Hecular's Revenge (1)

Hecular's Revenge (I)

Sevand, a mage apprentice from Tarren Mill, felt an itch at the corner of his eye. He thrust a thick finger into it and dug around viciously, and his sickly gray-white eyeball fell out.

Those damn maggots again! Sevand popped the desperately writhing worms into his mouth and chewed hard. The sight of juice splattering as he swallowed was nauseating. Numb to it all, he gulped them down, picked up his ruined eyeball, and stuffed it back into the hollow socket.

Sevand was quite satisfied. His eyeballs might not have been very secure, but his mouth and stomach were still perfectly healthy. Unlike old Freeman he had seen in Tirisfal Glades—his mouth and belly had begun to rot. As he ate, food kept falling out through his ruined stomach, and the maggots that fell out would crawl back into the jar. The old fool thought his food would never run out. It was enough to make one die laughing.

Sevand felt that his luck was about to turn. 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, that teacher had been caught by those human paladins constantly babbling about justice. Instead of becoming a lich, he had been hanged at the execution grounds. Still, death was death. Hadn't Sevand died once himself? Wasn't he living quite well now?

This leisurely life was disrupted by a yeti. That yeti had actually eaten a plague-infected fawn and soon began rotting all over. Its agonized cries that night kept many undead from sleeping well.

The unfortunate 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 its body. Though many years had passed, the remnants of his memories allowed Sevand to recognize it at once. This was the wand once used by his mentor, Hecular.

Overjoyed, Sevand was soon defeated by the rod. It showed no reaction at all. No matter what spell he used, it did not respond in the slightest, as if it were truly nothing more than an ordinary branch.

Yet Sevand could not bear to throw it away. He knew very well how powerful his mentor Hecular had been.

Carrying the branch and mocked by the undead around him, the mage apprentice Sevand would hear a voice echoing beside his ear every night as he held the rod: "Find the Flame of Azel, the Flame of Veraz, and the Flame of Uzel. Ignite them, and you will gain true power!"

The entranced apprentice began searching madly. He combed through every cave around Tarren Mill one by one. This crude method produced the best results. After being tempered by the flames, the branch began to regain its true form, and with the rod's aid, Sevand's magical abilities underwent a qualitative leap.

Before long, 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 rotted yet—and eventually become 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 magical power within that corpse, Sevand's strength would soar directly to that of a mid-level necromancer.

This was somewhat difficult. Those humans would not heed the request of a minor mage like him. They might even greet him with Holy Light. Blinded by the brilliant future before him, Sevand began devising a plan.

Dawn was approaching, and the hours before sunrise 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 for their shift change. Sevand had thoroughly grasped the human patrol's routine.

He carefully made his way near the graveyard. Thank the undead, so many people from Southshore had been buried here.

He could easily avoid the guards and enter the cemetery. Beneath the faintly brightening sky, no one was near the graveyard. Sevand searched desperately among the tombstones for his mentor Hecular's name. Damn undead—there were too many dead people!

Hecular's Rod showed no response at all. Once daylight came, he would be unable to continue searching. As he examined another row of tombstones, the mage's body suddenly stiffened when he heard someone shouting behind him, "Who goes there?"

Smithers, the gray-haired graveyard caretaker, held a shovel in one hand and an oil lamp in the other. A furtive figure in the cemetery was bent over, searching for something. Could he be a grave-robbing thief? Smithers heightened his vigilance and slowly approached.

Sevand thought he was about to die again. This time, it might be real death. A minor mage like him could never defeat a squad of soldiers. But when he turned around and saw a gray-haired old man cautiously approaching, the man was instead frightened motionless by Sevand's appearance.

Smithers's blood turned cold. An undead—a sneaking undead in the graveyard. Startled, he tried to cry out, but no sound came from his throat. The terrified old man would never have the chance to ring the little bell at his side. His vision went dark, and he collapsed.

Weak humans. A tiny Silence spell had resolved the crisis, and a casual Shadow Bolt destroyed the old man's life force. Sevand used magic to break open a burial chamber, threw in the old man's corpse along with the fallen shovel and extinguished oil lamp, then continued his search.

At the deepest end of the graveyard, on a patch of level ground, the rod at his side began vibrating wildly. This was the place!

Why would anyone have erected a tombstone for Hecular, who had been hanged by the kingdom for studying necromancy? Sevand really had rocks in his head. He quickly dug open the earth, revealing Hecular's badly decayed corpse lying inside a broken coffin.

Following the mysterious instructions, he began chanting. The rod flew from his hand, whirled through the air, and finally settled quietly into its former owner's hand. When the spell ended, Sevand waited anxiously for the result. Why had nothing happened? He began to feel 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 am your apprentice, Sevand. I was the one who revived you." Though events had not unfolded according to the mage apprentice's plan, it did not dampen his enthusiasm for his mentor.

"Sevand? Of course I know this is your doing. How else could I have been revived? Hahahaha!!!"

Hecular laughed loudly, his expression twisted and savage. Already undead himself, Sevand decided to leave this place quickly. "Teacher, dawn is coming. Let us leave first. Those patrolling soldiers will be back soon," he urged.

"Leave this place? Your concern truly warms your teacher's heart. Then do one last thing for your teacher, hehehe." The malicious laughter made Sevand's scalp crawl. His teacher was definitely not a kind-hearted man.

But Sevand no longer needed to think about anything else. Flames began burning from his head. Before the mage apprentice could react, he was instantly engulfed. The fire held no warmth whatsoever; instead, it carried a chilling cold. In mere seconds, Sevand's flesh was burned away completely, leaving only a skeleton standing where he had been.

"Then let my loyal apprentice command my army of skeletons. Humans of Southshore, Hecular's revenge is about to begin! Haha! Haha!!"