Who Said A Necromancer Can't Be A Priest?-Chapter 44: Making Up The Losses (1)

Darius clicked his tongue.

"To hear such crude words from a royal. It's a good thing I'm already dead."

Aaran rolled his eyes, looking at the surroundings. His goblins were wiped out, leaving Brute and one other to fight. As for Cerberus, it was in worse condition than he had thought. But it felt strange.

With the pom-poms supporting them, the goblins should have lasted longer. Yet it felt like they were wiped out instantly.

"What happened here?" he asked.

Brute immediately pointed upwards. He couldn't see Darius but knew his fatal cheering had played an important role in their downfall.

Aaran sighed and shook his head. Maybe he should stop strategizing for his fights. No matter what he planned, things always went sideways, so what was the point of going through all that trouble?

As for them...

Aaran looked over at the cultists.

It's easy to deal with them.

***

Meanwhile, Prior was looking at his men. Despite being demon worshippers, they looked terrified of a kid. Not because of what he did, but because of the kind of power he used.

Divinity.

It was toxic to the demon worshippers. Even a little bit of exposure could ruin their cores or, worse, kill them.

"Damn it," Prior cursed, gritting his teeth. "I should've killed him before."

The worshippers remained quiet, but they, too, were cursing him. It was his fault. If they had just killed the kid before he entered the dungeon, none of this would have happened.

But Prior's greed had returned to bite them in the ass. Not only would they not get the dungeon's reward, but their very lives were also at stake.

"Forget about killing them," Prior instructed his men. "The ice around our feet will melt soon. Let's make a run for it and inform the abbot about the boy."

The boy was distracted by his undead and the Cerberus. It was the perfect time to escape.

"Go!"

On Prior's signal, they ran in different directions. Even if the kid wanted to chase them all, it wouldn't be possible. As long as someone informed the abbot about the kid, the boy would die.

Unfortunately, their meticulously created plan fell apart.

BANG!

Prior's face got plastered with blood and gore as the head of the one next to him exploded. Fear-stricken, he turned around to see the most bizarre sight imaginable.

The boy stood there, holding the revolver. His golden eyes locked with Prior's.

"Tsk, it misfired again," Aaran clicked his tongue.

Sweat formed on Prior's face.

How could a child be so calm in such a situation?

The kid took a life like he had done it millions of times before. The calmness in Aaran's eyes frightened Prior more than anything.

One of the worshippers tried running again. However, he failed... terribly so. With another gunshot, another life was taken.

"I don't remember telling you to move," Aaran said, smiling innocently.

The worshippers couldn't hold it. Rather than dying pathetically, they would die fighting, hoping one of them would survive and inform the abbot about the child.

Before they could take a step, Brute jumped and slammed his fist on the ground. The ground shook as cracks formed under their feet. Most worshippers jumped away, but four of them got caught and fell into the cracks.

Thankfully, the cracks weren't very deep, and they were alive.

However, the relief only lasted for a moment.

Prior felt a familiar chill as Darius swung his axe, and in an instant, the cracks were frozen.

Prior's stomach twisted. The tables didn't turn—they'd been flipped over.

One by one, his men were being slaughtered.

He gritted his teeth, scanning the battlefield for any chance of survival. But it was hopeless.

They had no chance.

Prior realized the only reason they had even lasted this long was that Aaran had been focused on other things.

They didn't stand a chance now that he had stopped his undead from holding back.

Prior swallowed hard as he looked around, watching his allies fall one after another. He knew they weren't going to survive this.

But that didn't mean he would give up.

Dying in battle was an honor only a few got in their short span of life. Prior wasn't about to let that moment slip from his grasp.

Prior rushed at Brute, who swung his remaining arm to crush the human. But Prior was faster. He jumped and landed on Brute's forearm. Before the undead could shake him off, he ran up the arm and swung his sword, slicing Brute's neck.

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But the joy lasted for a moment before realization dawned on him.

The sword got stuck in Brute's neck. Cursing his luck, Prior jumped over, pulling out a dagger as he fell towards Aaran.

One stab. That was all he needed.

But he didn't get the chance, and Brute's arm swatted him away like a fly.

Prior crashed into the ground and rolled until he landed on his back. Pain shot through him, and he let out a painful groan.

He opened his eyes, only to see Brute standing over him. Prior's own sword was still stuck in Brute's neck. His aim was perfect, but his strength was lacking. If only he had severed the beast's head, he would've succeeded.

Prior smiled as blood trickled down his mouth.

That was it. His final moment. The moment of peace and clarity.

"Hey there!"

A squeaky, cheerful voice interrupted his peaceful moments. Prior opened his eyes again and saw Aaran smiling and waving at him like they were old friends.

What is wrong with this kid?

Prior's mouth twitched. The brat couldn't even let him die in peace, or what?

"I have some questions for you!" Aaran said, leaning over. "I was hoping you could answer them."

"Go fu...ck... yourself... brat."

"Woah... that's not very nice of you."

"Even if you turn... me into an undead... you won't get anything."

"Who said anything about turning you?" Aaran said, his eyes glowing. "I've got other ways to make you talk."