Chapter 23: The Model Necromancer (1)

Alius was a priest of Hatoba, affiliated with the Earth Order’s northern church in Derath City.

“It’s not much, but I hold the rank of first-class inquisitor.”

Karnak tilted his head curiously. “First-class inquisitor, you say?”

“Yes, an inquisitor is—”

“No, I already know what inquisitors are,” Karnak interrupted.

For generations, the seven churches dispatched seasoned priests as inquisitors whenever traces of necromancy were discovered. Their duty was to investigate the truth behind the incidents, judge them in the name of the goddess, and then return to their original roles. In other words, it was traditionally a temporary position.

“I’ve never heard of inquisitors having formal ranks,” Karnak said, raising an eyebrow.

The existence of ranks implied a formalized, permanent position. If inquisitors were required so frequently due to the rise of necromancers, so much so that such a structure was necessary, the world had truly become a grim place.

Alius’s face darkened. “That’s precisely the problem. The world has come to that point.”

The surge of incidents related to the Shadow of Doom had made it impossible to rely on temporary appointments. As a result, the churches had begun training full-time inquisitors.

“I was recently promoted to first-class. Until a short time ago, I was second-class.”

Karnak nodded in admiration. “That’s impressive for someone so young.”

Alius scratched the back of his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “There are just so many cases. Whether I like it or not, experience piles up quickly in this role.”

It was clear that Alius was quite competent. He had been drawn to Gelpha Village for the same suspicious reasons as Karnak and Varos.

“A man that skilled targeting a rural village like this does seem odd,” Alius remarked.

Varos, listening intently, suddenly asked, “Did you come here alone? If there really is a necromancer in that village, it would be dangerous.”

It was a fair question—surely the church would send additional personnel if the situation was serious. Alius shook his head.

“Unfortunately, the church no longer acts without solid evidence.”

“Evidence? If an inquisitor has identified something suspicious, isn’t that enough?”

“That’s how it used to be...” Alius sighed deeply, his voice tinged with frustration. “To be honest, the church considers this another false rumor.”

“Why? The situation seems plenty suspicious,” Varos replied, perplexed.

It would be one thing if the church had missed something subtle, but Alius had already identified key irregularities. Dismissing it as baseless seemed incomprehensible. But it appeared to be a sign of the times.

“There was a similar case not long ago. Of course, that turned out to have nothing to do with necromancy,” Alius explained.

“...So, a young, wealthy, kind, and handsome man chasing after rural maidens is common now?” Varos asked, incredulous.

Alius sighed again. “It’s all a matter of perspective.”

After all, what exactly did

wealthy

mean in a rural context? What qualified as

handsome

, or even

kind

? These were most definitely subjective qualities, and they were difficult to quantify. Even the definition of

young

could be relative. In a village filled with elders in their seventies and eighties, someone in their fifties might be considered youthful.

Karnak and Varos had envisioned the man as a foppish noble, extravagantly spending gold to charm rustic maidens, making the scenario seem suspicious. But Alius painted a different picture.

“A man with modest savings and skin unweathered by the sun could easily be seen as wealthy and handsome by village standards.”

“Ah, in that case, targeting rural maidens wouldn’t seem so strange,” Varos admitted.

“Exactly. In the past, incidents like this would be dismissed as mundane. But now, everything is being blamed on the Shadow of Doom

.

”

Due to the flood of false reports, the church was hesitant to act unless a case was exceptionally credible. Their manpower was limited, after all.

“I can’t say for certain that a necromancer is in this village,” Alius admitted. “I simply don’t want to ignore the suspicious signs without checking them first.”

Varos cast Karnak a sly magical message through their private communication link.

[So, we almost wasted our time here too, huh?]

[Seems like it. We got lucky this time.]

They had arrogantly assumed adventurers were clueless and that their own expertise had guided them here. The reality was much more tenuous.

Looks like I can’t just rely on old instincts anymore,

Karnak thought.

Still, the fact remained: a necromancer really was in the village.

“So, Priest Alius,” Karnak asked, “are you planning to gather evidence and return to the church?”

Alius looked a bit sheepish. “Well, to be honest, I intended to handle this on my own.”

