Chapter 85: Necro Archmagus Grimoire XIII
The torches’ last embers faded, and the chamber door ground shut with a heavy thud.
For several long minutes, Aria and Laxin lay sprawled among the wreckage of bones and dented armor, too drained to even move.
Finally, Laxin groaned and flopped an arm over his face. "I don’t know what hurts more—my body, my pride, or the fact that our deadliest weapon tonight was a loose skull on the floor."
Aria turned her head toward him, her cheek pressed against cold stone. "...We still won."
"Yeah," Laxin said, his voice muffled under his arm. "But can you imagine telling anyone how? ’Oh yes, our great triumph—Sir Slips-a-Lot and his domino squad.’ We’d be legends. Ridiculed legends."
Aria let out a laugh that came out more like a cough. "Better ridiculous legends than dead failures."
He peeked one bloodshot eye at her. "...You’re too optimistic. It’s unnerving."
"You’re just too negative," she shot back, though the words lacked real bite.
Silence fell again, broken only by the soft rattle of bones settling in the aftermath. For all their exhaustion, for all the bruises and burns, the strange truth sank in—every day they survived Fenric’s trials, they were changing. Tougher. Sharper. Closer to something they didn’t quite recognize yet.
At last, Aria forced herself to sit up, hugging her knees. "What do you think he meant? ’Something that does not slip on bones.’"
Laxin dragged himself halfway upright, hair sticking up in every direction. "I don’t know. But with our luck? Probably some nightmare beast with claws the size of tree trunks and a personality that hates laughter."
Aria’s lips curved faintly. "...Then we’ll just make it slip on something else."
Laxin snorted, then winced, clutching his ribs. "Gods, stop saying things that make me laugh. I think I broke important organs."
Despite everything, they both laughed weakly, their voices echoing through the ruined chamber.
The next morning came far too quickly.
The chamber lit itself as they staggered inside, bruised but standing. Fenric was already waiting in the center, grimoire hovering before him. His silver eyes flicked toward them once, unreadable, then dropped back to the glowing pages.
No words. No warnings.
The floor split apart once more.
From the shadows, this time, did not rise soldiers, nor mages, nor even armored knights.
A shape emerged—a hulking beast, stitched together from countless bones. Its spine arched like a jagged mountain ridge, its skull massive, fangs glinting even in the dim light. Its body was held together not by sinew, but by black flames that burned faintly within its ribcage.
A skeletal direwolf. Twice the size of a horse. Its empty eyes burned blue with cold hunger as it loosed a soundless, rattling howl that shook the floor.
Aria froze, her throat dry. "...That... is new."
Laxin’s jaw dropped. "Nope. Nope. Not doing this. We’re not ready for that. That thing doesn’t even have ankles to trip!"
Fenric’s voice cut through their panic like a knife.
"Adapt."
The wolf lowered its head, claws scraping sparks across the stone.
Then it charged.
The skeletal wolf thundered across the chamber, each claw strike echoing like a hammer on stone. The floor shook under its weight, bones clattering as its massive jaws opened wide.
Aria’s heart leapt into her throat. "Shields—now!"
Her skeletons jerked forward, raising their battered shields just in time. The wolf crashed into them with a deafening bang. Shields shattered, skeletons flew like dice scattered by a careless hand, and the beast hardly slowed.
"Bad idea! Terrible idea!" Laxin yelped, hurling a panicked blast of dead mana at the wolf’s head. The black energy splashed harmlessly over its skull, leaving it glowing faintly blue instead.
The beast’s eyes flared brighter. It swung its tail like a whip, smashing two skeletons into the wall.
"Don’t make it stronger!" Aria shouted, grabbing Laxin by the sleeve and yanking him back before the wolf’s claws gouged the stone where they’d been standing.
"I panicked!" Laxin barked, clutching his staff. His voice cracked. "What do we do?! It’s like fighting an avalanche with spoons!"
Aria grit her teeth, forcing herself to focus. The flames inside the wolf’s ribcage—its core wasn’t bone. It was mana. Dark mana, like Fenric’s. That was holding it together.
"The chest!" she gasped. "Its fire—if we break it, it falls apart!"
"Great!" Laxin snapped. "And how do you suggest we get through the nightmare bone fortress around it?!"
The wolf lunged again. Aria dove sideways, rolling across the ground. Laxin scrambled the other way, his skeletons bravely—stupidly—charging at the beast to buy them time. One knight skeleton clambered onto the wolf’s back, stabbing down with its rusted blade, only to be flung off and crushed under a claw swipe.
