The Necromancer's Servant

Is it good luck or bad luck? Asa pondered while sipping the meat broth.

The meat was good. Premium beef, air-dried and pounded into dense jerky. A single bag could hold the meat of an entire cow. When cooked, it rehydrated back into delicious beef. This was the dried rations noble warriors used during their expeditions.

The broth was excellent too. Even the river water from the Lizard Swamp, once purified with a rune, became as pure and sweet as mountain spring water. Boiled into a pot of beef soup with some added salt, even the city's best chefs couldn't find fault with it. Such purification runes were indeed worth a silver coin.

Eating such good meat and drinking such good soup would revive even the most exhausted person. Asa knew his condition well—after one more night of proper rest, he'd be able to take down a bull barehanded.

The campfire was stacked with large pieces of wood, carefully arranged, with a mix of dry and damp wood to ensure it would last until morning. The heat from the fire would mask human body heat, preventing the wyverns from detecting them. There was no need to hide in cold tree hollows or muddy pits anymore, and the fire kept other beasts and insects at bay. A sound sleeping by such a fire would fully restore one's strength.

Even if he could take down five bulls, Asa still wasn't confident about fighting the hunter face to face.

No matter how well he recovered, it wouldn't be enough to outpace the hunter. The fire was warm, safe, and bright—bright enough to be seen clearly by any creature in the swamp.

"You're truly impressive. It's the first time I've seen someone cross the Lizard Swamp with just a weapon," said the woman who claimed to be an apothecary, her expression full of admiration.

Asa didn't feel worthy of admiration. He hadn't even noticed the blood still oozing from the spot where a leech had fallen off, just a few drops of blood had almost attracted all the carnivorous fish in the swamp. He'd had to shove a fallen tree, uprooted by a bull, into the river and float downstream to avoid the jaws eagerly waiting for him. But when a few crocodiles joined in, he had no choice but to clamber to the shore, bedraggled. By then, it was dusk, and as he was searching for a hiding spot, he spotted a fire. That's when he met this fellow human, a meeting he never expected in such a desolate place.

The woman was likely about Asa's age. Despite her adventurer's attire and a large pack on her back, her skin was smooth and fair, a clear sign she wasn't a commoner. She carried efficient rations, and the cost of a single purification rune could keep a peasant family comfortable for a month. She must be a noble.

"I thought exploring the swamp alone for herbs was already quite the feat. The terrain and climate here are so unique, many plants grow here only. My father always opposed it, but I snuck in anyway," she said, like a carefree child, chatting freely. Perhaps she hadn't seen anyone in a while, and in such a dangerous environment, she seemed to have no reservations about him.

Her sword was an Anka rapier—thin, long, tough, and flexible, designed for precise thrusts. Asa recognized it, as his father always displayed one prominently in their shop, where customers would gaze at it and the price tag in awe.

The sword's angle at her waist was perfect for a quick draw, and the hilt was tightly wrapped in twine, the kind of grip only seasoned soldiers used so that it wouldn't slip even when soaked in blood. Though the twine was still its natural color, unmarred by blood, the wear marks from countless grips and strikes showed it was no mere display piece.

But even with her help, could they face the hunter? In life-and-death battles, skill wasn't as important as spirit and resolve. No matter how well-trained from childhood, if someone had never heard the crack of an axe splitting bone, or the wails of someone cut in half who hadn't quite died yet, or felt the sharp pain of a weapon tearing through their flesh, they were still green. When faced with the threat of death, when that overwhelming pain threatened to drown their senses, they would shrink in fear, losing their will to fight.

If only they had a mage or a cleric, even for the most basic blessings or a few simple fireballs…

Asa realized the sudden comfort of the meat broth and the fire had almost made him forget his situation. To encounter another human, and to be sipping soup and recovering by a fire in the middle of this swamp—it was luck he could hardly believe.

Taking a bite of the adventurer's biscuit the woman gave him, Asa washed it down with broth, feeling the warmth from this stroke of luck spread through him. He sighed, both content and helpless.

The hunter was probably watching the firelight from a nearby tree hollow. Even he wouldn't come out while the wyverns prowled the night sky. But as soon as dawn broke and the wyverns returned to their nests, he would come charging toward them, guided by this stroke of luck.

Good luck or bad, since it had already happened, he had no choice but to steer things toward the best possible outcome.

"How far is it to the Donau River?" Asa asked.

The river's stretch near the Lizard Swamp was so swift even fish couldn't swim upstream. That's where Asa had been forced ashore and into the swamp. But once the river looped around the swamp, it became gentler, and drifting downstream for a day would bring him to Bracada, a small town on the empire's western frontier.

"I'm not entirely sure, but it's probably one or two days away," she replied.

