Chapter 45
The skull wasn’t just well-preserved—it was solid.
“So this is Durahan’s skull.”
Durahan was an undead being far beyond the likes of skeletons or ghouls. Said to be made from the corpse of a beheaded knight, its skull was tougher than diamond and could serve as both a weapon and shield.
“Is the torso missing?”
In one corner, what looked like remnants of a torso caught my eye. Unlike the skull, which had been magically preserved, the torso seemed to have decayed under the weight of time.
Creating a Durahan had long been all necromancers’ dream—but no one had ever succeeded.
It was simply beyond their capabilities.
‘If it were me now…’
A rough idea surfaced—just enough theory to realize that I might be able to fulfill their dream. All thanks to the skull, the core component of Durahan.
‘It's not something I can do right now. I haven’t even grasped the essence of necromancer magic. Besides, just having this thing on me could get me into serious trouble.’
Still, I took Durahan’s skull with me, just in case. It was my curiosity, an interest in a field I didn’t yet understand.
After that, I looked through the remaining books. Most of them crumbled into dust at the slightest touch, but four volumes were still legible.
That is, if one could interpret the ancient language.
‘Even if it’s not possible right away, one day I’ll be able to decode it.’
Interpreting an ancient language takes time. You have to consider related languages, derivatives, and mother tongues from the same era.
Thankfully, these four books seemed to cover similar topics, which meant comparative analysis was possible.
‘I can’t take them with me. I’ll have to memorize everything here.’
But even those four books were in poor condition. They looked like they might crumble before I could bring them back to Hebron. And even if I did manage to carry them out, there was still the risk of being discovered.
It wasn’t about memorizing words—it was about memorizing unfamiliar characters.
‘Is this really something I can’t memorize?’
I was no longer Louis de Breio. I was now Louis de Hebron. I wasn’t a theoretical genius anymore who could remember every book he read at a glance or infer hidden truths with ease.
I spent nearly ten minutes reading a single page—and I hadn’t even memorized half of it. Anxiety gnawed at me, knowing I’d likely forget it soon.
‘That mental technique… the one where mages stimulate their brain by focusing aura in the head…’
A person without mana affinity could never become a mage. But a person without brains could never become a high-ranking mage either. Sometimes, those with high mana affinity but poor intellect would try to overcome their limits.
That’s how this technique was developed—through their desperate efforts.
‘It’s definitely helping. My mind’s clearer, and my memory’s better… but still not as good as in my past life.’
Back then, I lived a life that defied human limitations. Even with this mental technique, I couldn’t reach the average ability I once had.
Still, I eventually memorized all four books. Just to be safe, I damaged the pages by flipping through them forcefully. I was thinking ahead—about the royal investigation team that would eventually arrive.
When I closed my eyes, the wriggling ancient script danced in my mind. I mentally cross-referenced the incomprehensible characters with the sentences and words recorded across the four books.
‘Maybe it’s possible. Not all of it—but maybe I can manage around thirty percent…’
I dusted myself off and tried to get up. I planned to check one last time before heading back to Hebron—when something caught my eye. A partition in the bookshelf.
‘Is that… another book?’
I pulled out the object disguised as a partition.
To my surprise, it really was a book. It had remained hidden, thanks to the other volumes that had eroded away.
The moment I touched the edge of the cover, it crumbled with a sharp crackle. Thankfully, the contents were intact.
Gulp.
I swallowed dryly and placed the ancient book on the desk.
I skimmed the faint inscription on the cover.
—Introduction to Necromancy.
To my astonishment, I could read the title. It was written in an ancient language, but luckily, it was one I could interpret.
Linguists referred to it as Brick Script, named for its blocky, brick-like characters.
“Aha! So Brick Script is derived from the ancient language I memorized!”
The ancient script I’d memorized had such round handwriting that I hadn’t noticed its connection to Brick Script. But now that I compared the two, the resemblance was clear.
I didn’t have time to study ancient languages right now. The vassals of House Hebron were surely awaiting my return.
I began reading <Introduction to the Necromancer>. Although many of the terms were unfamiliar, I was able to interpret nearly eighty percent.
If my interpretation was correct, this book completely overturned the modern theory of spirit magic.
‘Well, it’s not like modern spirit magic had much of a theory to begin with.’
Today’s spirit summoners simply happened to be born with an affinity for spirits and summoned them at will. Unlike mages, they never established a proper theoretical framework—nor did they need to. As long as they practiced aura cultivation methods, they could summon spirits proportionate to their innate ability.
Spirits were typically represented in four attributes—earth, fire, water, and wind. These were the four great spirits, and spirit summoners could only form contracts with one of these types. The only variation was in their class.
But necromancers could form contracts with non-elemental spirits. Unlike ordinary mages, necromancers studied both spirit magic and necromancy simultaneously.
Spirits of Death. Spirits of Darkness. Spirits of Blood.
These three had no class.
Unlike the four great spirits, they were few in number—so a hierarchical system among them was likely impossible.
Because they were so exceedingly rare, it was estimated that there were fewer than ten spirits of each attribute in existence. However, these spirits were capable of forming contracts with multiple summoners at once.
‘I’ll find out for myself soon enough. I’ve got some power now as a spirit summoner.’
