The Genesis Of A Necromancer - Chapter 39

Chapter 39: entering the walls
The sky cracked open as a colossal rift appeared, spilling forth an enormous bird with fiery wings unfurled, stretching wider than any normal creature could ever hope to span. The bird wasn’t merely large—it was magnificent, a true behemoth of the skies. Its feathers were a blend of earthy brown and gleaming gold, each one exuding a sense of untouchable royalty. Crowned upon its head was a wreath of forest vines, intricately woven and crowned as if placed there by nature itself, bestowing it an aura of both grandeur and mystery.

“Kraacraw!” It screeched, an ear-splitting cry that reverberated across the plains. Jack and the others, gathered below, squinted up in awe and mild disbelief as the creature descended. Dust and sand billowed around them, blown up by the gale of its powerful wings, stirring the air into a turbulent storm of grit and awe.

“We apologize for the delay. We wanted to arrive alongside everyone else.” A voice rang out, not from the beast, but from the small figures clinging to its back. As they dismounted with effortless grace, Jack’s suspicions hardened. He knew exactly who these beings were.

‘Mutants. Just as I suspected,’ he thought, a smirk creeping onto his lips. He observed them with an analytical eye, noting the telltale signs that set them apart. Their human-like forms were marred—or perhaps enhanced—by patches of scales that glistened in the sun, a testament to their unique lineage. They were neither fully human nor beast; they were something beyond.

One of the mutants stood at the forefront, her stature exuding a fierce beauty that was almost hypnotic. Her skin was a deep, smooth onyx, and her thick, plaited hair fell in an intricate weave down her back. Her eyes held an allure that would render most spellbound, but Jack’s interest was clinical, almost darkly curious.

‘Do they have different organs? I’d love to dissect them and find out,’ he mused under his breath, a glint of morbid fascination flickering in his eyes.

Before Jack could delve deeper into his thoughts, a voice broke through the air, drawing his attention to a stocky man stepping forward with an air of authority.

“I think all the kingdoms are finally gathered,” he announced, his voice carrying an undeniable gravitas.

Jack sized him up. ‘A dwarf, from the alchemists, no doubt.’ The man’s short stature belied a presence that demanded respect, even in such a crowd.

“No, I don’t believe we’re quite complete,” came another voice, smooth as silk and as serene as a lullaby, yet carrying a weight that hinted at power. Jack turned, his gaze falling upon the woman who had spoken. Her presence was ethereal, her every movement exuding elegance and composure. She glanced at him, her eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary.

There was something unsettling in her gaze, a peculiar warmth that didn’t match the cutthroat ambiance of their surroundings. Jack’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at her, a single thought echoing in his mind: ‘Who is she?’

The woman approached him, her steps deliberate, graceful. Her lips curved into a soft, almost motherly smile as she extended her hand in greeting. “Hello, young master. My name is Alisha. May I know yours?”

Jack didn’t move, his expression cold and detached. He stared down at her outstretched hand, ignoring it with a quiet, biting indifference.

Behind her, the young knight from the Church, the same boy who had clashed with the swordsman from Avalonia earlier, bristled with visible anger. His fists clenched, his gaze icy as he glared at Jack.

‘The nerve of this brat, leaving her hand hanging! Does he have any idea how revered she is?’ The knight’s thoughts were a tempest of indignation, but he held back, his pride and loyalty keeping him in check. Alisha, seemingly unbothered, withdrew her hand gracefully, her soft smile unwavering.

Suddenly, another rift tore through the sky. This one was blindingly bright, casting a warm, radiant glow as it opened. Emerging from it was a young man clad in fine robes, his appearance instantly recognizable to Jack. It was Arin, Asriel’s younger brother.

Jack observed with a mixture of indifference and mild amusement as Arin stepped forward, flanked by nobles Jack didn’t recognize—no doubt fresh faces from other lands.

The swordsman from the kingdom of Avalonia greeted Arin with an exaggerated bow. “Prince of Ciriaus, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mockery. Jack smirked, knowing exactly where this would lead.

One of Arin’s noble companions quickly shot back, “Show respect, Kurt. Clearly, the baser tendencies of your bloodline are showing. You are speaking to royalty.”

Jack bit back a laugh, reveling in the brewing tension. ‘Bootlickers… It’s almost too good to watch,’ he thought, savoring the prospect of the conflicts yet to come.

The slight insult wasn’t lost on Kurt, who grinned maliciously. “Respect? From me? That’s rich, coming from a man whose mother couldn’t even remember who fathered him,” he shot back, igniting a ripple of laughter through the crowd. Even Arin’s usually stoic expression broke into a chuckle.

‘That’s what you get for trying to play politics here,’ Jack thought, barely containing his amusement.

Just as the exchange was about to escalate further, the dwarf from the alchemists raised his voice, calling for attention. “Enough of this foolishness. You can settle your differences later. Right now, we have far more pressing matters to attend to.” His stern gaze silenced the crowd as he continued, “As you all know, this year’s training will begin with a tournament. Consider it your first taste of what’s to come.”

Jack’s interest piqued at the mention of the tournament, though he kept his expression unreadable. He had expected as much; it was the reason he’d been anticipating this moment.

The dwarf continued, “Inside those walls, you’ll face challenges unlike anything you’ve encountered. This is not just about strength or skill—it’s about your resilience, your will to endure. Only the worthy will succeed.”

A murmur spread through the crowd. Jack’s gaze was fixed on the towering walls before him, envisioning the endless battles, the strategy, the cunning required to outlast his competitors.

‘I’ll have to hold back, observe, learn. No need to reveal all my cards yet,’ he thought, a glint of determination in his eyes. He was here to win, yes, but more importantly, to gather intel—to see for himself the extent of his potential adversaries’ abilities.

In the midst of his thoughts, he caught sight of Alisha once again, her gaze still trained on him with that unsettling warmth. For a brief moment, he wondered about her intentions, what motives lay behind that gentle demeanor. But he quickly dismissed it; he had no time for sentiment or distraction.

The dwarf’s voice brought him back to the present. “When you step through those gates, you enter as equals. Whatever titles or lineage you hold, they mean nothing within these walls. Remember that.”

With a final nod, he gestured towards the towering gates, which began to creak open, revealing a sprawling courtyard within. The crowd surged forward, each individual silently preparing themselves for what lay ahead.

Jack strode forward, unphased by the weight of expectations, the threat of danger, or the allure of alliances. He was here for one purpose—to emerge victorious, to learn and to conquer. As the gates loomed closer, he felt a thrill shoot through him.

‘Let the games begin.’