The following is a diary entry.
***
...and my first encounter with a demon turned out about how I expected.
In firepower, defense, or utility, my magic was far behind his, even if our mana was about equal. It's a matter of specialization, of what each of us has done with the time we had while we studied magic. Despite my repertoire of combat spells, I am not, and never will be, a fighter if I can help it. My priority is my research; I do not need strength beyond the ability to catch new specimens and to be capable of protecting myself.
That being said, I clearly encountered a conundrum that requires further introspection.
On one hand, pursuing power is illogical. I am not planning to join the Heroes' quest to fight the Demon King, and I wasn't planning to involve myself in worldly affairs, so I considered my current combat capabilities sufficient for my needs. This is why I never bothered trying to tinker with more destructive magic, or even twisting my curse into something truly suited for combat.
On the other hand, I always planned to follow the Good Word both in word and spirit. As such, seeing a demon, an unfeeling inhuman monster, who wasn't beyond me in power, but who would inevitably reap lives... trying to kill him on the spot was the only moral choice. And even if I didn't plan to do battle, I knew I had to follow through with moral decisions, for the sake of my own soul.
The demon escaped after the fight, so I failed to do good, risking my life for nothing, and being confronted by the relative weakness of my magic.
What's done is done; there is no point lamenting that. Not that I am capable of regret.
But what conclusion should I draw from this?
Should I pursue strength after all? Just for the sake of being able to exercise it when needed?
I am not sure. The truth is, I still do not trust myself, as I am now, to wield power. As long as I am focused on my research and research alone, there is little grey area, little place for making a mistake that can spiral me down into a place where I won't be able to come back from.
Having the power to act will always bring temptation to do just so, and rarely is there a way to act in a manner that is unequivocally good. In other words, before having the power to act, you need good judgment to know when you should act.
I lack that. While I understand humans more than any other demon can ever hope to, without having a full range of emotion, my judgment will forever be limited and confined to the rail of logic and assumptions.
Those who believe that complicated moral decisions could be made without emotions are fools. Morals, at their core, come from love. Lacking love, I lack morals. Lacking morals, but having power, I will have the temptation to act, but not the right to do so.
Even in this fight, for the first time in a long time, I was happy. An intelligent enemy who was skilled, a battle to the death where I used every and any advantage I had, being able to let loose... it felt good. Because in this fight, I wasn't acting against a person. I could lie, I could kill, I could do all the things I held back before.
It doesn't scare me that I enjoyed this encounter despite failing to win. But I know it should.
I will pray and meditate on this matter as I travel, maybe I will find some new perspective. For now, I am not sure what I should do.
Right now, and for the next few days, I will be busy repairing the golems. Helldunkel destroyed them almost completely. Luckily, I knew the spells to mend even shattered stones, and made these golems myself; repairing them wasn't beyond me.
Maybe I will write down the details of the fight later, for now, I don't feel that I am in the right headspace.
I will focus on work. I mention it a lot, but working with my hands and magic helps me think.
***
Crossing into the Northern Lands proved to be a small adventure in and of itself. A mountain range that lay between Central and Northern lands provided a natural border, but it also had a good, well-maintained trade route.
Frieren and her companions were completely ignored it on their travel, focused as they were on retracing Himmel's footsteps, but for me, passing through the mountains wasn't the issue.
No, the real problem was that the Eng Road naturally passed through the fortress city of Grant.
The very same city that was famously protected from the intrusion of demons by Great Mage Flamme's barrier.
Obviously, for someone like me, even approaching the city was out of the question.
Luckily, Grant was still in the Central Lands. I had space to maneuver, using the lesser roads scattered around the region, though that did take a lot more time.
Since crossing into the Northern Lands, aside from a few small adventures, mostly related to Behemoth being stuck, or some encounters with monsters or humans on the road, my travel was mostly peaceful.
I headed across Raad Redion of the Northern Lands, to the Vorig region, and from it towards the Southeast, into the wild lands of the peninsula.
