Chapter 87: Necro Archmagus Grimoire XV
The skeletal knight straightened, its blue eye-flames glowing steadily as it planted its sword into the ground like a banner. It radiated something her previous summons never had—presence. It didn’t twitch or wobble. It stood.
Aria’s heart pounded. "It’s... stable. Fully stable."
Across from her—
CLATTER-CRASH-CLUNK.
Laxin’s circle finally sparked—and promptly vomited bones everywhere like an angry blender. A helmet bounced off his forehead with a donk.
"Gah! Okay—okay, stay calm—" he muttered, frantically trying to force the swirling mass to take shape.
The bones wobbled together into something vaguely humanoid, then sprouted an extra ribcage from its shoulder and a spare skull in its hip like some kind of grotesque decoration. It wobbled once... then sneezed.
Yes. Sneezed.
Its helmet popped off and rolled away like a sulking cat.
Aria bit her lip to stop herself laughing. "...Is that its battle cry?"
"It’s... it’s custom!" Laxin declared through gritted teeth, sweat flying from his hair. "A limited-edition multi-skull build!"
The abomination let out a low clonk and sat down like a tired old man. One of its spare arms waved limply.
Fenric pinched the bridge of his nose like a patient accountant dealing with an overdue invoice. "Laxin. Again."
"I am trying!" Laxin barked. "But this spell’s like juggling swords while on fire, blindfolded, and also sad!"
"Then stop being sad," Fenric said dryly.
Laxin froze mid-panic. "...That’s not advice, that’s a threat."
Meanwhile, Aria gently tested her knight, commanding it to raise its shield. It obeyed perfectly, the metal sliding up with crisp precision. She felt the link—clean, strong, like silk thread drawn taut. A real connection.
Her lips parted in wonder. "I can... feel its mind. It’s not just obeying—it’s listening."
Fenric gave a single approving nod. "That is command. Not power, not force. Will."
Laxin scowled, trying to copy her mana flow—only for his knight to faceplant directly into the floor with a bone-splitting thunk.
Aria finally cracked, laughter spilling out uncontrollably.
"NOT HELPING," Laxin shouted from the floor as his creation raised its arm like it was asking for permission to be dead again.
Fenric’s voice stayed calm as still water. "Continue until it stands, Laxin. You will not leave this room until it salutes you."
Laxin groaned, crawling over to rest his forehead against the floor. "...I hate my life."
Aria’s knight shifted slightly, as if smirking.
Fenric’s silver gaze swept over both apprentices. "Once you master this, we begin the mage-class skeletons."
Both of them froze.
"Wait... mages?!" Laxin squawked. "As in... skeletons that cast things?!"
"Correct," Fenric replied evenly. "If you cannot command warriors, you will never survive commanding spellcasters."
Aria’s eyes lit up with fire. Laxin’s filled with despair.
"...We are all going to explode," he whispered.
Aria straightened her shoulders, eyes still on her knight. "Then let’s make it glorious."
The air practically crackled with new ambition.
Fenric’s lips curved, just barely, like a storm cloud pretending to be a smile. "Excellent. I expect results... not rubble."
"...Rubble is a result," Laxin muttered.
Fenric’s gaze slid to him like a guillotine made of ice.
Laxin immediately sat up straighter. "A—bad result! A very bad result. No rubble. Got it."
Aria was still locked onto her knight, eyes bright, voice low like she was whispering to a beloved pet. "I can teach it to block... to counter... maybe even lead the others..."
"That is the objective," Fenric said. "Knights obey. Mages... cooperate."
Laxin squinted suspiciously. "Wait—are you saying skeleton mages have personalities?"
Fenric’s tone was dry enough to parch a desert. "Personalities. Tempers. Egos the size of small castles."
Laxin paled. "...We’re going to get roasted by bones with attitude."
Aria clapped her hands once, determination cutting through the gloom. "Then we’ll just have to impress them."
Her skeletal knight turned its helm toward her and gave the faintest nod, as if in agreement.
Laxin’s mangled bone-creature sneezed again. A spare femur shot out like a javelin, lodging into the ceiling.
Everyone stared at it.
"...I meant to do that," Laxin said, voice thin as paper.
"Impress them," Fenric repeated, stepping toward the center of the training hall. The floor glyphs flickered to life beneath his boots, rings of pale light spiraling outward like ripples on moonlit water.
He raised one hand—and the air dropped in temperature, cold and sharp as cut glass.
