Necromancer Of The Black Bible (5)

[Your wish has been granted.]

Dikrea kept her promise.

She handed me the book, took the last sacrifice, and vanished.

We exchanged a few words before she left, but they were meaningless.

I would not meet her again.

After she disappeared.

The sacrifices inside the circle were sucked into the Demon Realm.

There, they are devoured by monsters, and their remains are cast back here.

Only then does the magic circle fade.

This is why places of sacrifice are often littered with nothing but bones.

I sat on a nearby stump, staring at the circle that still opened into the Demon Realm, then lowered my gaze to the thick, worn book in my hands.

Aium de Equinox.

Literally, it means “The Equinox of Eternity”.

It holds the lost secrets of necromancy.

From initiation to mastery.

My master, Balthazar, once stole a copy of this book from the Imperial Grand Library’s secret archives.

With it, he learned necromancy and passed it on to me.

So I never once opened the book back then.

‘What could be written inside?’

I opened the first page at once, the archaic script catching my eye.

The reason to master this art is to escape the hand of the Demon King.

Dark magic seeks bondage, necromancy seeks freedom.

Whether that freedom will be a blessing or a curse for you, I do not know.

But if you do not expect blessings, someday you will reach the end.

And at that end, we shall meet. Without fail.

The words were enthralling.

Freedom from the Demon King.

I now understood why my master was enthralled by it.

‘So necromancy began as the search for freedom from Demon Kings.’

My heart pounded.

It was the first such thrill I’d felt since returning to the past.

I hurriedly turned to the next page.

But it was blank.

‘Hm? What is this?’

Uneasy, I flipped further.

But no other words appeared.

‘Did Dikrea deceive me?’

I considered the possibility, but no.

She doesn’t deceive in this way.

Such petty tricks aren’t her style.

‘Then why can’t I see the rest?’

I stared at the blank pages in thought.

How much time passed?

Letters appeared on the page.

Thinking too hard won’t give you an answer.

“What?”

Startled, I leapt up, and the book slid from my knees, falling open on the floor.

What was that just now?

It was blank, yet words appeared.

Could this book be enchanted?

I quickly picked it up and opened it.

Indeed, new words had formed.

So you’ve finally noticed.

Was it reading my thoughts?

As I thought it, more words appeared.

Yes. I read your thoughts, as you read me.

So stop being surprised. It’s tedious.

What a cynical thing.

“Thing,” you say? Mind your tongue. I am your master. Do you not wish to learn necromancy?

At those words, I closed my eyes.

It reads my thoughts whenever I read its text.

Closing my eyes was the only way to hide my thoughts.

‘Let me think.’

A book that converses with thoughts.

I’d heard of such grimoires, but never encountered one.

‘Think. Did Master ever speak of such a book…?’

It seems not.

No matter how I tried, no such memory came.

‘Then for now…’

I closed the book.

It was better to speak with it later.

For now, there was work to do.

When I opened my eyes, the circle had already vanished.

I rose and walked to the robe strewn on the ground.

‘First, let’s get dressed.’

It was High Priest Mikel von Raiernov’s robe.

I shook out the bones inside and put it on.

Mikel’s robe was luxurious.

Made of deep brown silk, lined with golden thread embroidery.

I had never worn such finery even in my past life.

Even better were the ornaments he wore.

A necklace set with green emeralds and a pair of ruby rings.

Their glow was unnatural—these were enchanted.

‘I’ll have to appraise them carefully.’

No doubt they were precious artifacts.

The fact a Kallios high priest wore them says as much.

I pocketed the necklace and rings, then picked up the fallen staff.

Its heavy weight and aura of mana marked it as extraordinary too.

‘Strange… To feel mana from a priest’s tool.’

They were supposed to wield divine power, not mana.

Yet to me, there was no difference.

Perhaps what they used was mana after all.

The god Kallios might just be another Demon King with a different title.

I swung the staff, then struck the ground with focus.

