SSS-Rank Hunter Reborn: Private Tutor to the Count's Bastard Son

The next afternoon.

The sky was unusually full of dark clouds today. In weather that looked like rain would pour down any moment, the soldiers guarding the south gate of the Count's castle moved busily.

"Don't dawdle and move quickly!"

"We need to get everything inside before the raindrops fall!"

Unlike the busy area below the gate, the upper area was incredibly leisurely. The knight with a bushy beard, Phillen Syer, yawned lazily as if bored.

"Sir Syer. I've come to relieve you."

A dry voice suddenly came.

Turning around, he saw a young knight. He was a handsome man with distinct features. Glancing at his watch, Phillen sighed and muttered.

"You came right on time again today, Alter."

"Then I'll come a little late next time."

"I'm telling you to come a little earlier, man. But what's that?"

His gaze turned to the documents Alter was holding.

"Instructions from above."

Something that often came down when pre-arranged guests or special visitors were expected. Taking it, Phillen read the documents with sleepy eyes.

"Huh? A knight order from the Holy Kingdom is coming tonight?"

"Yes. They say it's to find a holy relic."

"Why would they look for that here?"

Phillen asked as if bewildered.

Then Alter shrugged and answered.

"They say a holy relic was lost in the Count's territory. A holy relic called the Eyes of the Moon, and it seems to be quite an important item."

While continuing to speak, Alter's eyes suddenly flashed sharply.

"Sir Syer, someone seems to be coming."

Someone was approaching from far away. A figure wearing a bright red robe like the setting sun. Phillen narrowed his brow and asked.

"What's that now? Besides the Holy Kingdom folks, was there anyone scheduled for today?"

"No."

A visitor without an appointment.

Phillen scratched his head with an obviously annoyed expression.

"I'll go. I was about to go down anyway."

"Yes, let me know if anything happens."

"When that happens, lock the gate first. Don't worry about me."

After patting Alter's back, Phillen immediately went outside the gate. Two experienced soldiers followed him. Soon the appearance of the strange visitor became clearly visible.

'A mask?'

Phillen frowned.

Unusually, the visitor was wearing a mask. It was a unique mask with about two red lines drawn on a pure white background.

'I've never seen anyone decent who goes around wearing a mask.'

The anxiety in his chest amplified.

When about twenty steps remained, Phillen unconsciously gripped his sword. Then he immediately opened his mouth. It was to ask about the other party's identity and purpose of visit.

But the other party's words were faster.

"I've come to see Count Arcdute."

He got straight to the point. And spoke casually too. Wrinkles formed on Phillen's brow. He felt a surge of anger for a moment, but suppressed it and asked.

"Do you have an appointment with the Count..."

But Phillen couldn't continue speaking.

Suddenly the other party put his hand inside his robe. Seeing this, Phillen reflexively drew his sword. He might throw a concealed weapon. But what the other party pulled out wasn't a concealed weapon or a weapon.

"If you need something to prove my identity, I have it."

With a husky voice, what the other party held out.

It was a bracelet with three bright red teeth and a sword-shaped wooden piece. The moment he saw this, Phillen's eyes bulged. He recognized what it was.

"...Serneck's seal."

In the southern part of the Count's territory, there was a demon realm that didn't allow human approach.

The Great Forest of Serneck, where different races lived together.

The actual rulers of that place, the Dark Elf tribe, had long ago formed an alliance with Count Arcdute. And as proof of their pact, they made and shared that seal. Remembering this, Phillen moved his tightly closed lips.

"Open the gate."

"Huh?"

"B-but..."

"Open it now! He's the Count's guest."

One evening in mid-May.

A messenger from Serneck visited Count Arcdute's castle.

***

At the same time.

Silvan muttered while holding an old chest.

"Today I'm going to try making something called a mimic."

After reading the skill book all night, he seemed to want to test the necromancy he'd newly learned. Meanwhile, Ferda trailed off with a troubled expression.

"Silvan, mimics are..."

"I know. I heard they're a completely different type of monster."

As Silvan answered, mimics weren't undead.

They were just monsters that covered themselves with treasure chests and preyed on victims. It might be possible if you defeated a mimic and then revived it as undead, but creating a mimic itself was impossible.

