CHAPTER 74: NECRO ARCHMAGUS GRIMOIRE II

The following morning, they returned to the same sealed hall. The stone walls seemed to remember the echo of their practice, the still air waiting for the next attempt.

Fenric set the grimoire back on the pedestal, his silver hair catching the dim light. "Today we move from basics to structure. Yesterday you learned how to spark movement. Now we’ll build something that lasts longer than a twitch."

Aria stepped forward first. She rested her hand on the training corpse and breathed slowly, repeating the pattern: anchor, circulate, flow. This time her mana threaded cleaner, each vein of energy settling into place like well-laid roots. The corpse’s limbs shifted and stayed that way, rigid but holding.

She exhaled with a nod. "It’s steadier. The trick is keeping the rhythm even."

Fenric gestured toward Laxin. "Your turn. Mirror her pace."

Laxin crouched and placed his hand over the ribs. His mana flared too quickly at first, causing the corpse’s arm to jerk unnaturally. Aria frowned. "Too much pressure. Pull back."

He gritted his teeth, focusing, and this time eased the flow. The energy spread evenly, the veins of shadow wrapping into place. Slowly, the body sat upright, its head tilting stiffly toward them.

Laxin’s eyes widened. "Ha! Look at that. He’s—he’s listening."

Fenric corrected, "Not listening. Just responding. There’s no thought, no will of its own. What you see is the echo of your mana, nothing more."

Aria smirked. "Still, not bad for your second day."

Laxin grinned and wiped sweat from his brow. "Feels like balancing on a tightrope. Push too much and it falls apart, too little and nothing moves."

Fenric nodded. "Exactly. Which leads us to step four: stability. You don’t just give motion—you give endurance. That requires shaping the mana into a cycle strong enough to run without your constant attention."

He demonstrated by placing both hands on the corpse Aria had worked on. His mana locked into the weave, and the body stood fully, its limbs moving fluidly as though guided by unseen strings. Fenric stepped back, and yet it continued standing, arms lowering at his unspoken command.

"That," he said calmly, "is the difference between practice and success. A construct that can remain upright without draining you dry."

Laxin whistled low. "So we’re basically... engineers of fake life."

Aria shot him a look. "Don’t make it sound cheap."

Fenric’s expression softened, though his tone stayed steady. "It isn’t life. But it is a tool. And in the right hands, tools save lives as much as they take them."

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, watching the corpse hold its place—no longer just bones, but a vessel moving under their command.

Fenric finally broke the quiet. "We’ll continue this cycle until each of you can hold a construct for an hour without breaking the weave. After that, we move to coordination."

Laxin groaned. "An hour? You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?"

Aria smirked. "You said you’d be a diligent student. No turning back now."

Fenric’s thin smile returned. "Tomorrow, then. Come prepared."

The days that followed became less like lessons and more like battles against frustration itself.

Day Four – The First Collapse

The three gathered in the chamber again, the stench of old death beginning to cling to their clothes. Fenric had rolled out three corpses, each in varying states of decay, so the students had to learn to adapt.

"Your objective is simple," Fenric said, voice calm as always. "Anchor. Circulate. Stabilize. Maintain for thirty minutes without collapse. Do not rush."

Laxin, of course, rushed.

His mana flared hot and greedy, forcing the corpse’s chest cavity to balloon unnaturally. For a few moments it looked almost alive—until the energy slipped, surging straight into brittle bones.

CRACK—SNAP!

The ribcage burst apart, shards of bone whipping outward like knives. One sharp fragment smacked across Laxin’s cheek, leaving a thin bloody line.

"—Ow!" he yelped, clutching his face. "That thing tried to kill me!"

Fenric didn’t flinch. "No. You lost control. Dead mana answers to your intent alone. If you treat it carelessly, it will turn on you."

Aria grimaced, half-concerned, half-annoyed. "Maybe next time, don’t shove your whole soul down its throat."

Laxin muttered under his breath, "...I was just giving it some enthusiasm."

Day Six – The Misfire

Aria tried next, working carefully as Fenric instructed. Her corpse did rise, standing stiffly, but then she tried to force more precision—attempting to make it walk.

The result was disastrous.

