Chapter 8: Dealing with a Necromancer's Mistake

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Hey, guys! It's me.

Sorry for not updating for a while, spending the holidays with the family. Christmas cheer and what not.

It's a New Year and I didn't give you a chapter.

I'm sorry. But it's here now! For you! The readers! I'm gonna keeping using exclamation marks to keep up this level of intensity to hype you guys up! Is it working!? IS IT WORKING!? Probably not. Weird picture for this chapter, right? It hit me in the feels so I put it there.

Enjoy the chapter.

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   "So your side's preparing to attack the city?" I asked, tilting my head. "And you stole a book on Necromancy to build your own army and beat them to it?"

   When I first spoke to him with [Language Acquisition (UPA)], he lost his shit. Though not literally because he already did that. Plus, I really don't think he has anything else left since he went all out last time. . .ugh.

   "Yes," the man nodded as he fearfully glanced at Dread chomping on some of the lesser skeleton mages' remains. He had a change for clothes and used some House Magic on himself to freshen himself up.

   I'm actually fascinated with House Magic. . . Maybe I can find alternative uses for it. . .? Offensively? Defensively? Quite frankly I believe there's potential in it.

   "So they can't attack unless they have the book?"

   "Yes, without it they can't do a mass reanimation spell." The man said with a smirk. "It would take master with an unfathomable mana pool and genius intellect to execute such a spell."

   "But isn't there like a very powerful lich in your army? Why not use that guy?"

   The man blinked, his face contorting into that of a jackass. ". . .Shit, didn't think about that," the man said, slapping his knee.

   Dumb ass!

   "Okay. . . What's up with that coffin?" I asked, changing the subject.

   "Do you really think I'd--" The man started with an arrogant tone, but immediately died down when Dread began releasing his ominous aura. "Scary!"

   He is scary. . .

   "I was attempting to summon a Phantasmal Legion," the man said stiffly, diverting his gaze away from Dread.

   "A Phantasmal Legion?" I repeated, confused and interested about it. "What is that?"

   "There are many spirits that have not passed on, mostly becoming evil spirits as their psyche corrupts from the pain of not knowing peace." The man said with a serious expression. "Those are how evil spirits are born. There are many types of spirits, for example a Wraith. But the strongest type of spirit would be a Phantom."

   "A Phantom is the strongest type?"

   "Yes, well I guess you could say breed, but also not in way." The man rubbed the back of his head before sighing. "Spirits can evolve into Phantoms by consuming other spirits, especially the living. The number of spirits, or souls, and the quality determines their strength and evolution growth. If the quality of the soul is great enough, they could potentially evolve to a Phantom immediately."

   "I see. . . Necromancy truly is worth the attention," I praised. "As expected for a necromancer to be this knowledgeable on undead."

   The man took a dignified pose, placed his hands on his hips, stuck out his chest and his nose towards the sky (well, ceiling) with an aura of arrogance. Dread growled softly, barely audible to the human ear, yet this was enough for the man to quit and bow, begging for mercy.

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