Necromancer Dreams of Mechs Chapter 72: Chapter 78

Read chapter 72 of Necromancer Dreams of Mechs by Magic on NovelPedia.

Chapter 72: Clearing The Air I let out a sigh as I left the room, and then smiled when I heard Alric’s lute before I saw the man leaning against the wall down the corridor. After everything I had learned, it would be nice to focus back on what I could deal with and handle in the moment. Worrying about where my parents were, and what Alexander's next move was came after talking to the people that just got tossed into something they clearly weren’t prepared for. “A man, yet only a boy. He brought the dead back, and somehow the joy! Be he really the villain, or might that be a ploy?” Alric sang softly with a smile as he continued to strum, pulling away from the wall. I smiled as he joined me to head to the grand staircase. The bard was a nice contrast to the tense and pulse racing events in my room. Both women were great, but I almost preferred the way they were before… Almost. "You have a voice that puts the lullaby to shame, Bard," I said, descending the staircase. "Though I will take issue with the ‘boy’ description. I’m almost 300 levels deep, which has to count for something." Alric chuckled, his fingers never missing a note. "Ah, but My Lord, age is but a number, while the spirit is eternal. And your spirit, while immensely powerful, still prefers a pixelated mech over a throne. That is the heart of a boy, and it is what grants you—and us—a modicum of hope. A king would never have surrendered control over his undead to grant them back their memory. You are something... softer." We reached the bottom landing. The Great Hall was significantly quieter than when I had left it with people and squires milling about. Each time someone saw me, they waved, or bowed to me, and it was weird, but I dealt with it. I did get a few odd looks from people at my clothing choice, but I ignored it and headed outside. Serhii was doing slow laps around the perimeter of the estate, his eyes scanning the forest with the practiced vigilance of a man waiting for a siege. Lee was brooding in a new spot by an armor rack made from bones, but he was holding a rough-hewn wooden sword that one of the Squires must have loaned him. Nathan and Roland were sparring, each with sword and shield, looking more like kids playing with sticks and trash can lids than newly minted survivalists. "Gather ‘round," I called, my voice flat but carrying enough necrotic weight to cut through the heavy silence. "I have answers now, and I have a plan. But before we get to that, I need to clear the air about what this world really is, and what choices you each will have to make." The men, including the circling Lee, came to a table of bones, and yup, bone chairs to go with it. I leaned down, resting my hands on the porcelain bones. The contrast between my pristine, modern hoodie and the ancient, brooding architecture of the house behind me and table before was jarring. I spoke slowly, making sure every word hit home. "Yesterday, you came to this world expecting a game, and some good old fun while we push the game to the limits to reach for the elusive Golden Token Alexander Clarence promised us all, right?" I asked, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "Forget the token. Forget the game. Forget going home. This is your life now. The Architect—the System—didn’t bring you here to play; it brought you here as components for a reality that is constantly evolving with me at the center." Lee sneered, but before he could speak, I silenced him with a cold glare. "Listen to me, Lee. You talk about tokens, and I know you are all about the rankings. I am not stupid, I know who and what each of you are. I just passed out because I learned that the person offering us the token is the reason my parents are dead, but somehow their digital ghosts are alive in here. Alexander Clarence is here. He’s the immortal World Boss, locked down, but a threat to everything we try to build. The only thing you need to decide is what side of the board you are playing on." The air crackled with tension. Serhii