Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 168: Wanted Man In Hollowcreek

"Argghhh!"

A chair crashed against the wall of the reception Hall of the Hollowcreek, shattering into wooden splinters.

"Hells! Fucking hells!" Aethelstan, poorly suppressing his violence, paced the length of the hall, his boots echoing like hammer blows against the marble.

It had been hours since Percival somehow disappeared from the forest city of Waterscor, and somehow, from the entire province of Hollowcreek as well.

Infuriated, he let out another growl, his foot connecting with a side table and crashing it into bits.

"Incompetent fools!" Aethelstan spat raggedly. "He was right there! Under our noses! I’ll peel the skin from his bones... I’ll make that Outworlder beg for the gods before I’m through with him."

The rest of the party watched in grim silence.

Deron leaned against a pillar, his arms crossed over his massive chest, while Stenya watched the Prince entirely.

The heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall groaned open. Three weary Warriors entered, their armor dented and caked in forest loam.

Behind them walked Duke Ithalan, his face the color of parchment, his eyes darting toward the wreckage Aethelstan had created.

"Well?" Aethelstan roared, spinning on them.

The lead Warrior bowed his head, unable to meet the Hero’s golden, furious gaze. "We have scoured every inch of the forest, my Lord. We checked the ravines, the high canopies, even the subterranean caves. There is... there is no trace of him. It’s as if the earth itself swallowed him whole."

Aethelstan’s face contorted. "So he just disappeared?! A man in heavy plate just vanishes in the middle of a forest you claim to rule?"

"Lord Ithalan," Dagna stepped forward. She eyed the Warriors before regarding the Duke. "Since I am a Druid, I think I can do better searching for him in that forest." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Ithalan flinched, his fingers twitching at his sides. "That—that would be a waste of your talents and our time. My men are thorough; if he isn’t found, he has surely fled the province entirely."

The party exchanged subtle, suspicious glances. Aethelstan’s eyes narrowed into slits. He stepped toward the fearful Duke, each footfall a threat.

"This is all your fault," Aethelstan whispered with venom. "You had that betrayer here in your province and you informed no one of it!"

"I didn’t know he was the Hero!" Ithalan stammered, backing away. "He came as a traveler! How was I to—"

"Liar!" Aethelstan’s sword flashed out of its scabbard. He advanced, holding the blade with wrath into his eyes.

The Warriors reached for their hilts; the party members sprang to their feet.

Suddenly, a blinding flash of white light seared the vision of everyone in the room.

Aethelstan gasped when it came. Then when it retreated, he blinked, looking down. He realized he was standing exactly where he had been ten seconds ago—back at his vantage point by the shattered table.

His sword was still drawn, but he hadn’t moved a single inch forward.

’What? Didn’t I move just now? How am I back in my vantage point. Is it some kind of magic?’

He spun around, and his eyes locked with Master Omares’s. The Great Scholar stood with his hands tucked into his sleeves, his white eyes cold and unreadable, staring directly through Aethelstan as if he were made of glass.

Aethelstan’s eyes widened. ’Was it him?’

Omares didn’t offer a word of explanation. He simply turned his gaze to the rest of the room, his presence instantly draining the heat from the confrontation.

"Violence will not reveal what is hidden," Omares stated, his voice a low, resonant baritone. "Perhaps it is best if we send word to the Kings. The Human King and the Elven King at least. We do not want them hearing of this from Whisperers or spies. The truth must come from us."

Ithalan looked as though he might faint, but he bowed his head. "Get the Great Scholar a scroll!" he barked at a servant.

When it was handed to him, Omares moved to a desk and unrolled the parchment. Then, he began to write, his quill scratching across the surface like music in the tense silence.

When he finished, he didn’t just roll them. He withdrew a special sealmaker and pressed it onto the wax, and lines of white mana glowed on the papers.

"These are sealed," Omares said, handing the scrolls to two waiting Messengers. "They will open for the Kings’ hands alone. If any other touch breaks the wax, the parchment will incinerate, and I will be notified of the location. Go. Ride as if a Great Wyrm is at your heels."

As the Messengers departed, the Hall fell back into a low, anxious murmur. The party members huddled in small groups, speaking with hushed voices.

"I still can’t believe she’s gone," Deron muttered, staring at the floor. "Liraeth was... well, she was our teammate."

"He killed her," Vadrian whispered, seemingly angrier than the rest. "He just killed her."

"The Outworlder will face the Eternal Court," Stenya said more sharply. "There will likely be a bounty on his head that will turn every Mercenary in the three kingdoms against him."

"Hmm. If he does face the Eternal Court, he’s certainly getting the death penalty," Ugmar said with a grunt.

"Of course," Stenya agreed. "He’s guilty. We saw it with our own eyes."

"Is he guilty?"

The voice was quiet, but it cut through the murmurs like a knife. They all turned their heads to Nessa who stood apart from the others, leaning against a tapestry, her face shadowed.

"Aethelstan attacked him first," Nessa continued, looking up. "The Outworlder defended himself. Then Liraeth attacked him. He defended himself again. She died in the exchange. We cannot place the entirety of the fault on his shoulders."

Vadrian glared at her, his eyes furious. "Are you defending him, Nessa? He killed one of our own!"

"I agree with Vadrian," Stenya hissed. "He’s a murderer."

"I am not defending anyone," Nessa said, her voice gaining strength even as she lowered her head in thought. "But saying he murdered her is not completely true. The laws of the realm are clear: one is allowed to use any suitable amount of force to defend their life when attacked. The Hero was within his rights."

From across the room, Aethelstan glared at her, his fingers strangely tight around the hilt of his sword.

"Your father must hear everything you’ve said on this mission, Nessa," he said. "You bring shame to the Nightfall family with such treasonous talk."

Nessa said nothing. She only lowered her head, thinking.

"The way he killed her too," Deron said, breaking the tension. "It wasn’t like a combat reflex. It was... emotional. Like he held a long, simmering hatred for her. Like he had known her for a while and had always wanted to do that.."

Corisande, sitting on a chair at the back, raised her head at the sound of those words. She had remained silent until now, and with what Deron said, she only fell deeper to her own confusing thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Corvell asked her.

"That Outworlder," she whispered without turning to her friend. "Is it possible... that he knows all of us somehow?"

Corvell looked at her gently, reaching out to pat her shoulder. "Well, not really, Princess. It was only our first time meeting him. He’s from another world. He can’t possibly know us personally."

Corisande went quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the edge of her silken sleeve.

"He called me Cori," she said softly.

Corvell’s brows rose. "Mhm?"

"Only my father calls me Cori," Corisande said. She raised her head, pushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear as she looked at her friend. "If he doesn’t know who I am... if he truly just arrived in this world... then how could he have known that name?"