Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

Clouds rolled in to enshroud the pleasant afternoon. It seemed as though rain was on its way.

In the rotting corpse of a village bordering the great southern frontier, the dead were more common than the living. Twin bodies and a carrion beast swayed in the breeze near the entrance of an ivy-studded tavern, where the first two patrons in months had settled down at a splintered table.

Drayya hadn’t changed a bit. The thought intrigued Lieze. Of course she hadn’t. They had been chatting only a matter of weeks ago.

Margoh Drayya

Level 34 Necromancer

HP: 370 / 370 MP: 982 / 982

She was powerful. But not as powerful as Lieze would have imagined. The void between them had always been gargantuan, but to see it expressed so cleanly, without ambiguity, put Drayya’s strength into perspective. Without the scale’s power, rising to such a level was no small feat.

Motes of light screaming through the windows illuminated the girl’s pale skin. Lieze wasn’t certain whether to feel pleased or disappointed at seeing her face again, though it seemed the senior herself was having trouble working out her own feelings on the matter, shifting between shameless grins and worrisome pursings of her lip.

“Master Sokalar is convinced you were killed during the siege.” She eventually reported, “I’m not certain how. You seemed just fine to me a moment before we parted ways.”

Lieze furrowed her brow, “He told me to die if it would please me. So I took him up on the offer and marched towards the Gildwyrm.”

“How very brave of you.” She tapped her finger on the table, “But you didn’t perish. So what happened?”

“I fell unconscious.” She explained tersely, “-A week later, I woke up in a clinic.”

“And you’ve turned over a new leaf, I suppose?” Drayya smirked, “Hunting necromancers for the maggot king? Had enough of Master Sokalar’s lectures?”

“I didn’t come here to kill you.” She answered, “I was looking for recruits.”

“Hm? Recruits?”

“To destroy Tonberg from within.” Lieze resolved, “I’ve established a cult of necromancers.”

“You?” Drayya raised a brow, “This isn’t the time to be making jokes, Lieze.”

It struck her then--the reason why it seemed like the two of them hadn’t spoken in years. She was a different person. Stronger. More capable. The confidence she’d always been lacking around Drayya was suddenly coming to her as naturally as breathing. Though the two of them weren’t equals by any stretch of the imagination, she could at least strive to one day surpass the girl.

“I’m not joking.” She replied earnestly, “It’s nothing to write home about at the moment. But with some effort, the Order could easily expand into Tonberg right under Ricta’s nose.”

“Hm… quite the declaration from someone like you.” Drayya frowned, crossing her arms, “Those thralls outside are yours?”

“They are.”

A pause, “...Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that no amount of effort on your part could ever bring you up to the level of raising a Horror.” She explained, “I’ve seen your pitiful attempts at necromancy. A week-old corpse took days for you to wake, never mind these fresh specimens you have standing guard outside.”

“I’ve been practising.”

“It’s not a matter of practice. Your aptitude is terrible- no, that’s not even the right word for it. It’s only thanks to Master Sokalar and Lüngen that you’re capable of as much as you are. Anyone else would have given up on the path of sorcery long ago.”

“Why are you complaining about it?”

“-Because the thought of speaking to me like that would have never crossed your mind a month ago. Now you’re suddenly all puffed-up and confident. It’s revolting.”

Lieze decided it then. She had never missed Drayya at all. Rather, it was slowly becoming apparent that running into her was quite possibly worse than being captured by Helmach. Her senior had made a habit of strong-arming her since the two of them drifted apart as young women.

Drayya sighed, “...But you are alive. That’s something, at least.”

“Was that why you were sent here?”

“Funnily enough, no. In fact, it was to accomplish exactly what you’ve supposedly been trying to do all this time.” She replied, “The Gildwyrm’s appearance during the siege disintegrated most of our thralls. Master Sokalar wants the city weakened--or better yet, conquered from the inside.”

“He didn’t send Graeme?”

“That old fool? He’s a stuttering mess when it comes to subterfuge.”

“I suppose that means we’re going to be working together.”

“Don’t go deciding anything on your own.” She warned, “Master Sokalar ordered me to complete this mission. You should keep to pointlessly sticking your neck out like when you opened the city gate.”