It wasn’t just youthful recklessness driving him. Alius’s divine power was formidable—enough to make Karnak momentarily uneasy when he first sensed it. In fact, Alius’s divine energy exceeded that of all the priests the Church of Latiel had sent to Zestrad combined.

It makes sense that he holds the rank of first-class. He might really succeed alone pitted against an average necromancer,

Karnak thought.

Even so, Alius was clearly glad to have potential allies. Working with others allowed for more efficient use of divine spells, after all.

“You both seem highly skilled...” Alius’s gaze lingered especially on Varos.

Karnak might have been harder to read—he was young, and being a mage, his abilities weren’t immediately obvious. Varos, however, was a different story. His massive, well-trained physique, the wear on his sword and armor, and his air of experience—everything about him screamed competence. Alius made his appeal earnestly.

“Your assistance would be invaluable.”

***

As Alius awaited their reply, Varos quietly asked through their magical link, [What should we do, young master?]

[What can we do? We can’t exactly use necromancy in front of a priest. We’ll have to make an excuse, part ways, and handle it ourselves—]

Karnak stopped mid-reply, a new thought forming.

[No, on second thought, let’s work with him.]

[Huh? Are you serious?]

[This is a good opportunity. There’s something I want to confirm.]

Turning to Alius, Karnak spoke with a measured seriousness.

“I understand the situation. As children of the goddess ourselves, it’s our duty to lend what support we can to holy work, however small.”

Alius beamed and made the sign of the cross.

“Thank you! May the blessings of the seven goddesses be upon you both.”

Varos, however, remained uneasy.

[Are you sure about this? What if we get into a situation where you have to use necromancy?]

[Then I’ll use it. It’s not like this would be the first time I’ve used necromancy in secret.]

[And when has that

ever

ended well?]

Though Karnak referred to it as

in secret

, his usual method was to blatantly use necromancy, then erase memories of witnesses with mind manipulation—a hallmark of his past exploits.

[Every single time, the people whose memories you erased ended up plagued by nightmares and went mad! Is that what you want to do again?]

[Okay, fair point.]

[Right? I thought we agreed to live like decent people now.]

Of course, what they meant by

living like decent people

wasn’t exactly about embracing morality or ethics. It was more like they aspired to that ideal but didn’t fully understand what it entailed.

Thus, Karnak and Varos set a clear standard for their new lives:

Don’t live as we once did.

[That priest seems like a good person,] Varos noted.

Despite being a bit impulsive and prone to hasty conclusions, Alius was fundamentally diligent and kind. The fact that he had gone out of his way to investigate this village when everyone else dismissed it spoke volumes.

[Turning a good person into a lunatic feels a lot like living the old way, doesn’t it?]

[You’re right,] Karnak agreed, already brainstorming a more virtuous solution. [Let’s see... How can I erase memories without harming the mind?]

[...Not erasing memories at all isn’t an option, I take it? You really are the quintessential necromancer.]

[Not with necromancy—I’ll use chaos magic.]

[Chaos magic? That’s possible?]

[Maybe. If I thin chaos energy into needle-like threads and burn a small portion of the memory center in the brain, it might work.]

[.....]

[What? Did I say something wrong?]

[No, I just find it fascinating how perfectly you embody the spirit of a model necromancer.]

[I’m not planning on using necromancy! Why do you keep calling me that?]

Their conversation, carried out through magical telepathy, left their faces expressionless as they rode on in silence.

Misinterpreting their quiet demeanor, Alius offered a calm reassurance. “There’s no need to be overly tense. It hasn’t been confirmed that there’s a necromancer in the village. And even if there is...”

Gripping his oak staff tightly, Alius’s face took on a resolute, sacred expression.

“With Hatoba’s blessing, no vile necromancer could possibly stand against me!”

Varos looked at him for a long moment, thinking,

That vile necromancer is currently targeting your head.

Of course, he couldn’t say such a thing aloud. Instead, he merely nodded with a serene smile.

“You’re truly reliable. We’ll be counting on you.”

