CHAPTER 77: NECRO ARCHMAGUS GRIMOIRE V

"These will serve as your opponents. You are to control your skeletons and engage. Should you lose command..." Fenric let the silence hang. The air seemed to shiver. "Then you will defend yourselves with your own flesh."

Laxin paled. "Wait—you mean they’ll actually try to kill us?"

"Of course," Fenric replied, voice flat. "What worth is a soldier who cannot kill?"

Aria’s lips curved into a grin. "Finally. Something worth testing."

Fenric’s eyes flicked toward her. "Then prove it."

He raised his hand, and the two enemy skeletons lunged forward with sudden ferocity. Aria’s mana surged instantly, her own pair rising in mirror to intercept. Bones clashed, steel rang, sparks danced. Her constructs stumbled at first, but under her sharp corrections, they recovered, forming a clumsy shield wall that caught the enemy’s blades.

Laxin, however, fumbled immediately. His first skeleton swung too early, missing completely and smacking its partner’s skull with the flat of its hand. The second staggered sideways, nearly collapsing under the blow.

"Come on, come on!" Laxin shouted, pumping more mana into them desperately. The first skeleton charged wildly—straight past the enemy. The second tripped over its own leg and fell face-first with a splintering crack.

One of Fenric’s test skeletons didn’t hesitate; it pivoted sharply and rammed its sword into the fallen construct, shattering it into a rain of bones. The other pressed Aria harder, pushing her to split focus.

"Laxin!" Aria barked, sweat running down her forehead. "Do something before you get us both killed!"

"I’m trying!" he wailed, forcing his lone skeleton upright. It staggered drunkenly, somehow holding its blade backward.

Fenric watched calmly, arms folded. "You’re pouring mana without precision. Control comes from intent, not panic. Breathe, or you will feed your soul to the wrong corpse."

Laxin froze at the words. Then—gritted his teeth, inhaled sharply, and steadied his hands. His remaining skeleton righted its grip, blade clinking into proper position. With a sudden burst of clarity, he directed it forward.

The clumsy construct actually blocked the enemy strike—though the impact sent both skeletons tumbling in opposite directions.

Laxin blinked, stunned. "...Did you see that? I did it! It worked!"

Aria, still locked in her duel, growled, "Less bragging, more fighting!"

Fenric’s lips quirked faintly. "A seed of control. But seeds are fragile. Next strike—if you fail, it will be your body that cracks, not the skeleton’s."

The enemy skeletons reset their stance, blades gleaming faintly in the brazier light.

The next round was about to begin.

The next day, the chamber echoed with sharp cracks as bone met stone. Fenric stood at the front, arms folded, silver hair catching the dim torchlight, while Aria and Laxin faced their skeletons.

"Today," Fenric said, voice low but commanding, "we test control under pressure. Skeletons do not hesitate, do not tire, and do not forgive. If you falter—"

"—they dogpile us, rip us to shreds, and turn us into bone broth," Laxin muttered, rolling his shoulders.

Fenric ignored him. "Begin."

Aria’s skeletons advanced first, smooth and steady. She wove her hands through practiced motions, her mana strings tugging the constructs into a coordinated strike-and-block rhythm. A skeletal blade clashed against another, sparks flying.

Laxin, meanwhile, jabbed both hands forward dramatically. "Charge!"

His skeletons bolted. One charged too far and smacked head-first into the stone wall with a hollow bonnnng. The other veered left, straight into Aria’s duel. Her skeleton sidestepped gracefully—Laxin’s construct stumbled, tripped over its own leg, and somersaulted right into his master’s lap.

"AGH—GET OFF ME!" Laxin screamed, flailing as the bony heap clattered over him like a drunk spider.

Aria snorted mid-focus, nearly losing her rhythm. Her skeleton seized the opportunity and clocked its partner in the jaw. Bone shards flew.

Fenric pinched the bridge of his nose. "...This is not a tavern brawl."

"Could’ve fooled me," Laxin groaned, crawling out from under his own construct, ribs sticking into his cloak like oversized knitting needles.

Moments later, Aria’s skeletons attempted a defensive maneuver—but one lagged behind the timing. The other pivoted too sharply, clubbing its ally in the skull with its sword. The head popped off like a cork and rolled neatly to Fenric’s feet.

He looked down at the skull, sighed, then looked up again. "Aria."

She winced. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Your skeletons should not execute each other mid-drill."

"...It was a creative tactic?"

"Creative incompetence," Fenric corrected dryly.

The chaos escalated.

Laxin, now desperate, ordered his skeletons to "double-team" a target dummy. Instead, both raised their swords high—then smashed them down on each other’s arms. The bony limbs flew off, landing in Aria’s path.

She almost tripped but caught herself, glaring at him. "Are yours trying to win the fight or assemble themselves into a puzzle?"

"Hey, hey, don’t mock the process!" Laxin barked, waving frantically to fix their positions. His skeletons misinterpreted and saluted. One whacked the other in the face with its detached arm while standing stiffly upright.

Aria finally broke into full laughter, her control faltering again. Her skeletons, sensing weakness in her focus, turned abruptly and started chasing each other in circles like rabid dogs.

The chamber became chaos: skulls bouncing, swords clattering, bony feet slipping across the floor like it had turned into a skating rink.

Through it all, Fenric stood tall, hands behind his back, expression caught between regal composure and the resigned patience of a man babysitting two particularly unruly graveyard clowns.

"Enough." His voice boomed across the chamber, instantly halting every skeleton mid-flail. Silence fell, broken only by the faint rattle of a loose rib rolling across the floor.

Fenric exhaled slowly. "Tomorrow... we focus on discipline drills. If you cannot keep a skeleton standing upright for longer than thirty seconds, there will be no combat, no patrols—only stance training."

Aria was still trying not to laugh. Laxin, nursing yet another nosebleed from a rogue bone, groaned loudly.

"This is less necromancy and more slapstick murder," he muttered.

Fenric’s silver eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps you will learn fastest at the edge of humiliation."

Laxin blinked. "...That sounds like a threat."

Fenric closed the grimoire with a final snap. "It is a promise."