Historically, the peninsula used to be important for the Ancient Empire, and there were rumors of ruins from the mythical era being present on it.
But the cities established during the Ancient Empire didn't persist to the present day. Nowadays, those were wild lands mostly untouched by civilization; whatever cities and roads were once built there were long gone.
The region mostly consisted of hills, mountains, and forests, with huge elevation, even along its coastal line, and thick forests throughout.
It reminded me of what I knew of Montenegro back on Earth in terms of geography, and of northern countries like Sweden, Norway, or Finland in terms of climate.
That being said, the region was far from deserted. There were quite a few villages I stumbled onto, and dirt roads between them. Those villages provided an opportunity to refill some supplies and to get a better idea of the path ahead, so I generally visited.
Just so, little by little, I advanced. Some days I had to slay monsters who weren't scared of my mana; some days I did not. While I couldn't relax completely, the travel quickly became a routine, neither difficult nor gruelling, just repetitive.
I saved a lot of time traveling the roads of Northern Lands on Behemoth; it was plainly faster than walking, but here my traveling speed plummeted. Sometimes I had to spend hours creating small temporary bridges or evening out slopes so the Behemoth could pass safely.
Eventually, I reached the truly wild lands.
It only took me about two months since crossing into the Northern Lands. For the most part, my pace was so slow because my travel coincided with the beginning of winter, which meant blizzards and snowstorms.
Which, naturally, brought me where I was now.
A wave of my staff, and another wave of fire rolls along the snow in front of me, vaporizing and melting it... I wait until it solidifies before hurrying the golems along.
Traveling with a Behemoth was proving strenuous.
It was still completely worth it, considering the sheer amount of equipment the wagon is carrying.
Absent-mindedly, I placed my hand on the ink pot, weaving mana in a crude template to heat it up.
The floating quill, under the effect of the folk spell, dipped into it and was waiting for me to speak, so it could record my words.
"...with that in mind, I understand why you would laugh at the idea of the conservation of energy, and my deduction that the magic is an 'unnatural', unaccountable factor. Allow me to elaborate in case I failed to mention it last time, I do not believe that the magic is harmful or unholy. This wasn't the idea I was trying to get across."
The golems once again stopped in front of the bank of snow in front of us.
I weaved a scanning spell, and got the rough idea of the terrain under the snow in this area. Another cast of the crude wave of flames, at the precise angle to leave 'path' for the behemoth at just the right angle. Then another cast of 'Kuhlen' the freezing spell to create the perfectly suitable ice path.
Where was I?
I quickly cast the Resonant Soul on myself to recall the previous train of thought; by this point, it was effortless.
"My point is that if you take the magic out of the equation, you would recognize that in nature, there exists a trend. Energy isn't being created or destroyed, merely transferred from one form to another." I waited for the quill to finish, and heated up the ink for it a bit, before continuing, "We talked about this before, you are knowledgeable about chemical energy, about how a living being acquires energy from digestion. We also touched upon alchemy in our previous discourse, how even without magical energy being involved, some chemicals, when mixed, can produce or absorb heat. You even agree that the process that is happening within muscles is similar; it's the usage of the potential chemical energy within nutrients absorbed from the food to produce heat and movement. In a similar vein, you can say that a human who acquired that energy from food, when kicking something, transfers part of that energy with the blow. Part of the energy is lost as body heat and the heat caused by friction, part as sound, and most travels as a kinetic impulse, but no energy is created or destroyed in the process. Same with lighting a fire. In general, you will be hard-pressed to find a natural example that does not include mana, but I am sure I provided countless examples in the book itself."
I paused, repeating the sequence of events that paved the road forward.
"That is why I said that mana disrupts the laws of the natural world. I am not claiming it's wrong or problematic; I merely state that it does so, because it's the truth." I paused, considering my next words for almost a minute, even as I held my hand on the ink bottle, heating it up consecutively. "Mana is created from nothing. Our souls produce it simply because they do so, and our bodies hold it because this is also something they do. Mana, in turn, can be shaped into genuine matter or energy that will not dissipate and will be added to the natural world. Magic, therefore, is the ability to truly create, to bring new things that did not exist into the world. It's a divine feat, absolutely impossible using any other means. However, mana is the sole exception."
