The Little Necromancer [LITRPG]

Two days before Kaelis' arrival to Talo

The air tore open with a sound like screaming glass.

A jagged rift stretched wide in the middle of a forgotten clearing, its edges swirling with violet light. The grass around it blackened instantly, curling as if burned from the inside.

Jowlaw was the first to step through. He tumbled out in a flamboyant spin, boots skidding circles across the dirt before he flared his arms wide as though he were stepping onto a stage. His frilly outfit only amplified the appearance of a dancer—a performer of the most exquisite arts.

"Ta-da!" he sang, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the ground. "Ladies and gentlemen, the great Jowlaw has arrived—ah, pity! No audience but the trees."

He rose, spinning on his heel to face the twisted trunks surrounding around him. His smile stretched out in a way that seemed wrong, revealing the bright white of his teeth. "But that's fine. I've always liked trees. They whisper the best secrets when you cut them down." He made a sawing motion with his arm, laughing under his breath.

"Chop! Chop!" he murmured.

From the rift's ethereal glow, came a second figure, stepping through with none of the same theatrics. Livira emerged, and instead of flamboyance, her mannerisms resembled that more of a princess stepping off a carriage. Her feathered hat tilted to shade her scarlet eyes. A few moments passed, and the portal behind her shrunk with a hiss before dissipating completely. Faint distortions could still be seen in the air, like a physical mirage made manifest in a circle.

"You're ridiculous," she said mildly. It wasn't sharp, but not fond. A passing observation.

"Ridiculous?" Jowlaw clutched his chest, staggering as though struck by a mortal wound. "Madam, you cut me deeper than any blade! Shall I collapse here, unloved by even my dearest companion?" He dropped flat on his back onto the grass with a grunt, then rolled over to grin up at her. "Ah, but wait—you'd just step over me, wouldn't you?"

Livira shrugged, walking straight over him. Despite wearing heels, they didn't sink in and stab past his ribs. "The dirt sure talks a lot."

He moved a slack hand to his forehead in dismay as she stepped over him. "Oh—the agony! To be stepped on like trash by a beautiful madam!"

Jowlaw sprang to his feet in an instant, trailing after her with a delighted laugh. He caught up, leaning forward, his face to her side. "Ah—but some men love that, don't they? To be stepped on by a lascivious woman, the desires of all men—"

Livira raised a single finger, a few inches below his chin—then flicked straight down. Jowlaw's body immediately tripped and was slammed down into the dirt and grass, indenting a few inches straight into the ground.

She continued to walk forward. She could detect some mana signatures far away. Where there was mana, there was civilization. Uncultured, civilization. The people on the lower layers barely knew the concept of masking their mana.

Such primitive creatures.

Despite her black, tight-fitted leather attire that accentuated her slim, slender curves, she was not, in-fact, a rogue or assassin type. She just simply preferred the aesthetic.

"You didn't forget the storage ring, did you?" Livira asked, her voice mild, almost like she was inquiring about the weather.

For a moment, the crater behind her stayed quiet. Then the air shimmered beside her, and Jowlaw strolled casually out of a veil of mist, dusting nonexistent dirt from his sleeves. He twirled a black amethyst ring around one finger, the gem catching stray flecks of violet light.

"Forget?" he gasped dramatically, clutching the ring to his chest as though wounded by the accusation. "Livira, Livira… I am hurt. Wounded! Do you think me a clown who would come to the stage without his props?" His grin spread wide. "A performer is always prepared."

She gave the faintest shrug. "Just making sure. You've left knives in corpses before."

"That was art," Jowlaw protested, wagging the ring at her as though it were evidence of his genius. "A statement! Very moving. Blood on the floor, steel in the heart—it brought the house down. And with it—Montgomery's tears of joy." He cackled to himself, slipping the ring onto his finger with a flourish.

Livira didn't bother responding. Her eyes were already on the horizon, tracking faint signatures of mana in the distance—messy, leaking, unrefined. Primitive as always.

"We'll head that way," she said, tilting her chin toward it. "Even if the coordinates landed us wide, there should be a settlement close enough to gather information."

"Ahhh, splendid," Jowlaw said, falling into step with a jaunty skip. He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming an unseen audience. "I do so adore meeting the locals. Their fear, their awe, their screams—always the best kind of applause."

Livira adjusted her hat, her tone flat. "Try not to scare them before we get what we need."

