The Little Necromancer [LITRPG]

Elria's eyes narrowed. "Where did you get that thing?" Her voice was low and sharp.

Pell glanced at the bear dangling from his hand. "This? Felicity gave it to us."

"Felicity?" Elria's expression twisted in confusion. "What do you mean Felicity gave it to you?"

"She… gave it to us," Pell said slowly, eyeing her, "so that we could get her cauldron and athame. Said we'd need it."

There was a second of silence.

"You're… down here for the cauldron and athame," she stated, almost like a question.

"Yes?" Pell said.

"Not for… yourself, but for… Felicity?" Elria shook her head, still trying to piece it together. "I thought you were like the rest of them—people out treasure hunting. They come here sometimes, chasing the treasure of the prison. That's what the cauldron and athame are, to most." Her gaze hardened. "But you're saying you were sent by Felicity?"

Enya nodded. "You know her? She lives in the village above here. Inside the church."

"Church?" Elria repeated, before shaking her head. "And yes—I know who she is. And also—wherever you two came from—it's not the only entrance here. This is a soul-prison with multiple entrances. There's probably dozens scattered all across the layers." She studied them both. "But go on. What do you mean by Felicity sent you?"

Pell's voice dropped to a dry rasp. "She's a strong witch that lives—or I guess, is trapped and cursed to stay inside a church, inside some creepy village. Place is filled with undead spirits, death revenants—"

"Remnants," Enya corrected.

Pell glanced at her, then back to Elria. "Remnants. And it was basically impossible to leave the village on our own. Kept sucking us back in when we tried to escape. We encountered Felicity, and then she threatened us to retrieve her stupid cauldron. Said she'd reward us, and get us out of that village so we don't age to death."

Elria didn't even bother making a joke about how Pell's already aged to death. Instead, she fell silent, her gaze unfocused. Her thoughts seemed to drag her away. All until she finally muttered to herself.

"She's alive. After all this time… Moon didn't kill her. Everyone thought she was dead." A short laugh slipped out, sharp and amused. "To think she's trapped in a church. Separate from the prison entirely. Cautious, Moon. Always so cautious." She chuckled again, a strange mix of pity and mockery. "And pitiful, Felicity, to still be breathing and yet caged like that. How I would love to see her right now."

Enya glanced at Pell, unsure whether to interrupt.

Elria waved a hand as if brushing the thought away. "Never mind. Let's get the Carrier's Light working so you can keep moving." She gestured for Enya to step closer. "The process isn't complicated, but you'll kill us all if you get it wrong."

"That's reassuring," Pell muttered.

"You're basically transferring one source of energy to another," Elria said. "Same way you move Soul-Energy into a summon. But this time, you're drawing witchcraft from the bomb and feeding it into the Light."

"I would prefer it if you didn't call it a bomb," Pell said.

Elria rolled her eyes. "I'm calling it what it is. Felicity really went overkill with this. This isn't something a normal mortal should have."

The bubbly, but also annoying attitude she had before was a massive contrast to how serious and helpful she was now.

"Encase your hand in Soul-Energy," Elria said. "Press it against the bomb, slow and steady. Witchcraft is bound to curses, and curses are tied to souls—they'll be drawn to each other naturally. Let the threads catch, then pull it into the Carrier's Light. Do it too fast, and…"

She motioned with her hands, moving her arms outward like light expanding and turning bright.

"Or," she said, now motioning again, but opening fists into flat palms, fingers slightly curled, arms moving away from her center. She mouthed the word boom.

Pell gave Enya a sideways look. "Well, it's been a good third life."

Enya's breath was shallow as she wrapped her hand in Soul-Energy, the faint shimmer crawling up her wrist like a second skin. The teddy bear hung limp from her other hand, its button eyes catching the Carrier's Light in dull reflections.

"Small amount," Elria said, every word deliberate. "A droplet, no more. Just enough to feed the Light. If you take more…" Her gaze drifted to the bear and lingered there. "…there won't be enough of us left to regret it."

Enya pressed her palm against the bear's fabric. The instant she made contact, a shock of cold surged up her arm. Not the familiar, deep frost of Soul-Energy. It was sharper, fractured, like shattered ice dragging across her skin. Beneath that cold was something restless, almost alive, sliding beneath her own energy in jagged pulses.

"That's it," Elria murmured. "Keep your hold on it."

The bear's stitched mouth twitched. Just a fraction. A tug at the thread, turning the line into the faint curve of a smile.

Enya's pulse stuttered. "It's—"

"—Ignore it," Elria cut in, her voice edged with warning.

The witchcraft's pull was unnatural, the way it tangled into her own energy. Soul-Energy was murky, pliable; this was uneven, heavy, warped in a way that made her skin prickle. She coaxed only a handful of strands free, but even that much writhed like smoke in her grasp, refusing to sit still.

