The temple guards froze mid-sneak.
The necromancer slammed his bone staff against the ground. With a series of whooshes, dozens of white bone pillars shot up across the hall.
The temple warriors lying all over the floor, Priest Donald, Roman Knight, and several warriors from Gret's team were enclosed in five or six separate cages, staring at one another from a distance.
Gret's eyelid twitched. I've heard so much about you. And now we finally meet—is this the Bone Cage?
He examined them closely. The bones were eerily pale, each more than a meter long, some even over a meter and a half. Gret's interest vanished at once. They weren't human bones, so there was nothing to see. He wasn't a forensic pathologist or a paleontologist, after all...
He might as well use that time to plead for his team and ask the necromancer to let them out.
"Uh..."
Gret tried to speak, but the necromancer cut him off. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill them. I just don't want them smashing the place up. I'll let them out first thing tomorrow morning."
With that, he waved a hand toward the hall and began murmuring an incantation. Amid the mysterious chant, Gret seemed to see wisps of blackness gathering from all around. In moments, the gargoyles they'd smashed to pieces were restored. They got to their feet and resumed their patrol.
Well... with the gargoyles around, maybe everyone was better off staying in their cages... And sleeping on the floor had its advantages, too. No wind or rain, and plenty of room...
Given that these people had just wrecked the necromancer's hall, Gret couldn't exactly object to his decision. He exchanged glances with his teammates. Young Priest John and Brother Raymond were both subtly shaking their heads, signaling him to stay quiet.
Gret felt a little more at ease. He followed the necromancer a couple of steps, then suddenly saw Priest Donald rush to the bars and shout:
"Wait! Treat him first!—Let me treat him first! Otherwise, he'll die! Please!"
A dozen or so paces away, Roman Knight lay unconscious and motionless in another bone cage. The two warriors locked up with him shook and patted him, to no avail; all they did was make him bleed a little more.
Gret fell silent. To be honest, seeing Roman Knight in this state gave him a little satisfaction. As for treating him...
Uh, that collision just now shouldn't have caused a brain hemorrhage or massive internal bleeding that would kill him right away, should it?
The necromancer glanced at him. Seeing no sign that Gret wanted to plead for the knight, he put on a stern face.
"No."
The priest shrank back. The necromancer didn't have much against him, and seeing him look so pitiful, he stopped and thought for a moment.
"Did you bring any Healing Potions?"
"Yes, yes!"
Priest Donald nodded vigorously. He took out three bottles of Healing Potion and stretched his arm through the bars, holding them out as far as he could. The Golden Skeleton stepped forward and took the bottles. The necromancer examined them in its hand, then pointed to one.
"Pass him that one."
Black Cat leaped lightly, picked up the potion in its mouth, and carried it to the cage where Roman Knight lay.
The two warriors were overjoyed and hastily poured the potion down Roman Knight's throat. The Healing Potion Priest Donald had carried on him was far better than Young John's basic Healing Potion. As soon as it went down, the knight's breathing grew heavier. He groaned a couple of times and opened his eyes.
"Sir! Sir, you're awake!"
The two warriors were delighted. Roman Knight opened his eyes, immediately saw the Healing Potion in front of him, and was overjoyed. He grabbed it and tipped it over his wrist.
"Don't!"
The words burst out of Gret before he could stop them. Roman Knight's hand jerked, and he nearly dropped the bottle. He glared at Gret.
"What are you doing?"
Gret flinched reflexively at the shout.
He hadn't really wanted to get involved in Roman Knight's business. He'd just been lost in thought when the City Guard's shout startled him, and the words had come out before he could think. But he'd already said them, so he braced himself under the knight's glare and continued:
"You can't treat that wound like this... Healing the outside isn't enough. You have to fix the inside first..."
"Who listens to your nonsense?"
Roman Knight snorted, turned the bottle over, and carefully dripped the potion onto his wrist. The pale golden liquid touched the wound, and it healed at once, leaving smooth skin just as it had been before.
Only his right thumb still bent slightly, its shape a little unnatural.
Gret sighed and turned to leave.
The necromancer watched their exchange with interest, smiled, and strolled after him with the Golden Skeleton. The stone door rumbled shut behind them. The necromancer snapped his fingers, and the lights blazed on. He smiled at Gret.
"Well? Want me to kill him for you?"
"Um..."
Gret was taken aback. It was a tempting offer. He knew whose idea it had been to summon the City Guard earlier, and that gargoyle hadn't flown over his head for no reason. But when it came to actually killing the man...
"...Maybe not?"
"Are you sure?"
The necromancer raised an eyebrow. He had brown hair and blue eyes, and was skinny as a stick. The movement tugged at the muscles in his face, making him look like a ghoul crawling out of its grave. And that wasn't all. His black cat, wearing a white boot, leaped lightly onto the Golden Skeleton's shoulder and chimed in:
"That guy doesn't have your best interests at heart. When I pounced, he used you as a shield!"
Gret: "...The cat—the cat can talk!!!"
Sure, this was a magical world. Skeletons could walk and pick up their own heads. But the black cat could talk!!!
Gret couldn't help backing away again and again, until a chill touched his back and he hit the stone door. To be honest, he'd been a little afraid of cats in his previous life. There'd been five or six stray cats of various sizes at the hospital, and the young nurses often fed them. Gret had never gone near them. Now he was here, faced with a black cat with incredible fighting power that could also talk!
Gret braced a hand against the stone. The black cat leaped down and landed right in front of him. Its tail smacked the floor. It took a step forward, raised its head high, and bared its teeth.
Its whiskers quivered, almost transparent. It didn't look too pleased with Gret's choice of words.
"That's so rude! I'm the great Mister Troca! Don't call me Black Cat! Black Cat!"
So, it was a talking—no, an intelligent, communicative creature...
The adrenaline surging through Gret gradually subsided. Talking cats weren't scary; what was scary was a powerful cat with no intelligence. If it didn't say a word and just swiped at him, with its size and speed, that would be a real headache...
Well, this was a world with magic and Divine Arts. Skeletons could even pick up their own heads. What was so strange about a talking cat?
Thanks to all the cartoons he'd watched and all the games he'd played in his previous life, Gret quickly accepted the idea that cats could talk. He stepped forward and politely nodded to the black cat.
"Hello, great Mister Troca. I was rude just now. I'm sorry—"
"Aw, it's fine!"
The black cat magnanimously waved a paw. As it lifted its paw, the pink pads jiggled, and Gret's fingers practically itched to give them a squeeze. The cat seemed especially sensitive to such ill intentions. It sprang nimbly aside, lifted its head, and grinned widely.
"Seriously, you really don't want me to kill him for you?"
"No need."
Gret gradually calmed down. He looked into the black cat's golden eyes, slowly exhaled, and gave it a confident smile.
"That guy's already ruined. If you let the wound heal without pulling out the tendon and stitching it back in place, that's on him. I warned him. What can you do if he wouldn't listen?"
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