thoughts passed, the hatchling emerged from the lava and shook its body.

Its form had changed considerably.

The fluffy down had all burned away in the lava, revealing hard scales.

It now looked exactly like the hatchling William had slain before.

The hatchling ran cheerfully toward me.

Heat shimmered in waves around its body, betraying its scorching warmth.

‘This might be a bit too hot…’

Having just soaked in lava, its body must have been blazing hot.

I looked into its eyes and commanded.

[Slow down. You’re too hot right now.]

Would it understand?

Even as I wondered, it stopped at once, then slowly approached, tilting its head.

“Piii?”

It seemed to roughly understand. I explained the situation further.

I explained the meaning of temperature, and why it threatened me, and finally it nodded slowly.

Then it spread its scales and shook them.

Clatter, clatter—

After a few shakes, its body cooled quickly. The burning heat softened into a warm glow as it approached me gently.

‘Truly clever.’

Even with the Voice of Souls’ clarity, teaching a new concept was difficult.

Yet it grasped temperature, heat and cold, and threat—all at once.

The more I spoke with it, the more I doubted it was truly just a newborn.

As it circled at my feet again, something important occurred to me.

‘Come to think of it, what should I call it?’

No name came to mind.

As I pondered, Nocturne slyly peeked into my thoughts and spoke.

How about giving it the name of the great dragon who tried to consume the continent 600 years ago? Terranos! Doesn’t it sound grand?

[Hmm. Isn’t that a bit too much?]

Or how about Crassus, the dragon who brought harmony to the world 2,000 years ago?

The names sounded fine, but didn’t suit this one.

‘I don’t want to burden it with hollow meaning.’

A name that rolls off the tongue, and truly fits its essence.

‘What would be good?’

As I thought, a voice came from the Sand Dragon gazing at me.

[Geo. I like this name.]

The voice clearly came from the hatchling.

It spoke with the Voice of Souls without even being taught?

That was surprising.

It was then I truly felt it was indeed a kind of dragon.

I stroked its head and answered.

[Alright. Geo. From now on, that will be your name.]

It was then.

I sensed a sharp aura from afar.

A crimson aura.

A definite killing intent.

‘What is that?’

I quickly activated my extrasensory perception and probed that direction.

The killing intent was seeping from the hole I had descended through.