He laughed under his breath, the sound sharp and crude as broken glass. "No promises."

Meanwhile, in the space where they had stepped through the portal—cracks had begun to take place in reality. The ripples of breaching open a dimension directly would hold unforeseen consequences.

Enya felt like she had just woken up from a nightmare. Except, the nightmare began to bleed into reality. All she remembered was screaming. Crying. Reaching out for Pell's hand—yet she couldn't reach him.

She woke to silence. A world of white. An endless, vast space of emptiness. No creases on the walls, no shadows to be seen. No directions, no sky. The floor wasn't a floor. Her mind played tricks on her. If there wasn't a floor… then was she just falling? Endlessly?

She rubbed her eyes. There were no tears, yet her eyes burned all the same. She looked around. Called out. But nothing answered her call.

Minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Weeks?

Months.

There was no concept of time here. No hunger. No sleep. No pain.

All she had, were the clothes she always wore. Her robe that she had woken up with in Sable's dungeon. The barrier-gloves, the feather-step boots. In her pockets were some silver coins and a single gold piece. Enya took one out and let go. It didn't fall. It just… floated. Right in front of her. Alongside that, was the small gem-like Crystal Spiderling baby. Small in her palm, but lifeless. But the most important, unusual piece—was the teddy bear.

The Voidlight Bomb as Elria had called it.

Enya tried to experiment with it. It had spoken before, but it did nothing now. She tried to focus on what ELria had taught her. Extracting the witchcraft from within.

But that didn't work.

Nothing worked.

That included, her system.

"Status," she called.

No response.

Yet the only thing that did work was the Grim Pullet, and her Bonecarver's Quill.

She tried writing within its pages, calling out for Custodian. But there was no reply. She filled out over twenty different entries with pleas for help, yet nothing came.

After what felt like an eternity—though she couldn't be sure how long—something flickered at the corner of her vision.

At first it was only a smear of white fuzz, like a dog chasing its tail through haze. She blinked hard, rubbed her eyes, but the blur didn't fade. It darted closer, paws-that-weren't-paws pattering against the floor-that-wasn't-a-floor.

The blur wavered, then stretched upright. Limbs, hair, eyes—all sketching themselves into being until, slowly, a girl stood before her. One exactly like her. A spitting image, body white and translucent, carved from physical light.

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Enya stiffened. "Shadow… Enya?" she whispered. That was what Pell had called it. Her Inner Darkness Apparition. But… why was it here? She hadn't cast the spell. The last cast had long since dissipated.

The girl smiled and tilted her head. "That's not my name."

Enya's mouth was dry. "Then… what is it?"

The girl tilted her head the other way, then back again, as if racking her brain for the answer. "It's… ah! My name is Lia!"

The name plucked a chord in Enya's chest. That name. She'd heard it before. Pin had called her that. Lia was the one Zerus had been sent after.

"Why are you here?" Enya asked carefully.

Lia's smile faltered. She pressed a finger to her chin, thinking hard. "I… don't remember. It's fuzzy." Then her eyes lit up again, bright and childlike. "But that's okay. Do you want to play?"

Enya blinked. "Play?"

"Yes!" Lia clapped her hands, bouncing once on her heels. "At the griffin stables. Dad lets me feed them sometimes."

The words struck Enya like something from someone else's dream. She hesitated, tilting her head. "…Okay?"

"Yes!" Lia squealed, skipping forward. She grabbed Enya's hand with surprising warmth, tugging her along. "Come on!"

The endless white rippled around them. Floors sprouted into marble sheen, walls stretched high, sunlight pierced through tall windows. Somewhere ahead, the distant cries of birds echoed—deep, not like the chirps of jays, pigeons, or chickens.

The void was gone; a castle was taking shape.

Enya stumbled at first as Lia tugged her forward, the marble solidifying, smooth beneath their feet.

"Come on!" Lia laughed, her glow bobbing ahead like a lantern. Her footsteps pattered down the hall, light and quick. Enya followed, slower at first, then breaking into a jog to keep up.

Portraits sprang into place along the walls as they passed, filling themselves with faces she didn't recognize yet felt a strange tug toward—stern men in crimson cloaks, elegant women with crowns, a dozen pairs of eyes that seemed to follow her every step.

Lia ran ahead, pulling Enya in her wake. "Hurry, hurry! They get so excited when they see me!"

"Excited?" Enya asked, her voice cracking, half from breath, half from unease and confusion.

