55 (II)

Volatile

A Withercage was, in fact, a necromantic cage meant to seal away volatile materials, subjects, or contain volatile rituals.

Volatile rituals like the one that was about to happen to Shiv.

The cage was made from a series of upraised arms, all skeletal, ending in hands performing various gestures. They were also connected by spell patterns shaped from that eerie, miasmic glow Shiv came to understand was Necromantic mana. Thus, Shiv didn’t want to be anywhere near the cage, and so he stayed close to the middle.

The entire space was only about 20 meters in diameter and was lodged so far underground that it took nearly an hour to get down here. And so the Legendary Pathbearer and his new Master-Tier disciple found themselves here, about to explore the latter’s unique nature.

“You said he used the three children as effigies?” Valor asked, circling around Shiv, tracing spells in the air.

Shiv couldn’t sense Necromancy or its connected mana field, but he could feel something withering nearby. He stayed perfectly still, unwilling to touch any of that foul substance. “Yeah, three. Their faces are still there in the scar.”

Valor hummed. “A wither imprint. It is a rare thing, but sometimes, when the feedback is great, it lingers on a structure. Or an individual.” Valor’s spells lingered for a moment longer before they faded entirely.

Shiv remained perfectly still. He wasn’t moving anywhere until the Legendary Pathbearer told him he was safe to do so.

“Do you know the greatest danger and the largest reason why so many fear Necromancy?” Valor asked.

“Not fully sure, but it might be something to do with the raising of the dead and the corrosion of life.”

“Ah, but it is not the raising of the dead. It is the use of death as power, to infuse new will into constructs, to inflict harm beyond the physical or mental, or even to compromise a soul itself. Necromancy is about loss, manipulating the echoing remnants that linger after a loss. The Severing Whip that struck you. Do you know what it would do to most people?”

“Thump them pretty bad, maybe rot them from the inside?” Shiv replied.

“If it were only so kind.” Valor chuckled.

“So kind,”

Shiv repeated, his eyes widening.

“So kind,” echoed Adam from outside the Withercage.

“Indeed. When someone is struck by a Necromantic attack, the first thing they feel is usually the decaying and decomposition of their flesh, or the immediate rusting and embrittling of their armor. Beyond that, though, comes the Skill Damage.”

“Skill Damage?” Shiv muttered, his pupils dilating.

Valor continued. “You clearly took none. However, you were scarred. If, instead of you, Adam here was hit by the whip, without having any Magical Resistance… Then, perhaps, he would not be just short of an arm. He would be short of a Bow Proficiency Skill.”

And suddenly, the Young Lord was backing further and further away from the Withercage. The other Pathbearers fled with him.

Valor jabbed Shiv with the stone dagger as the cage flared with magic. “This is because Necromancy is powered by the antithesis of life, the antithesis of vitality—a counter-concept called the Withering. It does not possess anything of a mind, but it does collect echoes of memory. And it does not have a soul, for the soul is for the living, for the soul needs someone to give something meaning. It, instead, is connected to the Necromancer, serving as something of a conduit, an effigy of power. And ultimately, that is why Necromancy has no mana field.”

Shiv’s eyes widened. “No mana field?”

“No. For it does not deal in something that expands across the world. Death is the world. The world lives. The world dies. And constant loss suffuses everything in between. As one’s Necromancy grows stronger, you are more and more capable of using the ambient loss in the world. More and more capable of drawing deeper into what used to be. This can be from corpses, can be from ruins, can even be from a memory. Necromancy seeks an effigy. But this entire world is an effigy.” Valor paused. “You fought a rank amateur in the art, Shiv. Be happy of your fortune.”

For a beat, Shiv just stared at Valor. He recalled his fight with the Gate Lord. How powerful Confriga’s punches were….

“He was a Heroic Pathbearer,” Shiv said.

Valor chuckled nonchalantly. “Ah, yes, a Hero—very impressive. Full of potential. But whatever he was a Hero in, it was not Necromancy. If he were even a Master of Necromancy, I suspect the entire gate would no longer exist, he would be dust, and so would you.”

“What?” Adam whispered from afar.

“What?” Shiv repeated.

“Indeed, I suspect that the reaction his Necromantic attack had with you is the result of your unique soul composition.” Valor hummed as he circled around Shiv. The flames within Valor’s skull flickered, and Shiv recognized this as an Analyze Skill being used. “Do you know that Analyze is very close to Necromancy? It peers into the soul. It catches a glimpse at the lower skill thresholds, but after its Evolution to Master-Tier, you can see more of a person, see their full status, even. In fact, Analyze is one of the few ways one can gain the Necromancy Skill after reaching Adept-Tier.”

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“It is?” Shiv asked.

“Yes,” Valor replied. “However, I fear that you should never learn Necromancy. In fact, you should avoid it at all costs, at least until you learn how to control your own vitality.”

Shiv paused, stunned. “What happens if I do learn Necromancy?”

“You may very well explode. Violently.”

“Even more violently than when he hit me with the whip?”

“Much more. He struck you with a very, very unfocused, very poor spell. It was meant to torture, not destroy. Three effigies from mere children—not even Pathbearers… and so vulgarly constructed at that.”

Valor started laughing, and it was not the laugh of warmth. It was not the laugh of a kindly grandfather. It was the laugh of a man recounting how many people he had brutally killed, using a specific method in which he was very, very versed. “If I had hit you with a Necromantic working, even as I am now—especially as I am now—there would be nothing left of you, or me, or anyone. Not even a good portion of Weave might remain.”

By this point, Adam was pressed against the wall, so far from the Withercage that there was practically nowhere he could go. Nowhere, other than running back upstairs.

“So,” Shiv said, “when it comes to Necromancy, I am pretty much a walking bomb.”

