Necromancer Dreams of Mechs Chapter 56: Chapter 62

Read chapter 56 of Necromancer Dreams of Mechs by Magic on NovelPedia.

Chapter 56: The Price of a Perfect Run The ultimate skill had been a masterpiece of necromantic theater. The Matriarch’s shriek still echoed in my ears, a fading frequency as her Level 225 frame was reduced to a fine, grey sediment by the pillar of white-hot necrotic fire. For a fleeting second, standing on that fortified porch with the green flames of the [Graveyard’s Reckoning] still licking the air, I felt it. The "Gamer" high. The feeling of having solved the puzzle, of having optimized the battlefield so perfectly that the boss was just another pile of loot. Then, the HUD flickered. A notification blipped in the corner of my vision, red and insistent. [WARNING: DOMAIN BREACH DETECTED - REAR SECTOR] [MORALE PENALTY: EXTREME] [SURVIVOR COUNT: 110... 104... 92...] The blood in my veins turned to ice. My heart, which had been racing with the thrill of victory, suddenly felt like it was trying to punch its way out of my ribs. I didn't wait for the fire to clear. I spun around, my boots skidding on the pristine marble as I threw myself back through the brass doors of the foyer. I expected to see the survivors huddled in the center of the hall. I expected to see Silas or Hana calming the children. I didn't expect the red. The mansion’s "architecture optimization" had created a beautiful, sprawling foyer of white marble and gold leaf. Now, it looked like a Pollock painting made of viscera. A pack of Mawspawn Leapers—slimmer, faster versions of the Hyenas—hadn't tried to fight the Vanguards. They had used their [High-Jump] active skill to bypass the porch entirely, smashing through the high, stained-glass windows of the rear nursery wing. The glass lay on the floor like scattered diamonds, stained pink. "Allen! Get back!" Alric’s voice was strained. He was standing near the grand staircase, his lute abandoned. He was swinging a heavy iron fire poker, his colorful clothes slashed and soaked in blood. In front of him, three Leapers were tearing into a heap of green tunics. My "high-density weave" didn't mean a damn thing against Level 180 claws when the wearer was only Level 5. It was like watching a wolf tear through wet tissue paper. "NO!" I roared. I didn't use a spell. I didn't use a minion. My body flashed as I reached out with a burning green bone hand and grabbed the nearest Leaper by its spasming spine, my Level 240 strength crushing the bone to powder instantly. I swung the corpse like a flail, smashing the second one into the wall with enough force to crack the new marble. The third Leaper turned, its tri-jaw dripping with something thick and red. I didn't give it the chance to lunge. I gripped its head and squeezed until the skull popped like an overripe fruit. Silence rushed into the foyer, heavy and suffocating. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic grind of the mansion’s wheels and the frantic, shallow gasps of the survivors who were still standing. I looked down. There, near the base of a decorative marble pillar, was Joren. The fourteen-year-old scout was still clutching the bone whistle I’d given him. His throat had been opened, his small chest no longer moving. A few feet away, Silas—the old weaver who had thanked me for "debugging" his life—lay slumped against the wall. His eyes were wide, staring at the ceiling as if looking for the "Lord" who had promised him order. Thirty. Thirty people were dead. The 110 had become 80. The math was simple, cold, and devastating. I stood in the center of my "Battle-Bus," my hands dripping with black Mawspawn ichor and human blood, and the "Lord" facade shattered. I wasn't an Announcer. I wasn't a Raid Leader. I was just a sixteen-year-old kid standing in a morgue I had built for myself. "Allen..." Seraphine stepped into the light, her silver rapier coated in gore. She looked at me, her usual regal composure flickering with a deep, dark pity. "They came through the glass. We couldn't... there were too many for the house's defense to stop them." "I promised them," I whispered,