Revolution of the 8th Class Mage

“Stop.”

Ian closed the black magic book and slowly stood up to walk in front of the two necromancers.

“You’re saying the old man should die, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Of course!”

“Haha…”

The older necromancer only laughed hollowly while the younger screamed out his argument as Ian confirmed his choice. It seemed to be a sign of his deep despair rather than having given up.

“All right.”

“……!”

A familiar explosion sound rang, and the corpse dropped in morsels as usual.

“…?”

However, something was strange. The necromancer did not feel a thing, and he could not have become just numb from having his body blasted away. The older necromancer slowly opened one eye.

“What, what…”

He first saw Ian with a palm stretched out. The problem was the direction of his arm because it was not towards the older necromancer. Ian’s palm had been stretched towards the younger necromancer.

“What happened…?”

The older necromancer had not been the one whose body had burst into pieces.

“I don’t like people who speak too much.”

Ian looked down at the younger necromancer’s corpse as he spoke with a cold laugh. While it was a repulsive sight, Ian did not avoid his gaze. He had to check something out since this was a sort of an experiment.

(I will give you an immortal body.)

A high-class black magic spell and the power of language combined wrapped themselves around the corpse. Ian had only built a theory since there was little time, and it was the first time he had tried it out.

“Grrr…”

However, Ian’s spell was working since the younger necromancer’s body, which had been ripped apart, was revived into its original form.

“What…?”

The elder necromancer could not hide his surprise at the sight. The body was as good as new, and he could not detect the patchwork-like marks usually discovered on the undead. He could only see changes in hair color, which turned black, and a paler shade of skin. The younger necromancer had come back to life as he had been alive except for those issues.

“How did you do this…?”

The necromancer had been staring at the reincarnated body and asked a question as he forgot his position.

“Do you want to know?”

“W, will you tell me?”

“Of course not.”

“You seem to be calm.”

The necromancer came back to his senses as Ian looked and spoke to him indifferently. He lay face down on the floor and began to beg, as the necromancer sensed that he was not out of the woods yet.

“Please let me live…”

“I will.”

“Yes?”

“Let you live.”

Ian reached out with his palm towards the elder necromancer’s heart to crush his mana heart, The necromancer coughed red blood from the damage, and he had now become an ordinary old man after losing his mana heart.

“I don’t know how long you can live in that state, but dying slowly while you repent your deeds would not be a bad idea.”

Since Ian had demolished the necromancer’s mana heart, the black magician would have taken great damage to both his body and soul. While he might not feel the aftermath, the symptoms would act up soon.

“Good luck, surviving.”

Ian had no use for the necromancers’ hiding place and activated a teleport spell. He could not rest yet, since he had only doused a small but urgent fire.

‘Now’s only the beginning.’

Of course, a small fire did not mean that it was not threatening, and actually was the flare for a more positive outcome. Now, humanity had a way to battle against the Immortal Troops of the Eastern Plain.

‘There’s so much to do.’

Since Ian had found a way, Ian now would have to find its owner. Ian’s body disappeared with a white light to the palace of the Greenriver Empire, and its most protected room, the office of the Emperor Terry Greenriver.

“You…?”

Only

The Emperor’s eyes widened in Ian’s sudden visit. He was not offended, since the Emperor knew the best the meaning of the name Ian Page held in this empire. The Emperor was also indebted to Ian.

“Your highness, please forgive my rude entrance. However, I had no choice because it was an urgent matter. Could I have a bit of your time?”

The Emperor nodded at Ian’s request and bade his guards go outside of the room.

“Is the discourtesy made by Ian Page or the Lord of the Ivory Tower.”

“It is made by the Lord of the Ivory Tower in preparing for a national disaster.”

“Is that so, then…”

Emperor Terry Greenriver lowered the reports he had been reading and placed seal in its place. He was ready for the conversation.

“Speak, Lord of the Ivory Tower.”