Grandson of the Holy Emperor is a Necromancer

The villagers all held their breaths the moment they heard 'Necromancer' come out of my mouth. After exchanging glances with one another, they then gripped the farming tools in their hands even tighter.

The light in their eyes turned hostile.

Well, they finally figured out where the bastard that destroyed their lives and their homes was hiding, so without a doubt, their anger should be boiling like crazy right about now.

"What should we do about Charlotte?"

Gril looked at the girl. However, the latter simply shook her head.

Her tightly-shut lips parted just a little, "I... go with you."

"It'll get very dangerous. That's why you should..."

"I'm coming with you."

"Charlotte, you're putting us in a spot here. Don't be stubborn, and..."

She stared at Gril with a completely emotionless face. Her crimson eyes didn't flicker even once.

"I'm coming with you."

The air seemed to get so much heavier just then.

This was the kind of pressure that no young girl should be able to emit, but despite that it came bearing down on us regardless. The man feeling the most of her sunken and emotionless gaze was Gril; he hastily swallowed back his saliva.

A short while later, the villagers including Gril all turned their heads away and avoided meeting her eyes.

"...Got it."

When confronted by a venomous snake vying for blood, the hapless puppies–the villagers–got petrified beyond salvation.

She then asked me nonchalantly as if she had finally gotten her permission from the ȧduŀts. "I'll support you, but will that be alright?"

I didn't say anything as I quietly studied her for a while. Even though our gazes were interlocked, she didn't try to avoid me. Well, she used a kitchen knife to fight off zombies, so this much was kinda understandable.

If we were to run into more undead later, then this girl should prove to be far more reliable than these healthy menfolk from the village. Besides, she was the only one who could support me properly anyways due to our similar height.

Gril could carry me, but one wrong reaction from him and I might get inadvertently killed, so that's a definite no-no.

I deliberated on my choices, but in the meantime, the girl took my silence as a tacit agreement. She spoke up. "Let's get going then."

She supported me and began walking forward. Naturally, the villagers started following us too.

As I expected, we didn't run into any zombies. That zombified bear must've been the Necromancer bastard's final line of defense. What a relief that was–if a monster even scarier than the bear popped up, then we would've been totally annihilated, that's for sure.

Eventually, we managed to reach the deepest part of the cave.

"Looks like we're here."

Indeed it had to be, since we could see a wooden door at the end of this dank cave.

The Farmer Gril and the Hunter Hans stood before the door and exchanged glances with each other, and then cautiously opened the door.

The villagers tensed up as they gripped their farming tools tighter.

It was quite dark inside, so the men raised their torches and cast some light in the interior of the chamber. We were then greeted by an incredibly foul stench coming from rotting corpses strewn about everywhere. Also, scrolls and grimoires written in unknown Runic characters were messily discarded on the ground too.

"I guess magician types aren't really fond of tidying up huh," I commented upon seeing the mess.

Well, we were talking about a Necromancer here. Even among the magician types, Necromancers were probably known as hardcore invalids who shut themselves up in a dark, dank corner of a room somewhere.

It was then, Gril suddenly cried out, "Ah! Oh my goddess!"

The villagers hurriedly ran towards the corner of the chamber. On a certain rocky wall of the cave, we found a nȧkėd woman strung up by her arms and legs so that she'd be left dangling in the air.

Her body was riddled with wounds as if she had been tortured.

"Who... is there...?"

With some difficulty, the woman opened her eyes and asked us. It seemed that her vision hadn't gotten used to the lighting provided by the torches yet. She failed to discern that these were her fellow villagers.

Her question elicited loud answers from Gril and the other men.

"It's me, Gril! Morian! I came to rescue you!"

"What are you on about?! This is Hans! In order to rescue you, I risked my life to...!"

I became dumbfounded at the spectacle that was happening before me.

I knew that they were somewhat excited right now, but shouldn't they act a bit more rationally than this?

"Hey, you lot. Before you start yapping on about stuff like that, why don't you untie her first? Looks like she's been tortured pretty good."

"Ahh! T-that's right, the Imperial Prince-nim is here to rescue you too!"

