Atop one of the stone tables, the necromancer began to rouse, eliciting an excited reaction from the slaves.

Welsen saw the scene and aimed his bow but when he did, the slaves gathered around the necromancer Zini, shielding him.

“Foolish peasants,” Welsen hissed. Why were the lower classes so determined on being simpletons? Did they not realize they were shielding a practitioner of dark magic?

“Welsen,” Rose said sternly with her brow set firm. The archer lowered his bow, knowing he had crossed a line. Rose hadn’t forgotten that Welsen shot one of the slaves already, her fury still brewing over his lack of grace since arriving in the Vitelwood forest.

Zini groaned as he sat up on the stone table, one hand planted on his face in a dazed state. However, upon seeing the intruders in his laboratory, his vigor returned. The air distorted around him as he exuded mana.

As the necromancer was about to unleash his magic, a gnome in a bright red cone cap stepped forward and commanded, "Keep your magic at bay, necromancer." The attention of the room shifted to Polopp, who stood next to the young man lying unconscious on the ground.

"Why would I listen to you, gnome?" Zini asked, his dark green eyes narrowing. Though some recent events were unclear in his mind, his loss in the intellectual battle with the gnome was not. He had been thoroughly rattled by the tiny person.

"Mister Zini," a slave spoke up, drawing his attention. "The honorable gnome saw fit to heal you, and he even healed Franlye."

"Franlye was hurt?" Zini sputtered, then furrowed his brow. "I told you all to escape if the laboratory was found. Why didn't you listen to me?"

"We couldn't let them hurt you, Mister Zini," another slave said. "Not after everything you've done to help us."

Many of the slaves had been abducted from the slums where no one would bother investigating the disappearance of a slum dweller. Others had fallen victim to unscrupulous moneylenders who lured them into taking on crippling debts, only to sell them into slavery as collateral. A few were simply enemies of the White Scale Viper gang, like Red.

At first, the slaves had believed their fate was sealed in a cruel world of servitude. Then, a pale angel with dark green eyes appeared to free them. When they awoke from the smuggler's Death Sleep poison, they found themselves facing Zini and his skeletons, causing fear and trepidation to grip them. The necromancer's actions however were unexpected; he provided them with food and promised to help them escape the moneylenders and gangs. When he seemed to be holding to his word, they began to view him as a saint.

The slaves, having been smuggled by a fellow Loderan, were unable to trust anyone from their own country, including Rose and her party. Their hopes rested solely on Zini, a young man whose features suggested he came from a different land.

Zini turned away from their hopeful gazes. He despised the fact that some individuals would condemn others to a lifetime of servitude. He also detested his own tender heart, which compelled him to assume a responsibility he wasn't sure he could bear.

Reluctantly, he looked to the gnome, hoping the crafty creature could ease his burdens.

“Speak,” Zini prompted.

Polopp nodded, “That’s more like it. First, I need you to undo the magic you have on the young man next to me.”

“And what if I do that? Will I be able to live?”

“I can guarantee it.”

“Know your place, gnome,” Dawrite said gruffly, his old eyes locking onto the small figure. Rose, standing beside the old servant, didn't know how to respond. Her mission was to eliminate the necromancer. Failure would be a stain on her reputation as a party leader.

It was no small task to become a party leader, even with her family name. The Hunter's Guild was known to value results above all else, and failures were subject to even harsher scrutiny. Each Hunter had to earn their position, and every party leader had to prove themselves worthy of the role.

Zini's practice of necromancy also only furthered the suspicion surrounding him. Necromancers were notorious for their association with dark rituals, and although demonic magic had supposedly vanished from the world when Lighteater and his army were defeated, the mere mention of dark magic was enough to make people almost as uneasy as the mention of demonic magic.

The idea of allowing a powerful necromancer like Zini to simply walk away seemed impossible.

Making a decision, Rose sighed, “What my servant alludes to is correct.” Addressing Polopp, she apologized, “I’m sorry, but the necromancer is too much of an enigma. He cannot be allowed to leave.”

“So you will kill me?” Zini asked, his voice hardening. The air around him began to distort with energy, as if anticipating the answer to his question.

Rose answered solemnly, “I don’t know you, necromancer, but I know your magic. There has never been a good story about your kind who practices such dark arts.”

Zini’s eyes became forlorn as he frowned deeply, “Though my story is a sad one, it is not one filled with malice. You have judged me without knowing me, which shows me you are not worthy to make such a decision over me. If I might die at your hands, I will not make it easy for you.”

“Have I not stated that you will live?” Polopp interjected.

Zini allowed his mana to recede at the gnome’s words. Though others around the cave saw his withdrawal as strange, Zini knew of Polopp’s true worth. A gnome as intelligent as Polopp had more than a few tricks up his sleeve.

