My Players Are So Fierce-Chapter 315:

“This is a Corpse Mage, a low-level spirit mage among undead creatures. Its most distinctive feature is the ability to fully retain their living thoughts and wisdom, with minimal memory loss. They can prepare rituals in advance to prevent sudden death.

This is the best choice for many low-level spirit mages when facing possible accidental death. However, this ritual still essentially belongs to the realm of dark arts, and the creation of a Corpse Mage requires assistance from others.

At least in my memory, such forbidden knowledge has never been spread across the lands of Transia.”

In the area connecting Smuggler’s Woods and Foul Swamp, Lady Tris, who had fixed the troublemaker in mid-air with dark arts immobilization, instantly saw through this fellow’s true nature.

She didn’t even need to lift the hood that concealed their identity; the slight smell of decay and special herbal scent emanating from them was enough to identify their nature.

She released her fingers, letting the Nocturne Scepter hover at her shoulder, and took the command scepter Murphy had handed her.

This was a bone artifact, a special spirit tool made from skeletal remains, shaped into a cross scepter with an unremarkable appearance. From its exterior alone, one couldn’t determine which school of crafting the command scepter belonged to.

But fortunately or unfortunately, Tris, during her long years as the Crimson Witch, had traveled across the continent.

She was no stranger to the thing in her hand.

Under Murphy’s watchful gaze, Tris recited very strange languages in a hoarse voice, forming seven-segment incantations plus dark spirit energy nature conversion, transforming it into colder and more ominous death energy injected within, effortlessly opening the “usage restrictions” hidden inside this thing.

That gesture was no more difficult than using knock magic to open a lock.

And with a slight wave from Tris, the noisy Smuggler’s Woods quickly fell silent.

Under her control as a Spirit Sovereign, those elite skeleton armies that were besieging the little players immediately entered retreat and reorganization status. Under the cover of war mist released by skeleton mages, they withdrew from the battlefield, returning to where they belonged while the little players watched in bewilderment, without any delay or hesitation.

“I always can’t help but wonder how many more abilities the legendary Crimson Witch has that I don’t know about?”

Murphy asked quietly:

“So, what exactly is this thing?”

“An ‘undead controller’, a poor imitation based on death arts mastered by the moon priests of the Sanghai Empire. In past times, I once visited the Moon Holy City in the place of origin, where I personally witnessed moon priests using the ‘Netherworld Scepter’ to control tens of thousands of netherworld pharaoh guards to suppress rebels.”

Tris quite disdainfully tossed the command scepter up and down in her hand, saying:

“This one here is not only smaller in scale but also cannot provide more netherworld realm death aura enhancement to those elite skeleton armies. Can only say it’s neither here nor there. Rather than the craftsmanship of this thing, I’m more curious about how this secret art was spread?”

The Blood Vulture Grand Duchess blinked her enchanting eyes while staring at the Corpse Mage before her, asking:

“Where did you learn this death spirit energy technique? This isn’t knowledge that just any third-rate spirit mage can master. The priests of Moon Holy City tightly control these mysteries from the netherworld.

Even with my status back then, I didn’t qualify to enter their ‘Eternal Tranquility’ grand library.

So, are there Sanghai people among you rats?

Let me guess deeper, do you have defected Sanghai moon priests among you?

Tsk, the forces of Dusk are truly awe-inspiring.”

“Ah, you spoke that name! Damn it! You’ll get us all killed!”

After the initial panic, the immobilized Corpse Mage quickly calmed down, issuing fearless rebukes while ignoring the drawn sword cane in Murphy’s hand, seemingly unafraid of death.

Indeed, this was true.

As a special undead creature, having died once already naturally meant no fear of dying again, and the Corpse Mage profession, like its advanced profession lich, had special abilities.

They had something called a “phylactery” to store and hide their souls.

For these cursed ones with immortal souls, their decaying bodies were merely clothes that could be changed at any time. As long as the phylactery wasn’t found, they could keep going on, facing any terrifying opponent without worry.

“I advise you not to act so fearless, Corpse Mage.”

Tris said coldly:

“Even with phylactery protection, you’ll suffer irreversible damage to consciousness and spirit after experiencing second death. As the price of undeath, each injury will cause you to lose other precious things.

Memory, thought, sanity.

Death is never merciful; if it can’t take your soul, it will take something else as collateral.

See, I understand you even more deeply than you understand yourself. What I mean is, you’d better behave and answer little Murphy’s questions!

Otherwise, I have many ways to make you experience outcomes more painful than death. I hope you don’t doubt a Spirit Sovereign and outstanding Blood Inquisitor’s ‘creativity’ in this aspect.”

