Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 62: New Summons
Percival was a statue for a long time. A tall, brooding statue.
This wasn’t at all who he once was. This violence was alien to the boy named Percy.
He’d never butchered people with such methodical coldness. Only beasts... only Demonspawns.
But was it justified?
To him, it was.
Mercius had suffered from the same type of people who had made him suffer.
The crown had used and disposed of them both. This shared pain, this recognizable suffering, was enough to push him off the edge.
All the suppressed rage he had been carrying finally detonated, unfiltered and raw.
Now, he had committed a massacre, burning through his mana and Attributes for the first time since his regression.
Yet, rather than genuine satisfaction. All he felt was turmoil.
This everlasting struggle between who he was then and now. How much longer until he got over it?
Well, the silver lining was that now, he had secured Mercius Seagrave as his first Soul Soldier.
The Contract Quest was indeed more difficult than anticipated—which was also anticipated—but he did it.
Now, the treasury was silent, save for the rhythmic drip of blood falling from the edge of Percival’s blade onto the gold-filled floor.
Tristop Highbard lay in a heap of his own greed, but Percival didn’t spare the corpse a second glance.
He raised his gaze from the floating screen to Mercius, who slowly dropped to one knee, his armor clanking heavily. He bowed his head low, the blue flames burning brighter around his armor.
"My life was stolen from me by deceit and silver," the Knight’s voice echoed. "I traversed the afterlife, bearing the guilt of abandoning my beloved. But in death, where hope is a stranger, you gave it back to me, Master Percival. You gave me justice. "
His head remained low. "Know this, I am your servant from this moment until the end of time. I have no will, no desires, no wants or needs. I only have purpose. The purpose to serve and obey.
"I hereby pledge this; I shall be your loyal and choiceless servant, a soldier to fight all your battles, a blade to execute your every whim.
"My Skills and Attributes are extensions of yours. So are my Artifacts, Relics, Aspects and Equipment. All that I gathered in life, I surrender all to you in death. Where you walk, I shall pave the way in the bones of your enemies."
Percival felt a sudden, violent tug at his soul.
This didn’t feel like the slight drain he was used to when summoning; this was an anchoring. The binding process that entwined Mercius’s Soul with Percival’s.
It manifested as a searing heat, blooming in his chest as blue flames surrounded them in the room like a shrine to witness the contract.
Ding!
⸢Do you accept Mercius Seagrave as your Soul Soldier⸥
Percival looked down at the Blade of Brackenbridge, a revered legend of history, bowing to him in submission.
"I accept," he said.
⸢...⸥
⸢Summon Contract has been completed⸥
⸢You have contracted a Soul Soldier⸥
⸢Cost: 7 Summon Spaces⸥
⸢Note: Summon Spaces vary for Soul Soldiers depending on their level of power. The lowest possible for a Soul Soldier is 3 Summon Spaces⸥
⸢...⸥
⸢Soul Soldier: Mercius Seagrave (Lvl 131)⸥
⸢Class: Knight⸥
⸢Talent: Talent of Battle Supremacy - Legendary⸥
⸢Experience: 350,000/350,000⸥
⸢Health: 35,000/35,000⸥
⸢Mana: 6000/6000⸥
⸢Defense: 7500⸥
⸢Attack: 9220⸥
⸢Attributes:⸥
⸢Strength: 1065⸥
⸢Agility: 725⸥
⸢Speed: 645⸥
⸢Constitution: 1125⸥
⸢Intelligence: 500⸥
⸢Dexterity: 755⸥
⸢Luck: 305⸥
⸢Perception: 589⸥
⸢Charisma: 1500⸥
⸢Skills: Shield Bash (E-Grade) / Iron Advance (D-Grade) /Judgment Strike (B-Grade) / Heavenfall (A-Grade) / Last Stand (S-Grade)...⸥
⸢Equipment: Descending Steel Lotus Armor Set (A-Grade) / Paragon Blade (S-Grade) / Paragon Shield (S-Grade)⸥
⸢Inventory: Artifacts / Relics / Aspects⸥
⸢Summon Ranking: High Cost — Summoning Mercius Seagrave requires significant amount of mana cost for both activation and sustenance outside the Summon Space⸥
⸢Summon Role: Do you wish to allocate a specific role to this summon? Yes / Later⸥ 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂
Percival selected later.
⸢Congratulations on your first Soul Soldier!⸥
⸢Rewards: + 300 EXP / + 3 Summon Space / + 2 Skill Points⸥
⸢Special Reward: First Fight: No Mana Cost on the first battle your undead summon fights for you⸥
Percival stood still, watching the display on his floating screen till it ended. There were a lot of things to get into, but at the moment, he was far away from the right mindspace to do it.