Welsen frowned at Polopp, “Gnome, we may be tired, but even if we were on our deathbed, you wouldn’t be able to stop us from claiming the necromancer’s life.”

The archer then rose to his feet, and Rose and Dawrite stood tall beside him, each Hunter worth more than a number of warriors combined. Air distorted around them as glowing mana rose from their bodies like steam.

The gnome gave a nonchalant shrug in response before fiddling his hands out in the air in front of him toward the Hunter trio. Sparkling light then flew from his finger tips and submerged into their bodies. Upon contact with Polopp’s magic, the Hunters suddenly fell as if hit by an anvil.

“What manner of devilry?!” Dawrite shouted as he felt no strength in his body, lying on the ground like a puppet without strings. Next to him, the bodies of Rose and Welsen trembled as they tried to find the strength to rise.

“See?” Polopp said, glancing back at Zini, “I guarantee you will live.”

“You poisoned them,” Zini surmised, staring at the Hunters on the floor, “but how?”

“I fed them health potions when they were in dire need to ensure their compliance with my goals. With the health potions I gave them, I added the ingredients of what I had deduced could create similar effects of a certain poison that had been afflicting my young friend.”

Zini thought back to when he found Polopp examining the young brawler in their first meeting, realizing the gnome had been learning about the Death Sleep poison then. His talent as an alchemist was truly frightening.

“After concocting a poison that could be activated by my gnome magic,” Polopp carried on, “I knew I could guarantee accomplishing my goals.”

“Can I perhaps be enlightened to what your goals truly are?” Zini asked.

Polopp gestured with a head nod to Red sleeping below him. “This boy is going to be the subject of my research,” answered the gnome.

“He must be quite special.”

The gnome didn’t answer, knowing that giving away too much could cause unforeseen and sometimes unfortunate circumstances.

"I suspect that I have also been poisoned," Zini said plainly. He knew that the only way he could have been brought back from death's door was through the use of a potent health potion. The sap gnome was the only one capable of creating such a potion, leading Zini to believe that he was given the same kind of laced mixture.

“You would guess correct,” Polopp nodded. He always enjoyed bright people quick on the uptake. “I couldn’t leave any unknown factor at play. But look on the bright side, you aren’t dying any longer.”

A slave whispered to Zini, "Most of us haven't drunk any of the gnome's potions. We can stop him. Just give us the word, Mister Zini."

Zini shook his head and replied, "Attempting to challenge someone who has the ability to imbue magic, unlike yourselves, would be an act of complete and utter suicide. Though gnomes are considered one of the weaker races, they can still use magic. This gnome has bested us all, and there is no shame in losing to someone like him." Despite his words, Zini felt indignant and frustrated inside. How could such a creature continue to get the best of him? He had been the top student at the Magitarius!

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Out of everyone, the kickboxer was the only one who had suspected the gnome to be up to something. Polopp couldn't figure out how the kickboxer had guessed, and the idea that the kickboxer had become intelligent enough to keep up with Polopp's schemes frightened the gnome.

“How could you do this to us?” Rose asked, her pretty face twisted with betrayal and disappointment as she looked at Polopp.

Polopp gave her a sympathetic smile and replied, “I’ve saved you Hunters twice. Is it so bad that I make sure that I get what I want in the end? Shouldn’t you be grateful? I would’ve allowed you to have at it against the necromancer, but I need him now.” Without the kickboxer's revelation about the locked-down nature of Red's soul and the other entities, he would have left Zini to face his fate alone. However, Polopp needed the souls to be freed in order to study them.

Rose bit her lip as she attempted fruitlessly to get to her feet.

Zini produced the Soul Expropriator from beneath his dark robes and placed it on a stone table with runes and Firmament diagrams that lit up as the artifact touched down upon them. After it emitted a flash of light, Zini brought the artifact before the gnome who stepped back when the necromancer approached him.

“You’re a cautious one,” Zini commented, seeing Polopp move some distance away. Polopp merely responded with a friendly smile that turned up his white beard. Inwardly, Zini cursed. He wanted to trap the gnome in magic once he got close but the gnome was wise to his games.

Would he ever get the best of him?

Zini pressed the artifact against the unconscious young man’s chest and four bursts of light flashed before the Soul Expropriator became dull. The necromancer then lifted himself up and turned to face the gnome.

Polopp nodded, acknowledging the work was done. Both he and Zini nearly fell when the unconscious young man suddenly got up.

“M-mister Kickboxer!” Polopp stammered in fright, “Honorable, pretty, intelligent, unbeatable, punctual, dependable kickboxer. You are so great!” The gnome was always ready to grovel at a moment’s notice if he became cornered by a dangerous foe. In that moment, he regretted not poisoning the soul enhancing potion he gave the entity before.

