Who Said A Necromancer Can't Be A Priest?-Chapter 63: Extermination (3)
Three days later…
The scene in the pub was as lively as ever. Everyone was drinking, chatting like it was their last day on the planet. Analeis moved between the tables, wearing a tightly knit blouse and a skirt that the owner insisted she wear for the sake of smooth movement.
However, a kind patron showed her exactly what the skirt was for.
As she poured a drink for a particularly rowdy group, a hand slid under the skirt, but halfway through, his hand touched something… metallic.
"Get your weapons—"
He barely said those words before his head exploded. Chunks of his broken skull and brains fell into the chicken curry before his body slumped over the table.
"AH!"
Chaos erupted as people ran for their lives, knocking over chairs and tables.
With the genuine customers gone, only the staff and the Fangs were left behind. Pushing Analeis aside, a few men carefully walked over to the windows to check what was happening, their hands moving toward their weapons.
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Unfortunately, they didn't get to use their weapons as several more shots rang out.
Just like that, five more bodies hit the ground.
A few people ducked behind the bar, while others found cover against the walls, wondering where the next shots would come from.
"You're early, Your Highness…" Analeis sighed and gulped down the remaining bottle.
It was better to store it all in her stomach than to let it get destroyed in the commotion. No one noticed as she tore off half her skirt, revealing the small throwing axes strapped to her thigh.
"If the young master keeps using the gun, he might hit me next," Analeis mumbled, twirling an axe between her fingers. "Better if I kill them before he fires any more bullets."
Without wasting time, she grabbed two axes and hurled them at those farthest. The men barely had time to react before the blades buried themselves in their necks.
Analeis rolled her shoulders, preparing for a brawl.
More shots rang out next, killing two more and barely missing Analeis's leg.
"Stop firing!"
Analeis yelled as she kicked a man away, stomping on his head.
While Aaran fired bullets from outside, Analeis fought the men on the inside. A man charged at her, wielding two daggers. She dodged the attacks before ducking and leg-sweeping the man.
The man hit his head on the granite table and fell unconscious. The remaining Fang tried putting up a fight but weren't any match against the silver wolf.
By the time Analeis turned on the closed sign, the building was riddled with bullet holes. The place that once reeked of alcohol now had the metallic smell of blood.
"You could have walked in before," Analeis scoffed, crossing her arms.
"I'm underage," Aaran shrugged, entering the closed pub. "I don't think you'll get any tips tonight."
"Your Highness will pay me, so I'm not worried," Analeis replied, flipping her hair.
"I'll pay you? With what money?"
"…I meant smoke breaks—"
"You quit, remember?"
"…"
"You picked it up again?"
Analeis nodded.
Aaran rolled his eyes and tossed her a pack of cigarettes. For once, he thought Analeis would do something good on her own. Unfortunately, he expected too much from her.
"Outside."
Analeis nodded and walked outside to smoke.
"Come out."
Instead of goblins, human skeletons and undead walked out of the vault. None of them had eyes, as if someone had deliberately plucked them out.
"Get to work."
***
The next day, back in Velrune.
The entire place fell silent as Aaran walked into the throne room. Strangely enough, he had a black bag slung over his shoulder.
Some ministers exchanged uneasy glances, while others were surprised to see Aaran return unharmed. It meant he had done something entire battalions had failed to do.
A few, including the Emperor, wondered what was inside the bag Aaran carried with him.
The Emperor spoke as the boy bowed before him.
"It's good to see you, son. Tell me… how did the quest go?"
"It's been taken care of, Your Majesty," Aaran said, placing the bag before the Emperor.
The Emperor nodded, and a knight approached the bag and opened it.
"…"
The knight's eyes widened, and he hurriedly placed the bag before the Emperor.
"Show them," he instructed.
The knight nodded and poured the bag's contents onto the pristine marble floor.
Eyes.
Hundreds of eyes fell out of the bag.
The ministers gasped. They couldn't believe it. Some recoiled. Others turned away, unable to look at the gruesome offering scattered across the floor.
"There are 718 eyes in total," Aaran said, not lifting his gaze. "The extermination quest was successful, Your Majesty."
Unlike the ministers and knights, the Emperor remained unfazed, as if he expected nothing less from Aaran. However, something was amiss.
He turned to the court and waved his hand, dismissing the crowd. Everyone—from the knights to the ministers and the servants—left the room. No one said a word until the doors were shut.
"You brought me 718 eyes," the Emperor said, breaking the silence. "That means you killed 359 people. However… the official number of Fangs of Doom members was around 600. Care to explain?"
"Those are individual eyes, Your Majesty," Aaran replied. "No two eyes belong to the same person."
The Emperor's fingers, which had been tapping the armrest, stopped midair. Then a smile formed on his face. Before the Emperor could ask whom the extra eyes belonged to, Aaran spoke again.
"They belonged to the assassins sent after me by the ministers."
The Emperor's smile widened.
For a long moment, he simply stared at the boy standing before him. But he couldn't sense any undesirable emotion within his calm eyes. There was no fear, no guilt—just the calmness of a madman.
"You've performed beyond my expectations, son," the Emperor chuckled. "Enough for me to die without a shred of worry about the Empire."
"You're too kind."
"Now… for the important topic." The Emperor's smile dropped, his tone growing serious. "I can feel you have enough darkness to attempt the third trial. Come, let's not waste any time. Your fiancée awaits."