“That is the simplistic way of understanding it,” Valor answered. “A more accurate description is likely: You are the antithesis of Necromancy as a whole. The antithesis of the Withering. Necromancy deals in loss, but you don’t die. You do not stay dead. Not even your mind stays broken. Right now you have five Master-Tier Skills, yes?”

Shiv nodded. “Yeah, Gravitic Wrestler, Woundeater, Momentum Core, Adamantine Adaption, and The Chef Unwavering.”

“The what?” Valor asked, confused about the last one. The skull had been nodding throughout the other skills. “The Chef Unwavering?”

“I got that by fusing an Orcish Skill I got. With my cooking. Uh, long story, but an orc fell in love with me.”

Valor winced. “Oh, well, you now have an eternal enemy. It is a… thing that happens. I suffered the same inconvenience five hundred years ago. I believe I’m at reincarnation 91291239. Orcs are… determined. But wait—you said Cooking?”

“Yes, I have Master-Tier Cooking now.”

Valor just stared at him for one moment. He then looked away from Shiv and spoke to Adam. “Adam, how is the cooking?”

The Young Lord had to yell to be heard. “Very, very annoyingly good.”

Valor’s expression seemed to turn into one of absolute despair.

“Uh, don’t worry, Valor.” Shiv winced, trying to placate the sulking skull. “We’ll find another fragment of you as soon as we can.”

“I hope so,” Valor replied. “I—I feel like I’m here just to be tortured sometimes. I yearn to taste…” He swallowed his pain before it became a sob. “Regardless, there is a tremendous amount of mana in you, attuned and unattuned. If you use Necromancy on yourself, or if a great practitioner of the art impacts you with Necromancy, I suspect… I suspect that the detonation will be somewhat cataclysmic.” Valor considered before he spoke again. “Perhaps powerful enough to unmake a good portion of the Abyss. Or a continent.”

Shiv tried to imagine an explosion that size. He couldn’t.

Valor coughed. “We should avoid using any Necromancy on you while you are here. In fact, you really should have informed me before you arrived here. Being here is extremely dangerous for you. And me. And everyone in this entire dimension. Maybe even for the Composer.”

Shiv struggled to keep his legs from shaking. “Shit…”

“Aptly put. We should leave as soon as possible. Before that, however… Damn my curiosity, but I wish to do an experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?” Shiv said, more than slightly nervous.

“Just a slight magical experiment. It’ll be a little bit painful, but it shouldn’t do too much damage.” The skull paused, freezing in the air. “You trust me, do you not?”

Shiv nodded slowly, though he really wasn’t sure how he felt. “Yeah, I do.”

“Very good. Let us see why your soul is the way it is…”

And so, Shiv stood still as Valor dipped the tip of his dagger in bright green energy and ever so lightly tapped Shiv on a finger. “Hmmmm. This is inter—”

The resulting explosion launched Valor through the cage fast enough to crack the sound barrier and caused the Withercage to rattle and crack. The bone bars folded inwards. Shiv snarled in pain as his finger throbbed like the tip was on fire.

Then, a moment later, the pain was gone, but the inside of the cage was on fire, and Valor was half-embedded in the wall less than a meter next to Adam. The Young Lord gawked at his near-death experience, while Shiv looked at his hand. It looked fine, but…

“Valor,” Shiv breathed, “I no longer trust you.”

“That’s okay,” Valor said, wheezing as he pulled himself out of the crumbling wall. Heather, Siggy, and Tran could be heard fleeing upstairs. “I do not think I trust myself anymore, either. That was horrible. Let us get you out of this place before Weave turns into a wasteland.”

***

Everyone departed the Hallowed Depths after that. Everyone. All the necromancers working inside, the maintenance staff, even those working on the outside. That entire building was to be scrubbed clean of anything left behind by Shiv. And until they were absolutely certain, lockdown would remain in place.

As they walked through the undercity of Weave, crossing by weavers that held out baskets, begging for shards, Valor continued talking to Shiv, explaining what he learned from that brief moment of contact. “Your soul is integrated. I suspected this before. I would dare say I was even sure of it, but I was not fully aware of its true composition, its mixed nature.”

“Mixed nature,” Shiv repeated.

Beside them, Adam was listening intently, his eyes narrowing. This had to do with him as well, considering it was the ritual that likely made Shiv the way he was.

“Death. Your mind, your vitality, your soul; they are practically merged together. That’s why I assumed you can casually resurrect by merely draining someone of their vitality, but I was wrong. At least, I was not as correct as I could have been. Your mind is attached, but there is a layer into it, a threshold that separates it from your soul and your vitality, that is not the same for your vitality and your soul. Those two are completely melted into each other, or practically merged as one. Whatever the substance that was born of them, it is neither and both. It is something I have never seen before.”

“So, is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Adam asked.

“It is… a unique thing.” Valor paused and stared at Shiv. “Shiv, do you have a Unique Skill?”

Shiv didn’t say anything for a moment. Adam’s stare turned to a disbelieving glare, and Shiv gave an awkward shrug. “Well, technically, I… I also have a Legendary Skill.”

The Young Lord let out a roar. “Godsdammit!” He stepped away from their group and punched a wall. He struck it so hard that the blow sent out a shockwave, throwing shards of stone everywhere. The begging weavers immediately started fleeing up the walls, clambering away from the raging human. “Damn it! Damn the System!” Adam looked up to the looming city above. “You’re mocking me! Is this what you’re doing? Is this what you’re doing? I finally become a Hero! And he’s technically been a Legend this entire time? What is wrong with you? Why do you hate me?”

Everyone watched Adam have his breakdown for a moment before Valor clicked his jaw worriedly. “Sometimes I worry about him.”

“Yeah, me too,” Shiv said, watching Adam wail in anguish. “But I also find it pretty funny.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep