Hungry Necromancer - Chapter 234

Reeling from the shocking appearance of the monster Mound, I curse. Had I held onto my mana I would have been quicker to react.

But much isn’t lost in terms of preparedness as Anselm swoops down at great speed for a devastating strike. The Mound staggers, its face where Anselm hit freezing over.

It moans, its head following Anselm’s flight path. Not waiting to see what it does next I pull on my mana and activate my spell.

“Death Grip.”

In a burst, dozens of arms snap out of me and latch on to the Mound of green and wood. Through my many arms, I taste the life drain out of it and know it can be killed.

“Soul Drain!”

[Target Must Have A Soul.]

What? It’s alive but doesn’t have a soul? Are there such things?

The Mound doesn’t spare me the chance to contemplate on its state of existence, it swings broadly at my head, stomps at me with its makeshift foot and groans when it cannot land a hit.

Panting from the series for acrobatic dodges, I raise myself off the ground with my tendrils, the Mound inadvertently carrying me.

“If Soul Drain isn’t going to work on you, I guess we’ll have to kill you the hard way. Anselm.”

Anselm doesn’t need to hear much else to know what he needs to do. Glowing a bright blue, tapping into the power of the Goddess I sorely hate his body emanates piles of frost vapours.

The glow subsides and he wastes no time flying at the Mound. Anselm’s weight slams into the thing so hard I have to launch off of it as they fall into each other.

Setting myself back on the ground I look out for Anselm, he’s immortal so he’ll be fine, but did he kill it?

Inching towards them, ice vapours clouding my view I call out, “Anselm?”

“Uh..a little busy here…I mean, I could use some-”

A gurgling roar cuts him short. I hop back to a safe distance and pull out my dagger, Shaco at the ready and watch the Mound rise out of the vapours unharmed and interestingly, with Anselm sinking into its body.

“What are you still doing? Phase out of there!”

“I’m trying, a bit…difficult.”

My mouth falls open but I haven’t time to gape because-

SLAAM!

The Mound strikes at me once more, winds rattle my clothes as I barely dodge that one. It raises for another hit but my tendrils lash out at it, my will reforming them to thin spikes of necrosis that stab through its abdomen.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Get out of there!”

The Mound of plant matter before me baffles me, how can something be alive and yet have no soul? I should know given my class as a Necromancer but my undead are all but reanimated corpses.

‘But then what is Panda? Isn’t my beast alive?’

I set aside the thoughts of life and death and what lies between, the enemy groans and moans before me, swallowing Anselm with every second that passes. Then I see it, the Mound is not entirely unharmed from Anselm’s ice bomb after all.

Beneath the things feet are shed, frozen pieces of it. It’s been sliding off affected parts! This reveal tells me how to strike next, it can only shed so much before it needs to reconstitute but I’ll be doing a lot more than helping it lose weight.

Pouring mana into the tendrils stabbed within it, it takes more willpower and even more mana than I thought to achieve my goal.

My bloated tendrils push against the Mound, and with my applied will I attempt to tear it out from its insides. It knows this and fights back, lashing out with several spiked roots from its arms but these are aimless as I lift myself up in the air once again.

Its insides fight to stay together, it has much more control over its body than I do my tendrils. Every time a tear appears on the Mound, vines tangle around the space and reunite with the rest of its body, shutting the space.

Resilient.

“Anselm if you’re going to be stuck in there, slowly digested then you might as well cool it down a bit!”

The frost begins once again, from within this time and I find myself snickering at the Mound as it gargles out another groan of pain.

‘Will it spit Anselm out to survive?’, I think to myself, pulling harder against its leafy mass.

The Mound, feet frozen to the ground, moans and groans but doesn’t die. It struggles yet against the omnidirectional pull of my tendrils.

“You’re technically not alive, why fucking fight so hard?” I let out a frustrated groan of my own, a stalemate not the desired outcome I’m looking for.

‘Can I let off another spell?’

The long answer? Yes. The short? No.

Shaco could puncture a bit of my skin, enough to draw blood for a [Blood Scythe], but the concentration required to use a spell through my familiar will take away from my stalemate.

‘Fucking hell, break already you damn salad!’

Then, a burst of wind torrents our way, zooming past it all to slam into the Mound, dead at the center where much of Anselm’s ice has grown on it.

“Did you start without me?” Jungles voice echoes through, he strides closer to the Mound and stares.

Hanging by my tendrils in the air, I yell down at him, “If you would end the thing we can move on!”

His head whips to me, a startled look on his face, “You do not wish to retrieve your companion? The Mound is swallowing him whole even as we speak.”

“End it! He’ll be fine I promise!”

His eyes narrow but he steps away from the Mound, “Lords…always casting away their help.” With a snap of his finger, his spear embedded in the Mound detonates.

The same cleansing flames I saw end the snake end the Mound in a shower of root, vines, leaves and disembodied parts from its last victim.

Falling to the ground I stomp off to Anselm. He groans and holds his head but I have little sympathy for whatever plight he’s passing through, “Why didn’t you phase out of it?”

His eyes turning he struggles to keep a steady head, “I couldn’t. I tried but I couldn’t…I was stuck in it.”

“Your companion…is alive?” Jungle starts, stunned to see Anselm in one piece…relatively one piece. He’s lost an arm and a good chunk of his side to the blast. Rather than see his guts and insides all that marks the wound is a blue mana glow.

“Jungle, it’s complicated, I’ll explain once you tell me what the hell that thing was.”