The bear seemed to draw in a breath through its seams. That smile curved further, slow and deliberate, as if it understood exactly what she was doing.

"Now," Elria urged, sharp enough to cut through the growing chill in her bones. "Before it settles in you—push it into the Light."

Enya turned her focus to the Carrier's Light. The moment her Soul-Energy bridged the gap, the witchcraft power surged forward, snapping into the orb's pale heart with the hiss of steam meeting flame. For a moment, the light within flickered. The energy swirled, then warped, shadow lacing through light, before stabilizing into a steady radiance. It spread and expanded, the air growing warmer around them.

The mist reacted instantly. It peeled back in curling sheets, retreating into the distance. Shapes in the far away mist, most likely more hidden wraiths, hissed as they were driven away, their outlines fading into the gloom beyond the light's reach.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Enya drew her hand back, exhaling steadily. The bear dangled innocently again, mouth returned to its stitched, expressionless line.

Pell eyed down at it, like it would just come to life and leap at them. "Did she really need to make it into a teddy bear?"

Elria shrugged. "It kind of suits the whole cute creepy girl vibe she's got going on." She made a box with her fingers, framing Enya and the bear in an air-painting.

Pell sighed. "What is with you creepy witches?"

The path ahead felt almost unreal now. The Carrier's Light pulsed softly in Enya's hands, pushing the mist back in steady waves. For the first time since they'd entered the prison, the air didn't taste like damp stone and old rot.

Their footsteps echoed in the emptiness. The quiet should have been a relief, but it only made the weight of the place more obvious. Every now and then, the Light flickered against a half-glimpsed pillar or crumbling arch swallowed by fog.

Pell finally broke the silence. "So," he said, voice carrying in the still air, "what's your deal?"

Elria glanced over, one ghostly brow lifting. "My deal?"

"Yeah. Why you're helping us," he said, turning his skull toward her. "And while we're at it, who you even are. I don't recall a grand introduction between all the screaming and fog."

She slowed her pace by half a step, eyes narrowing as if deciding just how much to give away. "The short version? I'm bored. This place hasn't changed in… well, long enough that I stopped counting. You two happen to be my entertainment, and if you succeed, my ticket out."

"Entertainment," Pell repeated flatly. "What do you mean by ticket out?"

She smiled faintly. "Freedom."

"Freedom?" Enya asked.

"I'm a witch, and I'm in here for a reason. My soul is sealed inside this prison. More specifically, to the cauldron and athame. If you take it out of here, I'll be free."

Pell's sockets narrowed, the dim purple of his soul-flames tightening. "So if you go free, that means every prisoner here goes free? Not sure how I feel about unleashing absolute evil back into the world."

"I don't mind," Enya chimed.

Pell rolled his flames.

Elria's lips twitched, amused. "No. The others were sealed directly into the prison itself. I was bound with a… special method, tied to the cauldron and athame alone. Without the cauldron, though…" She nodded toward the bear in Enya's hands. "The prison will need a replacement power source. I'm guessing that's what Felicity's little toy is for."

Enya frowned down at it. "You mean the teddy bear?"

"Yes, the adorable little soul-annihilating bomb," Elria said dryly. "Perfect for a child's bedroom, really."

Enya chose not to comment on that. "Why were you sealed here in the first place?"

Elria's smile was slow, deliberate. "Oh, just the usual. Murder. Rituals. Mass bewitchment. Mass sacrifice. Assisting demons. Human experimentation—" She ticked the list off on her fingers, her tone light as if reciting a shopping list. "You know. Witch things."

Pell stared at her for a long beat. "That doesn't sound like someone we should be letting out into the world."

She waved a hand. "Relax. I won't hurt you, if that helps you sleep. You'll be the ones saving me, after all. Even witches have standards. Can't go around killing my rescuers. Bad manners."

"That's… comforting," Pell said flatly. "Almost."

Enya studied Elria for a moment, wondering how much of that was truth and how much was just performance. The ghost-witch gave nothing away.

The dirt path narrowed the further they went, the ground packed hard by centuries of nonexistent foot traffic. Ahead, something loomed in the mist.

Two vertical slabs of blackened metal that rose as high as castle doors. They stood alone, anchored in the middle of the road without wall or fence, as if a fortress had been stripped away and only its entry remained.

It was a massive gate.

Enya slowed, tilting her head. "What… is that?"

Elria drifted ahead, her incorporeal form gliding over the dirt until she hovered before the doors. She studied the seams, the faint shimmer in the air where the metal met the mist. "Hmm… should be a door to a deeper part of the prison."

"Deeper?" Pell asked, catching up.

