Death March kara Hajimaru Isekai Kyusoukyoku (LN) - Volume 23 - Chapter 5.3

Interlude: Army of the Dead

“Obey me, wraith!”

The old frogman necromancer Zanzasansa held up the Dark Lord of Necromancy’s remains and shouted out a command. The wraith, who had been raining down arrows of ice, stopped. The wraith then slowly lowered down to the ground and stood before the old necromancer and bowed his head.

“Amazing! It actually listened.”

“That’s so cool! Zanzasansa, you’re so cool!”

Both the mousefolk necromancer Zozo and the beginner lizardfolk necromancer Shashi raised their voices in excitement. Managing to control a wraith was something that not even the most skilled necromancers could do. It was an amazing feat.

“Hmph, I managed it somehow.”

The older necromancer had broken out into a cold sweat, but he sounded proud as he stroked his beard and responded.

WZRRRAITTTYH.

The wraith moved its face closer to the old necromancer’s and let out a guttural roar.

The old necromancer fell silent as he stared at the wraith.

“H-hey, are you okay?”

“Za-Zanzasansa…”

Zozo and Shashi both looked at the old necromancer in fear as he began to wordlessly walk off.

“Wh-where are you going?”

“Underground,” the old necromancer responded quietly.

“Underground?”

“Yes. Beyond the hidden passage lies an ancient mausoleum.”

“A mausoleum…?”

“That means there’ll be old remains.”

Zozo picked up Shashi’s muttering.

“Precisely. If I can control the ancient hero, even the Great Witch Arcatia is nothing to fear!”

“That’s it! Let’s go, Shashi!”

“O-okay.”

The necromancers proudly headed into the underground mausoleum.

“Wh-whoa…”

Shashi looked upon one hundred high-level undead soldiers all standing in a line. The old necromancer had turned all of the remains resting in the mausoleum into undead with the power of the Dark Lord of Necromancy’s remains.

“The items they were buried with are amazing. Gems and golden candlesticks so thick with magic power, it’s forming a small mist around them.”

Zozo began putting the items into his robe as he wore a devilish smile.

“I’m a little tired. Shashi, could you revive the rest of the remains?”

“Huh? Me? Are you sure?”

Shashi’s eyes began to sparkle as he looked at the relic the old necromancer was pointing to.

“Wait! Let me use it, Zanzasansa! I’ll be able to do it a hundred times better than Shashi!”

“Mhm. Fine, try and use it.”

After some consideration, the old necromancer handed it to Zozo instead of to Shashi.

“Man… That’s unfair…”

“What’s that? You complainin’?”

Shashi had grumbled about how unfair it was, but he soon looked away after Zozo shot a glare at him.

“Obey me, undead!”

As Zozo shouted, the lids of all the coffins lined up in the mausoleum opened as undead knights rose from them.

They look weaker than the undead Zanzasansa raised earlier, Shashi thought, but he dared not speak that out loud.

“It really does tire you out.”

“Once we get used to it, it should be fine. If anything, you’re better at it than me.”

Shashi tilted his head in confusion upon hearing the old necromancer’s compliments for Zozo. No matter how one looked at it, it was plain to see that Zozo’s undead were weaker.

“Huh, you’re right. I am pretty good at this.”

Not knowing what Shashi truly thought of him, Zozo accepted the compliment, putting him into good spirits. If there were a tree nearby, Zozo probably would have climbed it out of happiness.

“Zozo, the wraith has told me some more information. There are more suitable remains for making into undead just ahead.”

“Nice, I was starting to get a little tired of just having knights.”

Zozo bragged, even though there was a strong look of exhaustion on his face. They made their way forward, occasionally getting their feet caught on stuff when they finally arrived at the destination. Standing before them was an old, rotten throne—with a corpse seated upon it. The corpse was missing its hands, feet, and head.

“What’s this? Only the torso is remaining.”

“It’s the remains of a great king. Once we animate him, he won’t have a need for flesh.”

The old necromancer spoke to the doubtful Zozo. Shashi watched from behind; he felt as if he was stuck in one spot, unable to move forward.