The Corpse Mage fell silent.

They knew that in such a situation where everything had been exposed, continuing to be stubborn had no meaning. After all, they were just a Corpse Mage, not a powerful lich.

Murphy snorted, sheathing his drawn sword cane, looking the fellow up and down before noticing the somewhat restless skeleton warhorse beside them, which caught his eye.

The warhorse’s frame was smaller than a normal warhorse due to having only bones remaining after flesh removal, but this Corpse Mage had added many artistic details to their mount.

For instance, using brass to inlay decorative horns on the horse’s head, and adorning the skeleton with shell pieces to make it look more impressive and carry that gloomy pressure unique to undead creatures.

This skeleton warhorse was clearly superior to the mounts used by skeleton cavalry, as it wouldn’t collapse when its master left, but could maintain its complete and independent body in place.

“This kind of cool and stylish thing could perhaps become a ‘special reward’ for the current grand plot resolution? It could also replace the season mount prepared for the first batch of outstanding gladiators at the fighting club.”

Murphy instantly had a good idea come to mind, making him look again at the Corpse Mage fixed in mid-air. He suddenly realized that rather than killing this secretive fellow, keeping them alive might create more “value.”

Therefore, after thinking for a moment, the vampire lord opened his mouth to say to the silent Corpse Mage:

“I know that servants of secret forces like you certainly have many restrictions preventing you from revealing organizational secrets. I’ve encountered Zweig before, that guy had a nickname called ‘Plague Rat King.’

Do you know him?”

“Heh, that fool.”

The Corpse Mage didn’t hide their familiarity with Zweig, saying mockingly in a hoarse, withered voice:

“He could have stayed in the swamp enjoying his so-called ‘eternal’ life, but had to run out to enjoy worldly prosperity. When he left, I knew his fate wouldn’t be too good. Sir Vampire, I see you’re also a sensible person, so why don’t we make a deal?

You don’t need to torture this poor soul with cruel punishment, I’ll tell you everything I can.

Then you let me leave, how about that?”

“That won’t do.”

Murphy shook his head saying:

“Everything you’ve done in Smuggler’s Woods has already caused casualties among my warriors. You must provide compensation. Besides, just letting you leave would make our Crimson Citadel appear incompetent, wouldn’t it?

There must be some punishment, right?”

“Punishment? I lost the command scepter and let you realize the secrets hidden in the swamp! Just these two points are enough to make me suffer horrific punishment when I return.

My body will be chopped up to feed the hell hounds, and my consciousness will be thrown into the soul forge to burn for many years!”

The Corpse Mage shouted:

“Those gnoll plague sorcerers aren’t easy characters to deal with, their methods of driving us are far more hateful than you can imagine. I said, I wasn’t willing to participate in these messes either!

I was already dead.

By Avalon above, I’ve been dead for over 20 years.

I thought the cold treatment my soul endured in the netherworld was torture, but didn’t expect I would have to return to this damned mortal world as a cursed dead!

This wasn’t my choice, vampire lords.

I’m not asking for your pity, I just hope you can understand my situation. I’m willing to cooperate, anyway I didn’t voluntarily help those gnolls.”

This fellow’s wailing made Murphy blink his eyes. He had already learned many things from their shouting. Looking toward the direction of Foul Swamp, he said:

“So it was a group of gnoll plague sorcerers who awakened you?

And made you work in the swamp while continuously infiltrating and developing in Transia. Since you know Zweig, that means those gnoll sorcerers are also servants of Dusk?

Finally, what are you looking for in the swamp?”

“I can’t say, this is a topic that can’t be discussed.”

The Corpse Mage shook their head saying:

“It’s not that I won’t cooperate, but if Zweig died at your hands, then you should know what will happen if I say things I shouldn’t.

I know from an enemy’s perspective, any torture I suffer would be deserved, but the problem is this has no meaning. Let me live and I can answer more of your questions.

But I will tell you, I don’t serve Dusk.

I don’t have that ‘qualification.’

I will tell you, those gnolls are spellcasters belonging to the Gnawbone Clan.

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They haven’t just started operating here, I was awakened in the swamp’s rotting mud 3 years ago, and when I was resurrected in this cursed form, those gnolls already had an army of the dead at their disposal.

As for materials

Hehe, the lives swallowed by Foul Swamp over the past hundreds of years is an astronomical number. Four Black Plagues have been enough for bones to be scattered across that foul land forming a road of white bones.

Therefore as long as they want, they could even raise a skeleton army that would flood Transia, but that’s not what they want.