I finally concluded my point, feeling content, as I nodded to myself.
"In other words, I believe the theory of conservation of energy is valid. It's not perfect, because mana clearly exists and does not fit into it, but I cannot find any other example aside from mana to contradict it, and the point of the tome is to challenge others to do so. I propose to treat the natural world, where mana is not involved, with this theory in mind, and hold magic separately, until someone finds a way to find exactly how mana can be included in some more complete outlook on the world. I ask you to share this tome widely, as well as my book with experiments and explanations on it, not because I want to demean magic, or because I believe this theory is perfect, but because I believe I reached the logical dead end with it. Someone else needs to challenge it for it to advance, either by proving or disproving it with academic means."
"I know you are a perfectionist. You can't tolerate incomplete work and empty conjectures, and this is why I respect you and your expertise. But just because this work is incomplete, does not mean it's not valuable, or isn't worth sharing. So please, consider this book from another angle. The ideas I observed are simply too monumental for me alone to prove in an organized manner, especially because this theory is a side project. I provided plenty of proof on the subject and many of my insights, but I can't universally prove them, not alone. This is my request to the rest of the world to help."
I leaned back on my seat, resting for now.
The winter sun was shining down on me, but it was barely warm enough to feel beneath the stinging frozen air. At least I could rest and recover my mana a little bit whenever I needed to. There was no point in making a camp and lighting a fire; both the golems and I weren't sensitive to the low temperatures, at least not a temperature this mild.
My mind, however, was occupied with the fragment of the letter I've been writing. It was part of the rapid-fire exchange between me and my pen pal, who really despised this particular 'tome' I asked him to publish. We exchanged a letter a week now, arguing on this issue.
I understood S's annoyance completely. Although I am not a qualified specialist in natural sciences, I am well-acquainted with the academic landscape of the 21st century, which naturally makes me a supporter of the empirical method.
In this tome, which we have been discussing for the last couple of months, I tried to push multiple modern ideas in a shape local scholars could comprehend, including Newton's Laws of Motion, and I did my best to tie those ideas together with each other, showing proof from natural observations or experiments I knew could be reproduced with the resources available here. Which wasn't as much as I hoped.
The issue, however, was that I couldn't propose proper theories or provide mathematical proof. I simply didn't know it.
I don't know how Newton's Third Law was proven mathematically; I just remember that it involved complex geometry, astronomical observations and predictions, and it referenced proven mathematical solutions and ideas that were completely beyond me.
It was the usual endless pyramid of referential material that is mathematics. You reference certain proofs of other problems done by mathematicians of ages past, as part of your own solutions, and it all always goes all the way down to Pythagoras. Knowing only the bare-bones equations that were taught in school, I didn't have sufficient knowledge to recreate the proof, and didn't have time to try and rediscover thousands of years of arithmetic on my own, while trying to understand the state of arithmetic in this world and incorporate it!
That was the problem with most modern knowledge I had. It's not enough to merely write E = mc^2, by itself, this formula meant nothing. The mathematics required to prove it properly would take a few tomes.
I indeed had all the time in the world. But just because I became a demon didn't mean I suddenly had a knack for mathematics. It just wasn't coming naturally to me. Even knowing the end result, I didn't know how to reach it from nothing.
The same applied to the vast majority of my modern knowledge.
So I had to resort to the same thing Greeks did, and were hated for by Galileo and the majority of the scholars who came after him, and try to push my 'conjectures' and 'observation' using my authority established in completely separate and unrelated fields.
This tome wasn't my usual work; it was composed of conjectures proposed in the form of 'it seems to work this way'.
Writing this was a physical blow to my dignity and pride, and to everything else I was trying to do in the academic circles so far.