***

The village of Gelpha was quiet. Most of the residents seemed to be working in the fields. Only a few women and children lingered about. As Karnak’s group passed, the villagers cast them curious glances, clearly wondering why outsiders had come to their remote home.

“Judging by their reactions, I doubt there’s an inn here,” Varos observed.

If the village were accustomed to travelers, which would signify the presence of an inn, the residents wouldn’t be so surprised. Walking alongside their horses, Varos scanned the surroundings.

“We need a place to stable the horses and unpack our things...”

In villages without inns, travelers typically sought lodging at the village elder’s house or a local church.

“A small village like this should have at least one church, right?”

Karnak shook his head.

“I doubt it.”

“What makes you say that?”

Alius answered in his place.

“If this village had a church, do you think that farmer would have traveled all the way to Derath City?”

“Good point. I guess I’m just a dumb swordsman—I didn’t think that far,” Varos admitted, impressed by their reasoning.

He had barely finished speaking when they entered the village proper and spotted a tidy white building. Its roof bore a blue sacred relic, and the entrance was marked with symbols representing wind—clearly a church dedicated to Saisha, the goddess of wind and sky.

Varos blinked in surprise. “There

is

a church.”

Karnak and Alius, who had been so sure of their deduction, feigned nonchalance.

“Huh. Guess there is.”

“...Then why did that farmer go all the way to Derath City?”

Varos chuckled and began walking toward the church.

“Well, at least this works out for us. Let’s see if we can stay here.”

The church was small, with only two clergy in residence: a middle-aged priest in his forties who appeared to be the church leader and a nun in her thirties. Both welcomed the group warmly.

“Welcome to the church of the wind, brother of the earth,” the priest greeted, nodding to Alius.

After securing their horses and unloading their belongings, the group explained their purpose. Upon hearing the story, the priest, identified as Father Grass, shook his head in disapproval.

“Tsk, tsk. So, he went all the way to Derath City,” Grass muttered. It seemed the man in question had already caused quite a stir in the village before deciding to take his grievances to the city.

“He’s a good man,” the priest continued. “Cleo has been a tremendous help to the village. Everyone respects him, and I can assure you, he has nothing to do with necromancy.”

Julia, the nun who had just returned from tying up their horses in the back courtyard, added with a gentle smile, “In fact, another priest visited about two months ago to investigate and left without finding anything unusual.”

Neither of them appeared to harbor the slightest suspicion toward Cleo, the enigmatic man at the center of the farmer’s complaints.

“It’s unfortunate you’ve traveled so far only to find nothing,” Father Grass said apologetically.

Alius gave a smile. “That’s quite all right. In my line of work, finding nothing is usually the best outcome.”

“Oh my, the last priest who came here said the same thing,” Julia noted.

Since it was too late to return to Derath City, the group decided to spend the night at the church. Julia guided them to a modest guest room.

“It’s not much, but please make yourselves comfortable,” she said kindly before leaving them to rest.

***

Once they were alone, Karnak turned to Alius. “So, what’s your plan?”

Alius thought for a moment before replying, “I performed divine sensing throughout the village on the way here, but I didn’t detect anything suspicious.”

“Does that mean this was all just a false alarm?” Karnak asked.

“Not necessarily,” Alius replied firmly. “Necromancers are skilled at hiding their presence. The absence of evidence doesn’t mean they’re not here.”

Varos, who had been listening quietly, chimed in. “Then we’ll have to dig deeper. I noticed a tavern where the locals seem to gather.”

Taverns were often the best places to pick up local gossip. A few drinks tended to loosen tongues, whether the stories were true or not. From Varos’s eager expression, though, it seemed his interest lay more in the drinks than the information.

Alius shook his head. “That’s unlikely to yield anything useful.”

Considering how much respect and trust Cleo seemed to command, as evidenced by Grass and Julia, it wasn’t hard to guess that most villagers would feel the same way. “I doubt we’d uncover anything significant by questioning the villagers.”

As Varos sulked over the loss of his excuse to drink, Karnak pressed on. “Then what do you intend to do?”

Alius gazed out the window, his expression hardening. “We’ll have to confirm it directly.”

His eyes were fixed on the dense forest to the west, where the abandoned noble’s villa was said to stand.