Hungry Necromancer

Before either of us realized it, the sun had begun to rise again and we still journeyed on. The routine has long become a muscle instinct, so much that I automatically approximate the time left until Anselm needs a recharge.

Doing this, of course, means that I got little to no sleep through the journey. Anselm can stay around for almost an hour now but in no world or life have I ever learned or attempted to power nap. As such, all I got were varying stages of torpor in-between conversations and recharges.

Anselm was right; killing the horse might not have been the best idea. But we've made time, a lot of time in fact. We passed by a sign post that directed to Aste, Carbina and Ioina with arrows. This was a good sign of progress if any I'd say.

The journey is not barren however, the roads occasionally, or perhaps as a sign that we were reaching closer to civilization, held other carriages and even convoys. In the day time, like now, there are a great many travellers coming through with bags on their shoulders, in their hands or if they were lucky, at the back of their fancy carriage.

However, the populaces migration practices are of no interest to me. Sleep starved as I am all I want to come across on the road is the band of monsters and men waiting to loot, pillage and skin unwary travellers.

My reason to meet these vagrants remains the same as why I wished to fight the Cultists in the first place. I desperately need a proficiency boost.

Animate Animal passively gave me some for simply having the horse puppet walk but not nearly enough that I'm willing to not look for combat.

For an RPG world, there aren't a lot of monsters. How do people grind then? Do they simply practice their magic? Do they exercise? Ugh!

Merely thinking of it begins to paint this place in the same light as that of my old world. Would everything become a struggle for me again? Surely not. I deserve…no I demand more than another uphill battle from life.

A straight road to success would really slap and yet, I hear no growling at night, I hear no chippering or chittering as I did in the cave…the cave!

My eyelids swing open as another theory begins to surface. The cave had all the dangers and more. It had the giant ugly bear that nearly killed me and it had the goblins that truly came close.

In short, the cave had a 100% of the monsters I've seen in this world. The cave is where I found Anselm and the only place where my Sense Death was shut off externally and by something or someone I never saw.

The cave held all the mysteries, the rats, the bear, the goblins. None of it made a lot of sense.

What were the rats eating? If the goblins locked themselves up to protect from the bear then what were they eating? The rats that sneaked in? And the goblins had the only source of water, or perhaps the only one I ever saw, so what kept the bear alive?

The cave is where I got this blue screen, the one no one has or has ever heard of. The cave is where I came into this world.

Could the cave be a dungeon?

***

While I bleary-eyed thought of the implications of the cave being a dungeon and the likelihood of there being many other dungeons out and about in the world. Anselm busied himself and me, by humming songs that seemed not to have lyrics.

As such it is easy to notice when he finally stops and gives me reprieve.

"Hey, look over there." He shouts out just in case I'm asleep.

Groaning I get off my back and out of my thoughts to poke my head out his side of the carriage. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" All I see is the landscape.

On the sides of the road there were several repeating buildings, like a village had once settled here only to be uprooted, leaving behind the broken-down buildings and forgotten farmlands to be the only sign there ever once was a village here.

"There!" He grabs my head and fixes it in a position as he screams.

Finally, I see it. "You mean the road?"

Through the scattered and abandoned buildings of the old village, a road cut through and began a parallel run beside the one we're on. Despite being on the move and almost out of range, it's easy to tell the road does not start in the village.

"Where do you think it leads?" Anselm asks, excitedly. I've discovered he loves travelling. I can't blame him; travel is all we've been doing since we met.

It might just look and seem like just any other road but under the sun it glistened and shone a brilliance of recent construction. The road does not connect, in fact it refuses to connect with the one we're on; its parallel, broken, leafy and stony counterpart.

"Some place fancy." Is my answer.

No doubt the road was constructed to lead into Aste and likely Aste alone.

Another point to support my thought is the indiscriminate demolition of the old village buildings. The construction of the road is likely the very reason those buildings have been abandoned.

Anselm hums with wonder and agreement and soon returns to his tuneless humming as our carriage escapes the sights of the village, but not the road.

With another splash of routine and the rhythmic trotting of the horse as well as the at times violent thudding of the carriage, the sun that'd risen not too long ago begun to set once more.

It worries me that we haven't made it to Aste yet, but I don't mention it. I simply hope it doesn't turn out I killed the Horse for nothing.

Anselm and I stew in silence for a while after the sun sets and the dark begins to encompass all that can or should be seen. The temperature drops sufficiently to have me cover up with the fluffy duvet.

"Look, the road." Anselm says out of the blue.

This time I don't have to go to him. We quickly pass what has him amazed; the roads finally meet at a rather large rock, from then forth the road we travel on becomes as smooth and tarred as the other.

"We must be closing in on Aste!"

"Finally," I groan.

"Wait."

"What is it now?"

"Ahead, there's a carriage, it looks broken down."

I shake my head in wonder, "How can you even see that far in this dark?"

"Slow down the horse."

I do as he asks but wonder, "You want to help them?"

We just got on the good road; we can't afford to lose time helping people who we don't know right now.

He shushes me as we begin to approach the carriage. The carriage is battered down and in poor shape with scratches illuminated by the lamp the four hooded figures around it held.

"Hey there!" Anselm yells, "You need any help?"

One the four snap their necks to us, as if not hearing us creep by them in the first place. Under their hoods, despite the light, I see nothing.

But then I feel mana.

Quick as a wink one of the four whips out a bow, sets an arrow, draws and fires in seemingly a single motion.

The invading arrow strikes the back wheel of out carriage and explodes, tossing the carriage and everything inside over on its head.

The tumble rattles me so badly I don't expect the bottom, now head of the carriage to split open as a giant claymore comes down through it and to me.

CLANG!

The resounding sound of metal scraping metal rings louder than my earlier discomfort.

Wide awake and filled with adrenaline, I see Anselm has retrieved his spear and is now struggling to take on the full brunt of the heavy blade in his awkward position.

"Do something!" He strains.

By now my connection with the Horse has been severed, leaving me free to cast yet another spell. An offensive one.

With the first assailant hulking over me, trying to break through Anselm's desperate defence, they are in reach.

Getting to my feet, making sure to duck under to two deadly weapons, I reach out and touch my assailant's ankle.

"Soul Drain."

Instead of the usually flood of energy through my hand, I feel only my mana sputter out of existence.

[Insufficient Mana! Cannot Attempt {Soul Drain}]

Uhhh wut?

CLANG! CLANG CLANG!

That doesn't sound good.

I don't have to look back to know Anselm's spear has given way. I duck out of the tumbled carriage but my path is immediately blocked by two axe wielders, and the bowman still crouched at their carriage with the light, satisfied to watch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I whip out my hand and try another spell, hopefully one my mana isn't too spent from traveling to cast, "Death Grip!"

The ethereal hand launches out of my outstretched hand and chases after one of the axe wielders neck.

Frighteningly, these men are not caught surprised.

My target lurches back whilst his partner simply…slices at the last of my mana, breaking the spell.

I did not know that was possible.

I can still hear Anselm and the Claymore wielder going at it. He screams, "Run! Asher. Run!"

I sorely wish I could…