CHAPTER 80: NECRO ARCHMAGUS GRIMOIRE VIII

The next morning, the chamber was even colder. The torches barely held their light, flickering like they too were nervous about what was about to happen.

Fenric stood in the center again, cloak pooled like a shadow at his feet, grimoire open. His silver gaze flicked toward them as they entered.

"Summon."

Bones rattled up from the floor in two waves. Aria’s skeletons rose sharp and steady, their formation cleaner than ever. Laxin’s came a heartbeat later. To his shock, both managed to stand upright without wobbling—or tripping—on their first try.

He grinned. "See that? Discipline. Progress. My boys are ready."

One of his skeletons immediately sneezed. Or at least, its ribcage convulsed violently and popped a rib loose, which clattered to the ground.

Aria side-eyed him. "...Ready?"

Laxin pointed defensively. "That was... a warm-up sneeze."

Fenric’s stare alone was enough to silence them both. He lifted a hand, and from the bone piles, another armored skeleton rose—this one taller than the last, plated in thicker spectral armor, its eyes burning brighter.

"Begin."

The fight exploded instantly.

Aria’s skeletons advanced, shields high. Laxin’s flanked with surprising coordination, moving in crooked but determined arcs. The armored soldier met them like a wall, deflecting blows with effortless precision.

"Hold steady!" Aria commanded, her voice sharp. Her soldiers locked their stances, bracing against the crushing shield bash that followed.

"Circle wide! Don’t let him pin us!" Laxin yelled. For once, his skeletons actually listened—one darting awkwardly but successfully behind, the other distracting at the front.

Their timing wasn’t perfect, but it was better. A strike landed. The armored skeleton staggered, forced a half-step back.

Aria’s eyes widened. "We pushed it—"

WHAM. The enemy’s shield came down like a hammer, blasting her skeleton into shards.

Laxin’s soldiers tried to pounce on the opening, but one tripped on a stray rib and tackled the other by accident. Both went down in a heap.

"Disaster One, Disaster Two—NOT NOW!" Laxin bellowed.

Aria almost laughed, but Fenric’s cold voice cut through the chamber. "Focus."

They scrambled, dragging their bone soldiers upright again. Aria pushed harder, mana flowing hot through her veins as she forced her skeletons to reform mid-stride. Laxin gritted his teeth, weaving commands with surprising clarity—shorter, sharper, more controlled.

And for a moment, their efforts clicked.

Four skeletons surged together, striking high and low, pressing the armored figure from two sides. Its shield faltered. Aria’s soldier locked blades. Laxin’s jabbed for its knee.

The armored skeleton dropped one leg, catching both strikes in a crushing sweep. Bones shattered like glass.

The courtyard fell silent except for the rain of fragments.

Aria dropped to one knee, clutching her chest, exhausted. Laxin collapsed flat on his back, panting like he’d run a marathon.

Fenric stepped forward, closing his grimoire. "Improved. Slightly." His tone was as sharp as ever, but something softer lingered under it. "Again tomorrow."

He turned to leave, cloak whispering against the stone.

When the door shut, Laxin groaned, flinging an arm over his eyes. "Slightly? That’s it? I almost coughed out my soul for slightly?"

Aria managed a faint smile. "Better than nothing."

One of Laxin’s skeleton skulls rolled across the floor and bumped against his arm. It tilted, staring at him with empty sockets.

He groaned louder. "Don’t look at me like that. I’m not crying."

Aria chuckled weakly, shaking her head. "Tomorrow, then."

Laxin flopped his other arm out to the side. "Tomorrow... Disaster One and Two will make history."

The skull rattled as if doubting him.

The following morning, the chamber felt heavier, as if the stone itself was watching them.

"Summon," Fenric said, voice like steel.

Bones rose. Aria’s skeletons snapped into formation with clean precision. Laxin’s staggered a little, but managed to stand upright in a half-decent line.

Fenric raised a hand. Another armored skeleton rose from the piles—this one hefting a massive spectral axe that hummed with faint light. Its eye sockets burned cold silver.

"Begin."

Aria’s soldiers charged first, shields braced. The axe came down in a thunderous swing, shattering one shield in a single strike. She hissed and immediately forced mana into the pieces, bones knitting as the skeleton stumbled back into place.

"Distraction, now!" she barked.

Laxin’s skeletons rushed in—not elegant, but determined. One ran wide, circling the enemy’s back, while the other lunged for its exposed side.

The armored skeleton pivoted with frightening speed. Its axe swept across the floor, catching Laxin’s soldier mid-sprint. The poor thing spun twice in the air like a windmill before exploding into bones.

Laxin nearly screamed. "You can’t just—just yeet my skeleton like that!"

Aria snapped, "Focus!" as her skeletons pressed in again.

Laxin clenched his teeth, pulling the bones back together with furious effort. This time, his command came out clearer, steadier: "Get up! Reform! Shield high!"

To his own shock, the skeleton obeyed—rising shakily but raising its shield on command.

