Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 150: Sealed Fates

Percival exhaled a long, steadying breath, his eyes scanning the aftermath of the slaughter. The green mana-flesh of the destroyed Demons and their ashen corpses were sprayed across the floor with no barely any space to place one’s foot.

His blue screen appeared in his vision, lighting up his bruised face.

⸢Congratulations! You have survived the Chamber of the Final Tear⸥

⸢Calculating Encounter Rewards...⸥

⸢+6000 EXP | 8000 Mana Coins | + 10 Summon Space | +10 points to all Attributes | + 300 Attack | +170 Defense | +1000 Mana⸥

After reading the rewards, Percival dismissed the Basilisk Blade, sliding it back into the heavy Swordcase strapped to his back.

He walked toward the spots where the Level 80 Revenants had been struck down. He interacted with them, half-hoping that their armor and weapons could be claimed into his Undead Inventory.

He was right.

⸢Mana-Forged Iron Helm (x30)⸥

⸢Spectral-Steel Longswords (x30)⸥

⸢Mana-Forged Armor Plates (x30)⸥

⸢A-Grade Equipment⸥

Relieved, Percival quickly added them into his Undead Inventory, but rather than waiting, he quickly equipped the Skeletons that had no Blazeforged Blades and High-Grade armors.

He clad them all in the spectral-steel chest plates and handed them the glowing longswords. The heavy iron helms were strapped to their bare skulls, giving the undead legion a terrifying, uniform anonymity.

And more importantly, they upgraded.

⸢Spectral-Armored Skeleton Soldiers have received an upgrade⸥

⸢+30 Attack | + 60 Defense⸥

⸢Special Skill: Phase - While equipped with this mana-forged armor, your Skeletons may phase through physical objects⸥

Percival raised his intrigued brows. "Solid." Then he looted their cores and the cores of the Vampires.

Lewis, after looting, sat against the doors, gingerly pressing a hand to his swollen jaw. He watched the Necromancer play quartermaster with a mix of awe and lingering exhaustion.

"You never stop, do you?" Lewis mumbled, wincing as he spoke. "We almost died to a psychological trap, and ten seconds later, you’re already planning for something. Why don’t we rest here a while?"

"Survival isn’t a part-time job," Percival replied without looking up. He checked his almost filled up inventory and sighed. "Besides, it is likely hours left until this Gate World spills open for the outside world."

Lewis’s eyes bulged open. "That’s right!"

Percival pulled up his personal status screen. He checked the bar at the top of his interface.

⸢Current Level: 49⸥

⸢EXP to Next Level: 6,097⸥

Six thousand experience points. It was a marginal amount. Percival closed the window, certain that he would reach the threshold in the next Zone: the Boss chamber.

Lewis slowly pushed himself off the floor, his blue Arcanist eyes scanning the destroyed canopy bed and the shattered remnants of the Demon Source.

He walked over to the ornate chair near the velvet rug, staring at the empty space where the girl had sat before.

"Doesn’t it feel... different?" Lewis asked. "The story of this Gate World, I mean. It feels more profound than the normal ones."

Percival wiped a smear of green Demon residue from his gauntlet. "Define normal."

"Usually, the ’story’ of a Gate is just shown in the environment and the beasts," Lewis explained, gesturing around them. "You walk into a volcanic Gate, you fight fire lizards, you learn the volcano erupted a thousand years ago. It’s basically just a biome.

"But here... it’s embedded even in the quests. The mechanism in the Clocktower. The trap in this room. It’s like the Gate World is trying to force us to live out someone’s personal tragedy."

"Perhaps all Demon Gate Worlds are like that," Percival said flatly.

Lewis froze. He turned to look at Percival, his eyes widening. The implications of that casual statement hit the young Arcanist hard on the face.

"Demon Gate Worlds?" Lewis’s voice climbed an octave. "You think more of these are going to be showing up? More Gate Worlds with this level of psychological manipulation and D-Demons? Percival, wouldn’t that be incredibly dangerous for the world?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"I suppose."

"Well, what’s causing it?"

"I don’t know."

"Why are they appearing now?"

"I don’t hold the universe’s itinerary, Lewis," Percival answered dryly, his tone offering absolutely zero comfort.

He walked past the Arcanist, stopping near the velvet rug where the white ash still lingered. He looked down at it, his analytical mind piercing together the macabre puzzle the Manor had laid out for them.

"All I know is that this Gate World certainly revolves around a vampire."

Lewis gazed at him. "Another one?"

"A bigger one," Percival explained. "Maybe a king. The Clocktower of Regret was him going to the past, repeatedly, frantically trying to reverse time to save his lover. And this Zone, the Chamber of the Final Tear... it must have been him trying to stop her from killing herself, yet he could not get to her in time."

Lewis frowned, looking at the spot on the rug. The memory of the compulsion still made his chest ache. "But why would she want to kill herself in the first place? And who would want to stop him from helping her?"

"It’s likely not that literal," Percival said. He crossed his arms, staring at the empty chair. "The Demons we fought... they might not have been real invaders in the original story.

"This chamber could be a presentation of her calling out to him, begging him to notice her inner pain. Yet, he was entirely focused on other things—his ambition, his wars, his power. He was distracted, just like we were distracted by the Demons."

Percival’s grey eyes darkened, surprised by how plausible his logic sounded.

"So, she killed herself," he continued softly. "Starving from his lack of love and care. She bled out while he was busy fighting his own battles. Perhaps, in his absolute regret, he went back in time repeatedly through the Clocktower to save her. But the result was always the same. He could rewind the clock, but he couldn’t stop the tragedy."

Everywhere fell silent. They both stared at the ornate chair, picturing the ghost of a woman who had stabbed herself just moments ago.

Lewis let out a long, heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped.

"Must be a lesson, huh?" he said quietly. "Going back in time never really changes anything. Most times... our fates are all sealed."

Percival’s eyes narrowed. A sudden, violent storm of thoughts and emotions burned behind his stoic expression.

He turned his back on the velvet rug, trying not to think about what the oblivious Arcanist had just said.

"Let’s go," Percival commanded.

He didn’t wait for Lewis’s response. He walked straight toward the heavy double doors at the far end of the chamber, pushing them open to reveal the dark, descending staircase that led to the heart of the Suicide Manor.

"Wait for me, Hero Percival!"