Everytime young Nura Blackwood made a mistake, his friend Jhuro Yashura would always be there beside him, to give the timid young man a slap on the head.
“What a fuckin’ lame zombie. Do you want an army or dolls to play with?”
“Ah, I’m sorry. It’s hard to coordinate more than five walkers at the same time. I’ll get better. I promise. Please stop hurting me…”
“Okay. I’ll stop slapping your fuckin’ head from now on, but you have to go back to your fuckin’ expensive mansion. Right. Fuckin’. Now.”
“Ah! Please no! My sister will kill me for running from home! Just slap my head again. I’ll never complain!”
The undead that he summoned all moved in a tense manner. Sometimes he even forgot how to keep one of his controlled dead men in balance, which made all of the other dead men fall like dominoes. Jhuro let out a hearty laugh, slapped his timid friend’s back head once again.
Nura could only pitifully rub his head while glancing down. It was Ghalim Malikh who always gave him a bear hug and warmly encouraged him from time to time.
While Nura was still living in Blackwood Mansion, he never had the chance to train his Necromancer Class skills. His sister would never let people see it, and Nura was always afraid of his sister’s threats at the time.
But the days were changed. The three young runaway men never had any shortages of corpses. Killing villains after breakfasts and hunting wanted bandits before dinners was their lifestyle for the past weeks. Nura Blackwood felt happy from his sudden acquired freedom.
One day, the young men celebrated their newly obtained high-level bandit corpses.
“People back in the village would never believe this,” Ghalim said with all smile.
He raised his wooden cup of cold drink and gave his friend Jhuro Yashura a toast.
Jhuro glanced at the person who sat beside him. “Nura, try to animate these dead fuckers.”
But Nura bravely tried to shook his head. “These people are at least ten levels above me!”
“Yet they’re dead. I’m fuckin’ low-leveled too but my poison was still able to kill them.”
“It’s not about you can do it or not. But will you or will you not.”
“Stop you stammering you cowardly fucker. You said you want to become my friend, did you? Well, fuck you, you have to surpass me before we can shake hands as friends.”
“But you said to Ghalim before that he will never surpass you,” Nura Blackwood muttered weakly.
“This fuck slow head? He’s not my friend. He’s my fuckin’ obedient slave.”
Jhuro Yashura gave the young, sturdy body slave a pat in the head, which soon shoved off by Ghalim.
“Fuck you, Jhuro.”
“Watch ya words. Or I’ll fuckin’ cut your tongue, ya damn slave.”
Jhuro laughed at his mockery. Ghalim laughed too. Nura always followed with a faint, shy smile.
Their days were always like this. Working hard with their life on the line, drifting from place to place, then ending their day inside a warm place to comfortably insult each other.
And when they walked, Jhuro and Ghalim were always in the front, while Nura Gilmour timidly followed behind.
After they get their bounty that day, Jhuro stopped and silently looked towards the setting sun in the west.
“Ghalim my slave. What do you desire at the day this lord give you a fuckin’ freedom?”
“A big-booty beautiful wife, milord of fucks. And a beautiful, sweet, smart, kind and talented daughter too if I could.”
Jhuro Yashura shrugged. “Ah, well. My desire is simple. A fuckin’ throne.”
“A kingdom in your hand will fall within a week,” Ghalim mocked.
“Not that kind of throne. Just a simple fuckin’ throne of dreams is what I want.”
“What a fuckin’ nonsense,” Ghalim clicked his tongue, then glanced toward the silent Nura. “Well, what about you, lad?”
“Me? I…. I…. well….”
Jhuro Yashura laughed and came to gripped his shoulder. “Like I said before, surpass me and you’ll get whatever you want with that power of yours.”
The army of the dead would always bring chaos and fear towards common enemies. But Jhuro Yashura knew better.
The main reason mercenaries of the camp were easily wiped out by Nura was that they let the army of the dead struck them with terror and chaos after a long and tiring battle.
A life-and-death battle with Nura, was in fact, like a battle of chess. It was a tedious strife, full of traps within every move. A moment of losing rational thinking was a chance for him to deliver a full and deadly blow, instantly crushing enemies. Even elite ranks of battle-hardened warriors alike.
The Necromancer always had keen eyes for a weakness of human beings. His strategies were based on manipulation and exploitation of human nature. That was why his army was so dangerous.
