E-Rantel Cemetery.
In a secret crypt beneath the central shrine, Khajit stood before a corpse, poring over an arcane magic book, his bald brow furrowed tightly.
"There's no mistake. Could it be due to insufficient negative energy?"
Soft footsteps echoed from the stairway, immediately putting Khajit on alert.
Perhaps due to his previous encounters, this necromancy-type Magic Caster was unusually cautious, immediately commanding the four Skeleton Warriors guarding the stairway to block the passage.
"Hm?"
A questioning sound rang out, and a flash of sword light passed through. The four Skeleton Warriors were instantly split in two, their bones, swords, and shields scattered across the floor, revealing the figure behind them.
"Who are you!?"
Khajit shouted, involuntarily taking a step back. Those were Undead Warriors he had painstakingly converted—powerful Undead on par with the Magic Caster's natural enemy, Bone Dragons—yet they had been so easily killed!
The man in white, holding a precious sword—who else could it be but Lock!
"What, you don't recognize me after only a few days?" Lock slowly sheathed his Dragon Spring, raising his palm with a smile as a faint red magic circle flashed.
Khajit immediately felt an intense surge of pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he respectfully knelt to the ground.
"Welcome, Master!"
"Get up."
Lock walked past him indifferently, stopping at the stone platform where the corpse lay.
Only after receiving permission did Khajit shakily stand, gazing at Lock's back with deep fear.
"Are you making a Skeleton Mage?"
"Yes, Master, but I don't know why the final step won't succeed," Khajit replied immediately, vexation evident on his face.
Lock casually glanced at the magic circle carved beneath the corpse.
"Idiot. One of the array patterns is slightly wrong. Adjust it."
Khajit hurriedly leaned in and followed Lock's finger. One groove in the stone platform was indeed carved too thickly.
"So that's it…!"
"Thank you for your guidance, Master!" Khajit said gratefully, nearly bowing again.
"Has Clementine arrived?"
"Not yet. She is currently being pursued by Theocracy personnel. She contacted me earlier and should arrive tonight."
"Good. Go wait outside. This crypt stinks—I can't stand it."
Wrinkling his nose at the faint scent of decay, Lock headed up the stairs.
Khajit followed immediately, and the two emerged into the shrine above ground.
Leaning against the shrine entrance, Lock gazed silently at the moonlit sky. Though the cemetery remained gloomy, it was far more tolerable without the stench of corpses.
Khajit stood guard beside him, not daring to speak.
Time passed.
A figure finally appeared.
She wore a black hooded cloak, her movement unnaturally smooth, as if gliding rather than walking.
Soon, she stopped before the shrine.
"Oh my~ You were already waiting for me, Little Khajit?" she said lightly.
Khajit remained silent, instead glancing at Lock beside him.
That reaction immediately caught the woman's attention.
Lock's faint smile and pale red eyes carried the unmistakable gaze of a predator locking onto prey.
"And who is this young man?"
"Clementine Hasseya Quentia."
"Oh? You know my name?" The woman threw back her hood, revealing short golden hair and a deceptively cute face. Her crimson eyes gleamed dangerously.
Clementine Hasseya Quentia—former ninth seat of the Slane Theocracy's Black Scripture.
Unlike the Sunlight Scripture, the Black Scripture accepted only heroes. Even Nigun, captain of the Sunlight Scripture, had never reached that level.
A force composed entirely of heroes.
Clementine was famous for her self-created martial art, Swift Wind Break, an assassination technique specializing in one-hit kills.
Yet this prodigy betrayed the Theocracy, slaughtered those she was meant to protect, stole secret treasures, and fled—becoming a hunted traitor.
Later, she joined the necromantic organization Zur-En-Arrh, becoming one of its executives alongside Khajit.
Originally, she came seeking Khajit's aid to create chaos and escape pursuit.
But now—
"What, former Black Scripture seat—are you scared?" Lock pushed off the doorframe, walking forward as he slowly drew Dragon Spring.
The blatant hostility made Clementine immediately grip the weapons at her waist. Metal clinked beneath her cloak.
Lock paused.
"Oh? Wearing armor? Why not show everyone?"
"Waaah! Pervert! Lecher!" Clementine cried theatrically, then flung open her cloak with a twisted grin.
"Want to see this?"
Beneath was minimalist light armor, exposing large stretches of pale skin.
More striking, however, were the many metal plates nailed to her breastplate and skirt.
Adventurers' Guild identification tags.
From Copper to Adamantite rank—trophies taken from Adventurers she had tortured and killed.
Each tag clattered softly, echoing with resentment.
Any ordinary Adventurer would freeze in terror at such a sight.
But Lock was no ordinary Adventurer.
To him, Clementine was merely a test target—
a whetstone for his blade.
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A/N: A New Fanfic Is Out "Bleach: Reborn As Ishida Uryuu"
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
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