The villagers quickly untied the rope and supported the woman away from the wall.

"Imperial... Prince-nim did?"

She looked in my direction with a surprised expression.

She was a looker for sure. Pale, blemish-free skin, clearly defined facial features, plus black hair and eyes which were rare in the Continent.

She was certainly alluring, alright.

There wasn't even any need to mention her figure too; abundant brėȧsts, hand-spun waist, and rather supple buŧŧȯċks. It was like looking at a fine sculpture, really.

Any hot-blooded male would dearly love to, uh, share their love with her at least once in their lifetime. She was that kind of a woman.

However...

I began to massage my temples. "You dumbass grandson..."

I simply had to insult the original owner of this body.

Sure, the boy's eyes had opened up to the joys of carnal activities to the point of even becoming blinded by a gorgeous beauty, but seriously? This woman had to be in her early thirties, man... To think that he tried to hang himself just because he got rejected by a woman twice his age. What the bloody hell?

I couldn't help but helplessly sigh as I thought of this.

It was then something tugged at my mind, so I shifted my gaze back to the woman once more to use [Mind's Eye] on her.

[Name: Morgana

Age: 63

Specialty: Honey trap, Necromancy, dissection, hexing, ȧssassination.

+ Currently in an extremely tense and agitated state.]

63 years old?! Necromancy? Dissection??? Hexing and freaking ȧssassination????

"The Imperial Prince-nim came for me...?" The woman formed another surprised expression on her face. She sneakily brushed aside the villagers helping her and approached me. "Is it true? You really came for me...?"

She began blushing a little. Then, with an enraptured expression that belonged to a maiden experiencing her first love, she embraced me.

Her smile was so alluring that the heart of any man who saw her would totally go wildly out of control.

"Ah, ahh! Your highness, thank you!"

I wordlessly pushed away the silver-haired girl supporting me and grasped my shovel. With every ounce of energy I could muster, I smacked the woman on the head.

**

(TL: In 3rd person POV)

Understandably, the villagers freaked out and their expressions stiffened in an instant. Even the usually-taciturn silver-haired girl had to open her eyes wide.

The woman staggered from the shovel shot to the head before collapsing on the floor.

Her trembling hands rose up to touch her wounded head. Maybe she still hadn't comprehended this situation properly yet, because she kept staring dazedly at the 'Imperial Prince'.

"Argh, I should've hit her with the shovel's blade instead."

The Prince's mutter caused Morian's expression to instantly pale. She reached out to the other villagers and flailed about. "H-help me!! T-the Prince has lost his mind! Please...!!"

The Imperial Prince strode over to her. "I was thinking that something stank really hard here. If only I knew earlier, I'd have searched each and every villager thoroughly." The Imperial Prince cracked his neck and shoulder muscles. And while gripping the shovel, he glared at the woman and snickered, "So what should I do with you? Beat the living sh*t out of you and then tie you up? Orrr, just bury you six feet under so that you won't have a chance to get smart again with me?"

The woman screamed out loudly again.

It was at this point that the villagers finally regained their wits and stepped forward to protect the woman. They confronted the Prince and spoke up.

"I-Imperial Prince-nim! What are you doing this?! Why...?!"

"How could you wield your shovel against a frail young lady?!"

As soon as the villagers stood up for her, Morian quickly hid behind them as her body shivered like a frightened kitten.

Meanwhile, the Prince formed a dumbfounded expression as his eyes scanned the villagers. "Get out of my way. I'm gonna finish this. Or else, you fools are going to get hurt."

The village men quickly shook their heads. To them, the Prince right now had lost his mind.

The boy's sharp glare, rude and harsh tone of voice–all those belonged to a neighborhood thug, not a prince. He was renowned for his mangnani personality, sure. But lately, though, people began thinking that he had somewhat improved, but as it turned out, nothing had actually changed.

A mangnani would always be a mangnani, indeed.

But then, the Imperial Prince said something completely unexpected to them. "Did you just say she's a frail young lady? This b*tch is 63 years old. She's old enough to be your mother, and then some."

Morian's expression froze up in an instant. Her body began shuddering as well.