But I knew how essential many of the ideas I proposed are to the fields of engineering, physics, and chemistry. If there were people who would be able to make sense of them and try to prove those facts empirically, it would be enough.
I was asking my pen-pal to hold onto this tome until my tomes about magic theory are distributed, and publish it only if the other work he helped me with finds critical acclaim.
That being said, again, I understood why S was refusing.
On his spot, I would also question such a thing. Especially from the perspective of a mage.
The questions S asked were the same I would've asked in his shoes.
'What conservation of energy? Mana clearly exists; it's the thing I work with all the time. What do you mean you 'assume' the rest of the events in the world have such a thing aside from mana? What do you mean you don't have definitive proof but only a number of examples? What sort of nonsense are you trying to feed down my throat!?' - This, to briefly sum it up, was the crux of S's issues with me.
I would say that the only reason he was still writing back instead of ignoring me was due to our history, but…
At this point, I was confident that the person I was in contact with wasn't a single individual, but rather an organization, or perhaps a master and an apprentice. It's been over seventy years after all. And my pen pal was simply too knowledgeable on multiple subjects and magical disciplines, and clearly had enough pull in the city to help me publish my findings.
I considered that I may be talking with an elf, or perhaps a demon, but this is highly unlikely. I knew of one demon whose name started with an 'S' and who was knowledgeable enough in magic to possibly pass as my pen pal. A Great Demon called Solitar. But considering the tone, lack of any attempts to push me in any direction or manipulate me, as well as the fact that my familiar was sent to Äußerst each time... made it simply impossible.
There was also one elf whose name started with an 'S', but I doubted it was her either. The Great Mage Serie only established the Continental Magical Association after the death of the Demon King in the story; there is no reason to expect her to be in Äußerst. Serie being my pen pal wasn't impossible, but highly improbable; it was mentioned that she cut most contact with people, took no apprentices, and we had no idea where she was - aside from her room looking virtually the same as it did while Flamme was still alive.
Äußerst didn't exist in Flamme's time, I checked. Unless the city was built on top of her house, I highly doubt she was the one I was speaking with.
No, while the tone was practically the same, I was leaning towards assuming I was speaking with multiple people throughout the years via pen and paper. Because we kept the conversation mostly impersonal and seemed to agree to only speak on the academic subjects at hand, with rare exchanges on more philosophical matters, I couldn't tell for sure if my conversation partner changed.
The fact that 'S' used some magical or mechanical instrument to write for him also didn't help. Not that I am much better, seeing that I am also using an enchanted quill now.
Slowly, I reached out to my mana and absent-mindedly drew lines of sparkling light in the air, deep in thought.
Perhaps I was too hasty after all? Excited that 'S' agreed to publish my magical findings, the 'Monsters and how they Function' tome 1… I just wanted to make use of the opportunity.
Maybe I should've waited until my name would accumulate grander academic renown?
No, I don't think so. In this case, the faster I can get those ideas out, the faster they may be of use. Just someone in the right position and with the right skillset getting inspired, and proving one of them right would be all it takes.
What I tried to pass on was the knowledge that could change things.
To engineers and scholars, yes, but also to mages who can design spells knowing more about how the world works.
I let out a small breath, and glancing forward, once again using the scanning spell. I raised my staff, visualizing the precise arc and the angle, and a moment later the wave of fire shot forth…
***
A small fire was burning in front of me as I was deeply submerged in reading.
My golems were by my side, unmoving and inactive, saving energy, and the Behemoth towered not too far from tonight's resting place.
I was so far into the wilds that I didn't even know the name of the woods I was advancing into during the past week.
Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to travel during the coldest months of winter, but by this point I was itching to start proper research again, and I was yet to find a place sufficiently full of fresh subjects...
I froze.
I could sense someone approaching, still quite far away. Not alone, a group. Not alive, but magical.
Immediately, I stood up, the staff materializing in my hand.
This... could be a number of things. I couldn't be sure.
With a pulse of mana and an effort of will, I forced the golems into motion to move the Behemoth a bit further back and away from the potential fight, as I advanced towards the sources of mana I picked up.