"Yes." She didn't take her eyes off it. "This prison isn't just one place—it's a whole other dimension, layered with pockets of space stitched together. You could call it a… sprawling dungeon with a lot of rooms. Some small. Some enormous. All linked, more or less." She glanced back at him. "I can't tell you exactly where this one leads, but it will get you closer to the cauldron."

Pell's voice pulled her back. "Hold up." He pointed the scythe toward Elria. "Before we stroll into whatever's on the other side… what kind of dangers are we talking about here?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The Carrier's Light was nice," he gestured toward the glowing orb dangling from Enya's grip, "lets us walk without getting mauled every two seconds. But what else is in here? How strong do they get? Felicity was able to warp the inside of an entire church into some nightmare dimension. Neither of us can do anything remotely close to that." Pell pointed a thumb back the way they came. "And now we're already running into level twenty-five wraiths. So tell me—what's next? Demon lord guarding the cauldron?"

Elria floated back an inch, her expression somewhere between amused and unconcerned. "I don't know about levels and all that. That's heresy to us."

"Heresy?" Enya asked.

"Yes," Elria said simply. "We witches don't use your… system. We work with nature. Witchcraft is an extension of that. We reject anything the system offers. Haven't dealt with it in over—" She cut herself off, realizing what she was about to say. "Oops. Almost revealed my age."

Enya frowned. "You can just… reject it?"

Elria gave her a sly smile. "Of course. We don't need some invisible hand telling us our worth, binding our power into numbers and titles. We take what we want from the world, and we give nothing back to the thing that would try to own us. Wasn't born with one—never will have one."

Pell made a low sound. "That's poetic. Also sounds like you know absolutely nothing about whether we can handle what's ahead."

"That's right," she said cheerfully. "The only way to know is to go in and find out. And yes, there are entities here who can warp reality."

Pell let out a low grunt, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is completely out of our league." His voice dipped into a mutter. "I only came to the first layer for revenge on one person… and now we might have to fight level one-hundred powerhouses."

Elria gave a dismissive wave. "It's not all that bad."

Pell shot her a look that suggested he deeply disagreed. Which—he certainly did.

"Besides," she continued, cutting him off before any rebuttal, "you've been leveling up faster, haven't you?"

Enya hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah… we are."

"That's because you're fighting spirits. Wraiths." Her tone was matter-of-fact, as though explaining something obvious. "Monsters that are a nightmare to deal with. Regular steel won't harm them. Magic won't either—not unless either of them has some enchanted properties. And you…" She glanced between the two of them before landing on Enya. "You happen to use soul-energy. That puts you in the rare position of being able to kill these things as easily as you'd cut down a goblin."

Pell gave her a pointed look. "They are not that easy to—"

"—of the same level. Geez. Let me finish." She shook her head.

Elria drifted a little closer, eyes narrowing now, with an almost predatory interest. "Your whole system is flawed when it comes to beings like this. To you, they're just normal monsters for their level. To most people, they're walking calamities. The only reliable ways to hurt them? Holy magic. Purification magic. Spirit magic. And, of course, soul magic. There's a few others, but mostly, everything else is just… scratching an itch that won't ever go away/"

"So you're saying it's not that we're stronger," Pell said slowly, "just that we're among the very few who can actually hit them?"

"Exactly." Her smile was sharp enough to cut. "Which means your 'experience'—that's what you call it, right?—is multiplied several times over. Not because the wraiths are weak, but because you're doing what most can't. It's a cheat. A ridiculous little hack in the system. I've heard of certain classes that specialize in killing dungeon bosses—turning them into a joke—and apparently raking in crazy amounts of experience. It's the only thing I'm jealous of from the system. Exploits are always fun."

Enya let that explanation settle in her mind. Something that only I can do…

"Anyway." Elria gestured at the looming gate ahead. "The further you go, the tougher your enemies will be—and the bigger your gains. A dangerous bargain… but one that tilts in your favor, for now."

Pell muttered something inaudible, eyes fixed on the blackened double doors. "I have a feeling I'm going to die again…"

Elria clapped her hands together. "Now come on. Open the door. You're adventurers, aren't you? Seek the adventure! Going forward into the unknown is romantic!"

"I'm not an adventurer," Pell said flatly. "I'm a merchant."

"I'm a crafter," Enya added with a smile.

"I'm a witch," Elria joined in with the beat, placing a hand over her chest and leaning forward. "Now let's go in and—"

From Enya's hands came a soft, rasping child's voice. "I'm… a… ted… dy… bear…"

The three of them looked down at the stitched grin staring up at them. The teddy bear was smiling again. And it even somehow spoke.

"That's it. That creepy thing's going back into my inventory," Pell said with a scowl.