At least that's how Ferda understood it.

But Silvan's thinking seemed a bit different.

"But somehow I feel like it'll work."

Logically it was impossible, but since Silvan was saying it, it somehow seemed possible.

Also, looking at his eyes, they were strangely full of enthusiasm. With that much passion overflowing, he couldn't not give permission. Even if it failed, it would be good study. Chuckling, Ferda patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"If you think it'll work, you should try it. I'll be looking forward to it."

"Hehe, yeah!"

A spirited answer came back.

Silvan immediately took the chest and headed to a corner. Hound, who had been sitting quietly, followed him.

"Wait there. I need to concentrate."

[Yes, understood.]

Did he feel Silvan's enthusiasm?

Hound sat down without complaint. Meanwhile, watching such Silvan, Ferda stretched his arms and yawned.

"Then should I go do my work too?"

Normally he would have borrowed lantern light to read books or stayed with Silvan, but today he had work to do. Ferda's eyes cooled ominously.

"It's about time to clean up."

Ferda picked up a lantern and started walking.

Where he was heading was the deep area of the underground waterway. An unknown territory that Silvan hadn't been to yet. Of course, Ferda had visited several times.

Step by step—

While walking through the rarely traveled passage, he suddenly recalled a book he'd read recently.

The war history of the Arcdute family.

About a hundred years ago, the Arcdute family had been invaded. Barbarian tribes from beyond the desert had formed an alliance and crossed the border.

It was recorded as the most fierce and dangerous battle since the family was established, and reading it, it really seemed that way. The enemy had even entered the inner castle.

Fortunately, the kingdom's reinforcements arrived in time and they could stop them, but it was a close call where the castle almost fell.

Stop—

That's when Ferda stopped walking.

At that time, large and small battles had occurred over ten times in the inner castle. And this place, the closed underground waterway, was also recorded as one of the battlefields.

Turning his gaze, he could see sword marks covering the walls and floor. The deeper he went, the more blood-soaked weapons and bones he occasionally found. As if proving the traces of fierce battle from a hundred years ago.

"Thanks to that, only I got troubled."

Ferda let out a quiet sigh.

"I didn't know such things would be wandering around."

His eyes narrowed.

Clattering sounds could be heard from beyond the passage. Shortly after, as if drawn to the lantern light, black shadows were cast on the floor. There wasn't just one. There were dozens of shadows.

Holding the lantern closer, the identity of the shadows was finally clearly revealed.

'...Skeletons.'

Skeletal soldiers with only bones remaining.

Including those, quite a few undead groups wandered around this area. Those weren't created by Silvan. While Silvan was practicing necromancy, they were 'created' in response to the nether mana he emitted.

Yes, just like when Silvan awakened as a necromancer.

Of course, if he wanted, he could probably use them as vassals. But Ferda's thinking was different. The reason was simple.

'Their rank is too low.'

Among those skull heads, not one had any rank. In other words, they were all inferior to even Hound. Having such things as subordinates was an insult to a mythical-grade necromancer.

And there was one more reason.

'We decided to go with elite few for now.'

Right now, Silvan was at a time when he needed to hide as much as possible and grow as a necromancer. If he recklessly increased undead, he'd only catch the Holy Kingdom's attention. If that happened, a tiresome chase would begin. That wouldn't be good for either Silvan or Ferda.

So they came to an agreement with Silvan.

Unless it was for lessons or practice, they'd only make creatures with some rank into vassals. So those skeletons weren't needed. Such things could be replenished anytime.

That's when the one at the front rushed at him quickly. It seemed to have been quite a warrior in life. But now it was just a skeleton.

The dagger was drawn from its sheath.

Slash—!

When the skeleton took one step, the sword cut it three times. Head, chest, and legs. Maybe because it was imbued with mana, the skeleton broke like corn stalks and rolled on the floor.

Since it wasn't a dungeon, it didn't turn into items. But Ferda wasn't disappointed. Even if it were a dungeon, nothing special would have come out anyway.

"Undead have no value."

It was the same on Earth. Unless they were higher undead like liches or dullahans, ordinary undead gave no particular benefit when killed.

Meanwhile, black smoke rose from the shattered bones.

Hisssss—

Bones melting away rapidly.