He felt seven slots of his Summon Spaces vanish, filled by the sheer weight of Mercius’s essence.
Seven Spaces was a lot, but it made sense considering what he had seen in Mercius’s Inventory and Attributes.
The relief of completing a goal washed over him. He finally had his first true Soldier.
"Rise, Mercius," Percival commanded.
The Knight rose to his feet. His armor was shinier, the flames burned brighter, his eyes were colder, now truly carrying no other will. Only purpose.
"Return to Alenya and take her out of the Fort. Make sure everyone sees you."
Mercius nodded and left the treasury.
Percival followed a moment later, ignoring the gold and treasures glittering in the dark. He stepped into the hallway where the corpses of the guards covered the stone floors.
He checked his Summon Space.
⸢Summon Space: 23/46⸥
Then, he raised his hand, his palm glowing with the blue light of death mana.
"⸢Awake⸥" Percival whispered.
The corpses erupted into blue flames, one after another. Out of these azure furnaces, the skeletons of the guards rose.
The expensive, high-grade armor provided to them by the Highbards accompanied them into the undeath.
They wielded the flame swords, the mana-infused shields, and the silver strong plates hanging loosely on their bony frames.
Necrotic fire burned on the edges of their gear and in their soulless eye sockets as they stood, awaiting whatever command their new master had for them.
⸢20 new Skeleton Soldiers have been summoned⸥
⸢Knowledge Imprint is passively transferring all your training to your new undead summons⸥
⸢Knowledge Imprint is completed⸥
Right before Percival’s eyes, the Skeleton Soldiers changed their postures.
Just seconds ago, they had been standing mindlessly, legs bent and bodies slack.
Now, one rested its sword casually on its shoulder; another leaned against the wall with crossed legs; a third planted its sword tip in the ground, resting both hands on the pommel like a veteran sentry.
It was like these mindless bones had grown personalities in three seconds.
Percival didn’t awaken all the guards. He looted their spectral gear into his Undead Inventory, and did the same for the Awakeners who he couldn’t bother to raise as Soul Soldiers.
As for their physical equipment, he refused to take any with him.
⸢Summon Space: 43/46⸥
Mercius returned with Alenya in his arms. "Master?"
Percival turned. Alenya held a frightened look on her face as she stared at the rows of skeletons behind Percival.
"Wha– what happened?"
"It"s nothing to concern yourself with, Lady Alenya," Percival said. "What matters is that you are safe. Since the Crestveils are all dead we will entrust you with the Goldtowers. You can trust them, right?"
Alenya, still wracked with confusion, glanced at Percival before looking back at the skeletons. "The Goldtowers were very good allies to my family."
Percival narrowed his eyes. "But can you trust them?"
The elderly woman finally tore her eyes away from the men of bones and looked at Percival’s intense expression. She saw how important it was to him that she was well.
"Yes," she nodded. "I can trust them."
Satisfied, Percival looked at Mercius and gave him a curt nod. "Let’s go."
Carrying Alenya in his arms, the Blade of Brackenbridge made his way down the endless passage of stairs to the fort’s exit, followed by the army of Skeleton Soldiers clanking behind them.
Hundreds of workers—the servants, maids, stable hands and laborers—huddled in corners, watching the procession with wide, fearful eyes.
"It’s the ghost of Mercius and the skeletons of his fellow warriors," they whispered.
"Mercius’s spirit returned for his revenge!"
"So the rumors were true? Lord Tristop had orchestrated Mercius Seagrave’s death so he could steal his betrothed and claim the barony!"
"No wonder Mercius’s spirit was restless!"
"Now he’s returned to save Lady Alenya and has slaughtered all the Highbards."
"Wait? Does this mean we’re free?"
"Yes! And all the HIghbards are dead. Their belongings. Their wealth. We can take it all and leave!"
"I’m on my way to the treasury already!"
Percival had not been part of this spectacle. He slipped away through the refuse chute he had entered from.
This display existed for one reason, and one reason alone:
Creating a narrative.
If enough people saw Mercius Seagrave and an army of skeleton warriors leave the Old Fort, carrying Lady Alenya of Crestveil, the story would be simple:
Mercius had returned from the grave to enact divine retribution.
At first, people might doubt it. But when the same account spread from mouth to mouth, disbelief would rot away. The narrative would harden into fact.
The Crown would have no choice but to accept the supernatural explanation.
No investigation would follow.
And Percival would not need to concern himself with it.
