Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 137: Mouse Trap

The terrified Arcanist had found his courage.

He looked like a human playing a game of fetch, except with Demons and a dead Legendary Knight.

Presently, his eyes were squeezed shut and his hands were clasped. He read the currents of the room, turning his mind into a living radar for dark mana.

"Two more! Dropping from the chandelier, straight down!" Lewis screamed, pointing upward without opening his eyes.

Mercius bent his knees and thrust the Paragon Blade vertically above his head.

The descending Nightwraiths impaled themselves directly onto the glowing holy steel.

Their shrieks of agony were instantaneous and deafening as the blue and gold energy surged upward, turning them into twin pyres of blinding light before they crumbled into ash, dusting the Knight’s broad shoulders.

"Three circling the right flank! They’re trying to pass through the bookshelves!" Lewis called out.

Mercius pivoted. Rather than going around the wood, he charged straight at the towering shelf and unleashed a brutal, horizontal ⸢Heavy Cleave⸥.

The radiant shockwave tore through the solid oak, exploding the structure into splinters and catching the invisible demons mid-phase.

The Wraiths manifested just in time to be annihilated, their tattered shrouds incinerated by the holy blast.

"Behind you! Low to the ground!"

Mercius spun, dropping to one knee, and swept his blade in a low, vicious arc. He caught a Nightwraith trying to slide across the floorboards.

The holy light bit deep into its ethereal form, and Mercius reached out with his free gauntlet, grabbing the shrieking Demon by its misty throat.

He squeezed, channeling his mana into his grip until the Wraith’s head popped like an emerald balloon.

"That’s them!" Lewis suddenly yelled, his eyes snapping open. "The two that sucked my life force! They’re trying to retreat toward the ceiling!"

Mercius locked onto the fleeing disruptions. He ripped his claymore backward, the blade blazing like a dying star, and launched it like a javelin.

The massive sword spun end-over-end. He turned the weapon into a wheel of holy energy cutting through the darkness.

It struck the first fleeing Wraith, impaling it against the ceiling, before detonating in a localized burst of radiant magic that consumed the second Wraith flying right beside it.

Then, Mercius surfed the walls and landed on the ground with a loud clang that made the chamber vibrate.

⸢You have killed sixteen Nightwraiths⸥

⸢+700 EXP (×16)⸥

As the white ash of those specific demons rained down, Lewis gasped.

A sudden rush of warmth flooded his veins. The brittle, icy stiffness in his joints melted away. The deep lines on his face smoothed out, and the stark silver in his hair rapidly darkened, bleeding back into a rich, youthful brown.

Lewis touched his face, feeling the elasticity of his cheeks. He looked at his unwrinkled hands and let out a breathless, ecstatic laugh.

"Yes! Oh, thank the Gods!" he cheered, jumping to his feet. "It’s good to be 26 again!"

He looked at Percival. "You were right all along! I just have to listen to you and everything will be fine! Thank you heartily, dear Hero!"

He returned to the Wraiths.

A few paces away, standing safely between two of his Skeleton Soldiers, Percival just watched everyone do their thing.

So far, he had only recognized the presence of serious danger in this place but had barely suffered it.

His own mana pool was completely full, a blue bar resting comfortably at maximum capacity.

This was largely due to his ⸢Undead Creditor⸥ title, which passively siphoned a trickle of energy back to him for every active summon. Between the towering inferno that was Mercius and the two Skeleton Soldiers, his reserves were practically overflowing.

Should I swap titles? Percival wondered.

He was desperately trying to farm the 30,000 EXP needed for his Level 50 evolution. His other title, ⸢The Thresher⸥, granted a noticeable boost to experience gained from slaughtered foes. He opened his interface mentally, willing the titles to swap.

But the rules rang in his mind.

Right. He couldn’t change Titles while actively challenging an uncleared Gate World.

"Watch out!" Lewis’s voice suddenly ripped through his thoughts, pitching into absolute panic.

Percival snapped to attention. Reacting in time however, was another story.

A Nightwraith had dove straight at him. With a small greenish blast, it crashed into his chest and the world suddenly plunged into extreme slow motion.

Percival’s consciousness was hyper-accelerated. He felt the Demon swim right past his dark, heavy armor, slip through his flesh, bypass his ribs, and plunge directly into his spiritual center.

Lewis, watching through his mana-sight, narrowed his eyes in profound confusion.

He saw the Wraith enter Percival, but instead of hitting a single core, he saw it move past one that was silver, and then another that was azure.

Percival meanwhile, felt it.

He felt the Demon move through his Swordsman Core, but just as it was about to pass his Necromancer’s, Percival felt something new.

The word for it was an instinct. An instinct of what someone or something was meant to do at a given time.

Like what a mouse trap felt the microsecond the rodent’s whiskers brushed the cheese. The feeling of a hooked fish taking the bait. The sinister anticipation a thief felt when a wealthy, oblivious merchant walked past a pitch-black alleyway.

His Necromancer Core hungered for it. That dark energy inside of him demanded the Nightwraith.

So, like the steel jaws of a trap snapping shut, Percival didn’t push the demon away. He instinctively threw his own death mana outward, wrapping it around the chaotic green essence of the Nightwraith.

He clamped down with crushing willpower and forcefully dragged the shrieking demon directly into his Necromancer Soul Core.

Then, time violently snapped back to normal.

Fwoooooshh.

Percival stood completely still, silent, not very certain of what had just happened.

Mercius broke the silence by landing directly in front of him, having leapt across the room to intercept the threat.

The ashes of two more Wraiths scattered around the Knight’s boots as he lowered his smoking sword.

"Are you harmed, Master?" Mercius asked, his glowing eyes scanning Percival’s face.

Percival didn’t reply.

He didn’t even look at his Soul Soldier. His glowing blue eyes were locked onto the holographic screen that had just materialized in the air before him, flashing with the blue light of his undead Class.

⸢You have unlocked a Secret Skill!⸥

⸢Summon Demon (A-Grade)⸥

⸢Your undead army widens into the land of darkness, the depths of Purgatory. You can now enslave the children of the Oldmother⸥.