There were monsters in the area, but this isn't how monsters acted, nor was this how monsters normally felt like.
The signatures weren't approaching me specifically; there was still a fair bit of distance between us, before we'd be in a visual range, but... I was curious. I don't think I've ever encountered anything that felt quite like that.
I moved forward with deliberate steps, my boots crunching softly against the snow that had accumulated in drifts between the ancient pines. The forest here was untouched; no axe marks on the bark, no cleared pathways, no signs that humanity had ever pressed this deep into the wilderness.
The magical signatures grew clearer as I approached, and with them came a peculiar clarity. Not the chaotic emanations of monsters driven by base instinct, nor the focused intent of anyone more conscious. These felt... orderly. Methodical.
Not unlike my golems.
I paused behind a massive oak, its trunk wide enough to conceal me completely, and extended my magical senses further.
Seven distinct sources, moving in formation through the trees ahead.
I stepped around the oak and saw them.
Immediately, even without ever encountering their kind before, I recognized them for what they were. How could I not?
They were the infamous undead after all. Products of necromancy.
They moved through the snow-laden undergrowth with surprising grace, their bare bones unmarked by decay or damage. These skeletons retained the proportions they'd held in life; some tall and broad-shouldered, others more compact, all moving quite fluidly.
While the bones were completely cleaned of any remains, I couldn't help but pause, glancing at the small cracks and shapes of them. Idly, just to busy myself, I even tried to see if I could separate those of them who were men in life from those who were women, judging simply by the bone structure, as I waited for them to detect me.
I think I was having some progress, but the skeletons didn't. They didn't seem to notice me, even though I never completely suppressed my mana. Then again, detecting a mage who wasn't casting a spell was a skill of skilled mages or relatively sensitive monsters.
I suppose I should have expected that much.
After all, necromancy was considered a poor man's golemancy in this world for a reason. Quantity over quality was what this school of magic was famous for.
That being said, the skeletons' equipment was surprisingly pristine. Simple but well-maintained: steel swords that gleamed dully in the filtered winter light, round shields bearing no heraldry I recognized, but no armor. One carried a spear, its point sharp and unblemished. Another bore a small hand-axe.
They advanced in a loose formation, not marching but moving with purpose through the forest, as if they knew exactly where they were going. Their empty eyes were burning with a dim blue light.
Most intriguing of all, they showed no immediate reaction to my presence, despite being so close.
I remained still, staff ready in my grip, studying them as they passed not thirty meters from my position. These were not the crude automatons of some hedge necromancer. Someone with considerable skill had crafted these guardians, you could tell by just seeing them move. It took me eleven years to smooth out the jerkiness of movement in my own golems.
Those undead were definitely here with a purpose. But the question was: what purpose?
They couldn't possibly be left here by some necromancer of ages past, which occasionally happened elsewhere in the world, from what I heard from the adventurers. No, too well maintained, and the gear was too good.
For a moment, I considered my options.
Then I raised my staff upwards.
My magic concentrated into a ball of flame, which turned blue in the next instant as it hungrily devoured the air.
"Sternenfeuer," I said quietly, launching a roaring projectile into the air.
A second, then two, and it detonates brilliantly, with a deafening roar.
The skeletons turned to me when I was casting my magic, freezing in place, but as expected, they didn't attack.
As someone who dabbled in golemancy, I knew a bit about how the 'artificial mind' is created via magic. I already suspected that they were 'instructed' not to attack unless attacked first; this moment of hesitation was the directive of 'protecting themselves', briefly flaring strongly enough to try and prepare for the attack.
When they realized the attack wasn't coming, they lost interest. Again, expectedly.
My own golems were programmed much the same.
Creating an artificial mind sounds impressive, but in truth, the procedure was much simpler than I initially assumed. The main reason was that mana... could carry impressions in certain spells.