“Using your transmutation magic.”

“...That’s irrelevant-”

“No. It isn’t.” Lieze interrupted, “Under the circumstances, I couldn’t have done anything better. You were about to sacrifice your entire force trying to barge through the northern gatehouse without stopping for even a second to consider a strategy.”

Drayya fell silent for a few seconds.

“...I know that.”

“It’s because of your-” Lieze began, only to cut herself off, “...What?”

“I… it was foolish of me. Rushing in without a plan.” Her words were humble, but Drayya’s expression seemed furious. She averted her eyes while continuing, “I’m also capable of reflection. You don’t need to shame me.”

Her attitude was detestable. Lieze blinked once. Shame? The word revolted her. Drayya had spent the better part of a decade studding her with insults. She had the nerve to shy away and act like a maiden when the shoe was on the other foot? Something irrational rose up from within Lieze. A hatred which had been simmering for years.

“She’s pathetic. She deserves to die. I’ll grow stronger. Much stronger than this. I’ll watch the smug grin disappear from her face as her necromancy slowly falls behind my own.” She closed her eyes, “I can’t stand this air. These people. The world is filled with hypocrites, slavers and despots. Just looking at her is enough to make me sick. I hate her. I hate her.”

Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

Lieze stood from her rotting chair.

“I’m returning to Tonberg.” She exhaled, “I don’t know how, but the royalists found evidence of your passing. Ricta is offering an audience to anyone that can verify the claim.”

“An audience? With the maggot king?” Drayya scoffed, “I suppose it would make for an excellent opportunity to scout the castle. You do know the rumours, don’t you?”

“Yes…” She turned around, “The so-called ‘Devil’s Castle’... Tonberg’s guild is infatuated with it. But legends are often blown out of proportion.”

“Even so, it isn’t an opportunity to turn one’s nose up at.”

“...Are you coming with me?”

“Naturally. I’d be a fool to distance myself from any allies when my task is so grand in scale.” Saying that, she rose from her seat, “I assume you have a safe place to hide away these thralls you’re gallivanting about with?”

“There’s a cave not far from the city. I have Dwarves carving out a proper entrance as we speak.”

“Dwarves… I’ve never seen one before.” She admitted, “You make it sound as if you’ve simply paid for some contractors. Doesn’t that strike you as a tad risky?”

“They work for an ill-persuaded Elf named Baccharum. He’s agreed to support the Order’s efforts so long as we guarantee his safety when my father conquers the city.”

“It’s not your place to decide whether his safety is guaranteed or not.”

“It doesn’t matter either way.” Lieze countered, “He understands better than most that the Sovereign Cities will soon fall. Like a runt, he desperately suckles at the teat of the Order in the vague hope that he will be spared from death. I care not whether our agreement is honoured. Only for his use as a convenient tool.”

“Hm. Spoken like a true child of the Order.” Drayya smirked, “But be wary of treachery, Lieze. One wrong move, and you’ll find yourself facing off against more enemies than you can count.”

As she raised her left hand, a chill suddenly ran down Lieze’s spine. The room’s temperature dropped abruptly, and something neither alive nor dead rose as a vapour from the rotting floorboards. There was no rational arrangement to its limbs--no body, no mouth, no brain--and yet it seethed with such malevolent life as to paralyse anyone in the same room.

“...A Wraith?” Her breath was suddenly visible.

“Beyond my capabilities, I must admit. But only barely.” Drayya replied, “A parting gift from Master Sokalar. Quite the ace, wouldn’t you say?”

Wraiths were legendary creatures beyond classification. They were neither spirits nor undead, but things darker and more sinister. One couldn’t simply raise a Wraith. Sokalar was careful not to divulge the secrets of their creation. The mere existence of such creatures revealed truths of the world more worrisome than any mortal affair. Lieze allowed her eyes to scan the undulant, phasing fog.

//////////////////

She made no attempt to hide her fear. The creature had neither a name nor a level. It was a monster in the truest sense of the word. Even Drayya, who had supposedly been granted control of the beast, couldn’t hide her discomfort.

“This is my first time seeing one.” Lieze admitted.