Aria’s mind raced. Direct strikes weren’t working. The wolf’s body was too durable.
Then she saw it—the beast’s ribs flared when it howled, exposing the black flame for a split second.
Her eyes widened. "Laxin!" she screamed. "We don’t fight it—we time it!"
He blinked at her, panting. "Time what?"
The wolf’s head tilted back, flames glowing deep in its ribcage as it prepared another bone-rattling howl.
Aria raised her hand, mana coiling at her fingertips. "That!"
The howl tore through the chamber. Bones rattled. Stone trembled. The ribs spread wide.
"Now!" Aria roared.
Both of them unleashed their dead mana at once—two black bolts streaking across the chamber, slipping between the ribs like arrows through a gate.
They struck the black flame dead-on.
The wolf shrieked soundlessly, staggering as cracks splintered across its bones. Blue fire burst from its chest in wild arcs.
"Keep hitting it!" Aria cried, already gathering more mana.
"For once," Laxin gasped, "I like your ideas!"
Their next blasts hit together.
With a final shudder, the skeletal wolf collapsed, its bones scattering like dry leaves, its black flame flickering out into nothing.
Silence fell. Only their ragged breathing remained.
Aria sank to her knees, clutching her chest. Laxin leaned against his staff, sweat dripping down his face.
Then he let out a weak laugh. "We... we killed a bone wolf."
Aria, exhausted but smiling, nodded. "Together."
Laxin smirked faintly. "...Fine. But I’m still calling it Sir Slips-a-Lot’s revenge."
The door to the chamber opened with a slow creak.
Fenric stepped in, cloak trailing behind him, silver eyes cold as frost. He glanced at the shattered remains of the skeletal wolf, then at the two of them still half-collapsed on the floor.
Neither Aria nor Laxin dared to speak.
Fenric’s gaze lingered on the smoldering ashes of black flame before shifting back to them. "You destroyed it."
Aria nodded quickly, still catching her breath. "Its chest... the core was exposed when it howled. We targeted that."
Laxin, too tired to stand, just lifted a hand and said, "Teamwork. And screaming. Lots of screaming."
Fenric raised one eyebrow, then slowly closed his grimoire with a snap. "Crude. Inefficient. But effective."
For a heartbeat, Aria thought he was about to scold them again. But then he turned, his cloak whispering across the stone.
"You’ve proven you can adapt. That is the first step to survival."
He stopped at the doorway, not looking back. "Tomorrow, I will show you the next kind of soldier."
The door shut, leaving the chamber dark again.
Laxin groaned, flopping flat on his back. "Next kind? What’s left? Bone birds? Skeleton whales? Oh gods, please not skeleton whales."
Aria chuckled softly, brushing dust off her sleeve. "Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out."
Laxin rolled his head toward her, eyes half-closed. "Why do you always sound so confident after we nearly die?"
She smirked faintly. "Because we didn’t die."
One of Laxin’s skeletons—a knight missing its helmet—wobbled over and dropped the wolf’s skull in his lap like a gift.
He stared at it, then sighed. "Congratulations, Aria. We now own the ugliest paperweight in the world."
The skull’s jaw clacked shut by itself, as if laughing at him.
"...I hate necromancy," Laxin muttered.
The next morning, the chamber torches lit one by one, their flames unnaturally steady, like they were holding their breath for what was about to arrive.
Aria and Laxin stood ready—or as ready as two exhausted necromancer apprentices could be with bags under their eyes and joints that still felt like cracked glass.
Fenric stood at the center, his grimoire hovering beside him, pages turning on their own. His silver gaze swept across them, unreadable.
"Yesterday," he said, voice calm, "you fought instinct. Today, you will fight discipline."
The floor cracked. Dust rained from the ceiling. From the darkness below rose a single figure.
At first, it looked like another knight, but taller. Broader. Its armor was not rusted but polished black, its helmet crowned with jagged horns. A cloak of tattered crimson hung from its shoulders, still carrying the faint stink of dried blood.
Its sword was enormous—too large for a man, but it wielded it with ease. And unlike the other knights, this one moved with slow, deliberate purpose. Not a puppet. Not a stumbling corpse.
A commander.
Aria’s heart tightened. "This one’s different..."
Fenric’s lips curved the faintest fraction. "This one thinks."
The undead knight raised its sword in salute, then slammed the blade into the ground. The floor pulsed—and from the shadows, skeletal soldiers rose, forming ranks in tight formation. Shields interlocked, spears braced.
Aria froze. "It... it has an army?"