Chapter 52: Spoils of War

Seeing that Little Black was unharmed, Roland finally relaxed. He immediately sat cross-legged on the ground and began to meditate, quickly restoring his magical and mental strength. Once he had recovered somewhat, he hurriedly used a fire healing spell to treat Little Black’s knife wounds. Fire healing worked exceptionally well for such external injuries; watching Little Black’s wounds close up at a speed visible to the naked eye, Roland felt immense joy.

It turned out that when Little Black was struck by Bob’s fierce blade, and his life was on the line, a shimmering protective shield within him had automatically surfaced. This shield, which ignored the colorful currents at Little Black’s home, blocked the deadly blow and saved his life.

After the battle, Skeleton Brian returned to the spot where the encirclement had taken place. He searched carefully for quite some time and finally found his disassembled bone arm. He hurriedly picked it up, slapped it onto his body, and with a click, reattached it. He swung the arm twice to check for any issues, and, satisfied, relaxed.

Seeing that everything was settled and Little Black was out of danger, Roland waved his hand and gathered Skeleton Brian, all the corpse wolves, and Bob’s body into the Necromancer’s Space. Then, he and Little Black quickly left the area. Having fought a fierce battle against the light wolves and then struggled against Bob, Roland felt this place was probably too dangerous; any moment, another magical beast might arrive, so it was best to leave.

Man and donkey ran over ten miles before finding a safe, secluded spot to rest. Roland waved his hand, and Bob’s corpse appeared on the ground, now thoroughly corroded by necromancer rays, beyond recognition and utterly dead.

Looking at the corpse, Roland’s heart churned. Earlier, overcome by grief for Little Black, he had killed Bob almost unconsciously, feeling nothing at the time. But now, it was different. He was only twelve years old, and this was the first time he had personally ended a human life. Though Bob had tried to kill him first and Roland acted in self-defense, his heart was still deeply unsettled.

Kus, floating in the air, saw Roland’s pale face and said, “Boy, remember, once you step onto the path of cultivation, such things will become commonplace. You must understand, in the world of the strong, if you don’t take down your opponent, you’ll be taken down yourself. Then you lose the right to protect your family and friends.”

Roland shuddered. Kus was right; mercy towards an enemy is cruelty to oneself. Had he not killed Bob today, he would be the one lying lifeless on the ground. His father, Gegil, mother, Isa, younger brother Hawk, his eldest brother Mal, second brother Gabaz, third brother Bill, Victoria, Karina, and all his loved ones would never see him again. His brother’s leg ailment and his family’s hardships would remain unresolved.

In silent contemplation, Roland’s heart gradually shed its innocence.

Sensing Roland’s transformation, Kus nodded in satisfaction. He had truly worried that Roland might not overcome this psychological barrier; if that were the case, Roland’s cultivation would never advance again.

Once he regained composure, Roland looked again at Bob’s corpse, feeling much calmer. He sighed—if he wasn’t a necromancer capable of summoning so many undead helpers, and if Little Black hadn’t risked his life to save him, his strength as a third-level mage would never have matched Bob, a fifth-level warrior, even if Bob had only just reached that level.

“Roland, I bet there’s some good stuff in here!” Little Black, the donkey, had somehow managed to drag over Bob’s bulging backpack with his big mouth, eyes shining with anticipation. If only he had hands, he’d have torn it open long ago.

Roland couldn’t help but laugh, patting Little Black’s broad head. Excited himself, he opened the backpack.

On the outside were spare clothes and dry rations. Inside, he found a pouch of loose gold coins—about fifty or sixty—and, finally, a sturdy, finely crafted black leather pouch. Roland took it out.

“Wow!” He exclaimed upon opening it; inside were more than twenty colorful magic crystal cores.

Roland carefully examined them. There were twenty-one third-level magic crystal cores and two fourth-level ones, with none from the first or second levels. Clearly, Bob regarded lower-level cores as beneath him, so he didn’t bother collecting them even if he killed beasts of those levels.

A third-level magic core could fetch ten gold coins, and a fourth-level core fifty. Altogether, these were worth over three hundred gold coins.

Roland then released the forty or fifty corpse wolves from the Necromancer’s Space. Many had been damaged in the previous battle, so only about twenty remained intact, including the light wolf leader.

Muttering under his breath, Roland watched as the intact corpse wolves each voluntarily presented their magic crystal cores from their heads. Then they worked together to extract the cores from the heads of the damaged wolves, obediently laying them before Roland.

Soon, a small pile of magic crystal cores appeared at his feet: a fourth-level core from the light wolf leader, worth fifty gold coins, and fifty-one second-level cores, each valued at two coins, totaling over a hundred and fifty coins.

In sum, Roland calculated his earnings from this adventure—about five hundred gold coins. He drew in a sharp breath; after only two days in the Maya Mountains, he had earned over five hundred coins. If he stayed for a few months, how many coins would he amass?

Of course, opportunities like today’s couldn’t come every day, but the Maya Mountains never lacked magical beasts. If he was lucky on the way to the ancient ruins, there would be plenty of magic crystal cores to harvest, and battling these beasts would be excellent training.

Next, Roland ‘sacrificed’ the twenty intact corpse wolves, performing a special necromancer ritual. Previously, his summoning had been temporary; without this ritual, their souls would soon dissipate.

Necromancer summoning, at its core, is the summoning of souls. The light wolves, freshly dead, still had souls intact enough for Roland to control them. That’s why, during his battle with Bob, Bob had to decapitate or shatter the wolves’ heads, rendering their souls powerless and making the corpse wolves lose their fighting ability.

Before long, Roland completed the rituals for all twenty corpse wolves. Afterward, controlling them was far easier, as if they obeyed his every command. He looked at this small squad of corpse wolves, marveling at the power of necromancers. He had just used these few to defeat Bob, a fifth-level warrior. If his rank increased and he could command a thousand, or even ten thousand, undead, what terrifying strength would that be!

As for Bob’s body, Roland decided against turning him into an undead. The reason was simple: Bob was a student of the Warrior Academy; taking him out would cause unnecessary trouble. So he left Bob’s corpse and his large blade behind.

Roland then stored the corpse wolf squad in the Necromancer’s Space and built a rack on the ground. He found a fat, sturdy light wolf and used fire magic to roast it.

After finishing the delicious, crispy wolf meat—relocating to avoid attracting magical beasts with the smell—he and Little Black set out in the direction Kus indicated, heading for the ancient ruins.

“Alchemy—I must master it. Little Hawk, wait for your brother’s return!”