"They love treats," Lia replied simply, as though it were obvious. "If you hold out your hand, they come close. Even the big ones."

They turned a corner, and the air grew warmer, brighter, as if sunlight had been waiting just for them. A pair of double doors loomed ahead, carved with feathers and talons. Lia shoved them open with both hands, and the white void peeled back further.

A courtyard spread wide around them.

Grass unfurled beneath their feet, soft and green. The sky arched overhead, painted in warm blues streaked with clouds. Columns and arches framed the edges, supporting balconies that stretched high above. Flowers bloomed in impossible bursts of color, and somewhere, water splashed in a fountain.

Beyond it all, a long stable rose, its wood dark and sturdy. The sound hit first: the sharp, piercing cry of griffins. Then the sight—great, winged beasts shifting in their stalls, feathers bristling, lion-like tails flicking. Their eyes gleamed with intelligence and royalty, like majestic beasts that deserved to be pampered.

Lia's grin widened. She skipped toward the stable doors, tugging Enya along. "See? I told you. They remember me."

Enya's steps followed along. Her eyes darted across the courtyard, the flickering gardens, the looming griffins that looked far too real for a dream. Her hand twitched in Lia's grip, torn between pulling free or holding tighter.

"These are… griffins?" she whispered.

Lia glanced back, hair swaying, her smile soft but puzzled. "Yep! They're really cuddly and cute!"

Before Enya could answer, a griffin screeched from the nearest stall, wings flaring. Lia only laughed and clapped, tugging her faster. "Come on! You'll see. They're gentle, I promise."

Enya swallowed hard, but she followed anyway. It was better than floating in nothingness.

The stable doors loomed taller the closer they came. Iron hinges groaned as Lia reached up and slid a heavy bolt free with ease. The wood swung wide, and a rush of hay-scented air rolled over them.

Inside, a griffin shifted in its stall. Its feathers glistened faintly gold, wings tucked tight against its lion-like body. The beast let out a low, throaty rumble, sharp beak parting as if to warn them back.

Enya stiffened. Every instinct screamed to stay away, as if it was about to bite them.

But Lia only smiled. "Shhh. It's alright."

She stepped forward without fear. Small, pale fingers stretched out, brushing the beast's beak. For a heartbeat, the griffin hesitated, but then slowly leaned into her touch. Its eyes drooped, feathers ruffling like a cat enjoying a scratch. A happy trill escaped its throat.

"See?" Lia giggled. "They remember me." She glanced back, her face bright with excitement. "Come on, try it!"

Enya froze in the doorway. "…Me?"

"Mm-hm." Lia beckoned eagerly, still stroking the griffin. "Don't worry, he won't bite."

Enya's heart hammered. Slowly, she stepped inside. Each creak of straw beneath her boots sounded too loud. The griffin's golden eyes flicked toward her, sharp and intelligent. She raised a trembling hand.

The beast sniffed, feathers bristling. For a moment Enya thought it would snap. But then—slowly—it lowered its beak into her palm.

Warmth pressed against her skin. The griffin nuzzled her hand, a soft rumble vibrating in its throat.

Enya's breath caught. Then, almost against her will, a smile crept across her lips. Something stirred in her chest. A deep, aching tug of recognition. Nostalgia. As if she had done this before. As if she had lost something precious, only to touch it again.

Lia clapped her hands. "See? They really like me!"

She darted to a basket hanging on a nearby post and pulled out a red apple, offering it to Enya with both hands. "Here. Give him this. Dad always lets me feed them sometimes."

Enya looked down at the apple, then at Lia's glowing, eager face. The tug in her chest deepened. She swallowed hard, then nodded. "…Okay."

The griffin's beak clicked in anticipation.

Enya held the apple out with both hands, half-expecting it to be snatched away in a violent jerk.

Instead, the beast lowered its beak with surprising gentleness. It plucked the fruit from her palms, crunching it down in three neat bites. Juice dribbled down its beak, and it gave a pleased trill, almost like a thank you.

Enya blinked—then laughed quietly. The sound startled her. Something about watching the griffin eat so happily tugged at her chest. For a fleeting moment, she felt like she belonged here. That this was natural.

Lia beamed, clapping once in delight. "See? I told you. They love it."

Enya rubbed her fingers over the damp spot where the griffin's beak had touched. Her smile lingered, faint but real.

