Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 60: The Highbards Will Fall

There was no escape for the Lightning Mage. The blazing blue arc was too vast and too swift.

With no clear space to thunder-teleport away from the attack, Zoron could only raise his scepter in a desperate block, hoping to shield as much damage as possible.

But ⸢Soulfire⸥ cares nothing for physical armor or enchanted wards. It passes through all earthly defense to scorch the spirit itself.

Zoron took the hit, stumbling backwards as he let out a howl of pain.

Not only was his body thrown off balance, leaving him disoriented, but a freezing burn scorched his chest.

⸢Soul Damage: - 18⸥

Zoron looked up at Percival, eyes wide with shock and pain. "What the... What the hell was that?"

Percival gave him no time to recuperate.

He ⸢Grave Stepped⸥ to close the distance, and swung the scythe in a vertical overhead cleave.

Zoron reacted on instinct, raising his scepter and casting ⸢Lightning Rod⸥. The black iron of the scythe met the silver of the scepter.

BOOM!

Blue lightning collided with blue flames and the ground beneath them shattered.

The rug tore out of the floor as the energy collision spread outwards, the cobblestones that formed the ground raised and pushed backwards, grinding into dust.

Zoron had the advantage in raw mana, a torrential reserve befitting his level.

But Percival was a regressor with the physical stats of a high-level Swordsman.

His strength and the mana he possessed with his Necromancer Class was enough to give him the edge in this collision.

He pressed down, the scythe’s blade grinding against the scepter. Sparks of lightning and blue shadows flew, illuminating the carnage of the fort.

"This... this is not possible!" Zoron gasped as he strained against the scythe, his knees buckling. "You’re just a Lvl 26!"

Percival looked down from his dominant position, his indifferent gaze like a tombstone. "Don’t worry. After I kill you, I’ll be a Lvl 27."

Zoron’s eyes flashed with fury. "Bastard!"

Percival pulled the scythe back suddenly, hooking the Mage’s ankle with the inner curve of the blade and jerking him off balance.

As Zoron toppled, Percival raised the reaper’s blade, channeling mana into the tip of the curve. Then he swung it downward at the Mage’s falling body.

Zoron, flailing mid-fall, tried once more to interpose his scepter.

It was a futile gesture.

The empowered tip of the scythe’s blade shattered the weapon’s enchanted handle and...

SHLICK

...went through the tear Percival had made earlier in the high grade armor, piercing the high-grade armor as if it were cloth, before driving straight through Zoron’s chest.

Sudden silence came after the pandemonium.

Zoron’s body didn’t even hit the ground.

It hung, impaled on the cruel curved edge of the War-Scythe, the sharp tip protruding from his back.

The broken halves of his scepter fell to the ground, clattering on the shattered floor as sprays of crimson escaped his lips.

Percival pulled the weapon free with a sickening tear. Zoron collapsed into the dust, his white robes and hair rapidly soaking in the expanding pool of his own life.

Ding!

⸢You have killed an Awakener!⸥

⸢Class: Lightning Mage (Lvl. 78)⸥

⸢+300 EXP⸥

⸢+2 Skill Points | +400 Mana Coins⸥

⸢Congratulations! You have leveled up!⸥

⸢Lvl 26 → Lvl 27⸥

Percival stood over him, the War-Scythe resting on his shoulder.

He could use ⸢Awake⸥ on him right now, and resurrect him as a Soul Soldier, but Percival held nothing in his heart for the Awakener.

​The mere idea of fulfilling this man’s lingering regrets was revolting.

Instead, he spent the corpse on ⸢Soul Draught⸥, sending a wave of rejuvenation to his skeletal warriors across the fort.

Speaking of his skeletal warriors, Percival evoked his Summon Map.

He hoped that at least one of his Skeletons had maintained pursuit after Olysson and the guards that had taken him.

Reading its master’s intent, a Skeleton Ranger that seemed to be running toward the secondary carriage house, flared with a proximity alert.

"Found you."

Percival quickly activated ⸢Summon Swap⸥.

When the guards protecting Olysson turned again to shoot arrows and flame balls at the Skeleton Soldier, they were shocked to see Percival standing there.

Lightning split the sky at that moment and thunder roared.

Heavy rain began to hammer the earth.

"Its him! How did he—?!"

The lead guard never finished his sentence.

Percival slaughtered them like a wolf among sheep.

Their shadows on the walls were frantic and scared. Blood splattered. Lightpiercer sang its brutal song. Leather, steel and mail gave way to death.

In the end, five seconds was all it took for the tunnel to fall silent, save for raindrops and the frantic, shallow gasps of Olysson.

The heir of Highbard had fallen over a corpse, his silk robes stained with the blood of his protectors.

He scrambled backward on his hands and knees until his back hit the cold iron of the gate.

Percival walked toward him, his sabatons clicking rhythmically on the stone.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

A ticking clock for Olysson’s end.

Percival looked down at him, Lightpiercer held loosely in his left hand, glistening from the lightning that flashed again, illuminating the cold judgement on Percival’s face.

"Wait! Please! I told you, I’ll give you anything!" Olysson shrieked, snot and tears all over his face. "The gold! The land! Anything! Just let me live!"

Percival stopped a foot away. He looked at the man: the son who called his mother an "old hag," the heir who reaped the benefits of his murderous family.

"That is your answer to everything isn’t it?" Percival uttered coldly. "Gold. Your gilded collar that binds tighter than any chain."

Olysson began to cry. "I just... I just want to live."

"Then tell me. Where is your father?"

"The... the inner vault!" Olysson stammered, pointing a shaking finger back toward the heart of the fort. "He’s barricaded himself in the treasury! He has the emergency portal scrolls! If you hurry, you can catch him! Just let me go!"

Percival stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. This shameless runt was so quick in betraying his own father just to preserve his miserable life.

Was there even any loyalty within these noble people?

"You allowed her to rot," Percival said softly. "You watched the woman who gave you life wither into a ghost, and you called her a ’drain on the treasury.’"

Olysson’s eyes bulged. "It was my father’s idea! I just followed orders! I’m a victim too!"

"You’re a weed," Percival whispered.

"No!" Olysson outstretched his hand, terrified. "You said you’d spare me if I told you. WAIT—"

Slink!

Lightpiercer passed through Olysson’s neck.

The head hit the gate with a dull thud. The body slumped forward, finally still.

It continued to rain.

Percival didn’t linger.

Despite his rage, none of these deaths gave him any satisfaction. Only a grim sense of necessity.

Tonight, the Highbards would fall.