Necromancer Of The Black Bible (32)

[When using brainwashing, you must target the subject’s desire. Whether human or monster, any being with intelligence harbors desires. The stronger the desire, the easier it is to ensnare them.]

Equinox’s guidance was spot on.

All it took to brainwash Verdin was disguise, liquor, and a little core mana.

The rest was done with conversation.

Once drunk, he spilled his heart—and from there I found the key.

‘As I thought. He wants to break free of Volg.’

What he truly wanted was to find the princess. Whether it restored his honor was uncertain—but it would at least ease his guilt.

I can’t understand these knightly ideals, but I can accept them.

If you’re drilled with them since childhood, you live with them all your life.

In that sense, Verdin had long been brainwashed by the hollow ideal of honor.

‘I’ll simply use it.’

Then Equinox’s voice came.

[Now comes the critical part. Watch closely. If the brainwashing slips, intervene immediately.]

I focused as Equinox instructed.

While performing this brainwashing, I realized necromancy core mana is unique.

It’s viscous enough to be visible, and I can imbue it with my mind. I don’t yet know how little it can hold—but what I gave Verdin was enough.

[It’s one-sixth of a Mana Ring. Remember this ratio, or you’ll regret it later.]

I nodded at Equinox’s warning.

One-sixth of a core mana.

The same amount used in necromancy.

‘So one Mana Ring equals six uses.’

[Correct. The White Serpent’s guardian spirit is doubling your efficiency right now. But if you drain a core mana entirely, with nothing left to copy, you’ll inevitably weaken.]

That was enough to understand.

Spend the whole core, and the serpent spirit has nothing to duplicate—so keep at least a sixth before moving on to another.

‘So I can still cast other spells.’

Ordinary spells draw easily from the resonance of rotating Mana Rings.

My past life’s experience helps here.

That’s why I can sustain transformation magic so long, and cast other spells with ease.

Anyway.

I slipped into Verdin’s vision through the core mana inside him.

Volg. If you lied, I’ll kill you.

Verdin’s thoughts surged fiercely.

It felt nothing like controlling skeletons with necromancy.

‘I feel his thoughts and emotions directly, as if they’re mine. I mustn’t lose myself.’

Verdin reached Volg’s tent, where courtesans’ giggles and Volg’s laughter spilled out.

Without hesitation, Verdin flung open the flap.

Shaaak—

Three naked women, and Volg.

The women snatched blankets, retreating behind Volg, who stared wide-eyed.

“Wh-what are you doing, you!”

Verdin gave no answer—he strode up and drove his scimitar into the floor between Volg’s legs.

Puk—

At the sound, Volg’s manhood shrank in terror.

Sensing the mood, Volg spoke.

“What’s this about, Verdin? Over that matter earlier?”

Verdin just stared. Volg swallowed dryly and gestured to the women.

They nodded, gathered their clothes, and fled.

Once gone, Volg softened his tone.

“Verdin, what’s gotten into you? You startled me.”

“Don’t avoid me. Tell me the truth. Where was the princess sold?”

“As I said before, if you just—”

He meant to stall, but couldn’t.

Verdin’s blade was now leveled at his chest.

Verdin spoke again.

“I won’t ask twice. Tell me.”

He closed in, sword to Volg’s heart.

Volg backed away, stammering.

“Uh, w-wait… ah! That’s it! The Valkyr Empire! She was sold there!”

“How do I believe that?”

“Lower that… and I’ll fetch it. It’s in that drawer.”

Verdin lowered his sword, and Volg shuffled to a desk.

I found it suspicious.

Volg was not the type to give in so easily.

So I whispered to Verdin.

[Careful. He’s plotting something.]

I used the Voice of the Soul—but would it reach him?

I’d spoken to demons and spirits, but never the living.

[He heard it. In brainwashing, the caster’s words always reach the target—spoken, thought, or soul-voice. The soul-voice strikes deepest.]

No sooner had Equinox spoken than a blast rang out.

Bang!

‘A gun?’

Volg had drawn a pistol.

A golden-ornamented pistol, smoke curling from its muzzle.

It was sudden, but Verdin was faster—he deflected the shot with his scimitar and charged.

“You lied, Volg.”

In a low growl, Verdin slashed—Volg’s forearms were severed instantly.

“Gyaaah!”

Bleeding, Volg toppled.

Verdin stood over him.

“Ready to talk now?”

“Uhhh…”

“Tell me! Where is Princess Lillian? Where was she sold?”

Volg, staring at his bleeding stumps, gave a twisted grin.

“How would I know? Ask the slavers. Cough!”

He spat blood.

When he stopped, Verdin pressed again.

“So she was sold?”

Volg sneered weakly.

“Maybe. Want to know? Then spare me first. Kill me, and you’ll never find her.”

What nonsense.

I whispered to Verdin.

[He’s lying. He doesn’t know where she is.]

“Damn… then what do I do?”

[What else? Kill him.]

“If I kill him, the bandits will come for me.”

Hearing this, Volg croaked.

“That’s right. Kill me, and you’ll face them all. You’re strong—but can you handle it? You couldn’t even protect the princess.”

Volg chose his last words poorly.

If he wanted life, he should not have spoken of her so.

‘That seals his fate.’

And so it did.

Verdin thrust his blade into Volg’s heart.

Volg’s face was disbelief—but to me, it was earned.

He seemed to want to speak more, but Verdin gave no chance. With clean precision he drew his blade, blood fountaining.

Verdin stepped back and watched Volg die.

His mind stormed.

I killed him. What now? They’ll swarm me. They must’ve heard the shot!

He was shaken.

For all his skill, his lack of nerve was his flaw.

‘With more nerve, he wouldn’t be here at all.’

I told him bitterly,

[Calm yourself. If you worry so, go outside.]

Yes. I’ll go now.

Verdin stepped outside.

All was calm.

Despite the shot, no one came.

They still drank by the fires.

Relieved, he returned to his tent.

Inside, William and I still sat in disguise.

Seeing myself through another’s eyes was strange.

‘But I must get used to it.’

I withdrew and greeted him.

“Back already?”

“…Yeah.”

“Well done.”

“…What?”

“What you just did.”

As I eyed his sword, he realized it dripped blood.

He wiped it on his trousers.

Through the mana, I still heard his thoughts.

What do I do? They must know I killed the chief… if I leave them alive…

“Chief Verdin, we’re with you. Even if all here rise against you, we’ll fight at your side.”

It worked—his killing aura ebbed.

But I wouldn’t stop here.

I had seen his potential, and I would test it.

‘So how should I push him?’

Verdin, the failed knight.

At his core is the princess sold into slavery.

The rest is guilt and fear for killing his chief.

‘Then…’

I waited for him to drain his cup, then spoke.

“Are you fine with this?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re with you. They aren’t.”

I pointed outside—dozens of fires, bandits drinking by each.

Verdin asked,

“You mean kill them all?”

So naive.

Two years among bandits, but at heart he was still a knight.

I gave him the simplest truth of this world.

“If you don’t kill them now, they’ll kill us later.”

His eyes wavered.

He warred with his fear and guilt.

So I whispered deeper within him.

[Kill them all. Then find the princess. You can do it.]

No more words were needed.

Verdin rose and strode to the nearest fire.

Soon screams echoed throughout the mountain.