Necromantic spirit summoning was somewhat more complicated than elemental spirit summoning. In addition to innate affinity and a simple magic circle, there was one more requirement.
A medium.
I drew a magic circle on the floor with my sword.
“This is perfect for an object infused with death.”
I placed Durahan's skull, which I had set aside for this purpose, in the center of the magic circle.
As I backed away after setting it down, the flickering spirit flame vanished.
Even when I drew up my aura to enhance my vision, I couldn’t see anything in the darkness.
No—there was one thing I could see.
Something shimmered like mist.
“Huh?”
<Introduction to the Necromancer> stated that death spirits had no form.
Yet standing before me was a large human-like figure. Whether it could truly be called human was debatable—it was wearing Durahan’s severed skull.
I addressed the figure.
“Hello. I am Louis de Hebron.”
—A human?
The voice was deep, heavy, and resonant.
It didn’t come from Durahan’s sealed lips, but echoed throughout the space.
“Why? Do I not seem like one?”
—A curious human.
“I’ve heard that more than a few times, past and present.”
—Will you form a contract with me?
“What do you want in return? There must be a price.”
Nothing in this world comes for free.
Even Inferno grew stronger each time we fulfilled a contract. While it took an exceedingly long time by human standards, it gained in power and eventually rose in class.
In contrast, spirits summoned by necromancers did not grow.
They were already complete beings and set their own terms for every contract.
—The death of all things.
“…That’s quite the grand ambition.”
I’d tried summoning a death spirit out of curiosity, but now that I was actually facing one, unease gripped me. I started to wonder if bringing such a being into the human world might cause a catastrophe akin to the descent of a demon king.
—Will you form a contract with me?
Strangely enough, the death spirit seemed to be urging me.
“You want this contract?”
—…If you desire it.
The death spirit flinched.
I couldn’t see its face, but the tremors in the space around us had subsided slightly.
“Well, I suppose no one even remembers your existence anymore. It must’ve been a long time since you’ve had a chance like this.”
The death spirit didn’t respond.
“How long has it been since your last contract?”
—A long time. So long that words can’t capture the length of it.
The spirit’s heartfelt emotions washed over me.
He genuinely wanted this contract.
Ironically, the death spirit longed to escape the world of endless death in which he resided.
Because death only had meaning when life existed alongside it.
“We now live in a world where merely researching undead is enough to get you executed.”
—Is that so… That must be why no one has sought me out. Then, a contract may not be possible after all.
The spirit’s dejection filled the space around us.
As death and despair thickened, the already gloomy surroundings grew even more oppressive.
“All those who once knew you are dead and gone, so there’s no one left to fear you. According to <Introduction to the Necromancer>, you alone are better than most ordinary mages.”
The death spirit was an essential component in the creation of undead. Together with a necromancer, he could create them. He could delay death by force or briefly resurrect the recently deceased for conversation.
The death spirit looked at me with eyes full of anticipation. Within the hollow skull of Durahan, I sensed what could only be described as ‘dense death’ where its eyes would have been.
“I will form a contract. I am Louis de Hebron—once called Louis de Breio.”
—I am Primordial Death.
“That’s a name I rather like.”
I tried to respond calmly, but my heart sank.
According to <Introduction to the Necromancer>, the ‘Primordial Death’ was a sort of ‘spirit king’ among death spirits. Though formal hierarchies didn’t exist, the first spirit to come into being was always granted a certain reverence.
As the contract space faded away, so too did the traces of death. The once-vanished spirit flame returned, casting light over the area.
I had returned to the necromancer’s research chamber.
It still didn’t feel real—I had formed a contract with a death spirit. He left no mark on my body, and I bore no scent of death.
Nothing about me seemed different at all.
“Primordial Death.”
The death spirit responded to my call.
Black pupils formed in the empty sockets of Durahan’s skull, which still sat in the center of the magic circle.
Primordial Death rose, forming a body around the skull.
With every motion it made, my aura drained rapidly.
“Calling you Primordial Death every time is a bit cumbersome. I’d like to give you a simpler name. What do you think?”
—I don’t mind. Names are like seasonal cloaks, discarded eventually. I will honor your will.
“For someone who claims not to mind, your eyes are gleaming with anticipation.”
Durahan’s skull drifted closer to me.
Beyond it, deep darkness shimmered like a starlit night sky.
—Speak. What shall you call me?
“Iredem.”
The skull circled around me.
The death spirit observed me for a moment, as if trying to read my thoughts.
—Do you know the person who once bore that name?
“A little.”
—Very well. I shall be ‘Iredem’ to you, my contractor.
Iredem’s true name was ‘Iredemnul’. He was an ancient god whose myths had been passed down in various distorted forms throughout the Kingdom of Xenon.
In the public eye, Iredemnul was regarded as an evil god of death.
He was also known as the one who raised the dead and was said to have led a fanatical cult.
‘Too much purity, when met with blind faith, always turns dangerous.’
Lately, some theologians had begun to suggest that the Iredemnul sect may have actually been a genuine religious order. But the truth remained elusive.
No one who had lived in that era remained to tell the tale, so it was not something anyone could conclude lightly.
‘According to their scriptures, he was benevolent. Or at worst neutral, with a tilt towards the good.’