The mana threads she anchored tangled at the knees, and instead of a smooth step, the corpse’s leg snapped clean off. The unstable surge lashed outward, sending a pulse of dead mana like a shockwave. Laxin, unlucky as ever, caught it square in the chest.

"Ughhh—!" he grunted, flying backward into the wall with a thud.

Aria gasped. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean—"

From the floor, Laxin groaned. "...I think my ribs are negotiating a surrender."

Fenric finally sighed. "This is why we practice on the dead. A misstep here with the living would mean a massacre. Control, not ambition, Aria."

Day Nine – The Burnout

Laxin had recovered enough to try again. Determined to prove himself, he poured everything into stabilizing his weave. This time, the corpse not only stood—it moved smoothly.

"Yes! Ha! Look at that, he’s walking like a soldier!"

But within seconds, his body began trembling. Beads of sweat soaked his forehead, his mana reserves bleeding too fast.

The construct shambled forward, then collapsed mid-step as the flow cut off. Laxin himself fell with it, gasping.

Fenric crouched beside him, eyes steady. "You’re feeding it too directly. A true necromancer builds cycles, not leashes. Otherwise you’ll burn out long before your puppet does."

Aria offered him a hand up. "Congratulations, you’re officially worse than the corpse."

"Shut up," Laxin wheezed, but he still grinned faintly.

Day Twelve – A Breakthrough, and Another Disaster

They tried again and again—stumbling, weaving, snapping bones, burning mana, even nearly collapsing half the chamber when Aria’s corpse exploded from over-compression.

The ceiling rained dust, and Fenric finally raised his hand. "Enough. No further until you understand balance. Watch closely."

He stepped forward, placing his hand on the least damaged body. Mana seeped from him not in waves, but in measured drops—like water feeding a wheel. Slowly, deliberately, the corpse rose. Its limbs moved with eerie smoothness, its joints flexing without fracture.

Then he released his touch. The body kept moving, turning its head toward them, then pacing in a lazy circle, the flow stable and self-sustained.

"This," Fenric said, "is mastery of a single vessel. Once you can all achieve this, we’ll move on to coordination. Until then—expect more broken bones. Hopefully not your own."

Laxin groaned, rubbing his bruised ribs. "I’m going to need a second corpse. Mine’s suing for retirement."

Aria smirked. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your bones are the next test subject."

Fenric almost smiled. "At this rate, that might be accurate."

The training stretched on for hours, their rhythm a strange dance between breakthrough and disaster.

At first, Laxin actually managed to get a skeleton to stand. Its limbs wobbled like a drunkard on stilts, but it moved. He grinned proudly. "See? Not so hard."

The skeleton promptly lost its balance and pitched forward, clattering apart into a heap of bones at his feet. Aria pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Congratulations," she said flatly. "You’ve invented the world’s first self-destructing minion."

Fenric chuckled, though he hid it behind his hand.

But the more they practiced, the more they began to get results. Soon, Aria managed to stabilize her flame long enough to animate a skeleton that could walk a short circle around the hall before the magic unraveled. Fenric himself showed them how to weave mana into the bone core, binding it so the body didn’t fall apart instantly.

Laxin, eager to prove himself, tried to push further. He poured too much mana into the bones, muttering the command words like he was scolding a misbehaving pet. The skeleton lurched upright with surprising force—only to trip on its own leg bones.

It toppled sideways and crashed directly onto another skeleton Aria had just finished animating.

The two piles of bones collapsed into one another, scattering ribs and femurs everywhere. The skull rolled across the floor and smacked straight into Laxin’s shin before spinning away.

Aria clutched her stomach, laughing despite herself. "Oh spirits, you’re hopeless."

Fenric sighed, shaking his head but smiling faintly. "Lesson learned: balance the mana, or your minions will fight each other before they even take a step."

Laxin groaned, rubbing his shin. "I don’t think they fought. I think mine just... body-slammed yours."

The next day, they tried again—better rested, better focused, and slightly more cautious about bones flying in unexpected directions.

Fenric drew the formation carefully on the stone floor, his chalk marks glowing faintly with infused mana. "This time, focus on the core," he instructed. "Anchor the mana first, then guide it through the skeleton’s frame. If you let it run wild, the body collapses or worse—"

"—it blows up in my face," Laxin muttered, rubbing the faint bruise still visible on his cheek.

Aria smirked. "You learn fast."