Chapter 24
A necromancer and a former deputy chief physician of the emergency department found themselves deeply engrossed in discussing bones, as if they had found a long-lost friend. After chatting for half the night, the necromancer Andrew Lynn got carried away and, across the table, reached out and grabbed Garrett's wrist:
"Dear friend! You're perfect to become a necromancer. How about joining us in the Black Marsh? I can introduce you"
"Oh! I'll request my mentor! He's an 11th-level mage. Once he breaks through, he might help you become a lich!"
Garrett: ""
"Thank you, but I'm not very keen. I feel like I haven't lived enough yet. But your suggestion, as a necromancer, does have its appeal." Garrett flipped his wrist and firmly shook the necromancer's hand. "I'm more interested in elemental magic. Mr. Lynn, you mentioned the Mage Tower and the Council of Magic before. Could you introduce me?"
"Ah, elemental magic!" The necromancer exaggeratedly spread his arms. With a grandiose tone and gestures, he proclaimed, "Everyone loves elemental magic, or at least they'd choose alchemy or summoning. But for the pitiful necromancers, whenever we invite someone, we always hear the same response: 'Respected Mr. Lynn, I prefer elemental magic' 'Respected Mr. Lynn, I prefer alchemy' Except for those with the deepest sorrow, yearning to resurrect loved ones, no adult chooses the grand necromantic arts!"
Garrett felt perplexed. The theatrics from a distance were amusing, but up close, it was intense. Dodging the necromancer's spittle, Garrett's mind raced, pondering: Is this guy just theatrical? Or is he having a manic episode?
I observed his erratic thinking earlier; are there other signs? Could necromancy affect hormonal secretion and thus influence mental state? But there's nowhere in this realm for an EEG, or even standard biochemistry tests
"Um if it's inconvenient"
"Inconvenient? Not at all!"
With enthusiasm, Mage Lynn took a step forward. Before Garrett could evade, he seized his arms, spitting saliva: "Though the head of the Mage Tower is a fat, irritable drinker, he and I explored the Holsea Strait together and fought alongside the Ironshells of the Radiant Church! Dear friend, rest assured, with my recommendation, he'll surely accept you!"
The necromancer swiftly unrolled parchment on the desk and scribbled: "Take it!"
Garrett froze.
In just two days in this realm, he'd been pinned down, threatened with a sword at his throat, forcefully conscripted, attacked by monsters more dangers than in a month or even a year from his past.
But never had any moment chilled him to the bone like this.
Someone who, a few hours ago, could threaten his life was now being dragged inside by a magical creature, merely because a necromancer was curious to witness an uncommon surgery.
Man is the master of his fate, the phrase echoed, but in a world like this, who could claim certainty?
"This isn't right"
Garrett's head shook like a windmill. However, the necromancer assumed he had a feud with the knight, unwilling to heal, and attempted persuasion: "Just heal him for a look! If you don't want to kill, then heal first and then sever his tendons?"
Within moments, the transformed black cat already dragged the knight to the stone door. At this critical juncture, the severely injured knight exerted his utmost, clawing at the door's edge. He looked up at Garrett with a mix of resentment and despair.
Crack!
The knight's fingers snapped against the door's edge. Garrett trembled: "No!"
He turned, stepping forward, standing before the necromancer. Gazing directly into his eyes, firm: "I won't do something like this. I've sworn never to use healing arts to harm people!"
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