Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Chapter 437 Brewing Danger, Troublesome Stalker

The Isise.

“The Extreme Formula, you say?”

“Extravagantly so.”

“So this… array that is etched onto the surface of Aigas somewhere, is what you want to undo? And it just so happens to be the one thing holding back Boron in the Under?”

“Indeed.”

“Hmmm. What makes you so sure that the Purity doesn’t know about it? Or as you said, that you were told that even the three Deities wouldn’t interfere with you breaking it?”

“It is too early for me to be saying this, but trust me. If the Purity knew, they would have guarded it heavily until now. Originally, the Extreme Formula was not visible on the crust of Aigas. It remained as an extravagant, invisible marking that no one could see or sense. But over the past millenia, Lord Boron has grown extravagantly impatient and due to his efforts, its location was revealed to the former leader of the Evenfall. Through him, may his soul rest in place, its etching on Aigas was eventually made visible to us all. Only we know about it.”

Silence.

Then solemn consideration.

“Hmmm…. Very well. There are still many missing details however. Tell me. You seem confident, so why do you need us? And why do you think we will help you?”

“Ah, there’s no harm in adding extravagant quality to the mix. The Evenfall has never been a true threat to the world since its founding two millennia ago. Poor leadership and strategy as well as extravagantly weak members being the cause. Your conscription will change the latter for the better…”

“As for why you would help us…”

A cheerful grin.

“Well, it’s mainly for two extravagant reasons. For one, no one on Aigas will ever accept you and your little community.”

Tension and rage rise.

“Calm down, calm down. I mean it in a matter of fact way. Summoners are to be captured and killed in Pelian by order of the oh so extravagant Royal family, so you aren’t exactly a good fit here. Maqi keeps to its own and doesn’t take to foreigners lightly, especially if they do not match up to the standards of strength they require. This doesn’t usually include calling strange creatures from unknown places, hahaha.”

“Then Emeradis… While it is welcoming of talent, it has made it a point to crude identify Pelian citizens as blandly cultured. As the progenitor of the extravagantly respected Mage class, I do not think they would be all excited to have you on board.”

…

Only the truth was said.

It wasn’t that they were Summoners, it was that they were Summoners from Pelian.

There was the grinding of teeth and heavy breathing.

“Fret not. This is exactly why I’m here. Instead of creating a reclusive society of your own that does not interact with the world, join me. Soon, none of these extravagant racial, stereotypical and historical classifications will be relevant. Everyone will be same.”

“…What do you mean?”

Another grin explodes to the surface.

“No one will have the time to worry about all that when there is extravagant chaos that turns back the clock, reforming everything to how it was supposed to be. Believe me, Master Boron is extravagantly open minded.”

***

Emeradis.

Two men with bald heads bowed before an elderly woman who was also shaved of hair completely.

All three wore thick, navy blue robes that hid their shapes, going over to pool at their feet with their excessive sizes.

It was excessive but traditional.

An Emeradis Mage did not need anyone to appreciate their body. Only their mind and skill.

“What was taken?” the elderly woman who stood aloof with her eyes sharply gazing at the two men bowing at her feet, questioned.

“Lady Stern-Mage, they took two olden relics, coffins holding the remains of the heroes who sacrificed themselves in the olden Era,” one of the two Mages said with a deep voice that cracked just a bit from the pressure he felt the woman before him exude.

“Two?”

“We managed to stop them from stealing the last one, Lady Stern-Mage.”

“Is that so? Which one remains?”

“The one belonging to both our own, Lady Stern-Mage.”

“I see.”

The woman looked around the courtyard leading up to the grand storage.

Numerous dead bodies were sprawled everywhere, bleeding on the white tiling.

The operation to collect the corpses had already begun but the mood was sullen. This was a very bold move but it was also surprising.

What was the motive of the attackers?

What could they possibly hope to achieve by stealing these coffins.

What was inside was either rotten and dried or close to it.

The bald woman carefully looked around, feeling the strange tangling of energy.

It was Undeath.

The Green Neolists.

Her eyes moved down to the ground.

A dark patch, one obviously made by the explosion of flame on the white tiles could be seen.

From this, the Stern-Mage noted that it was likely the use of the signature travel tool of this infamous group.

The Arcane Teleportation scrolls.

“How bold,” she said before turning to the two who still remained bowing. “Report to the Monarch. He’ll need to know of this.”

***

Inhone City.

The enticing view of the city was slowly coming back with a refreshing flare, the new Guilds Association building as a prominent landmark rising in construction well while the different districts, commercial and otherwise were springing up nicely.

The city was bustling with life even after the recent attack as at this point, people had already grown past the destruction.

It came and went.

Such was life.

On the streets were many faces – happy and those trying to be, as well as unbidden emotion.

In this expressive atmosphere, a man wearing a shirt that looked to be made with mithril-like texture as well as reddish brown pants passed through with a passive gaze.

His nose kept twitching as he kept sniffing up the air, his expression changing after short bursts of time.

The strap to the sword sheath which he slung over his shoulder had had enough of his grip which also changed with his expressions, the swing of his body now and then as he seemed to be searching for something causing the object to jangle.

Suddenly, the man came to a complete halt as he drew in a sharp whiff of the air.

“Yeah, that’s an undead curse alright. Probably from an Arch-Lich. Argh, a really foul scent,” the man said as he swiped his hand before his nose. “Looks like Azila was right. There’s something to look into, after all.”