Even just standing here, I feel like the life is going to be drained out of me…

“There’s something…off about this.”

In Shashi’s mind, something akin to a sixth sense, separate from fear, was ringing alarm bells intensely.

The other two necromancers paid Shashi no heed as they continued their conversation.

“I wouldn’t be able to reanimate it, but Zozo, you should be able to do it.”

“All right! Leave it to me. Let’s do this!”

Spurred on by the old necromancer, Zozo rolled up his sleeves and marched toward the remains.

“W-wait. There’s something not right about this, man. Don’t touch it.”

“Heh, stay quiet and watch, coward. I’ll show you just how good I am.”

Zozo was too carried away and disregarded Shashi’s warning as just meaningless noise.

“S-something’s not right—”

The old necromancer silently stopped Shashi as he tried to stop Zozo.

“…Zanzasansa?”

Shashi looked up at the old necromancer but was rendered speechless by the hateful look resting in his eyes.

“Wake up, you old corpse! The greatest necromancer of this century, Zozo, commands it!”

A black mist began to ooze from the remains. The black mist soon molded itself into a human figure. The human figure looked at its body, then looked around at its surroundings.

“Good, you’re finally awake. Come here.”

Although Zozo was visibly sweating, he still wore a confident expression.

“C…ome…?”

“Yes, I’m your new master. I’m ordering you to come here.”

“Or…der…”

The misty human figure slowly approached Zozo.

“Stop there.”

The misty human figure ignored Zozo’s commands and continued to approach him. It stood right in front of him, the figure’s hollowed eye sockets staring right at him. Zozo was terrified of the deep darkness that seemed to lead to the abyss.

“In the name of the Dark Lord of Necromancy, I order you to do as I command!” Zozo shouted, as if trying to mask his fear.

“Com…mand—”

Zozo grinned at the humanoid figure of mist as it appeared to obey him.

“I… comm…and?”

Realizing the meaning of the misty humanoid figure’s words, Zozo felt his expression freeze in place after the humanoid began to pour dark mist into his eyes, nose, and mouth. It was as if Zozo was paralyzed. He was unable to run or even to turn his face away. All he could do was endure.

The hair in Zozo’s hand writhed like a living creature, coiling around Zozo’s body in multiple layers, tearing through the clothes and digging into the flesh.

“Who-whoaaa! Zanza, Zanzasansa! This is bad! Zozo is, Zozo is…!”

Shashi clung onto the old necromancer in a panic. However, the old necromancer’s devilish grin only deepened. Absorbing all the mist, Zozo heard his cries and screams soon change into unintelligible guttural roars. Zozo then fell onto the floor and began convulsing, then stopped moving.

“…Zozo?”

Shashi gingerly approached him as he called his name. Zozo’s eyes shot open, surprising Shashi and causing him to shout out and fall on his backside. Shashi was so frightened, even his butt cheeks were shaking.

“Is it you, my Majesty, the Dark Lord of Necromancy?” the old necromancer asked with conviction.

“I know not. I hath no name, for I am but a spirit of the dead.”

The entity in possession of Zozo’s body responded in a dreadful, terrifying voice that would never come from a living being.

“Can you lend us your power?”

“I am weary. Disturb not my slumber.”

“Very well. Please rest. I will lock the entrance so that nothing will disturb you.”

“Cast away the husk of the churlish one as well.”

The being spoke as a gust of mist blew out of Zozo’s body and disappeared back into the corpse sitting on the throne. The old necromancer asked Shashi to move Zozo’s remains to the outside of a hidden door.

“Zanzasansa, what do we do now?”

“We do what we necromancers always do.”

The old necromancer reanimated the body of Zozo, which had combined with the old relic.

“Did it fail? I can’t hear the death call coming from Zozo’s body.”

Talented necromancers were able to hear a sort of groan coming from a body or an undead not too long after their death. However, Shashi couldn’t hear it.

“This is a cursed item.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Zozo’s spirit and body were both tainted by the Dark Lord of Necromancy, resulting in his body becoming a cursed object,” the old necromancer responded.

We really wanted to control him, but as expected of a demon lord, even in death, he was able to control us instead. It was impossible to control him, even with the relics. I felt bad for Zozo, but I’ll make sure to put his remains to good use.