In IT, if you wanted to program a basic bot that 'does (x) when (y) occurs', you needed to define both the 'x' and the 'y'. In this case, 'don't attack unless you are attacked' would require the coder to define what attacking meant and what being attacked means, and doing such a thing through coding every scenario that constituted as an 'attack' was a herculean task.
With mana, you could bypass that. It was enough for the caster to visualize what 'being attacked' meant for the impression to be carried to the artificial mind... It's called artificial mind, this is the official term, but it wasn't. Just a bunch of magically enforced orders and mana serving as the library to define what those orders were referencing.
The 'mind' of a golem was a bit more complex than that. Obviously, I am dumbing this down quite a bit, but in general, that was the core principle.
For a while, I stood there, waiting.
Five minutes passed, then ten.
Eventually, I did feel someone approaching. Immediately, I relaxed, realizing this wasn't a demon. I could tell by smell alone.
Stepping behind a tree, I summoned a magical blade and promptly cut off my horns.
The agony and sudden magical near-blindness were old, hated acquaintances by this point.
As always, the horns disintegrated within ten seconds.
Unsurprisingly, soon enough, I saw a figure wearing heavy winter clothing, accompanied by a small company of undead.
All skeletons, their bones practically bleached white.
"Greetings," I spoke up first, still standing next to the tree. "Excuse me for the commotion."
The necromancer stopped some distance away; his headdress mostly hid his face and hair.
"It's quite alright," The voice that answered me was decisively male, but it was still soft. "To be completely honest, I am just glad you did not resort to destroying my creations immediately."
As expected, it seems that even if he couldn't gather the information from his skeletons' eyes, he could tell if they were destroyed.
I had a similar function in my golems. In the art of creating automatons, this was... akin to a car alarm, I suppose?
"Why would I?" I questioned back, my voice carefully emotionless, but I took care to tilt my head to the side just a tiny bit, "You must've taken quite a lot of care to make them recognize humans and never attack them."
This was why my golems only attacked when directly ordered, and otherwise didn't have their combat 'subroutines' constantly activated. It's a known issue, target recognition, and identifying threats. The main reason why guards and soldiers weren't replaced by golems, aside from them needing refills of the caster's mana, was because it's a pain to distinguish a fallen pinecone from a thrown stone in golem's 'mind'. An ignition of a combat spell so close would also be recognized as an attack by the majority of the golems out there, I was sure.
Golems, and, I assume, by extension, the undead were dumb. Making them attack anyone in an area was simple, making them not attack was also simple... but making them patrol and attack monsters on sight, while distinguishing humans visibly, and only attacking when attacked first... this was beyond my current level.
"Ah," He said quietly, looking a bit dumbfounded, "Thank you. Would you accept an invitation for some tea?"
I was curious, both about the necromancy and what a mage of his caliber was doing here, so I nodded.
"Of course."
***
The dwelling of the necromancer was expectedly mundane.
It was a hut in the woods, with a crude wooden wall patrolled by the skeletons and a decent farm. I could spot vegetable beds, even if they were covered by the snow in this season when we were approaching, and there was some livestock.
The interior of the house looked lived in, and carried a familiar chaos of the university dormitory room, as long as you account for the magical nature of many items scattered around.
I saw familiar craving instruments, magascopes, and background stabilizers, inactive as they were right now, and a pile of human bones in the living room.
"Excuse me for this," The man muttered, taking off the headdress and revealing messy, light-brown hair and a set of tired purple-ish eyes, "Normally, I do this kind of work in the workshop outside, but the past month was way too cold, I got lazy."
He gestured with his hand, his mana igniting, and the pile was levitated to the top of the nearby shelf. All the while, the necromancer proceeded to take off the clothes that inevitably got frozen over and wet, specifically his cloak… which, as I can see now, was stitched all over hundreds of times, and painted black, with, I think, other colours being used before? It would've been practically in tatters otherwise.
"It's not an issue," I assured, also undressing indoors, taking off the wet coat and my scarf. "Would you mind if I dry it by the fire?"
