Hecular's Revenge (I)
Sevand, a mage apprentice from Tarren Mill, felt a slight itch at the corner of his eye. He shoved a thick finger into it and scratched viciously, causing his sickly gray-white eyeball to fall out.
Damn maggots again! Sevand put the still desperately wriggling worms into his mouth and chewed hard. The splattering juices made for a nauseating sight, but he swallowed them without feeling a thing, then picked up his ruined eyeball and stuffed it back into its empty socket.
Sevand was quite satisfied. Though his eyeballs were not very secure, his mouth and stomach were still perfectly healthy. Unlike old Freeman he had seen in the Tirisfal Glades—his mouth and belly had begun to rot. As he ate, food kept falling out of his ruined stomach, and the maggots that fell out crawled back into the jar. He probably thought his food would never run out. It was enough to make anyone laugh themselves to death.
Sevand felt that his luck was about to change. Though he was a mage apprentice, his teacher back then had been too busy transforming into a lich to teach him much magic. In the end, he had been caught by those human paladins constantly babbling about justice. Not only had he failed to become a lich, but he had also been hanged at the execution grounds. Still, death was just death. Hadn't he already died once? Wasn't he living quite well now?
This leisurely life was disrupted by a Yeti. The creature had actually dared to eat a plague-infected fawn and soon began rotting all over. Its agonized cries that night kept many Undead from sleeping well.
The unlucky mage apprentice was sent to retrieve the Yeti's head. Perhaps something useful could be extracted from it—that was what the Royal Apothecary Society in Undercity had said.
While finding the Yeti's head, he unexpectedly discovered a branch beside the creature. Though many years had passed, the remnants of his memories allowed Sevand to recognize it immediately. It was the rod once used by his mentor, Hecular.
Overjoyed, Sevand was soon defeated by the rod. It showed no reaction at all. Yes, no matter what spell he used, the rod did not react in the slightest, as if it truly were just an ordinary branch.
Yet Sevand could not bear to throw it away. He knew very well just how powerful his mentor Hecular had once been.
Carrying that branch and mocked by the Undead around him, mage apprentice Sevand heard a voice echoing by his ear every midnight as he hugged the rod: Find the Flame of Azel, the Flame of Veraz, and the Flame of Uzel. Light them, and you will gain true power!
The hypnotized apprentice began searching madly. He turned over every cave around Tarren Mill one by one. Yet this clumsy method brought the best results. After being baptized by the flames, the branch began to regain its true form, and with the rod's support, Sevand's spellcasting ability underwent a qualitative leap.
Soon, he would be able to leave Tarren Mill, return to Undercity, be promoted to junior alchemist, marry Freeman's lovely daughter—at least her head had not yet rotted away—and eventually become the CEO of the Royal Apothecary Society, reaching the pinnacle of life.
Having tasted the benefits, Sevand continued following the strange voice's instructions. This time, he needed to find his mentor Hecular's corpse. As long as he fused with the magic within his mentor's body, Sevand's strength would soar directly to that of an intermediate necromancer.
This would be somewhat difficult. Those humans would not heed the request of a mere mage like him, and might even greet him with Holy Light. Blinded by his shining future, Sevand began planning.
The sky was about to brighten. The hours before dawn were when people were most lax. An annoying patrol kept wandering nearby. The Undead mage apprentice, who had lain in wait for days, patiently waited for them to leave. After daybreak, they would need to return and hand over their shift. Undead mage Sevand had already thoroughly grasped the human patrol's routines.
He carefully moved near the graveyard. Thank the Undead, so many people from Southshore were buried here,
He could easily avoid the guards and enter the graveyard. Under the faintly brightening sky, no one was near the cemetery. Sevand searched desperately among the tombstones for his mentor Hecular's name. Damn the Undead—there were simply too many dead people!
Hecular's Rod showed no reaction whatsoever. Once daylight came, he would be unable to continue searching. As the mage walked to another row of tombstones and examined them closely, his body stiffened when he heard someone shout from behind, "Who goes there?"
Smithers, the gray-haired cemetery caretaker, held a shovel in one hand and an oil lamp in the other. A furtive figure in the graveyard was bending over and searching for something. Could it be a grave robber? Smithers raised his guard and slowly approached.
Sevand thought he was about to die again. This time, it might be true death. A mere mage like him could never defeat a squad of soldiers. When he turned around, he saw a gray-haired old man cautiously approaching, only for the man to freeze in place in terror at the sight of his face.
All the blood in Smithers's body turned cold. An Undead—a furtive Undead in the graveyard. Startled, he tried to cry out, but no sound came out. The terrified old man would never have the chance to ring the little gong he carried with him. His vision went black, and he collapsed.
Weak humans. A simple Silence dispelled the crisis, and a casual Shadow Bolt destroyed the old man's life force. He blasted open a burial chamber with magic, threw the old man's corpse, the fallen shovel, and the extinguished oil lamp inside, then continued his search.
At the innermost part of the graveyard, on a patch of level ground, the rod at his side began vibrating wildly. It was here!
Why would anyone have erected a tombstone for Hecular, who had been hanged by the kingdom for studying necromancy? He really had been an idiot. Sevand quickly dug open the ground. Inside a broken coffin lay Hecular's badly decomposed corpse.
Following the mysterious instructions, he chanted the incantation. The rod flew from his hand, then finally settled quietly into its former owner's hand. Once the spell was complete, Sevand anxiously waited for the result. Why had nothing happened? He began to sense that something was wrong, but having come this far, he refused to give up no matter what.
Dense negative energy entered Hecular's corpse. Under Sevand's gaze, the mage Hecular, dead for many years, slowly sat up.
"Mentor, do you remember me? I'm your apprentice, Sevand. I was the one who revived you." Though events had not gone according to the mage apprentice's plan, that did not stop his enthusiasm toward his mentor.
"Sevand? Of course I know this is your doing. Otherwise, how could I have been revived? Hahahaha!!!"
Hecular laughed loudly, his face twisted into a savage expression. Sevand, already an Undead himself, decided to leave this place quickly. "Teacher, dawn is coming. Let's leave first. Those patrol soldiers will be returning soon." He began urging him.
"Leave this place? Your concern truly gratifies your teacher. Then do one last thing for your teacher, hehehe." The malicious laughter sent chills through Sevand. His teacher was definitely not a kindhearted man.
But Sevand no longer needed to think about anything else. A flame began burning from his head. Before he could react, the mage apprentice was instantly engulfed in fire. The flames held no warmth at all; instead, they carried a chilling cold. In only a few seconds, Sevand's flesh was burned away completely, leaving only a skeleton standing where he had been.
"Then let my loyal apprentice command my skeletal army. Humans of Southshore, Hecular's Revenge is about to begin! Hahaha! Hahaha!!"
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