Reborn with a Necromancer System - Chapter 103

Chapter 103: Wanted
Kai sat cross-legged on the floor of Kleo’s bedroom. He slept on the floor the night before while she took the bed, or what could be described as one.

Several planks of wood rested on the ground, and a large sack filled with stuffing was used as the mattress. The blanket was an assortment of clothing stitched together.

His knees ached against warped floorboards and a cracked mirror rested on the windowsill in front of him.

Early morning light filtered through the grime-caked glass, casting a pale glow over his shifting features.

Features he’d been working on for over an hour.

He stared at his reflection. Not his reflection, but something new. Something carefully constructed.

Jet-black hair curled just above his eyes. His irises had been dulled from their usual green to a muddy brown. The nose, larger and broader. The jaw, wider, squared like a carved block of marble. He even added faint lines to his forehead, a subtle sign of age, maturity. Someone unremarkable. Someone forgettable. But someone strong.

He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes.

“Almost,” he whispered.

The illusion flickered briefly as he exhaled. It held and it would hold.

It had to.

His fingers trembled at the thought of reaching deeper—of diving into the cursed corridors beneath the academy to find the soul forge. With it, he could evolve. Rank up. Become something far more dangerous than a boy in disguise. But that required a sovereign soul. The soul of something, someone, truly powerful.

And those didn’t grow on trees.

If he didn’t get one by using the soul forge, he’d have to hunt one down. Maybe a rogue spell-eater in the forest. Maybe a cultist. Maybe a serial killer. Or… maybe someone who hadn’t done anything wrong at all. The thought lodged in his stomach like a shard of glass.

‘Could I do that?’ he wondered. ‘Kill someone good… just to survive?’

He already knew the answer. That was the worst part.

‘I could. And, if I have to, I will.’

Nearby, a small glass vial of soul ichor pulsed dully, its contents thick and black as tar. He hated the stuff. Its taste lingered on his tongue like burnt oil and regret. He’d take ash or rot over this any day. But it was fuel. It was survival. He couldn’t afford to be picky anymore.

‘I will convert as many people as I need to into my fuel to survive.’

Kleo left before dawn, her footsteps soft and deliberate. She hadn’t said goodbye. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to. She was headed toward the inner city, searching for anything that could get her closer to the palace. A job. A contact. A lead. Anything.

Kai remained seated a moment longer, until the illusion settled in fully. Then he stood, stretching the stiffness from his limbs, and reached into his shadow.

His academy uniform vanished into the dark, swallowed up like an afterthought. In its place, he withdrew a folded bundle of clothes, his old clothes. His real clothes.

A forest-green tunic with a high collar and stitched patterns along the trim. Faded in parts, but reinforced with patches of leather and brushed steel at the shoulders, ribs, and arms. Black pants that still smelled faintly of pine. Sturdy boots he had worn on that first trek through the Citadel’s winding alleys.

He ran a hand over the fabric. These were the clothes he’d worn before lying to everyone he met at the academy.

Only a handful of people had seen him dressed like this, and none of them were likely to recognise him now.

‘These will do for now. And I’ll look the part of an adventurer, I think.’

He tucked his spellbook into a satchel.

He still worried that everything he touched would decay, but he managed to keep his necrotic energy from destroying anything not filled with life essence. Anything dead, or that had never been alive.

He stepped out of Kleo’s room and into the house.

Kleo’s mother was awake this time, half-lurched across the windowsill. Her lips were dry and cracked, muttering something unintelligible under her breath. The bottle at her side was empty.

Kai gave her a glance. She didn’t return it.

And so he left, and welcomed the sun’s embrace.

—

The city felt louder today. Word was spreading. Kai could hear it in the snatches of conversation on the street, the whispers traded over fresh bread, the raised voices of patrols sweeping the lower markets.

The princess was dead. Murdered.

At the first corner, he saw it.

Wanted posters.

Nailed to a crooked board outside a butcher’s stall, the parchment was tightly secured on all four corners.

~~~

WANTED – KAI TENSEN, STUDENT OF THESIONES ACADEMY

Crimes: Suspicion of involvement in royal homicide.

REWARD: 500 gold pieces.

~~~

The likeness was scarily accurate. At least, when it came to his real appearance.

‘Fuck… If Mari sees this. If the inquisition sees this… They’ll know. Well, they never saw me with Kleo, so they won’t know Mirlin Orth was me, or that I was him, but… Well, fuck!’

Beside it, another piece of parchment caught his eye.

~~~

UNKNOWN FEMALE ACCOMPLICE

Crimes: Trespassing. Theft. Suspicion of involvement in royal homicide.

~~~

Kai laughed, but covered his mouth. Laughing at wanted posters wasn’t normal.

But the sketch was hilariously wrong. The nose was too long, the chin too narrow, the eyes were completely mismatched.

Kai allowed himself a brief, dark smile. Well, that’s one advantage we didn’t ask for. At least I don’t have to worry about her being caught by the authorities.

He contemplated going around the city and removing them all, but if someone saw him, that would raise too much suspicion.

He kept his head down and voice silent as he moved deeper into the Citadel.

Eventually, once he found fewer posters, he asked a few street vendors where he might find work. Any work, really, but hopefully something that would allow him to tutor people in magic-use.

Most of them shrugged or told him to get lost. But one old woman, hunched behind a stall selling pickled roots, nodded toward the inner ring of the city.

“You sound like you want job boards? Try the Adventurer’s League,” she said. “They post the real work. Dirty, dangerous, and unique. Pays well.”

Adventurer’s League. The name stirred memories of old game menus and voice lines from Knights of Elora.

Adventurers are those who seek danger to protect the peace. Or for coin.

In the game, he’d chosen the Merchant’s Guild. Traded spices, collected relics, manipulated markets, and crafted objects to sell. He’d always preferred control to chaos, and was never much of a fighter.

But now?

Now he had no choice. And risking his life was something he’d done most of his entire second life.

If they gave him the job he needed, he’d let them use his strength a little.

‘Wouldn’t a necromancer be the best for most jobs? Too bad I can’t use it if I’m around people.’