What do they want to do?

Hmm, I hope you use your brain to think, sir vampire, this is Foul Swamp!

This is the frontier that gnolls have wanted to completely control for generations, this is the last boundary to the civilized world, and the Fifth Black Plague is coming!

What do you think they plan to do here?”

“I’ve had enough of your riddle-speak attitude. I will send people into Foul Swamp to investigate, and you will make a map for me.”

Murphy leaned on his sword cane saying:

“It doesn’t even need to be particularly detailed, draw out the areas where your group operates to the extent you can manage, then you can spend your upcoming ‘labor reform’ life as a prisoner in Crimson Citadel.

I promise not to harm you, but you’d better behave.”

“You’re mad!”

The Corpse Mage shouted:

“My phylactery is in their hands, they can order me to do many things, I said I don’t want to get involved in the feud between gnolls and you!

Can’t you just let me go like a fart?

What kind of service could a nobody like me provide even in your grasp? No! I’m just a Corpse Mage sent out to cause some trouble, my lord.

I wasn’t anyone important when alive, and can’t possibly rise to prominence after death.”

“I want this kind of skeleton warhorse!”

Murphy didn’t bother being polite with this Corpse Mage, pointing at the quiet skeleton warhorse beside them, saying to the Corpse Mage:

“Make 500 no, 1,000 of them for me, and your labor reform will be considered complete. I’ll set you free since you have eternal life to waste anyway.

Don’t worry, I always keep such promises.

By the time you finish the work, those gnoll sorcerers controlling you will probably have been flattened by my warriors. If you perform well, I might even return the phylactery to you.”

As he spoke, Murphy glanced at Tris.

Since the Blood Vulture Grand Duchess who shared his thoughts hadn’t stopped him, it meant Tris was quite confident in controlling this enemy Corpse Mage, making them obediently become Murphy’s craftsman labor force in Crimson Citadel.

With Tris’s guarantee, Murphy completely stopped worrying. He took the “unlocked” command scepter from Tris, while infusing spirit energy into it, casually asking:

“Last question, your identity, your identity when alive! You just said ‘By Avalon above’, this proves you were once an old church believer?

Died over 20 years ago, when the old church was still at its peak, I’m very curious, why did you die in Foul Swamp? Were you executing some special mission at the time?”

“I refuse to answer this question, not because I can’t but because I don’t want to!

This is my private matter, heavens, I’ve already died and been resurrected, I’ve already lost all rights of being human, my memories are my last remaining wealth!

You!

Or anyone!

You all can forget about taking it from me!

That belongs only to me!”

The Corpse Mage shouted and screamed in refusal, and the vivid emotions they displayed had clearly exceeded the deathly demeanor undead creatures should have.

This indicated Murphy’s question had indeed touched this fellow’s bottom line.

“Take it back.”

Murphy said to Tris:

“Let it adapt to the darkness of Blood Vulture Halls, then start work immediately. Before the 100-day grand construction ends, I must have those horses as rewards.”

“You want to enter the swamp?”

Tris glanced at Murphy, reminding:

“Don’t go in now, no one can say clearly what the situation is inside.”

“I know, I’ll let the gnolls enter first to scout for information.”

Murphy played with the command scepter, saying:

“I’ve learned not to venture recklessly, after all what I carry now isn’t just my own life and future. You go back first, I need to meet with Hog.

Also, will those plague sorcerers observe our city and secrets through this fellow’s eyes?”

“They can, but they won’t be able to.”

Tris waved the Nocturne Scepter to open a rift to Crimson Citadel, yawning as she said:

“At least under my watch, they don’t have that ability.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Murphy laughed heartily, earning a fierce glare from Tris.

Then the grand duchess left with the prisoner, while Murphy patted the quiet skeleton warhorse, mounted it and pulled the luxurious reins to turn it around, charging back out toward Smuggler’s Woods.

He wanted to see how his little players were doing.

Meanwhile, Tris brought the Corpse Mage back to Crimson Halls, calling Adele to send this prisoner to a newly cleared underground chamber to begin work.

Adele came quickly.

But upon seeing this Corpse Mage, she and the Corpse Mage almost simultaneously exclaimed.

“Adele? You became a vampire? By Avalon above!”

“You… you’re Uncle Bella?”

That voice, though hoarse and gloomy but still carrying familiar tones, gave E-Sister a start. She quickly stepped forward to remove the hood concealing the Corpse Mage’s face.

Upon seeing that horrifying mummy-like face of skin and bones, the still familiar facial features made Lady Adele cry out in grief:

“No! What did they do to you…”