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  Chapter 17 – The Necromancer’s Call

  Far beyond mortal jurisdiction, deep within a territory once claimed by demons—

  Hirauka stepped into the raid.

  This one felt wrong.

  The air pressed down on him, thick and suffocating—not merely with mana, but with death itself. Before him stood an army of demons, yet their eyes were hollow, their movements unnaturally precise.

  They walked.

  They fought.

  They breathed.

  But they were not alive.

  Hirauka narrowed his eyes.

  “Necromancy…” he muttered. “So you’re the one pulling the strings.”

  The demons charged.

  Hirauka moved first—blades of flame and light tearing through bodies with surgical precision. Limbs fell. Torsos split apart.

  And then—

  They reformed.

  Shadowy threads stitched bone and flesh back together, dragging broken bodies upright once more.

  Hirauka clicked his tongue.

  “Tch. Physical damage won’t cut it.”

  He summoned his Record—the divine grimoire of weapons. Pages flipped rapidly, reacting to his will, until one began to glow with a deep, ominous hue.

  A smirk crossed his face.

  “Alright… let’s try this.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The page burned away.

  “Dark Bane.”

  A sword of pure black light manifested in his hand, its edge vibrating with divine resonance that devoured corruption itself.

  He swung once.

  The nearest demon screamed—not in pain, but in release—before collapsing into ash.

  Hirauka exhaled.

  “Much better.”

  He advanced.

  Through fields of reanimated corpses, through warped magic circles and chanting echoes, until he finally saw the source—

  A tall figure draped in torn ritual robes, standing calmly before a massive swirling sigil of darkness. With every gesture, more undead rose to answer his call.

  The figure turned.

  A faint smile curved his lips.

  “When will the gods learn,” he said softly, “that sending mortals against us is nothing more than wishful thinking?”

  Hirauka stopped.

  “I figured someone like you would be behind this,” he replied. “Necromancers never fight alone.”

  The man’s eyes glimmered.

  “You look familiar,” he mused. “Are you the mortal known as Hirauka?”

  “That’s me,” Hirauka answered coldly. “Your lord’s recurring problem.”

  Shikatsu chuckled, spreading his arms.

  “A mortal crossing divine thresholds…” he said. “You have no right to stand here.”

  Hirauka lifted his blade.

  “I’m the most rightful one to kill your lord.”

  The smile vanished.

  “You dare.”

  They collided.

  Divine steel met corrupted power with a thunderous shockwave. The ground cracked beneath them as sparks of godly and demonic energy tore through the air.

  Shikatsu fought like a force of nature—every strike heavy with ancient authority, every movement precise and merciless. As the Guardian of Emergence, his power bridged demonhood and godhood seamlessly.

  Hirauka pushed back—hard—but his breathing grew strained.

  Shikatsu raised his arm, dark energy spiraling violently.

  “I warned you,” he said. “Even your weapons won’t save you.”

  Hirauka steadied himself.

  “Just wait,” he replied. “You’ll see.”

  “You won’t live long enough—”

  “Cut it out!”

  A trident tore through the battlefield, glowing brilliantly as it slammed into Shikatsu’s chest and sent him crashing into a stone wall.

  Sayaka descended, landing beside Hirauka.

  “Are you alright?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me you were entering the Raid of Emergence?”

  Hirauka gave a weak smile.

  “You were sleeping. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

  She glared.

  “Idiot. You’re the most important one here.”

  Then she extended her hand. “Now get up. We’re ending this together.”

  Hirauka rose.

  Shikatsu staggered back to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes.

  “You mortals believe cooperation will save you?” he snarled.

  Hirauka summoned another page.

  “Let’s test that.”

  The air warped.

  “Infinity Axe.”

  The legendary weapon materialized—massive, radiant, carrying the weight of cosmic judgment. Hirauka hurled it forward.

  The impact was catastrophic.

  Golden fire engulfed Shikatsu, ripping through his defenses in a deafening explosion.

  When the smoke settled, the necromancer lay embedded in shattered stone—defeated, but breathing.

  Hirauka and Sayaka stood side by side, exhaustion heavy but resolve unbroken.

  Without another word, they vanished.

  ---

  The sea breeze greeted them as reality snapped back into place.

  Moments later, Sagashi came running down the deck.

  “Boss! The cruise has reached the island!”

  Sayaka blinked. “Already? Two days passed?”

  Hirauka nodded. “Time flows differently inside raids.”

  They disembarked.

  At the port, a cheerful man in a white suit stood waiting, arms wide.

  “Sayaka!” he called. “Finally! I thought you’d never arrive.”

  She smiled. “Long time no see, Williams. Still full of energy?”

  “Always,” he laughed. “Come on—my dream project is finally complete.”

  As they walked toward the island mansion, Hirauka leaned closer.

  “So… he’s close to you?”

  Sayaka laughed. “Hardly. He’s just my biggest shareholder. I own 56.35%. He owns 37.25%. The rest are minor investors.”

  Hirauka raised an eyebrow. “A billionaire, then.”

  “And a smart one.”

  They reached the mansion—vast, modern, gleaming against the ocean horizon. Even the air felt alive.

  Sayaka glanced at Hirauka.

  “Welcome to paradise.”

  ---

  ? End of Chapter 17 – The Necromancer’s Call