Its true form revealed itself.

Its smooth brown shaft thickened toward the top, capped with a violet gem.

As I gazed at it, a whisper reached my ear.

Nocturne.

‘A sentient artifact.’

Not just for its mana flow—but to speak to its wielder—this was great indeed.

With such a staff, even one without mana could wield it.

Though I lacked mana, I knew how to handle it.

I spoke to the gem with the voice of my soul.

[Do you hear my voice, Nocturne?]

I hear you. Are you my new master?

As I thought, it worked.

The soul’s voice works not only with Demon Kings, but with self-aware artifacts too.

[Yes. From now on, I am your master.]

I see.

[You sound rather calm. You must feel no mana from me—does that not matter?]

Nocturne paused, then whispered.

It does not matter. In my years, I found such things unimportant.

[Then what is important?]

…Conversation?

[How old are you?]

This year makes 168.

[How many masters have spoken with you?]

You are the first.

I felt its loneliness.

To be aware for 168 years without a word… No wonder.

I held Nocturne gently and spoke.

[Then. I’ll rely on you from here on.]

As will I. But…

Nocturne hesitated, then continued.

May I sometimes speak first?

A request that tugged at my heart.

Yet I could not fully allow it.

For necromancy would demand utmost focus.

I could not let its chatter break that focus.

[Sometimes. Only when necessary.]

Thank you, Master.

Thus ended my first talk with Nocturne.

A thought-reading grimoire and a staff that craved conversation.

No mage alive possessed both.

I disguised Nocturne again as a rough wooden staff, held ‘Equinox’ in my other hand, and looked around.

The heavy air lingered, thick with demonic energy.

The orphanage exuded the aura of ruins.

The moon still hung over the western horizon.

The darkness had grown heavier.

I entered the orphanage, stripped of warmth.

Inside, I inspected the skeletons of the twenty-one children and five adults I had sacrificed.

From the greedy headmaster’s room to Andre’s, who was to leave for Kallios tomorrow—I checked them all.

‘It’s over.’

It was horrific, yet I felt nothing.

No guilt. No regret.

They merely paid their due.

Like all lives I’d taken before, I would not beg their forgiveness.

My life was never one to be forgiven.

I had long since crossed the lines their god had drawn.

I had bargained with Demon Kings, turned back time, seized forbidden texts.

Even if my life ends, no god will judge me.

I closed my eyes and breathed the heavy orphanage air.

And I resolved.

‘I will claim eternal power.’

Piecing together my memories, I understood.

My master sent me back for this.

No doubt, he foresaw the future.

That I would master necromancy and seize eternity.

That’s why he carved the circle into my chest, and spoke those final words.

‘Master.’

I still don’t know how to repay that debt.

But I knew what must be done.

‘I must forge a mana ring in my heart.’

In my last life, I received mine from a Demon King, so I don’t know how to craft one myself.

‘Where do I begin?’

Physical training? Or brewing elixirs?

As I pondered, the book in my right hand trembled, and from the staff in my left came a voice.

Master. The old one has been wanting to see you.

[Is that so?]

I steadied myself and sat on Andre’s bed, opening Equinox.

The pages brimmed with countless phrases.

At a glance, all insults.

I didn’t read them aloud but spoke instead.

“I won’t speak with you through thought. I’m not used to showing my mind, and I hate it.”

The curses vanished, replaced by a single line.

Then what about this? Speaking aloud?

“That’s too dangerous—others might hear. Better to use the soul’s voice.”

Oh? You can use the soul’s voice. That will do.

Equinox agreed readily.

I continued, speaking with the voice of my soul.

[Then let’s get to it. Tell me how to forge my first mana ring.]

That is simple. But first—you should show me the respect of a master.

‘Respect of a master?’

Perhaps at my sour look, Equinox added:

Do you not wish to become a master of necromancy?

I shut my eyes and cursed.

This damn book was no easy opponent—it held what I wanted and knew how to exploit it.