At full speed, Asa could reach it in half a day. But without an exact distance, there was no certainty. He was sure, however, that the hunter could catch up to him within half a day. The chance of escape was slim.

It would be better to tell the woman the truth and ask for her help against the hunter. Though their chances of winning were low, it was still better than other options. Asa began pondering how to phrase it.

"May I ask for your company? I plan to search deeper into the swamp tomorrow for new herbs, and it's my first time venturing this far in," the woman suddenly asked. "Of course, I'll pay you." She brushed a few strands of black hair from her face, the strands sticking to her thin lips, which formed a slightly awkward curve. Her heels rubbed together nervously. Her feet were large for a woman's, almost the same size as Asa's, and she wore the same type of leather shoes that adventurers commonly used.

Suddenly, Asa realized he had a way to escape—a very efficient and promising method. No need for traps, no need for deception, no expenditure of energy, and no waste of precious time. Just here, beside this campfire, for a brief moment, he could make the hunter waste considerable time and effort.

The realization made his heart race.

"Will you?" the woman blinked. Her eyes weren't large, but her long lashes and slightly drooping corners gave her a soft, almost sleepy look, even if she were angry.

The fire was bright, her pupils dark. The firelight reflected warmth from within, but Asa dared not look directly. He averted his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to keep his tone as natural as possible. "I'm sorry, I can't. I have something very urgent."

"Oh, I see," she said, unable to mask the disappointment in her voice and expression.

"There's a spot about half a day's walk west from here, where several of the swamp's unique herbs grow. They seem to have healing properties," Asa mumbled, his face twisted, his voice faltering, the meaning of his words unclear. It was the first time he had told such a cruel lie to such a kind person, and it was a woman at that.

"Really? What kind of herbs?" she asked, her eyes wide, looking at Asa in a way that reminded him of the crossbow bolt that had nearly hit him five nights ago. He almost ducked and rolled instinctively to avoid it. The woman eagerly pulled out paper and a pen from her pack.

"Uh… pale yellow flowers…" Asa rambled off the characteristics of various random herbs, mixing them up. The woman earnestly took notes.

"If you're heading deeper into the swamp, be sure to apply water mint and pyrethrum to your clothes and skin. Even if you have insect repellent oil, you must still use these herbs. There are some insects here that only fear their scent," Asa said solemnly.

"Just these two herbs? They're everywhere," she remarked, casually picking some from the ground around the campfire.

Indeed, these two herbs did have insect-repelling properties. Since entering the swamp, Asa had been applying them to his skin constantly. But they were far less effective than the adventurers' guild's special repellent oil. Every morning for the past three days, after waking up in a tree hollow, Asa's first task was to quietly pick out the centipedes and other poisonous insects from his armpits, groin, and occasionally his hair.

Of course, there were no poisonous insects deeper in the swamp that only feared those two herbs.

It seemed that any skill could be trained. No matter how difficult or unnatural something was, with enough practice, one would become used to it, proficient, and even immersed in it. Having rehearsed his deceit earlier, Asa was now able to deliver the most venomous part of this cruel lie with fluent speech and a steady voice. He just couldn't bring himself to look at her shining eyes. Instead, he used the act of poking the fire with a stick to cover his evasive gaze.

"Thank you so much. If I find these herbs and understand their properties, those old guys at the apothecary will be thoroughly embarrassed," the woman said excitedly. She seemed to believe they had already built some rapport, speaking freely and warmly. "I've always known that in such a vast world, there must be undiscovered medicinal plants. But those old guys just bury their noses in ancient books."

There was no need to feel guilty. Even if he didn't deceive her and went off to die bravely on his own, it wouldn't end well for her. Once the pursuer found any trace of human activity in the swamp, they wouldn't spare anyone.

Even if they fought together, it would most likely result in death, and she might even become a hindrance or not help at all. This method only made her death more meaningful, giving him a better chance of escape. Asa searched his mind for any reasoning that could justify his malicious trap.

"Once my discoveries are recognized, it won't just be the apothecary; even the Magic Academy will take notice of me. Maybe the Bishop himself will personally inquire about these new herbs," the woman's round face flushed with excitement. She pointed at a nearby tree and said, "Look at this tree—that's one of my discoveries. There's no record of it in any book, but from talking to many retired adventurers, I learned it's common in the swamp. I also found that its sap is highly irritant and toxic. If it splashes into the eyes of a person or animal..."

Your life is sustained by the deaths of countless others, so never give up on even the faintest hope of survival.

The tree trunk had many small roots twining around it, straight and thin, resembling the pen used by the old adventurer behind Asa's village. This reminded him of something the old man had once said, a phrase that had sounded deeply philosophical at the time. That thought now elevated Asa's scheme to a philosophical level, allowing him to feel at ease. But suddenly, a wave of disgust surged within him, leaving him feeling utterly exhausted.