"Okay!" Lia announced suddenly, spinning on her heel. "Let's go to the next spot." Her eyes sparkled as she tugged Enya's sleeve. "Come on—I'll show you my bedroom!"

Before Enya could answer, the stable shimmered. Straw dissolved into drifting motes of white. The griffin's form blurred, feathers unraveling like smoke until only its contented trill echoed in her ears.

The floor shifted beneath them. Marble tiles flowed back into place, tall doors springing up at the end of the hall.

Lia skipped ahead, hair bouncing, already reaching for the handle.

Enya lingered a moment longer, staring at the empty stall where the griffin had been. Her chest still ached with that strange, nostalgic warmth. Then she turned and followed, curiosity dragging her forward.

Their footsteps echoed through the long marble halls, chandeliers swaying overhead as if the whole castle shared in Lia's laughter. Enya kept pace, hand still caught in Lia's smaller one, her breath uneven—more from nerves than exertion.

Up ahead, the corridor widened. A tall set of double doors stood open, spilling golden lamplight into the passage. Bookshelves lined the walls inside, stacked high with tomes, while a desk sat piled with parchment and quills.

Lia slowed, her laughter cutting off in a sharp whisper. She pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh. Quiet! We don't want Terran to see us."

Enya tilted her head. "Terran?"

"My tutor," Lia whispered back, wrinkling her nose. "I hate his lectures. Always 'proper posture this,' 'read another chapter that.' Bleh." She stuck out her tongue, then giggled again. "Come on. I know what to do."

She closed her eyes, holding out her free hand as pale motes shimmered around her. A faint spell circuit flared across her skin, and the air bent like heat off stone. Coolness brushed over Enya's arms, prickling her hair on end.

Her body flickered faintly translucent, as though she'd stepped into rippling glass.

Enya blinked down at herself, startled. "What—"

"Invisibility!" Lia beamed, her outline flickering more dramatically. Her whole body blurred into wisps of white mist, like she'd never been solid at all. Her voice rang out, cheerful but hushed. "See? I learned it a while ago. Terran doesn't even know."

Enya touched her hand. It still felt like skin, but the shimmer made her insides twist. Beside her, Lia looked like a ghost straining to hold shape.

"Come on!" Lia tugged her forward, eyes alight. "This way!"

They crept past the open study doors. Inside, the old tutor hunched over a book, muttering as his quill scratched. His spectacles slid low on his nose, his lined face deep in focus. For one breathless instant Enya thought his eyes would lift.

But they never did. The two girls slipped by like smoke, their muffled laughter swallowed into silence.

Once they were beyond the chamber, Lia dissolved into giggles, her form brightening back into a soft white glow. She swung their clasped hands high between them. "See? He never noticed!"

Enya found herself smiling despite the unease coiling in her chest. "You're… good at that."

"Mm-hm." Lia's grin widened. She spun on her heel, skipping the last few steps until they stopped before a tall white door with a golden handle shaped like a griffin's wing. Her small hand shot out eagerly. "Here it is—my room!"

She pushed. The door didn't budge.

"Huh?" Her brow furrowed. She tugged harder. The handle rattled, but the door stayed shut. "That's weird. It's never locked."

Enya stepped closer. "Maybe it's—"

The world shook.

A grinding rumble tore through the floor. Jagged cracks splintered along the walls, fragments peeling like flaking paint. Chandeliers swung violently before their chains snapped, melting into white mist. Marble tiles softened beneath Enya's boots, liquefying into pale fluid before flattening into nothing.

Her stomach dropped. "What's happening?!"

Lia didn't answer. She yanked harder at the handle, her small hands straining. "Come on, come on—open!" she muttered, as if the quaking ruin around her didn't exist.

Enya's chest seized. Portraits bled from the walls, faces dripping into black-and-gold streaks. The air trembled heavy and sharp, like the quake of a dungeon collapse. She spun in place, desperate for anything—anything—solid.

And then she saw Lia.

Her body flickered, her outline breaking into mist. Her white skin fractured like porcelain, glowing fissures spreading across her arms and face.

"No—" Enya whispered. "You're—"

The quake intensified, deafening. Enya clutched her ears, but the sound was everywhere, inside her skull, rattling her bones.

And then—

A voice.

Deep. Resonant. Close enough to breathe against her neck, yet she knew it came from far down the hall.

"We finally meet, little one."

Enya whirled around.

The space completely disappeared. All became white once again. All, except for the thing standing meters away from her.