The Necromancer's Servant

Ten days ago, the Magic Academy began researching a healing spell, requiring a significant amount of human organs each day. This type of research, which was disrespectful to the dead, was not suitable for daylight, as it would be easily discovered by most students, so it was conducted at night. Every evening, Asa would haul a cart filled with corpses and organs from the west of the city to the central Magic Academy.

These recent nighttime excursions opened his eyes. Having been in the capital for two months, he had never gone out at night before. He thought every place at night was as quiet and still as his hometown, occasionally interrupted by the crowing of roosters or barking of dogs. If it was a moonless night, he would have to bring a torch or lantern to avoid stepping into a muddy pit or falling and injuring himself, only to be carried back the next day.

The night in the capital was not illuminated by the moon, but by countless streetlights. The lights and noise from taverns continued until dawn. Dazzlingly dressed women stood by the roadside, warmly greeting passersby, while drunken men swayed as they walked, occasionally rushing into alleys to vomit. Luxurious carriages sped by, stopping in front of mansions to drop off or pick up noble men and women.

The people here at night seemed to possess endless energy and money. They engaged in songs and dances, indulged in food and drink, and they held banquets seeking every means to stimulate themselves and find joy, as if tomorrow would be the end of the world and would trade their lives for a moment of wild pleasure tonight. Asa didn't understand why these people held such a delusion.

However, he didn't want to explore it further. Even though he walked same streets every day, he felt utterly out of place, as if he had stepped into a strange world ruled by unknown creatures. The people here made an effort to ignore his presence, and even when a drunkard occasionally blocked his path to cause trouble, they would flee as soon as they saw his face.

Every day he returned from the Magic Academy quite late. He had to wait for the research to conclude and jot down the organs and limbs needed for the next day.

The Duke's residence was not far from the Magic Academy, and he passed by there every night.

Elaine had been back for half a month. However, the manhunt was still ongoing, and the city guard's search had become a routine matter.

Did she not explain to her father? Or did she think I deserve this? Did she know that I was the one who caused her injury? Am I to be a wanted fugitive for the rest of my life? Asa felt quite depressed during this time.

Last night, the research went on for a long time and didn't finish until the early hours of the morning. Asa took the list and dragged the empty cart along the deserted street. The area around the Magic Academy was the only quiet place in the entire capital. No matter how crazy those people got, they wouldn't dare to do crazy things right at the church's premise.

As he approached the Duke's residence, he saw two luxurious carriages, with five elegantly dressed men and women standing outside, engaged in a heated argument.

This was a common sight in the capital at night, and Asa paid no attention, continuing to walk in the shadows. It was only when he got closer, illuminated by the light from the carriage, that he recognized one of the women.

She was someone he had seen in the escorting caravan with Elaine, standing beside Claudius, with the same sparkling eyes, thin lips, and a similar appearance to Elaine—she was probably her sister.

Now her sister was dressed in a rather ostentatious outfit, her hair styled even more extravagantly than her clothes, and she was arguing with several young men who were obviously noble by their attire. As she spoke, it seemed she was about to head toward the Duke's residence when a boy with braids grabbed her hand as if pleading with her. She turned around and continued to shout loudly, slapping the boy hard across the face. The boy, enraged, started fighting back.

This was also a common scene at night in the capital, where young nobles would inexplicably start fighting, perhaps due to having too much energy to expend. Asa continued to walk in the shadowy street, focused on his own path.

The boy seemed very angry, and struck heavily. Unlike her sister, she went down after taking just a few punches. Several men nearby supported her, and the boy appeared to be the leader among them, ordering them to lift her into the carriage. The men hesitated, and the boy began to shout at them.

Asa had already crossed to the opposite side of the street and could hear clearly when the boy said, "What are you afraid of? If I take her now, will the Duke eat me? If this gets out, he'll be embarrassed; in the end, it will just mean marrying this worthless girl to me."

Regardless of whether this was a common scene or not, he could not ignore it now. Asa suddenly shouted, "Put her down! I'm going to the Duke's residence to call for help." Generally speaking, such people would be guilty and would flee at the mere scare.

However, it was obvious that these were not ordinary people, and they did not think they were committing a crime, so they were naturally unafraid. The boy, filled with righteous indignation, yelled, "Who are you?" The carriage driver waved a torch and said, "Looks like it's that hunchbacked assistant of that old man Sandru from the west of the city." Asa was now somewhat of a celebrity, regardless of his identity.

The boy staggered over to Asa, waving his hand and saying, "Don't be afraid; come here, I'll tell you…" As he got closer, Asa caught a whiff of alcohol, and suddenly the boy pulled a dagger from his pocket and lunged at Asa's chest, shouting, "Go call for f*cking help!"

As the dagger pierced halfway, the boy felt a tightness in his wrist, twisted, and suddenly seemed to lose his hand. A sharp pain he had never experienced before shot through him, causing a scream to surge from his chest to his throat, but a timely dull pain at his Adam's apple forced that scream back down. Ultimately, he could only let out a grunt from his nose, like a pig gasping for air before suffocating, before collapsing on the ground and convulsing.