"Good," Aria muttered, impressed despite herself. "Keep it steady!"

Together, their forces pressed again. Aria’s skeleton locked the axe in a clash, struggling against its raw force, while Laxin’s darted in for a low slash.

The armored skeleton actually staggered.

Laxin gasped. "We did it! We—"

The axe lifted, slamming both skeletons into the wall with bone-crushing force.

Aria swayed, sweat pouring. Laxin collapsed onto his knees, panting.

Fenric shut his grimoire. "Better."

He turned to leave, but this time, paused at the door. His voice was low, deliberate: "One day more. And if you fail then, you’ll never keep up."

The door shut behind him.

Silence.

Laxin rolled onto his back, groaning. "...My skeleton’s spine is in my spine. I can feel it."

Aria sat down heavily, wiping her brow. "...At least he said better."

Laxin raised one finger in mock triumph. "That’s... practically applause, coming from him."

A stray rib clattered off the ceiling and landed on his stomach. He wheezed. "...Never mind. I’m cursed."

Aria laughed despite her exhaustion, shaking her head. "Then let’s make sure tomorrow breaks the curse."

The next morning, Fenric was already waiting when they stumbled into the chamber. His grimoire floated at his side, pages fluttering in a phantom wind.

"Summon."

Bones rattled across the floor. Aria’s skeletons marched out like soldiers. Laxin’s clattered together—one crooked, one missing a femur—but somehow managed to stand in a line.

Fenric didn’t summon his armored knight this time. Instead, with a flick of his hand, three skeletons rose from the piles. Their movements were fast, sharp, and in perfect unison—his control through them obvious.

"Formation," he ordered.

The three moved as one, shields locking, blades gleaming with ghostly light.

Aria’s heart thumped. "We’re fighting... actual formation drills?"

Laxin muttered, "Great. His skeletons have military training. Mine think they’re in a puppet show."

"Begin," Fenric said.

Aria commanded first, crisp: "Advance, shield press!"

Her skeletons surged forward, meeting the enemy wall with a loud clash. Laxin scrambled to add support. "Uh—flank, left! No—your other left!"

His skeletons hesitated, turning in opposite directions. One circled the wrong way, the other bumped into Aria’s soldier mid-strike, nearly knocking it off balance.

"Laxin!" she shouted.

"I’m fixing it!" he yelped, sweat pouring as he yanked the wayward one back into line.

Fenric’s skeletons advanced with ruthless rhythm, shields slamming in unison. One thrust broke straight through Laxin’s soldier, bones scattering.

"Stay up, stay up—don’t you dare collapse!" Laxin begged, forcing it back together.

Aria’s jaw tightened. She poured mana into her commands, crisp and sharp. "Block, strike, pivot right!" Her skeletons responded instantly, catching one of Fenric’s in the ribs with a clean blow.

It staggered a step.

Laxin blinked, then suddenly grinned. "Wait... wait, I see it! It’s like—like a rhythm game!"

"What?" Aria snapped.

He started clapping to his own beat. "Block-step-swing, block-step-swing! Oh-ho, yeah! Dance with me, bone boys!"

To Aria’s horror, his skeletons actually began moving smoother—offbeat, sloppy, but together. They swung almost in sync with hers, crashing down on one of Fenric’s defenders hard enough to break its shield arm.

Aria gaped. "...That worked?"

"Of course it worked!" Laxin said proudly. "They just needed choreography!"

Fenric’s silver eyes glinted faintly, unreadable. His skeletons surged harder, sweeping aside their rhythm and scattering their formation with brutal precision.

In moments, their army lay in bone heaps again.

Both necromancers dropped to the floor, drained.

Fenric closed his grimoire. "Sloppy. Chaotic. Amateurish."

They flinched.

"...But not entirely useless." His gaze lingered on them a moment longer before he turned, cloak sweeping behind him. "Again tomorrow."

Silence.

Then Laxin rolled onto his stomach, wheezing, "Hear that? He said not entirely useless. That’s basically a love letter."

Aria couldn’t help but laugh, exhausted but lighter somehow. "If that’s a love letter, I don’t want to know what an insult sounds like."

A stray skeleton hand gave Laxin a thumbs-up before collapsing again.

He pointed at it weakly. "See? Even they agree with me."

On the seventh day, something changed.

Aria’s stance was steady, her voice crisp. Laxin’s eyes burned with that weird manic determination that only comes after too many humiliating losses. And for once, their skeletons actually stood in formation instead of wobbling like mismatched scarecrows.

Fenric’s silver gaze lingered on them longer than usual. Then, he snapped his grimoire open. A page turned, glowing faintly with silver script.

"You’ve scraped together the bare minimum," he said. "Now... we go further."

The script hovered before them, the words pulling at their minds like whispers from the abyss.

[Bone Lance]

[Soul Shackle]

[Spectral Hands]

Aria’s breath hitched. "Spells?"

Fenric nodded once. "Your skeletons are extensions. But true necromancers command death itself."