The necromancer, who was reminding me more and more of a student from the Department of Mathematics, wasn't a tall man; he was skinny, though not to the point of looking unhealthy, pale, his posture a bit terrible, and his hair looked like it hadn't been combed for months.
There were some people who looked like harmless nerds, as if hand-crafted by nature to project this image, and he was one of those men, though he wasn't ugly by any means.
"No, no, by all means, feel at home," He said, shaking his head, "I will go boil us some tea, it's been a while since I had to do it personally…" He mumbled the last part, seemingly losing himself in thought.
I watched him leave, and, grabbing my clothing, set it to dry by the fireplace. I cast a simple spell, and a fire that needed no fuel ignited in the hearth.
By the time the necromancer came back with a tea tray, I helped myself to an armchair, sitting next to a table not too far from the hearth.
I quietly accepted my cup, he sat down, and for a moment we drank tea in silence. I assume the human was also warming up by the fire.
"I can't say I expected to meet a fellow mage here," He said, looking deep in thought but mostly intrigued as he studied me, "Even more surprising that such a person wasn't put off by my work."
"The majority of the stigma that necromancy bears lies in the ignorance of the common folk, not the fellow mages." I said simply, inclining my head, "Despite what people claim, the soul remains beyond the capability of human magic. The reanimated dead are just puppets, useful exclusively because a human body is a better material to engrave and conduct mana than practically anything else, and as such, there is much less loss of energy when operated as a construct."
I paused for a moment, taking a sip of the tea… it wasn't tea. This is a herbal mixture of some kind, with some berries, I believe?
Still, I think I would've enjoyed it as a human.
"Using the bodies of the deceased is still questionable and is condemned by the clergy on religious and moral grounds. Grave robbing is condemned by law in most places in the world." I added, after a few long seconds, "That being said, I haven't seen you robbing graves, and I don't care for the use of carcasses in such a manner."
The desecration of bodies isn't a pleasant act, but as a historian in my past life, I knew that it proved incredibly useful and was a normal thing to do in history. It's also how the medical field progressed tremendously back in the day.
No, in truth, the dead didn't care what happened to their bodies, because they couldn't care.
The only ones who mattered were their living relatives who could be hurt by the misuse of the body.
It didn't mean I couldn't respect the idea of a person's remains being preserved. But no one in this world was buried by Christian tradition anyway, and I didn't see much difference between a dignified pagan burial and a use after death in a magical field that specialized in doing so. As long as the remains aren't left to rot out in the field or for the beasts to consume, I couldn't morally question it.
Besides, as I am now, I am plainly unqualified to pass judgment on humans, moral or otherwise. I can reject their choices and disagree with them, but I know I am not qualified to assign blame, enforce the law or morals, or do anything else of that sort.
Justice is blind only if its hand is mentally challenged.
It helped that I didn't feel any emotion on that matter. I could act as if I did, or if I could logically justify that the matter is completely immoral, but seeing that it was in a gray area, the correct response would be not to bother.
"I am not so sure," The man chuckled in an indescribable, yet painfully familiar, lost-yet-helpless manner, as if he was already not completely in this room in his thoughts, "It's a little bit hard for me to imagine myself in your place, but if I wasn't a necromancer myself, I think I'd be wary."
I didn't reply, just took another sip from the tea, and took a moment to study the interior of the hut.
This clearly was a place where this man studied, worked, ate, and slept. It was disorganized and messy, but overall pretty well cleaned.
The furniture and the wall themselves were crude, decorated with pelts and having signs of countless repairs.
"Being disturbed and feeling irrational fear is still a valid emotion," I acknowledged, "But I am rather thick-skinned; I've seen worse than well-cleaned and repaired bones." I told him quite honestly, "If you are implying the fear for my life… correct me if I am wrong, but necromancers focus on quantity of constructs, they don't particularly care where the remains come from, no? A body of a well-trained mage wouldn't be any different from a body of a farmer."
The man actually shook his head, his eyes focusing on me with sudden clarity.
