Hungry Necromancer - Chapter 236

I am furious. I shouldn’t have given in to Jungle and camped, or at the very least I should have headed back to Demme where a pristine room and quality food await me.

Although I’ve even slept on the ground in the early days of my life here, the many months of privilege living that followed have turned me into a man of quality living.

And camping in the damp, dirty, insect infested forest is not quality living. My eyes wouldn’t shut through the night, not that any of it was my fault, the insects seemed to flock to me and left Jungle to sleep soundly.

Still, I manage, at the very least I can function for several hours without sleep so I’m not all that peeved. After this I’m returning to Demme for a proper meal and to catch up on my sleep.

We break camp once Jungle wakes, I summon Anselm and we head out in the direction he pointed last night.

“Will the monsters still be roaming? The sun is up and as I’ve noticed monsters rarely creep out of their holes with the sun up.” I’m the first one to speak anything useful, Anselm bothered me with a reenactment of my ‘Great Battle of Anthill.’ If I weren’t still suffering from the bites I’d crack a smile.

“Don’t be so worried, the sun is only on the horizon. You are right about their numbers dropping in the morning, but at dawn we have visibility and the rising sun on our side for our hunt. Let’s move quickly.”

He sprints ahead, ending the chatter there.

“Want me to carry you?” Anselm asks, his smile crooked and trembling.

I suck my teeth at him and he bursts out laughing, “Seriously though, he’s pretty fast, are you sure you’ll catch up on foot?”

Grumbling under my breath, I let mana flow through points in my back, and then let it out as the familiar green tendrils of [Death Grip]. Rather than for battle I let the tendrils raise me up to Anselm’s height in the air.

“Who said anything about running?”

He rolls his eyes at me, “Show off. You’re technically still running though.”

I dangle my feet in response, “No feet, not running.”

Following Jungle’s example I launch off, my tendrils carrying me above the treeline at a thought, leaving Anselm behind to speak to himself.

It doesn’t take long, not with Jungle’s running, Anselm’s flying and my…whatever you call this mode of transport. Jungle rests behind a large tree, one of the largest I’ve seen in the Forest yet.

Lowering myself back down to earth I dread the feeling of not floating but bear with it, if only to not waste mana.

Anselm starts, his mace out and frosting already, “What do we have here?”

Jungle’s hands fly to his lips, or where they would be behind the mask, shushing Anselm, he whispers, “A pack of Dire wolves.”

I scoff at this, “Those aren’t monsters.” They’ll count towards my experience once slain but still, I was hoping for more of a challenge.

“No, they aren’t but they, the ones of this Forest have achieved something no other like them have.”

Anselm leans in, interested, “And what’s that?”

“Magic.”

“What!”

“Shh!!!”

“Sorry, sorry.” I whisper, praying to dear Lotar to send their ears elsewhere. “How do they have magic? I thought-”

“I thought so too, but somehow these wolves have developed the ability to cast spells. Strong ones too.”

“Is this a recent development? Because we kind of called down the God of Wolves a few weeks ago.

Jungle’s head snaps to Anselm, “You what!”

“Shhh!!” I shush, taking great pleasure in doing so but also readying to unleash my tendrils should these wolves think to pounce. They’ve likely heard us by now after all.

“How does one summon a God? No, forget that, Anera is the only Goddess, you must be referring to some wolf demon then.”

“No, I haven’t the time to explain to you that the Synagogue has pulled wool over everyone’s eyes, but they have. There are pantheons of Gods, worshipped on this continent, in this Kingdom, and even more in the other scattered realms.”

“The Deity of Wolves, all wolves is my patron, and through him I have seen many things. I called on him to help me liberate Demme from the influence of an actual demon, his presence must still linger and influence these wolves.”

Jungle snorts, gripping his spear, “While I doubt your words it’s much easier to believe than thinking the wolves developed an intelligence on their own and learned magic.”

“Yes, that does sound crazy, almost as crazy as living in a Forest for two years.” Anselm says, an oblivious look on his face.

Jungle ignores his jesting and asks, “Will your patron be pleased with the killing of the creatures he rules?”

I shrug, unbothered, “We’ll find out won’t we.”

Jungle shakes his head and mutters, “Mages.”

“Are we doing this or not?” Anselm urges.

I shake my head at him, bewildered, “You realize you’re taking a back seat on all fights right?”

Before the banter can begin, Jungle palms his spear, steps out from behind the tree and launches it straight in the midst of the wolves.

It detonates.

Whelps of pain and howls of anguish echo through the morning Forest. My feet almost slip on the wet grasses as I gasp.

“Call it a headstart. Bring me my spear when you’re done.” Jungle says, climbing up the large tree.

“What do you mean bring it-”

“Asher!” Anselm yells, driving his mace up into the awaiting jaw of a growling Dire.

They’re massive.

My tendrils pick me up once more and I surge through the air, narrowly avoiding losing an arm as another Dire snaps at me. I send down a tendril, essentially stepping on the beast.

“Soul Drain.”

One dead…several others to go. Fuck.

I don’t have time to count my foes even in the air, a whip of water slings past me, my eyes follow it as it pulls back and wraps around my waist to drag me back down to earth.

“What the fuc-!!”