Outskirts of the Capital.

The port city of Pearlcity, where ships from the Southern Continent dock.

In the popular pub “Jester,” where the most famed mercenaries gathered, it was noisy and packed today as well.

“Urgent! Urgent!”

A woman with a bandaged neck threw the door open and burst inside.

All eyes turned to her, but she, paying no attention, cut across the hall and ran up to the bar counter.

“Leader! This is huge, huge! This is really one hell of a thing, seriously!”

At her shout, the man sipping gin at the counter lazily turned.

Messy black hair under a hood.

The woman met his cold gaze and spoke:

“They say some newly formed mercenary group passed through the gate. But the thing is, its founder...!”

“Here we go again.”

Someone nearby cut her off.

Another man, with dark blue hair tied up, looked at her with open irritation.

“Livia. Do you even know the expression ‘the age of great mercenaries’?”

One of Livia’s eyebrows crawled up.

“What?”

“At the registration office, rookie squads # Nоvеlight # get created every day. And for that kind of nonsense you’re going to yank the leader out of his rest?”

Livia’s eyes flashed.

“......Why are you butting in again, psycho? Do you even know what news I brought, you fucking bastard!”

At her venomous tirade, the blue-haired swordsman Victor looked straight at her.

“Yeah. Whatever the news is, it’s still not worth paying attention to.”

“Why you...”

Livia had already yanked her sword from its sheath.

“Victor. Livia is telling the truth.”

Another person appeared in the bar’s doorway.

A man with short silver hair came in.

On his chest hung many expensive-looking orbs—spheres for storing and amplifying mana.

He strode over and stopped in front of the one everyone had been calling “leader” until now.

“It looks like a strange type has appeared, Leader.”

As if cold water had been thrown—silence fell over the pub.

Victor asked quickly in the leader’s place:

“A strange type?”

“Yes. A mage. And quite a strong one.”

A flicker of astonishment crossed Victor’s face.

“What are you talking about? Are you saying a mage created a mercenary squad, Alleric?”

“Yes.”

Victor frowned.

These days, in Tallocium, mages were rare.

To become a mage, you needed both inborn talent and relentless effort.

You had to be born with a large reserve of mana inside your body,

then undergo training, learn to shape mana the way you wanted,

and be able to freely control it outside your body.

The problem was that there were very few people like that.

‘That’s exactly why all mages are monsters, aren’t they?’

To be honest, every mage Victor had met in his life had been a little off in the head.

And the Alleric standing in front of him was no exception.

Looking at the “leader,” Alleric continued:

“But this guy controls a rather unusual attribute.”

Every mage had their own “attribute.”

Alleric, for example, was a water-element mage and used orbs. They said that among the mages of the Imperial Palace there were also those who wielded far more outstanding attributes.

But an unusual attribute?

“Which one?”

Alleric looked at Victor.

“This guy is a necromancer.”

“A necromancer?”

He had never heard such a nickname for mages.

More precisely, he had heard it, but didn’t know whether something like that actually existed.

“And what does that mean? What attribute does he control?”

“It’s hard to say for sure. But if we judge by it, most likely a dark attribute. He summoned a skeleton.”

The hall that had gone quiet exploded with noise in an instant.

A dark-attribute mage.

A creature that had never existed in all of history suddenly appeared and summoned a legendary “skeleton,” a summon that had existed only in tales?

“Is that true?”

At last, the one who had been silent spoke.

The man Victor, Livia, and Alleric called “leader.”

He slowly rotated a glass with the last of the alcohol between his fingers and stared intently at Alleric.

“Information confirmed?”

Alleric bowed his head respectfully.

“Yes. I got it through the holy knights’ communications network.”

“I see...”

Interest sounded in the man’s voice.

“And where did he come from? I thought all mages had long been taken by the upper ranks.”

“That’s why they dubbed him a strange type. Did mages ever create mercenary squads themselves before?”

Usually, mages were “invited” into squads that already existed.

Even the strongest mage could not fight alone because of mana limitations.

A mercenary squad was structured so that the one who could lead in battle became the leader.

‘And here, some unknown mage creates a new squad?’

That meant either he was insanely confident, or he really was that strong.

Alleric placed several sheets of paper in front of the leader.

“Agavert?”

Interest flared in the leader’s eyes.

The mercenary squad “Agavert.”

At the moment, four members.

First on the list was the name Basto Paerix, the former deputy commander of Des Hound.

“Nordix and Bale?”

He knew nothing about them.

So, most likely, small fry.

But the last one...

“King of the Dead....”

His gaze stopped on the neatly written words.

A smile slowly spread across his lips.

“What kind of guy is this. Is he hiding his true name right now or what?”

Eyes the color of mixed green and brown curved, and loud laughter rolled through the pub.

“Ah... a pretty interesting guy.”

King of the Dead.

Everything about this person was curious.

From the fact that he had hidden for so long and then suddenly appeared, to the fact that he wielded dark magic that had never existed before.

Even nicknames like “strange type” and “necromancer” already sounded fresh.

And then the last piece of information...

“King of the Dead. He made that name up for himself, huh? Fucking hilarious.”

He chuckled for a while longer, then lowered the papers.

Leaning both hands on the counter, the man lazily swept his gaze over the pub.

“Hey, you should start getting nervous too. Don’t you think?”

From all sides came chuckles, sighs, curses.

But the man only shrugged.

“You already have a hard time fighting for the ranks because of me...”

He waved the papers.

“And this one isn’t ordinary from the very start. And you know what? He walks around in the form of a four-year-old girl.”

The pub rumbled.

“Looks like another nutcase. Maybe he’ll start climbing up soon.”

The only one who remained unruffled was him.

And then the leader of the mercenary squad Grim Reaper, who held second place in the Imperial ranking, Reaper, spoke:

“Funny! You think only we should be nervous?”

The hostile voice made the man slowly turn toward him.

“Even if you’re first right now, nobody knows how long your fame will last! Don’t get cocky.”

“......Ah, this one’s funny too.”

“What?”

The man lifted the corner of his lips.

“Friend, if I slip, do you really think you’ll become first?”

“You...”

“A mercenary can’t be just stupidly strong. You’ve got to use your head too, Reaper.”

He tapped his temple with his index finger.

Then, mimicking an aristocratic tone, he said:

“Stop fantasizing and accept reality. If you keep irritating me like this, I won’t leave you a single Magic Stone to loot.”

Reaper’s face reddened.

He slammed the table with a bang, but the man only smirked and walked past him.

Many followed him out.

His subordinates—members of the squad he belonged to.

The pub emptied out.

Reaper ground his teeth.

“That, that...!”

Tesetan Veronio, you fucking bastard!

He was famous for a vile personality, but no one dared go against him.

Because he was the leader of Trevaga, which held first place without fail,

from the moment it appeared, it had never dropped from first place in the personal ranking,

he was considered the strongest in the world,

and...

“That psycho!”

In the industry, he was known as a genuine madman.