Dark glyphs coiled in the air behind him like chains of shadowed fire. The ground trembled. The braziers along the walls flickered low.
A whisper rose from nowhere. No... not a whisper. A chant. Countless voices, dry and hollow as tombs.
A circle flared to life—massive, complex, burning cold blue.
"Observe," Fenric murmured.
A pillar of black mist surged upward like a storm given shape. From it stepped a skeleton draped in tattered robes of midnight. Its empty eye sockets burned with silver fire. In its hand was a staff of petrified bone crowned with a floating shard of obsidian that hummed like a living heartbeat.
Aria’s breath caught.
Laxin’s soul tried to evacuate his body.
The skeleton raised its staff and spoke a word that cracked the air like shattering ice—
and five runes ignited in the air around it.
"That," Fenric said quietly, "is a Deathbinder. A first-tier mage-class undead."
The Deathbinder tilted its head... and bowed to him.
Laxin whimpered. "We’re... so dead..."
Fenric turned, his silver eyes like blades of winter. "Now. Your turn."
Aria’s hands trembled—not with fear, but exhilaration.
Laxin’s hands trembled with all the fear.
And the summoning circles began to glow.
The glow deepened, threads of pale light crawling across the floor like veins of molten moonlight.
Aria closed her eyes, drawing her mana inward like a deep breath, then letting it unfurl in slow spirals. The circle answered, humming as if it recognized her will. She focused on what she wanted—not power, not force, but clarity. A mind that could listen. A soul of cold fire.
The air around her shimmered.
With a soft whump, the circle blossomed like a black flower—petals of shadow unfolding outward.
A figure rose from it, slender and robed in shredded dusk. Its skull was smooth, polished bone etched with faint silver sigils. In its grasp was a crooked wand, the tip crowned by a hovering shard of dim violet light. Its eyes flared with calm, cold flame.
It stood perfectly still.
Waiting. Watching.
Aria’s breath hitched. "...Hello."
The skeletal mage inclined its skull a fraction, as if acknowledging her words.
Fenric’s voice cut through the silence. "Name it."
"Veil," she said at once. The name just... fit. Quiet. Sharp. Hidden.
Veil’s eyes flared once in answer. The link tightened, clean and smooth like glass silk. She could feel it thinking—measured, analytical, patient.
Across from her, Laxin was quietly having an emotional collapse.
His summoning circle flickered like a candle in a hurricane, runes popping in and out as if even the spell was second-guessing him. "Okay, alright, this is fine, this is fine, I’m fine—"
"Focus," Fenric said.
Laxin nodded so fast his hair nearly took off. "Right. Focus. Command, not force. Cool. I can do command. I command you to not explode. Please."
The circle sputtered—then erupted in a geyser of green flame and bone shards.
When it cleared, something was... standing? ...kind of.
It wore what might once have been robes, now mostly charred ribbons. Its skull was on backwards. Its jaw kept falling off. It held its staff like it was trying to figure out which end was dangerous.
Its eye sockets blinked out of sync. Then it sneezed—and fired a small fireball directly into the floor at its own feet.
Laxin stared at it like it had personally betrayed him.
"...It’s art," he whispered hoarsely.
Fenric didn’t blink. "Fix it."
The creature hiccupped, caught its own jaw, and tried to reattach it backwards.
Aria bit her knuckle to keep from laughing. Veil just tilted its skull and made a faint clacking sound that might have been disapproval.
Fenric’s tone was cold iron wrapped in calm. "You will shape them until they stand as mages, not accidents. When they can weave spells without falling apart, we begin Deathchanters."
Laxin went white. "That sounds... loud."
"They are," Fenric said simply. "And they scream."
Laxin whispered, "I hate this class..."
Aria’s smile sharpened like moonlight on glass. "Then let’s make them scream for us."
Veil’s violet eyes flared bright.
Laxin’s backwards mage set its own sleeve on fire.
"Alright," Fenric said, pacing between them like an executioner on break, "Mages require subtlety. Precision. Coordination between mana threads."
He stopped and looked at Laxin. "Qualities you currently do not possess."
Laxin saluted with the energy of a man falling off a cliff. "Understood. I will acquire subtlety immediately."
His skeletal mage, affectionately now called "Oops," was trying to eat its own staff.
Aria knelt before Veil, her voice low and steady. "Focus on me. Channel from your core. Gather mana at the tip, then release on my mark."
Veil lifted its crooked wand with elegant stillness. A faint glow pulsed at the tip, soft and precise like moonlight dripping off glass.
Aria whispered, "Now."