“It was the first time for me as well.” Her eyes moved towards the Wraith, only to retreat immediately, “I… didn’t think they actually existed.”

Push and pull. A second ago, Lieze’s hatred for the girl couldn’t have been more pronounced. But in that single instant, in the presence of something beyond either of their abilities to comprehend, she caught a glimpse of the innocence once shared in their youth, and wondered for a moment if there was ever a chance of things being so simple ever again.

“Not an easy thing to hide, mind you.” Drayya commented, “As for what it’s capable of… Master Sokalar only assured me that it would even the insurmountable odds between myself and the whole of Tonberg.”

“I hope you’re not planning on letting it roam around the cave…” Lieze replied, “It’s cold enough in there without a Wraith sapping the warmth from my bones.”

Six flames flickered wildly in the embrace of a bronze candelabra. The altar upon which it stood was surrounded by tapered bouquets. Black-golden buds and petals became like the embers of a fireplace in the chamber’s low light. Beneath the waning fires resided a man who appeared imposing even with his head lowered to the ground. The hooded figure observing the penitent’s prayer from the altar awaited his words with thoughtful silence.

“The Gildwyrm has blessed me with his trial…” He whispered, “I should rejoice. My heart should be aflame with newfound purpose. But I cannot hide my cowardice before the Lord, or I will not be the potter who obscures his faith with wicked words. I cannot live without Noma. My life’s purpose was to protect her…”

The confession pouring from Helmach’s throat was pitiful for a man of his unwavering resolve. As if the teachings of his superior Cardinals had dissolved away in an instant, he appeared much like a child before the altar. Without his weapon--without the grand blade of steel on his back, who was he, if not a child? It was a truth only God was allowed to know.

“Mm.” The hooded figure nodded, “Allow your heart’s wicked desires to spill forth. All those who prostrate before Him are forgiven, no matter the crime. For it is only those who have cleared their minds of all doubt who may serve the Wyrm righteously.”

“I… I cannot fight anymore.” Helmach admitted, “Truthfully, I always placed her above the Lord. Now she is dead, and her killer roams free, but what salvation is there in pointlessly seeking my revenge? I do not wish to become a beast driven by violence. My faith… as I always thought, it is not enough to overcome such a trial.”

“Do not place yourself out of honour’s reach.” The figure’s voice was feminine. She spoke proudly, completely certain of her words, “In order to give oneself over to our Lord, we must be willing to forego all worldly treasures and connections. This is but another extension of His love for you. Will you remain a boy controlled by emotion? Or will you emerge stronger still from this test of your worthiness?”

It didn’t make any sense. Helmach wanted to reject every word of it. Placing anything above his dear sister would drive him to madness. The world meant nothing to him without her. All that fuelled his struggle against death was rage. Rage against the woman who had so thoughtlessly discarded her life like a spent tool. Her serpentine, grinning face haunted his mind.

“Ah… I understand now. This is Hell.” His thoughts were feverish, “This world is Hell. And the realm above, where Noma awaits me, is the domain of mortal men. A monster has crept up from the seething wounds of this plane to torment me. Until the last flower wilts--until the very skies run red with the blood of the Gods--I will fight. I will kill her.”

Kill her. Kill Lieze. The words repeated in his head. He was already mad. His mind had been lost long ago, before the Acolytes. Before his time with the Dragon Cardinals. As a boy, he idled in the grain fields. Fire lapped at the skies above, where black smoke rose to meet the clouds.

Drip, drip. Something fell down. He watched. Drip, drip…

Hell approached him. He lost his mind.

“You will live.” The hooded woman declared. Or, perhaps it was a command, “For as long as evil persists, those who are righteous will strike it down. So rise, child of man. Your trial awaits.”

Without his sword, he was nothing. Or, was it the other way around? Helmach was a sword. He was confident in nothing else but that truth. He reached out in his hour of need, seeking a reason to fight, and he had found it. His dreams would be plagued no more.

“Of course.” He agreed, “I was foolish. Please forgive me, my lady.”

“Only seek the Lord’s forgiveness, for he watches over us all.” She replied, “Go with the Dragon, Helmach.”