Still, they had offered him a seat, and it felt too impolite to refuse outright. A war necromancer and a front-line commander were not people Simon could dismiss lightly, so he sat down.
’How strange.’
This was just an ordinary inn dining room, yet the scenery outside the window was constantly changing. A bustling city, a serene lake, the middle of a desert. It seemed to shift according to the whims and moods of the war necromancer, Kronos. The illusion even replicated the wind, humidity, and smells. It was illusion magic of a considerable level, the most impressive Simon had seen since Sayuir.
"Hey, junior, what year did you say you were?" Kronos asked.
"I’m a second-year."
"Oh, really? So you’re about halfway through."
Simon had guessed as much when Kronos called him junior, but surprisingly, he was a Kizen alumnus. From what he said, he had dropped out at the beginning of his second year. The reason he gave was that he had been on a mission evaluation in Kalos, fell in love with the work, and quit school to get a job on the spot.
"If you have any questions about Kizen life, just ask!" Kronos slapped Simon on the shoulder with a hearty laugh.
Simon returned an awkward smile. ’I think we’ve spent about the same amount of time at Kizen.’
"That’s enough chatter," Romario interjected with a cough, his prominent white eyebrows twitching. "Before we get to the point, I’m curious why a Kizen student like yourself is alone in such a harsh place."
Simon’s mind raced. ’Does a Kizen student being in the North bother them?’ Even Count Boldmont had tried to recruit him first thing. Unsure of their intentions, he decided to draw a line.
"My off-campus activities are confidential. I ask for your understanding that I cannot disclose the details."
"Aww, don’t be so cold." Kronos waved a hand. "Whether it’s a mission or a dispatch evaluation, you can at least tell us why you’re here, can’t you? It’s not like you’ll get in trouble for saying that much."
"I’m a member of the Student Council, sir." Simon offered a picture-perfect business smile. "If the Student Council doesn’t uphold the rules, who will?"
Kronos paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Hahaha! You’ve got a sharp tongue, not giving an inch! I guess they don’t just let anyone be Student Council President!"
Romario shot Kronos a look that clearly meant ’shut up’. "Then we won’t ask any more about that. The reason we called you here is to request your cooperation."
"My cooperation?"
"Yes. And the reward for it—"
Romario swept his arm, and runes spread across the inn’s walls, activating a magic circle. It was a soundproofing spell for security.
"will be paid by His Majesty the King."
As the scale of the conversation grew, Simon felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. ’I shouldn’t have sat down.’ He had not expected them to invoke the king to demand his cooperation. Even in this age of the Dark Alliance, the influence of the four kings on the continent was still immense. An ordinary noble would have immediately prostrated themselves, pledging allegiance to the king’s command without a second thought. As long as one was in Kalos, even a noble from another country was not free from the King of Kalos’s authority.
’One wrong word and they could interpret it as defying a royal command.’ His only option was to stick to a strictly principled response.
"I am merely a student here under Kizen’s orders. If you wish to request cooperation on a mission, please submit a formal request to the school."
He would use Kizen as his shield. Before the names of Kizen and Nephthys, even kings paled in comparison. What could they do to a student of Nephthys? And his position on the Student Council was also useful for dealing with adults, as it allowed him to adhere strictly to principles.
It seemed to have an effect; a shadow fell over Romario’s face.
"Alright, alright. As a senior who dropped out, let me give you a piece of advice," Kronos cut in. "Right now, school probably feels like the whole world, doesn’t it? The professors seem so amazing, you’re running around doing homework, and you feel like the world is ending if your rank drops by one. But once you get out into the real world, you realize it’s all... pointless."
Kronos’s voice held a trace of bitterness.
"School is three years, tops. Whether you can’t take it and get expelled, or you survive and graduate, the moment you step outside, you go back to your original station. You guys probably look down on the bottom-ranked squads in the combat evaluations, right? Well, later on, you’ll have to bow and scrape to those same blockheads. Don’t get all giddy just because some pretty duchess’s daughter who’s your junior calls you ’senior’. In three years, she’ll be using you as a stepping stool for her horse."
He slickly brushed back his bangs.
"The point is, you have to find your own path to survival. School is just a means to an end. The best way to think of your three years at Kizen is as a chance to rub elbows with people you’d never even be able to make eye contact with otherwise. Build your connections, secure your future after graduation, and if you lay the groundwork well enough... you don’t even need to finish all three years."