It was thanks to the ability of Arcane's dagger.

"Tsk, this is always disgusting to watch."

It was a sight that naturally made one frown. But the effect was amazing. Even without completely destroying the head, they melted away on their own. Ferda turned his gaze to the remaining skeleton group.

Now it was time to clean.

Whoosh—!

Ferda didn't wait for the skeletons to approach. He kicked off the ground and immediately slipped between the group, swinging his sword. Anyway, as long as he hit them, they'd melt away, so nothing was easier than this.

But then, screaming echoed in his head.

<Waaah! Wh-what are you doing right now?!>

Prang screamed loudly. He knew the reason. Whenever he dealt with undead, he always screamed like that. Ferda ignored him and kept swinging the dagger.

Shortly after.

All the skeletons had melted away completely. As Ferda, having finished cleaning, was lightly stretching, Prang made crying sounds.

<Ugh, did I make a contract for this? I'm feeling self-loathing.>

Early this morning, Ferda had performed a contract ceremony with Prang.

There were several reasons. It was convenient since he didn't need to maintain the sword, and the durability improved too. And one more thing—he liked that Prang could see ranks.

'It was the same with the Hell Hound.'

When he saw humans or monsters, he accurately grasped the other party's rank. This was quite a useful ability. Just by distinguishing the presence or absence of rank, he could know whether or not they could be made into Silvan's vassals.

But the most important reason was something else.

<Even though maintenance isn't needed, when stuff like this gets on it, it feels really unpleasant...>

Click!

When he sheathed the dagger, Prang's voice was cut off.

When the sword was sheathed, the sword spirit's voice was blocked. Last night, as soon as he heard this fact from Prang, he got a suitable sheath and experimented all night. And as soon as he realized Prang's words were true, Ferda decided to make the contract.

'He should have mentioned this first.'

Then he would have made the contract long ago.

Ferda burst into laughter.

"Should I head back soon?"

By now Silvan should have finished up too.

With that thought, he retraced his steps.

Shortly after, Ferda could tell he'd arrived near his destination. He could hear Silvan's voice from afar.

"Ferda! Look at this."

What Silvan brought was the old chest.

The very chest he said he'd make into a mimic earlier. But there didn't seem to be any difference in appearance? Just as he was thinking that!

Suddenly the chest started moving. Soon it opened its mouth wide and pounced on the nearby rats.

Squeak!

The terrified rats scattered in all directions. But several of them were caught by the chest. Then the chest greedily devoured the rats. Still not satisfied, it clattered around looking for other rats.

"How is it? Does it really look like a mimic?"

Silvan asked with sparkling eyes.

No, this looks way stronger than that.

Because mimics were passive creatures that sat still and waited for prey to approach. On the other hand, that thing moved on its own, and you could clearly feel that a considerable amount of mana had gone into it.

Ferda let out honest admiration.

"It looks much better than a mimic. What exactly did you do?"

"Hehe, what I did was..."

Silvan proudly bragged about the enlightenment he'd gained.

Then he suddenly closed his mouth. His gaze turned to empty air.

"Huh? What did you say?"

Silvan speaking to someone while looking at empty air. Ferda narrowed his eyes. Seeing whitish things faintly, the three spirits had probably come.

While quietly waiting for the conversation to end.

"What?"

Silvan's face suddenly hardened. Did some serious story come up? Just as Ferda was about to speak, Silvan opened his mouth first.

"...Ferda."

"Yeah?"

"Someone came from the forest."

"What?"

As soon as those words ended, Ferda's face became the same as Silvan's.

A messenger from Serneck came already?

That couldn't be. Because in the novel, they always came at the end of May. He even remembered exactly who came. The tribe's seventh warrior, Harmin Jember. A taciturn warrior with a reliable build.

That's when Silvan spoke in an excited voice.

"Could it be because of the coming-of-age ceremony?"

Two eyes sparkling like stars. Ears perked up. Anyone could see he looked like a child excited with anticipation. It seemed he was already in a good mood thinking he could escape from the castle. Seeing this, Ferda soon chuckled.

Yeah, what if they came a little early? Silvan was so happy.

"That could be it. Let's go see for now."

"Yeah!"

Silvan answered energetically.

Without anyone leading, both headed toward the surface.