The old necromancer had spurred Zozo on—he was trying to get him to take the risk instead of himself.

“If we have this power, our necromancy will grow even stronger. Just like the Tauruses strengthen their underlings, this cursed item will make our cursed knights even mightier.”

When the old necromancer grasped Zozo’s head and channeled his magic, black mist overflowed from Zozo’s mouth and eyes, swirling around the knights lined up in the mausoleum. Shashi was terrified, but he felt a strange feeling, as if a connection had been cut with a warm yet cold blade.

“Zanzasansa! The skeletons at the entrance have been attacked!”

Shashi’s connection to the undead he controlled had been severed.

“Adventurers?”

“There were some adventurers, but it felt like they had been cleansed by Holy Magic, too.”

“Priests?”

“I think so!”

The old necromancer ordered his familiar, the undead owl, to scout out ahead for them.

“I knew it! There’s undead here!”

The head priest Mokro pointed at the cleansed white bones as he jumped for joy. The risen were adventurers and priests summoned from nearby countries’ temples to exorcise the wraiths that had emerged in the Temple of the Evil God.

“I can sense something! I can sense evil!”

“Head Priest Mokro, I would much prefer if you didn’t go running off on your own!”

The adventurers ran off after Mokro as he jumped into the Temple of the Evil God. The remaining adventurers and priests followed suit, entering the temple.

“Uoooooooh!”

In front of them, Mokro suddenly appeared wearing a desperate expression.

“S-Sir Mokro?”

Mokro ignored the concerned priests’ questions and ran as fast as he could from the Temple of the Evil God.

The priests were left dumbfounded but turned pale when they heard a cacophony of growls inside the temple.

“R-run!”

There was a huge group of undead behind the adventurers who were late escaping after Mokro.

“You guys are priests, right? Get rid of them with Turn Undead!”

“No need to tell us twice.   Jouka Turn Undead!”

The priests all chanted spells, casting holy spells one after another. However, it did nothing to defeat the undead, nor did it stop them in their tracks. The adventurers and priests threw their belongings to the ground and ran for it after Mokro.

“Why are you unable to do anything about them? Weren’t you all just bragging about being impressive priests?!”

“We can’t do anything against high-level undead like that! We’re just ordinary priests!”

“If ordinary priests can’t do anything, how about that dawdling mouse?”

“…Dawdling mouse? Heh-heh, Sir Mokro may be able to do something. After all, he came here to get rid of the wraith.”

The priests let out small laughs at the accurate nickname for Mokro.

“Sir Mokro! You can deal with these, right? Do something!”

“You think I can deal with a group of high-level undead like that?! Once I got done with the front line, I was swarmed by another group after them!”

“So, what are you gonna do? We can’t really run away.”

“That’s right, Priest Mokro. The dead will seek out the living. If we leave them like this, they’ll find their way to Arcatia.”

“Let’s look at it this way. As long as there is a wall outside of Arcatia, it’ll defeat all of the undead one by one!”

The adventurers and priests all made a break for it, heading for Arcatia while out of breath. Following them were undead who would simply not tire.

“Hah, hah, hah, charge! My soldiers!”

The old necromancer stood among the army of undead as he chuckled to himself. The old man was standing in a watchtower placed high on the shell of a giant turtle undead—Grudge Turtle.

“This is bad, man. At this rate, everyone will die, man.”

Shashi, who was currently seated on the shoulder of an undead Taurus, mumbled to himself. The whole situation had gotten a lot worse than he anticipated, and he had played a part in it. He no longer knew what to do.

“I can see it, the Great Sorceress’s tower.”

Shashi looked up in response to the old necromancer’s cheerful voice. Through the gap in the dome-shaped wall over Arcatia, there stood a tower. It was a tower Shashi was used to seeing since his childhood—and there was a possibility it would no longer be standing, due to their actions. That scared Shashi.

“Just wait, Arcatia! You’ll fall by our hands!”

The old necromancer exaggerated his disdain toward Arcatia, as if blissfully unaware of Shashi’s feelings.