He jabbed a finger toward Simon’s forehead. "In that sense, you shouldn’t miss this opportunity to connect with our king. If things go well, I can even get you an audience with His Majesty..."
"If that’s all you have to say," Simon said, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up, "I’ll be leaving."
He turned his back coolly and walked up the stairs to his room on the second floor. Kronos and Romario stared at his retreating back. Only after they heard the distant click of a door closing did they look at each other.
"Didn’t you say you were confident in handling Kizen students and that I should leave it to you?" Romario chided.
"You get kids like that sometimes." Kronos scratched his head. "The kind who refuse to accept reality even when you spell it out for them. I guess we just weren’t on the same wavelength."
With a snap of his fingers, Kronos expanded the soundproofing magic. The inn turned a deep crimson, completely isolating the lobby from Simon’s room. Now, no matter what, he would not hear a thing.
"Hey, innkeeper! Another beer over here."
"Yes, sir!"
"Oh, and another plate of grilled quail."
"Right away."
The innkeeper and his wife, their eyes glazed over as if under a curse, shuffled off to the kitchen. Romario sighed.
"Are you going to eat more here instead of returning to the barracks?"
"This place has good food. The barracks just has that same old disgusting soup. I want to enjoy myself a little longer." Kronos tore a leg off a quail and took a long swig of beer. "Ahhh, that’s the stuff." He set the mug down with a grin. "So, what’s the plan now?"
"Making the Kizen Student Council President our ally was always a long shot. We’ll stick to the original plan."
Hearing Romario’s answer, Kronos shook his head. "Can’t we just wipe this place out with our own forces? We made it into Vilkenos without a fight, after all."
"Don’t underestimate the Grand Duke’s power. She’s a true hero who has defended the North single-handedly for over twenty years. More importantly, who will defeat the Northern God without her?"
Kronos shrugged. "I heard those ’Three Brothers’ are gone now. Couldn’t we manage a lone Northern God with our own strength?"
"We still don’t even know the definitive path to the Northern God. We wait until the Grand Duke guides us."
Kronos clicked his tongue in annoyance. Just then, their food arrived, and the two ate at a leisurely pace.
"Speaking of Kizen," Kronos began, "I’m praised as the Necromancer of a Myriad, right?"
Kronos, the Necromancer of a Myriad. His specialty was a ’wide-area curse’ that could simultaneously affect up to ten thousand targets. It was a curse cast not on enemies, but on allies, removing their fear and distracting thoughts to turn them into killing machines, or forcibly awakening their physical abilities to unleash several times their normal strength. An army he commanded had never once been defeated. Of course, no allied soldier had ever returned with their mind and body intact, either.
"But, well, I was a total failure at Kizen. In duels or missions, a wide-area curse meant for allies was completely useless."
"I imagine so."
He stretched out his hand. "But I blossomed after joining the army. Now, there’s only one step left." He ran his tongue over his lips. "To become a Legion Commander! If I could command an infinite army and cast my curses, I’d create an invincible legion of undead, right? Can you even imagine how strong that would be?"
Romario closed his eyes. "Are the summon-type undead you command not enough?"
"The heavens are cruel. To be born with this ability, yet be completely hopeless at summoning." Kronos chuckled self-deprecatingly. "The maximum number of undead I can control is three. A pathetic number. And it hasn’t increased to this day."
"A pity."
"I think of it as a curse placed on me." His tongue flicked out as he looked at Romario. "You’d better keep your promise, Romario."
"What promise?"
"If, by some chance—and I mean a one-in-a-million chance—the Grand Duke dies in this war..."
"The 2nd Legion will be yours. Though I’d say the odds are rather slim."
Kronos’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Then, he slumped in his seat. "This is exhausting. We wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble if we could just find the 7th Legion Commander. Everything would be so much simpler."
"Are you talking about the treacherous Legion Commander that caused such a stir at Kizen?"
"Yeah. Some of my friends are looking for him, too. Trying to become Legion Commanders themselves." Kronos leaned back, muttering in frustration. "Ugh, seriously! Can’t the 7th Legion Commander just fall out of the sky or something?!"
Just then, the barrier hummed. Without looking back, Kronos snapped his fingers. Someone stepped through the crimson barrier of the inn.
