Necromancer Dreams of Mechs Chapter 57: Chapter 63

Read chapter 57 of Necromancer Dreams of Mechs by Magic on NovelPedia.

Chapter 57: Immortal Servitude I didn't stop. I couldn't. The logic of the "Grand Seeker" took over. Losing 30% of my escort units was an unacceptable failure. I closed my eyes and felt the souls around me, reaching out to the 30, touching each one. My eyes opened to all the marble tiles starting to glow a sickly green with cracks of red where the gold had been a moment ago. The shadows in the room began to stretch and crawl toward the bodies across the glowing tiles. The thirty fallen survivors began to twitch. It wasn't the jagged, glitchy movement of the "stutter." It was something smoother, more purposeful; almost dance-like, as if a breakdancer was rising up to the beat. Their skin began to knit back together, but not into the soft, pink flesh of a human. It was a pale, pearlescent substance—hard as bone but flexible as leather. It didn't cover them completely; patches of ivory-white ribcage and pulsing, necrotic organs were visible through the gaps, like a suit of armor that was still being grown. Their eyes snapped open, glowing with a steady, crystalline blue light. [30 New Units Created: Fleshed Squires - Lv. 150] Behind them, the 10 original Decaying Squires —the tattered skeletons I’d kept as guards and who had taken out most of the Leapers—began to shake. Their old, yellowed bones began to calcify, their small partial flesh coverings grew and became porcelain to cover over their joints. They stood taller, their rusted blades sharpening into gleaming black shards. [10 Units Evolved: Fleshed Squires - Lv. 150] Silas stood up. He moved with a grace he’d never possessed in life. He looked down at his hands—hands that were now a mix of pale, artificial skin and exposed bone. He looked at me, and he didn't scream. He didn't cry. He simply knelt, his new Level 150 frame clicking as he bowed his head. "Lord Allen," he said, his voice a resonant, hollow echo of the man he had been. "I await your command." Joren stood up next to him, the bone whistle still gripped in his hand. He didn't look like a scared fourteen-year-old anymore. He looked like a miniature knight of the abyss, his small frame radiating a cold, lethal efficiency. Around him, the other children and adults newly risen looked much the same. A collective scream erupted from the 80 remaining survivors. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated terror. "ABOMINATION!" Hana shrieked, backing away so fast she tripped over a crate. "YOU MONSTER! YOU TURNED THEM INTO ABOMINATIONS! YOU STOLE THEIR SOULS!" "THEY'RE ALIVE!" I yelled back, my heart hammering. "They’re safe now! Look at them! They can fight back!" "They’re corpses!" a man roared, clutching his child to his chest. "You’ve brought the Abyss into our home! We’d rather die than become... that!" The crowd surged, a wave of grief and fury that threatened to turn into a riot. They were Level 5s, but their collective rage was a physical force. I felt the "Lord" title slipping, the weight of their judgment crushing me. I had saved them, and they hated me for it. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but no words came out. The social anxiety, the feeling of being the "weird kid" who did something wrong, paralyzed me. Then, a silver flash cut through the air. CLANG. Seraphine’s rapier struck the marble floor, the sound ringing out like a bell. She stepped in front of me, her silhouette tall and terrifyingly sharp against the emerald glow of the tiles and Fleshed Squires. Her eyes weren't filled with the pity she’d shown me earlier. They were filled with the iron-cold fire of a Marquis of the Realm. "SILENCE!" she commanded. Her voice didn't just carry; it commanded the very air to still. The survivors froze. Even Hana stopped screaming. "You dare?" Seraphine whispered, her voice a low, lethal hiss that carried to every corner of the foyer. "You dare speak of 'defilement' to the man who has spent his lifeblood to keep you from the stomachs of the Mawspawn?" "But... but the dead..." someone stammered. "The dead are the only