Taming the Dark Lord - Chapter 54

Chapter 54 – The Massacre Culprit (1)

The air around them felt thick, like it was pressing down on them on all angles, making it so hard to breathe.

For a brief second, the throbbing pain Amelia felt slipped from her mind, like she momentarily stopped feeling altogether. She fixed her gaze on the necromancer, looking at him as if he spoke in a language she couldn’t understand.

Daughter? Who was he calling daughter?

…Debra?

That couldn’t be right. Debra always loathed the dark forces with every fiber of her being, spending most of her life serving the Light cult devotedly and without fail. So why was the necromancer looking at Debra as if he knew her?

Amelia shifted her attention back to Debra, whose face turned white as snow. Debra held his gaze, and for a short, fleeting second, Amelia almost believed what the necromancer said was true.

“I expect no less from my daughter. Good job, you actually got to be a saint.” The necromancer said as he knocked on the ground. The sharp sound of bone hitting jade echoed loudly in the space around them, making Debra tremble on her spot.

Before Debra knew it, the necromancer was beside her in an instant, and placed his boney hand on her shoulder. He looked at her icily and a grin slowly crept on the corners of his mouth showing his satisfaction. “What I planned for years was not in vain after all. My daughter, you will be the sharp blade that will represent the darkness, and you will be the one forcing the Light into its knees, and bring the world back to the protection of my God.”

The cold hand that grasped her shoulder brought Debra back to her senses. She flinched away from him, shaking her head frantically and said, “Y-you are speaking nonsense! I d-don’t even know you! My father is already dead… You are not my father!”

“Have you forgotten?” The necromancer said with a smile on his lips. “Right after you were born, I myself placed you into the noble family. What’s the name again? Dolvi, was it?” He said as he carefully patted Debra’s face.

Debra brutally slapped his hand away, her eyes red with unmistakable anger. “You’re lying!” She screamed.

While the necromancer had his attention focused solely on Debra, Amelia discreetly placed her hands behind her back, silently muttering a spell as she drew a rune with her bloodstained fingertips down to the white jade floor. She kept her eyes on the necromancer the whole time and prayed that she wouldn’t get caught.

The cult would surely send someone over as soon as they receive the Saints’ cry for help. It doesn’t matter how far the Saints were in the world, they would appear just as quickly.

It was a painstaking effort, drawing without seeing and with a bloodied shoulder at that, too. Amelia clenched her teeth together, forcing herself to finish the rune with the little energy that she had, and after her fingers flicked the final stroke, she exhaled a panted breath and craned her neck upwards, body heaving with clear exhaustion.

They just need to hold on for a little bit longer.

“What are you doing?”

A cold voice suddenly piped up, sending chills down Amelia’s spine and before she could react, a foot came downwards and crushed the rune Amelia spent the past few minutes doing into dust.

Their cry for help wasn’t even sent yet.

“Nice try.” The necromancer said nonchalantly, rubbing his sole against the marble flooring before raising his foot again and this time, directing his affliction onto Amelia as he stepped on her hand mercilessly; no ounce of sympathy in the way he’s grinding her hand to the ground, bones crunching as if to intentionally break it, and it did.

Amelia fought back the groan that was forcing itself out of her throat. She didn’t want to cry out from pain, she won’t give the necromancer that satisfaction.

He suddenly stood in front of her, his shadow covering her crouched form on the ground as Amelia forced her head up, cowering at the sight of his terrifying appearance.

Half of his skull was full of maggots, and he was looking at her in a way that made her shiver down to her core, and her heart felt like it was sinking into a bottomless abyss— so deep and unending it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

They did everything they could think of; exhausted every power, every magic they possessed to no avail. They were faced with an enemy they couldn’t seem to bring down. It was so powerful that they couldn’t even defend themselves.

And now Amelia was completely at his mercy.

Knights and citizens alike had fallen one by one, and the city that used to be brimming with life now became a city full of decaying corpses. At this point, no one would come to rescue her, and no one would know about what happened here, and what brought about the bloody massacre. They would rot and disappear as if their lives meant nothing, their identities erased from memory along with the corpses of tens of thousands of civilians.

Amelia didn’t want to show how weak she felt, and how defeated she was on the inside. She took a quivering breath, willing herself to calm down from the hopelessness that was threatening to overtake her.

“You are the Chief Saint, am I correct?”

The necromancer’s foot pressed harder, and a sinister smile crept on his face. “Your face… it looks so familiar.” He said, pondering for a second before continuing, “Was it you on Oya street that day?”