Would the entity known as “the kickboxer” take his life?

"Polopp?" inquired the young man, rubbing his eyes as if he had just awoken from a long slumber. His posture seemed somewhat bent, his shoulders slumped and his head was lowered as if the young man was about to bow. His brown eyes seemed apologetic as if he were ready to be in trouble for mistakes only known to him. The young man radiated doubt and uncertainty.

“Red?” Polopp answered, recognizing the unconfident air around the youth, “Is that you?”

The young man, Red, nodded dumbly as if he was just hit on the top of his head. He suddenly paused for a moment and his eyes brightened.

“You did it?” Red asked, a smile blooming to life on his face.

“…did what?” the gnome asked, unsure.

“The memories,” Red exclaimed, his hands moving in the air expressively, “The bad juju. They’re gone! You got rid of them for me!” He then began bowing toward the gnome repeatedly in thanks.

“Slow down, Red. How is that possible? I didn’t work on you at all while you were trapped inside your own body. And how have you circumvented the aftereffects of the soul enhancing potion? You should be unconscious for at least a day!”

"They're gone! The memories are gone!" Red's voice echoed through the laboratory as he ran in circles, his frenzied singing causing everyone to cover their ears. The paralyzed Hunters lay prone, helpless and had to suffer under the sound.

In being ignored, Polopp had to watch Red run around until the young man became tired.

This is one of the foes that led to my undoing? Zini wondered in disbelief, watching the young man act as a child that had been given a piece of candy.

Red’s steps abruptly halted and he stood in place, bringing up his hands to stare at them in contemplation.

“Finally, he’s stopped,” Polopp muttered then said to the shirtless young man, “Red, we must speak on what has transpired recently with your soul in intricate detail. In the name of alchemy, we will discover something grand. I have no doubt about that.”

Rose peeked over at Red from where she was lying and became puzzled. That young man’s name was Red? Why had he referred to himself in the third person so many times before?

Red's face contorted with uncertainty as he looked towards the gnome and asked, “Why are there so many thoughts swirling in my head?"

“Hmm?” Polopp responded, “I thought you said the ‘bad juju’, which I take are the presence of the entities, have disappeared?”

“The entities have quieted and I don’t feel the need to train anymore, nor do I feel the need to fight,” Red explained, his eyes returning to his hands, examining them as if seeing them for the first time. “To whom do all these other thoughts belong to? I feel homesick and scared of being so far from the city. There’s also a feeling of loneliness. There’s guilt for what I’ve done to Dwindle and a hunger that I can only fill from Poly’s cooking.”

“Are you another entity that has latched onto Red’s soul? You don’t sound like the Red I met before.”

Red’s brown eyes refocused on the gnome, causing Polopp to flinch. Within those brown irises, he saw someone in deep contemplation about their place in the world. The look was different from "the champ," whose confidence was his defining characteristic, and "the kickboxer," who seemed to have chosen a state of relaxation above all else. Neither of them showed any inclination to think too deeply beyond their initial states.

“My name is Redyl Rombell,” Red introduced himself to Polopp, straightening out his posture, his eyes sparkling with life, “I am a resident of the Reeking Valley in the slums of Soalde. I am son to Varza Rombell and I have no recollection of my father. I have two friends named Dwindle and Poly who must be worried sick.”

He combed his hands through his messy hair. Feeling its unruly nature, Red began to comb it back with his fingers and as he did, he said, “I have to go back to the city and apologize to Dwindle and Poly. I shouldn’t have run off like that. They deserve to know what has become of me. My mother would be rather upset with how I’ve carried myself lately. May the gods grant her departed soul sanctuary in their golden fields.”

“My actions seem so childish now that I think about it,” Red laughed. “I can’t believe I actually ran off after what I did to Dwindle without apologizing first. Now look at me. Here in a necromancer’s lair, somewhere off the beaten path, talking to a gnome. I’ve really outdone myself.”

“So, you are Red?” Polopp asked, observing the young man closely.

“I believe so,” Red smiled before he laughed again as he reviewed his own memories, “Can you believe I signed up to be a Hunter? Me, a child of the slums without training and without regarding the dangers of fighting monsters, actually willing to brave the wilds wearing only a pair of shorts. What had come over me?”

Red’s mind remained revolving, introducing him to ways of looking at life he could never have grasped before. In waking, something had closed off within him and with it being sealed, Red found his mind had become a place where his thoughts could form coherently. What his mind had been before seemed hollow and lacking in substance, as if it were a bathtub with holes that could never hold water.

Now he could feel his mind become occupied by processes of thinking that made sense of everything around him.

Red glanced back at the gnome and said, “I will help you with your research, Polopp, as was promised.”

