Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 174: Settling In

The only possible reason Percival could think of at that time was idol worship. Even though any religion except the true one was banished and criminalized in Evernia, many villages still engaged in it... in secret.

It didn’t seem out of reason for Deathlehem, an almost self-segregated and established village to have their own.

However, Percival decided not to conclude from his assumption. Driven by curiosity, he slowly approached the statue and inspected it.

There were writings on the slab which it was erected on. The writings were smeared by time but still visible enough for him to make out the words.

After reading, Percival’s brows raised with intrigue as he looked up at the statue once again.

Apparently, the statue wasn’t for idol worship, it wasn’t even at least a monument to the monster’s terror. Instead, it was a monument to its violent end.

Sculpted all around the base and climbing up the beast’s massive legs were dozens of smaller, human figures.

Percival had just noticed them. At first, he thought they were parts of the beast or dead bodies lying in its weak. But they were humans, and they were fighting against the spawn.

What was even more curious was that they didn’t look awakened at all. They weren’t dressed in the metal, blessed armors of Knights, nor were they Mages casting world-ending spells.

They were ordinary villagers.

They were depicted wielding pitchforks, heavy logging axes, and rusted iron chains, literally dragging the monstrous horror down into the mud through their unyielding, overwhelming numbers and suicidal bravery.

Percival stood in the shadow of the statue, his blue eyes tracing the iron faces of the sculpted villagers.

Mortal tenacity, he thought, a profound sense of respect washing over him. No gods. No system assistance. Just the absolute, bloody refusal to die.

It was a sentiment he intimately understood. This statue was an idol at all.

It was a reminder. A reminder for the people of Deathlehem, of how strong they were, how resilient they were, and how much pride they should take for their accomplishment in the past.

Percival pouted thoughtfully, impressed. He offered the statue a slow, deliberate nod of respect before turning around to another couple of men in front of a simpler-looking house.

"Excuse me," Percival said softly.

The two men fell silent and slowly, dramatically, turned to look at Percival. They gave him a once-over before the bald headed one spoke.

"What do you want here, pretty wolf?" he asked. "You Awakeners always bring trouble with you. And we don’t like trouble here in Deathlehem."

Percival studied the man silently before replying. "I do not carry any trouble with me, I assure you. I’m only a traveler. I was hoping you could point me to a tavern. Or an inn. Where I can rest for some nights."

The two men looked at each other for a while, as if they were contemplating through thoughts. The woman in the center of them, chubby and pink-faced, stared at Percival like he was a plate of roast chicken.

"I like this one," she said. "Knows how to speak quietly. He could fit in here."

"Shut up, Maurice. You only like his face," one of the men said.

"Yeah we both know where you want him to fit into," said the other.

Maurice grunted and looked away. Percival pretended not to hear a thing.

"You got silver with you, Necromancer?" the bald one said, inspecting Percival’s crest before his face.

"I hoped to use it for the journey, but if it gets you to help me. Then it is yours." Percival slowly moved his hand into his pouch by his waist and pulled out three silvers.

The coins sang as they fell into the bald man’s leather glove. "Eh. Alright then, head straight, you’ll see a slim alley, go in. It’s a fine inn called the Grim Gazer."

"Don’t mind the innkeeper," the other handsome fellow said. "Butrick is a fat old dick during this time of the day. He doesn’t like outsiders either. But give him enough coin and he’ll suck your own fat old dick."

Percival tried to not look as astounded as he was. Colorful language was not his strong suit. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

He knew only as much as ’shit’, all to way to ’fuck.’ But it seemed the people of Deathlehem prided themselves in being in the R18 region of Evernia.

"Thank you," he said and turned away.

"You ever need something, boy, come get me!" the woman called after him.

"Shut up, Maurice!"

The men watched him silently as he headed down their direction.

Percival was almost worried that he’d been deceived and sent to a path where he would likely be attacked. But he eventually found the discreet, sturdy-looking inn tucked away in the narrow alley.

The painted wooden sign—a black anvil—creaked slightly in the wind. Grim Gazer was painted in old green oil.

Inside, there was no one present except the Innkeeper, Butrick, a burly man with a thick, graying beard and a jagged scar across his cheek.

He gave Percival a suspicious glare throughout the entire endeavor, yet asked absolutely no questions. When Percival slid five silver coin across the scratched wooden counter, he beamed at him.

"Top floor. End of the hall," the innkeeper grunted, his voice a low rumble. "The locks are dwarven-forged. The walls are thick."

Percival stared at him, confused by him having to point that out. What did people even do in this village that inn rooms had dwarf-made locks and the walls were thick?

"See that I am not disturbed," Percival replied, leaving the greedy man another silver.

The room was spartan but immaculately clean. It held a heavy oak bed, a washbasin, and a sturdy table.

Percival immediately engaged the heavy dwarven deadbolts and pulled the thick curtains shut, sealing the room in total darkness.

He unequipped his armor and stood there bare chested, his groin covered by a pair of white boxers.

He placed the Swordcase carefully on the table and shook his head, causing his long mane to spread.

After a shower, Percival sat cross-legged on the center of the firm mattress. He took a deep breath, letting the exhaustion of the past few days settle into his bones, and then slowed his heart rate to a rhythmic, meditative pace.

He had some things to do. But first, now he had three Soul Summons, it was time to give them their roles.