The first twist to break his wrist was purely reflex; the second cut across the throat was a necessity. Compared to these guys, he felt even guiltier and more afraid of being discovered by the Duke's men.

The other men, seeing this, tried to come to help, but were stopped by the carriage drivers: "You're no match for him; don't go over." The two drivers drew long swords from their waists and rushed at him together.

Asa saw the way the two drivers drew their swords and knew they were not just ordinary drivers. Dodging their two sword strikes, he could no longer pretend to be a cripple and straightened his back, dodging and evading with all his strength. These two were surprisingly skilled swordsmen, probably bodyguards for the boy.

Finally finding an opportunity, Asa rolled and crawled out of their encirclement, tearing off his cloak and throwing it at one of the swordsmen.

The swordsman effortlessly sliced the cloak into two. He was indeed an experienced warrior who did not flinch or retreat. In such an advantageous situation, it was crucial to press the attack and not give the opponent a chance to breathe or adjust.

After cutting the cloak, the swordsman was met with a burst of red light right in front of him. He hadn't even figured out what it was when the fireball exploded against his nose.

This was merely a small fireball from a beginner; its power was not great, equivalent to tying several large firecrackers together. It wouldn't blow a head apart, but would at most ruin his nasal bones.

With a bang, the explosion of sparks from the swordsman's face looked incredibly beautiful in the darkness, and he fell backward in a dramatic fashion.

Asa picked up half of the cloak from the ground and threw it at the other swordsman. At the same time, he raised his hand, waving, and began chanting a spell in a loud voice. In reality, it was just a profanity from his hometown, a curse used by dwarves. At his level, he could not continuously use magic.

The swordsman quickly lowered his head, crouched down, and performed a clean roll backward. Just as he got up, he found that part of a cloak had flown towards him, and suddenly a section of it popped up rapidly, striking his chin. Then he clearly heard a crisp sound of bones breaking, followed by a scream as one of the swordsmen fell to the ground.

It was hard to believe that he had managed to take down two swordsmen like this. Asar himself was a bit surprised; after so long without exercising, his skills had not dulled in the slightest.

He walked over to the carriage, and when the firelight illuminated his face, several young men shouted, "Monster!" and scattered in all directions.

"Wow!" A scream rang out as a girl suddenly jumped out of the carriage, fleeing toward the Duke's residence. It turned out she had not been knocked unconscious and had been watching the whole time.

Fearing someone might hear the commotion, Asar hurriedly picked up the cloak from the ground, grabbed the empty cart, and fled into the darkness.

The next morning, at the Duke's residence.

Christine had completely broken her usual habit of sleeping until the afternoon; surprisingly, she got up early and had breakfast with her father in the dining room.

She could hardly sleep, as she kept replaying that bizarre experience throughout the night—it was more stimulating than alcohol.

Even though the bruise around her eye was still visible, it did nothing to dampen her excited spirits as she animatedly recounted her extraordinary experience from the previous night to her father: "Dad, you know those two bodyguards were top-notch, but that person made them look like children. With just a wave of his hand, he used magic! He blasted them away in an instant!" She straightened her body, dramatically mimicking the pose of the swordsman as he fell.

Duke Murak frowned slightly. He had always disapproved of his daughter mingling with that group of rascals who idled around and engaged in reckless behavior, and now this incident had almost caused a problem. Yet, he couldn't take the time to personally educate his daughter; he could only occasionally offer heartfelt advice. However, at her age and with her personality, it was clear that reason would not sway her.

Christine gestured excitedly: "Then that person went up and, with just one punch, the other guy went down. Just one punch! Last time, that guy helped us fight and took several knives without much trouble!"

"But when that person walked over, and we saw his face, the others immediately ran away. I was startled too; I didn't know where I got the strength to run back myself. Because that person was just so ugly—so ugly!" Christine's mood dropped as she said the word "ugly," disappointment evident as she shook her head. It was a pity that it was this very ugly person who saved her, rather than a handsome young man in shining armor with long hair.

Duke Murak swallowed a piece of bread and picked up a cup of milk. It was necessary to let his daughter go out and experience the world, to taste life's bitter and sweet moments. After all, only through experience would she truly grow.

"This very ugly person is really strange. When my sister just came back, he was the one leaning on her carriage trying to get a look at her. Back then, he was still a hunchback, but last night he suddenly straightened up and appeared quite tall, though he is just too ugly."

With a sharp sound, the cup in Duke Murak's hand shattered.

The duke slowly turned to stare at Christine, asking, "What did you say? That person was there when your sister returned?"

Christine saw a look in her father's eyes that she had never seen before and suddenly felt scared. She whispered, "That person tried to climb onto my sister's carriage. My brother-in-law almost killed him."

"Why didn't he make a move then?" the duke's voice sounded almost as if he was speaking to himself.

"I don't know. I heard many people say that ugly fellow is the assistant of that old hunchback, Sandru, from the west of the city. I heard them say that last night too."

Duke Murak stood up and said, "Go keep your sister company; I need to step out for a while."

Christine cautiously asked, "But the doctor for my sister is coming soon. Where are you going?"

Duke Murak wiped his mouth and, without turning back, quickly walked out of the dining room, leaving behind the words: "I must personally thank the hero who saved my daughter."