Who Said A Necromancer Can't Be A Priest?-Chapter 42: Grimoire

The dungeon appeared a lot different from what Aaran remembered. There were no rotting corpses or scattered skeletons. This time, he had found the dungeon before anyone else.

"I don't have time to dwell on the past," Aaran mumbled. "Gotta get the reward and leave."

But that was easier said than done. The dungeon was one of the many things the gods liked to mess with. With each incarnation, they changed the reward and the riddle to get to it.

More often than not, Aaran had to perform a sacrifice to get the reward. He hoped it wasn't the case this time, as he had no one to sacrifice.

I got those cultists, but dragging them here would be a pain.

He walked deeper under the tree. The red soil had absorbed the mana and was illuminating his path like a guide. But eventually, Aaran hit a dead end. The tree roots held a massive rock tablet with something written on it.

Only a handful of mages could decipher the ancient language of the gods. However, Aaran was an exception. After spending two centuries in Elysium, he had learned a bit of the ancient language.

"I thought the texts contained the gods' perfect ending. It wasn't the case, but at least I learned something out of it."

Aaran sat on the floor, as deciphering the text would take a while.

[What are you doing, boy?]

"…what do you think?"

[Making a fool out of yourself? Did you forget I'm an ancient being?]

Aaran scratched his head. He had indeed forgotten about it. In all his past lives, he didn't have the support of someone quite like Dread.

"Can you—?"

[I stretch and shift, yet stay the same,

I hide the world, yet bring no pain.

In my presence, not even your greatest ally remains,

You know me, so guess my name.]

"What?"

[It's a riddle.]

"…"

Aaran repeated the riddle in his mind. At first, he thought it was air. It satisfied the first line, but not the rest.

"Something that can stretch and remain the same… yeah, that could be anything."

He glanced around the room, hoping to find a clue, but in vain. There was nothing other than the glowing soil and tree roots.

"Okay, maybe it's fog?" he said, scratching his cheek. "It hides things and stuff…"

Yet nothing changed.

"Smoke, dirt… light… anything?"

Aaran kicked the ground in frustration. But as he did, something strange happened.

A small crack appeared on the stone tablet.

Aaran looked down and noticed he had kicked a part of the shining soil away. Suddenly, the answer clicked in his mind.

"It's darkness!"

[Took you long enough.]

"Hah! You're talking like you knew that."

[…]

"You did… didn't you?"

[I'll take a nap.]

"Oi, answer me!"

Dread didn't speak after that, leaving Aaran with the problem. He had found the answer, but how was he supposed to get rid of the light?

Kicking the soil away was one option, but that would take too long. There was too much of it.

He could try shooting it like he did against Cerberus, but that would be even more tiring. Not to mention, the gun was unreliable and wouldn't fire every time. He had to make it quick and return to the battle.

Then it hit him.

He had something in the vault that could clean up the mess easily.

"The divine broom!" Aaran smiled, but then frowned. "Too bad Darius isn't here to do the work for me."

After learning of Aaran's absurd plan, Dread couldn't remain quiet anymore.

[I can't believe Lucien raised such a moron… You have darkness within you! Use your core!]

"…right."

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Aaran cleared his throat, manifesting the core as everything was plunged into darkness. As expected, the stone tablet broke, revealing a room behind.

***

Stepping into the hidden room, Aaran immediately noticed the difference. Unlike the rest of the dungeon, the air in the room felt fresh, as if he were walking through a garden.

At the center was an altar, on which a book floated above the ground. Wrapped in silver and gold binding, the book had ancient engravings on it. The only thing that had such writing could be a grimoire, or a spell book, as Aaran called them.

As eager as he was to get his hands on it, he played it safe. Instead of charging ahead like a fool, Aaran summoned a goblin.

"Go check for traps," he ordered.

The goblin bowed and walked ahead. It reached the altar with no trouble. There were no sudden explosions, no rain of arrows, nothing.

Still, Aaran wasn't convinced. He summoned another goblin; still, nothing happened.

"…Weird," Aaran said, scratching his head. "Ancient civilizations never leave treasures out in the open like this. There should be some kind of trap."

[Just grab it already, boy.]

"…Fine."

Aaran reached for the book, but just as he was about to touch it, a bolt of lightning shot down from nowhere. One goblin quickly pushed Aaran away, taking the hit.

The goblin twitched violently for a moment before turning to ash.

"…Just grab it, right?"

[…Ahem. People make mistakes.]

"And you're one of them."

[…]

Just then, a notification flashed before Aaran's eyes.

[The user can't access a class-restricted item!]

[Only a priest serving the Goddess of Salvation can access the Grimoire left behind by her.]

"…What kind of bullshit is this!?"

***

Meanwhile, Darius floated above the goblins, cheering them on like the madman he was.

"Go, goblins, go! Kill that son of a hoe!"

The undead goblins screeched in response—not out of admiration, but out of irritation. The cheers were so abysmal they reversed the effects.

The goblins were getting slower and weaker, while Cerberus got stronger. If they hadn't pushed the creature to its limits before, the goblins would've been wiped out by then.

Yet Darius, unaware of the issue, kept cheering through slurs and whatnot. But then, Darius felt a strange cold sensation—something a ghost shouldn't feel.

He blinked, looking around. The worshippers hadn't moved from their spot, yet he felt like Aaran had narrowly evaded death.

"Meh, what can hurt him? I'm overthinking things."

Ignoring the feeling, he kept on cheering, doing more harm than good.