"We meet again, Commander Romario, Lord Kronos."
Kronos grinned and waved. "You’re here."
Romario nodded as well. "Welcome."
The person who had entered was none other than Count Boldmont.
"I have a proposal of great urgency."
The next morning, a palpable tension hung over the North. A sharp-edged atmosphere could be felt everywhere. The Northerners, who were usually found drinking boisterously and dueling, had ceased all their activities and were now sending chilling glares toward the kingdom’s army encamped on the outskirts.
To prevent any trouble, the Grand Duke had already ordered her warriors not to provoke the kingdom’s soldiers. Romario had likewise instructed his men to minimize unnecessary movement and remain in their barracks. However, there were still some Northern warriors who could not control their tempers and tried to pick fights with the soldiers. If others had not intervened, a major brawl could have broken out on several occasions.
Despite the tense situation, Simon reported to the Grand Duke’s castle and focused on his training. With the Three Brothers dead and their remnants dealt with, she no longer needed to wield her Gale Bow. She was now more focused on teaching him.
"Begin."
Today, Simon was practicing controlling legion-type undead from a great distance.
’Feel it. You don’t have to be directly connected to the undead. You can issue commands with your thoughts, like a scent carried on the wind.’
Simon had scattered his skeletons throughout the city and given them the mission of buying various items. The residents, accustomed to the Grand Duke’s undead, kindly sold goods to the skeletons, which carried memos and pouches of money. However, the market was a labyrinth of complex geography, crowded with people and full of variables.
"I told you to buy arrows."
He had instructed a skeleton to buy arrows from the blacksmith, but what it held in its hand was a large fish caught from a northern lake.
The Grand Duke chuckled. "All the better. Today’s lunch will be fish."
There was a lot of trial and error. At first, he frequently lost or broke his telepathic connection with the skeletons, but he adapted over time. Later, Simon even performed the feat of reassembling a skeleton that had been shattered in the crowd, using a restorer from a distance.
They had gathered the purchased goods and were taking a short break when...
’Ah.’
He spotted soldiers from the kingdom’s army in the market. Their morale did not seem high. They all had hollow eyes and sunken cheeks, and their bodies looked drained of energy.
The Grand Duke saw them too. "That is because of Kronos’s curse."
Kronos was a war necromancer through and through, one who cast wide-area curses on ’armies’. All the soldiers became incredibly strong, but since they were strengthened by a curse rather than a priest’s blessing, there were bound to be side effects.
"He’s no different from a necromancer who commands the undead," the Grand Duke commented.
Looking at the withered soldiers who seemed devoid of any will, Simon nodded in agreement. "Will this really be okay? The campaign against the Northern God."
"It will be fine," the Grand Duke said nonchalantly. "Whatever happens, I am here. If I see any sign of them trying anything strange, I will eliminate them without a trace. If they assist us faithfully, then we can simply give them a small share of the rights to the Frost Field." She closed her eyes. "All that matters now is the Northern God. You, too, should not worry about other matters and focus on honing your abilities."
"Yes, Your Excellency!" Simon smiled brightly. "And when you’re talking to your student, could you please make eye contact?"
"I looked at you once earlier, did I not?" Her strange behavior persisted.
"Your Excellency."
The steward, Godric, came running himself. He gave Simon a nod of acknowledgment before whispering something in the Grand Duke’s ear. Her expression turned serious.
"I see. Heit."
Simon blinked, looking between the two of them.
’Whoosh!’
On a northern mountain range, amidst the motionless corpses of the Northern God’s undead, a faceless knight stared ahead.
It was Heit, the manager of the 2nd Legion. Far beyond the mountain range from where he stood, a pitch-black, abyssal hole was visible.
[Location of the Abyss confirmed. We are returning.]
Heit gave the order and turned his horse. The Phantom Dullahans of the 2nd Legion began their descent down the snowy mountain.
And watching the retreating 2nd Legion from a tree was a single ghoul. The ghoul’s thoughts began to move. Through a complex network of narrow, tunnel-like passages, at the end of an infinitely deep consciousness, a voice was heard.
[Let them be. They will come to me on their own soon enough.]
It was the voice of the one who ruled all the undead of the North.
In the darkness, a pair of brightly shining eyes opened.
[I will be waiting, son of Lord Yona.]

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