Chapter 273: Children, It’s Dinnertime

Henry’s face turned ashen. He recognized this bastard. ’He’s the one who conspired with that Ron fellow to get me released!’

’How could there be such a coincidence? This has to be another one of their damn schemes!’

"Get out of my way!" Henry bellowed. A barrage of rock-hard hailstones smashed into the ground before him. Even with armor, the guards couldn’t avoid injury, and the street instantly filled with cries of pain. Taking advantage of the chaos, the two men knocked down several more guards and made a break for it.

"You dare resist arrest?! After them!" The official’s shouts echoed from behind, but a disdainful sneer merely crept onto Henry’s lips.

’Arrest me? My lair is just ahead. Once I get inside my Mage Tower and lock the door, what can you do, even with an army of thousands?’

’The only thing I need to worry about is that my Magic is almost depleted. If anyone else gets in my way...’

The Mage Tower was just a stone’s throw away. Henry was certain he could dive straight inside with a single leap; no one could possibly stop him.

Even from here, he could command his lair’s contraptions and traps to retaliate. He was, for all intents and purposes, already unbeatable.

Finally feeling a sense of safety, the Necromancer turned back, panting heavily. He stared at the street behind him, where there wasn’t a soul in sight, his eyes filled with confusion.

"The street is so quiet..."

’I specialize in the Necromancy School. If the streets had been bustling as usual, I wouldn’t have been in such a pathetic state. I could have turned all the fresh corpses into my own power and confronted that wet-behind-the-ears brat head-on.’

’And yet... there are no pedestrians on the streets today?’

"Perhaps it’s because they were all notified in advance: ’Don’t come out during this time if you value your life.’"

Baka silently tightened his grip on the sharp knife in his hand and moved behind Henry Robertson. He too was winded, but compared to the Mage, this man—well-versed in the art of butchering people—was clearly in much better physical shape.

"Notified?" Henry started. He spun around, only to be knocked to the ground by his old friend’s potbelly. "Baka, you—"

"This is a game. The sponsors believe meat only becomes delicious after being thoroughly terrified." Baka’s voice held a hint of sorrow. He brandished his knife, its blade catching the sunset and painting a grotesque reflection on Henry’s stunned face.

"I don’t agree with that philosophy, but they’re the clients. I have to meet their demands."

"But we’ve been friends for years!" Henry roared, unable to believe that one of his few—perhaps his only—friend was betraying him. "What did they give you to make you do something like this?!"

"Aren’t we friends? Aren’t we soulmates? Aren’t—aren’t we accomplices?!"

"Yes, yes, we are," Baka replied instantly to each of the Necromancer’s questions. The tone of the butcher—a man who had killed countless people and carved up just as many—grew increasingly dejected. "Listen, old friend, I have no choice."

"They said... I might not have to be your accomplice anymore. And..."

"They can clear your name?! You actually believe that crap!" Henry was dumbfounded. "I thought you were a genius!"

"Let me finish! Also!" Baka roughly shoved Henry, who was trying to scramble to his feet and flee to the Mage Tower, back onto the ground. "And... the one who convinced me... I couldn’t say no to her. I believe her goodwill toward me is as boundless as her malice toward you."

"Her? Silvia?" The Necromancer wasn’t particularly surprised by this. "I knew it. That little bitch got in with the Lord of Delusional Land!"

"But Baka, haven’t I ever told you?"

Henry Robertson steadied himself, a derisive smile playing on his lips. "I’m not only powerful inside my Mage Tower. I’m just as powerful right here!"

"You’re standing in my kill zone! Let me go and piss off, or I’ll turn you into one of those steaks you’re so good at cutting!"

"That’s impossible, my friend. You don’t know the first thing about cooking." Baka wasn’t the least bit intimidated, which baffled Henry. ’He knows everything about me, so why isn’t he scared?’

But he was running out of time. Baka’s massive hands wrapped around his throat and began to squeeze. If he didn’t do something, he was about to become the first Mage in history to die right outside his own Mage Tower!

But...?

Veins bulging on his forehead, Henry looked desperately at Baka’s sorrowful face. ’Where are my traps? My defenses? My Arcane Magic?!’

’Why isn’t anything responding?! They were working just fine the other night!’

"That’s enough, Uncle Baka."

Just as Henry thought he was about to be strangled to death, a cold female voice—the last one he ever wanted to hear—paradoxically reached his ears like a heavenly melody.

Baka obediently loosened his grip, holding the half-dead Henry up as he turned to the newcomer. "Of course, Niece Silvia."

"Sil...via." The Necromancer’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. His oxygen-starved brain couldn’t even decide whether he should hate her or grab her and kiss her desperately.

The slave and apprentice who had escaped from him now stood before him. She wore a magnificent, expensive dress that, combined with the innate bearing of a Vampire Descendant, made her look like a dignified young noblewoman. In her hand, she held a ring of keys. Henry vaguely remembered them—they were the set he had left at the Public Security Bureau. He had tried to retrieve them several times these past few days, but had always been given some excuse. It turned out she was the one who had taken them.

’No wonder all my Mage Tower’s defenses failed. She worked for me for years; she must know the entire layout by heart.’

"Long time no see, ’Teacher.’" The Vampire Descendant’s icy palm caressed the Necromancer’s cheek, startling the old man into a state of greater awareness. "I told you, didn’t I? I swore in the name of the Goddess that I would have my revenge. And now, I have returned."

"You’re nothing but a bitch barking for her new mast—" Henry grimaced in pain. Silvia’s caress had not been without a price. The Vampire’s Touch was draining his life force; the skin she had stroked felt like it had been scraped with a razor blade.

"Let me guess, how many times did you have to get on your back for that paramour of yours before he agreed to put on this whole show just to help you vent?"

"When you were with me, I never laid a single finger on you!"

"That’s right," Silvia sneered. "Let me think... what sort of things *did* touch me while I was here? Undead Creatures? Strong Acid and potent bases? Or was it that disgusting corpse oil and those rusty scalpels and needles?"

"And unfortunately for you, you’re wrong," the Vampire Mage said, glancing around. "To pay you back in kind for all that torture, I wouldn’t have minded offering myself up to him. A pity, really. It didn’t even require that kind of payment."

A flicker of a smile touched Silvia’s lips before vanishing. "But what’s the point of discussing this with a dying old man like you? I wonder, do you remember? The last time you dragged me back here, what was it you threatened me with?"

"I’ll sell you to some citizen’s home, let you rot completely, and then feed you to the dogs!" Henry Robertson, still pinned by Baka and utterly powerless, could only fight back with his words.

"Well said." Silvia showed no anger. She glanced at the darkening sky, then raised a scepter Henry had never seen before and tapped it lightly on the ground. "I said I would pay you back for everything. Let’s start here."

Dozens of enormous, black-furred hounds with eerily human-like faces burst howling from a black mist that swirled out from the scepter. They stared with malevolent eyes at the trembling Necromancer.

"Time to eat, my children."