“Oh, you remember that,” Polopp said, nodding with satisfaction, “I thought you might’ve forgotten.”

“I know that you took advantage of my dire circumstances and the time when my mind was occupied by the kickboxer entity to negotiate such a deal with me.”

The gnome stilled. “O-oh,” he stammered, “you remember that as well.” He was beginning to miss the simple minded Red that passed out just from listening to intellectual conversation.

Red continued, “But in the past, my mother had always reminded me to keep my promises. Though your tactics are questionable, I won't back out. I still remember the warnings that the kickboxer entity gave me about you. Don’t think I will be made a fool of anymore.”

“Beautiful, bold, impressive, heroic human,” Polopp said, smiling warily, “I perish the thought of making a fool out of you, truly I do.”

“Do you happen to have rope?” Red asked seemingly out of nowhere.

“Rope? Why in the realms would you ask for such a thing now of all times?”

“Well, do you have any?”

Polopp nodded then dropped his bundle of packs to the ground as he pulled out some loose rope for the young man. Before he could hand it to him, Red knelt down eye level with him to receive the rope. The action seemed odd until Red whispered, “The necromancer has released his magic that is binding the Badlanders in the back room. I sensed the disturbance earlier.” His senses were as sharp as a knife's edge.

As Polopp’s blue eyes widened, Red continued, “The slaves with him have been walking out one by one while we were distracted. The necromancer must be planning to escape in the chaos that will ensue.”

“No need to worry, Mister Rombell,” the gnome said with a smirk, “I have poisoned him. I will activate the poison and have him lying on the ground paralyzed.”

"Little good that would do," Red explained, causing one of Polopp's bushy eyebrows to rise, "We won’t be able to escape the Badlanders once they’re fully aware, regardless of whether the necromancer stays standing or not. We should instead take this time to escape."

“You're a formidable fighter. I’ve witnessed it. How could they possibly defeat you in a fight?"

“The foreign memories are gone, sir gnome. I’m without them as well as their martial arts.”

Polopp paled and made an audible gulp as he swallowed nervously. Without the ability to fight, they would be torn apart by the awakening Badlanders. Polopp couldn’t outrun such powerful warriors who could imbue mana.

Red shrugged and smiled, “It would be best for us to start running.”

“But why the rope?” Polopp asked.

“Run, Polopp!” Red said suddenly and burst with speed, kicking up a trail of dust. The gnome hesitated for a moment before cursing and imbued mana to enhance his sprint for the entrance.

Zini saw that his actions had been seen through and cried out, “You lot won’t escape this forest alive! I have other places of refuge nearby. I will live but you will not!” He watched the gnome leave and roared, “How is it? How is it to be bested by the great Zini!”

Polopp wanted to use his magic to paralyze Zini but If he stopped, he could be overwhelmed by what was to come.

In the adjoined chamber, the Badlanders, already released from the magic occupying their minds, were roused awake by the necromancer’s shouting. It took them a moment to register that they had been bound by rope and to understand what had transpired with the smuggler known as Caden. Snapping sounds of the ropes echoed as they broke free from their bindings.

Red appeared near the group of paralyzed Hunters and began to stack them together like logs.

“What are you doing?” Welsen snapped, “Don’t touch me!”

“If you disgrace Lady Verdinant,” Dawrite shouted, watching Red handle Rose’s still body, “The Verdinant House will do their utmost to see you cut into a thousand pieces!”

As Rose watched Red, she asked, “What are you doing and why has the gnome run off?”

Suddenly, the connecting room began to fall apart as the air around it rippled and distorted, resembling the surface of water under a relentless downpour. The sound of chanting voices filled the air, rising into a thunderous war cry: “Badland is my land! Badland is my land! Badland is my land!”

Rose, Dawrite, and Welsen's faces blanched at the sound. They knew all too well how many Badlanders were gathered in that room, and the number was cause for concern.

Red bundled the five Hunters together and hoisted them onto his back, then sprinted for the exit as the room full of chanting burst open with men and women, bound with muscle, emerging from it. The magic runes and diagrams etched along the walls and ceiling blazed with violet light as Zini summoned a dark curtain, enveloping himself and the remaining slaves. In an instant, they vanished from sight, and in the necromancer’s absence, the violet light began to dim as the cave began to crumble.

The Badlanders' eyes were drawn to a shirtless young man with no shoes, sprinting out of the collapsing cave. Some of them carried Battle Lord Otai's paralyzed body, who was still suffering from the Death Sleep poison. They gave chase, seeking someone to blame for their misfortune.

Red's heart raced as he saw the group of faces with white face tattoos chasing him. He put all his effort into running.

"See?" Rose's voice came from within the bundle on his back, her eyes fixed on Red's sweating form. "I told you, you were a hero."