Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 139: Dominion Over Darkness

One by one, the Nightwraiths melted into the ambient mana as they activated their invisibility. And like before, the air temperature plummeted, frost creeping up the edges of the bookshelves.

Percival stood perfectly still, War-Scythe one hand, his glowing blue eyes counting the Wraiths as they appeared and disappeared.

Thirty. There were roughly thirty of them according to his estimate. With 45 Summon Spaces in his arsenal, he had more than enough to house all these green devils.

His Mana was completely full. His Constitution sat at an iron-clad 1,240, while his Charisma—which measured aura, willpower and leadership—towered at 1,375.

These were numbers that shouldn’t belong to anyone anywhere near his current level, but they were the blessings that followed him from his last life.

Percival hadn’t lied. He actually desperately needed the EXP from killing them to reach his Level 50 threshold, but this was an unprecedented opportunity.

It was the perfect moment to test the absolute limits of his new power.

"They’re circling!" Lewis shouted, clamping his eyes shut. He immediately started to read the mana currents.

"Five from the ceiling! A dozen weaving through the aisles! Sir Mercius, three are coming above you!"

Mercius tightened his grip on the blazing Paragon Blade, bending his knees to launch himself upward.

But before the Knight could strike, Percival outstretched his right hand toward the open center of the library, his fingers splayed wide.

"⸢Enslave⸥"

Instantly, a rush of power erupted from Percival’s core. It brought the physical world ground to an absolute halt, slowing everything down until nothing was moving at all.

⸢Mana: -200⸥

Percival felt the reduction as the shockwave of pure blue death mana exploded outward. It bypassed the physical realm entirely, washing over the bookshelves and the chairs and crashing into the Nightwraiths.

Lewis, who was already viewing the world through his mana-sight, gasped as his breath was literally stolen from his lungs.

Through the Arcanist’s eyes, the library was a sea of stagnant grey, populated by thirty green entities frozen in hurls.

He had seen everything. He saw the blue light burst out of Percival’s chest like a dying star. When they struck the Nightwraiths, thirty smoky threads of blue mana violently pierced every single one of them.

Lewis watched the green demonic energy inside them violently thrash against the invading blue mana, trying to snap the tethers.

He looked towards Percival. He couldn’t see his face but Percival was fighting against their resistance. All thirty Demonic minds pressed against his consciousness and he struggled to keep them in control.

⸢Charisma: -370⸥

⸢Constitution: -200⸥

Spending points off his attributes, he clamped down harder and completely crushed their resistance.

Then, he curled his outstretched fingers, squeezing his hand into a tight, merciless fist.

He yanked his arm back.

The blue threads snapped taut. In Lewis’s mana-vision, the thirty Nightwraiths were violently dragged forward.

Their chaotic green forms were forcefully compressed, overwriting into streaks of brilliant blue light that were sucked directly into the center of Percival’s chest.

And then, time snapped back into motion once more.

The freezing temperature in the library instantly normalized. The suffocating aura of dread vanished entirely, all that was left was the smell of dust, books and ancient furniture.

Ding!

A string of notifications chimed cheerfully in Percival’s mind.

⸢You have successfully Enslaved: Nightwraith (Lvl 60) x30⸥

⸢Demon Summons: 31⸥

⸢Your dominion over the darkness expands. You will soon attract the attention of the Oldmother⸥

Percival dismissed the warning with a blink, letting his armored hand drop to his side. He felt the slight reduction of his Construction, but more exhilarating was the numbers of Demons now resting in his Summon Space.

The rest of the library was dead silent. Lewis slowly lowered his hands, opening his eyes to the physical world. He looked up at the rafters, then to the aisles. Nothing.

He couldn’t sense even a tiny bit of Demon mana.

He slowly turned his head to look at the armored Hero.

"What... what happened to all of them?" Lewis asked, his voice barely a whisper. He swallowed hard. "Did you... do something?"

Percival didn’t turn around. He adjusted his grip on his War-Scythe. "I killed them all."

"So fast?" Lewis blurted out, eyes wide.

’Was that what I saw?’ he wondered. ’It didn’t look like he had killed them at all. It was like he swallowed them. Like he sucked all their energy into himself.’

He looked at Percival’s cold face. Now, he was even more terrified and confused about who this Hero even was.

First he has two mana cores, and now he can swallow Demons?

"Mercius," Percival commanded, ignoring the Arcanist’s fearful gaze. "The Demon Source. Destroy it."

"At once, Master."

The Brackenbutcher stepped up to the bone pedestal. He raised the Paragon Blade high above the bleeding, flesh-bound Grimoire and brought it down in a devastating, fiery execution.

The blade cleaved the book in two. A horrific, multi-layered screech erupted from the torn pages as a fountain of black ink sprayed into the air.

Within seconds, the holy fire consumed the remains, turning the demonic artifact into a pile of smoldering white ash.

⸢Demon Source Destroyed⸥

⸢+1000 EXP⸥

The rewards followed. After that, Percival ordered the two Skeletons behind him to loot the corpses—which were basically ashes—of the Nightwraiths that had died in the first wave.

When they were done, he stored them in his inventory and the next notification came.

⸢The Library of Midnight Echoes has been cleared successfully⸥.

⸢Please proceed to the next Encounter Zone⸥.

Percival sighed, then slowly turned his head, casting a cold, sidelong glance over his shoulder.

Lewis was still staring at him, frozen in place with a pale look on his face.

Percival narrowed his blue eyes. "Is there a problem, Lewis?"

The Arcanist flinched, his eyes widening as he realized he’d been caught staring. "No!" he stammered, waving his hands defensively. "No. No, I was just... lost in thought."

"Then let’s move forward," Percival commanded "We’re done here."

"Yes. Yes, of course." Lewis scurried forward, keeping a wide berth as he passed the Hero to take the lead.

Percival watched him coldly, seeing the fear and uncertainty in his eyes. He wondered how long he needed the man and what to do with him later.

Undecided, he dismissed the two Skeleton Warriors but allowed Mercius to remain.

The Knight fell into step beside him. The Soul Soldier’s presence was almost comforting in a way, but more importantly, he regenerated the mana Percival spent from enslaving those Wraiths.

In silence, the trio pushed through the large doors at the far end of the library, leaving the books and ashes behind.

Before them lay a narrow, spiraling staircase, ascending into the suffocating darkness of the manor’s upper floors.

The next Encounter Zone awaited.