"Ah, no, not quite. If the body is old, to the point it's completely decayed and only the bones are useful, you'd be correct," He paused, smiling a bit awkwardly, "But, well, a fresh body is different. When the nerves and the brain aren't decayed, with the right work, you can preserve the muscle memory and some more developed reflexes. The lingering mana of the body's owner can also help with that." He glanced down, "The carcass of a well-trained mage will also be naturally better in conducting and holding mana; it'd be easier to repair, easier to enhance the performance of."
Seeing me studying him, he raised his hands helplessly.
"S-sorry if it sounded a bit disturbing? H-honestly, it's been a long time since I spoke with anyone on the subject, so I got a little into it…" He scratched his surprisingly cleanly-shaved cheek awkwardly.
"No, you misunderstood," I reassure him, "I am dabbling in golem creation myself, but I am barely familiar with necromancy. I was trying to make sense of the correlations. When it comes to golems, rare magical ores or minerals are used to enhance performance, but that is usually considered to be a shortcut."
The necromancer seemed surprised, but again I could see interest in his eyes.
"That's true for necromancy too! That said," He chuckled awkwardly looking aside, "It's not uncommon to hear about a necromancer trying to compensate for the lack of skill by acquiring better material."
I understood his point now.
"That explains the prejudice," I nodded to myself, "What material would be ideal? Would you want the body of a powerful warrior for his muscle memory, or a strong mage for the amount of magic it can hold?"
"A warrior, easily," The man said seriously, "Think of it that way, warriors still use mana, even if they aren't aware of it, it's usually enough for whatever enhancement you want to place on the carcass. But even the lingering echo of their skill is invaluable, after all, unless you invested years into mastering combat yourself, you can impact complicated fighting forms in your creations."
That is quite fascinating. I didn't know this about necromancy, not that I tried to study or approach it. A school of magic this dubious is something I wouldn't choose to practice, but hearing about it was still interesting, from a purely academic standpoint.
"I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Albert," I said after a few moments, extending a hand. "Traveling mage.."
The necromancer blinked, but smiled and shook my hand.
"I am Teuflisch, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He shrugged a bit helplessly, "Necromancer, as I am sure you've figured."
Sitting back down and relaxing in his chair, he spoke up again.
"Still, I have to ask, what exactly are you doing in such a place, Albert?" He asked politely, "Are you planning to dungeon-dive by any chance?"
I blinked, opening my mouth to deny, but after a second of consideration, I slowly nodded.
"I… wasn't intending to explore dungeons," I explained carefully, "But if they are in the area, I might. I conduct a very in-depth research into monsters, you see, so I have to travel to places like that to find an abundance of subjects to work with."
He blinked, processing my words for a moment, and a small smile appeared on his face again.
"Ah, yes, I believe I understand exactly the type of difficulty you would encounter."
Before I could process what he meant, he spoke up again.
"I have lived in this area for the last two years, but the monsters are still plentiful. If you want, you can settle in the area." He offered simply, "My constructs scouted a couple of nests and lairs that I wasn't sure I wanted to try and cleanse alone. If you can restrain the monsters, I can help you transport them."
I processed his words.
"It's a nice offer. But first, allow me to ask, why are you in this area?"
Teuflisch froze for a moment; he hesitated.
"I… well, you can say I am looking for a very specific dungeon that I know is somewhere in the area."
He didn't add anything else, and I didn't see a reason to push, so I just nodded.
"I see." Teuflisch looked quite young, but without a doubt, he was a skilled mage.
For now, however, I didn't see an issue with accepting his offer.
"I was planning to set up a base somewhere in the area. I don't see why we couldn't cooperate." I finally agreed, despite my hesitation. "I think I will take you up on that offer."
"Excellent!" The young man smiled, nodding, "You can stay the night if you wish!"
"Thank you, but no. I need to get my wagon. With any luck, the golems weren't destroyed by wild monsters just yet."
Wouldn't be the first time.
Author's Note: I have something fun planned out for this arc, though it won't be heavily action-oriented. Hopefully, you guys like it.
Please do comment, comments are fun!