However, to fight a capable enemy that was familiar with his ways of thinking, Nura had to use a different approach.
Seven agile dead men charged in a strict formation. Four more moved and positioned themselves behind Jhuro Yashura to obstruct his escape paths. And the rest were waiting to fill the empty spots formation in case Jhuro could take down some of them.
However, the formation of seven agile dead men was not to be underestimated. Even the most powerful warrior of Tiramikal Continent was bound to die, if he was kept suppressed.
But the cautious and collected Jhuro Yashura would always steady his hand on his sword handle.
Just like a calm and deadly snake that was ready to pounce.
The hollow wind of dessert blew a lamenting tune, as both sides were waiting in silence for each others first move.
Jhuro narrowed his eyes. It was because of the dust from the wind that assaulted his eyes.
“Jhuju, take my attack!” howled a charging dead man.
If it was another person, he would ready himself to block the intimidating charged attack.
But Jhuro immediately turned his body to the opposite way, drew his sword and sent a flash of deadly sword art toward the air.
A muffled shriek was heard. A lifeless head fell.
Jhuro didn’t have the time to finish the sneaking dead man that he recently beheaded, so he gave the standing headless man a ruthless kick, then rapidly turned his body again to block another coming sneak attack.
Not to mention he had to defend himself from the incoming charged dead man, Jhuro found it quite taxing to direct his attention to three difficult angles.
Because of that, the three simultaneously attacks gave him a fresh wound on his shoulder.
The recently assaulted team of dead men retreated to replenish their rank. Then the next wave of three attacks soon ensued.
Jhuro Yashura gritted his teeth.
He almost couldn’t handle the defense after four rounds of fierce attacks like that.
Yet, what made he extremely nervous was the seventh dead man in the formation that always coldly watched from afar.
The dead man was once the old leader of the camp. Most powerful man in the army of the dead, but he was silent the entire time. Naturally, Jhuro knew that Nura would use him to send a finishing blow.
Not to mention, Jhuro realized in the middle of the fight that the dead men were completely immune against his poison.
“Poison shouldn’t able to harm dead being from the first place,” a dead man uttered.
“Seems your fuckin’ minions progressed a lot. Congratulation,” Jhuro said with a smirk.
“Well, thank you for your praise.”
They continue their battle. And Jhuro Yashura found himself suppressed a lot.
In Blackwood’s tent.
The remaining dead men were stationed to defend here, allowing the Necromancer and his bodyguard to watch the battle with leisure.
“What a shitty show. People in the organization talked about him a lot, but he was such a loser. Disappointing,” the burly bodyguard said while shook his head.
Suddenly, the bodyguard received a shock. His limbs went numb, then his big body had a heavy seizure in the sandy ground.
“Please don’t insult him,” Nura warned him with a cold voice. There’s a smooth black stone in his hand, and when he put the stone back to his pocket, the bodyguard soon recovered from his seizure.
One could see fury from the bodyguard eyes, but he didn’t dare to unleash it.
He was quite lucky that the Necromancer didn’t turn him into a zombie back then.
And he didn’t want his master to change his mind now.
Nura’s eyes were back to the crystal ball. His army was winning, but he didn’t feel happy at all.
“You can’t win unless you dance again, Jhuju.”
Silently, Nura held back his dead men to give his enemy a breather.
With his body full of wounds, Jhuro Yashura put back his sword and used the short rest time to tidy up his messy long hair.
The Yashura Swordsman’s face was sullen. He knew he had to give his all to survive this fight.
“You forced me to break my own vow, Nura.”
The man put his hand on the sword handle again. Ready to battle.
But his expression was different from before. Sullen, bitter, angry, and determined.
Nura was happy when he saw this.
“Go,” the Necromancer ordered his dead men.
Three of seven dead men from the formation attacked once again.
And unlike before, Jhuro Yashura didn’t care to defend his back.
Three simultaneous weapon slashes and thrusts approached, yet, they couldn’t even graze Jhuro’s clothes.
The swordsman’s body became blurred, his dodging rate was so absurd that even the fierce combination of dead men coordinated attack couldn’t hold the candle with him.
Because Jhuro didn’t have to block their attacks this time, he took the chance to sent his deadly sword slash.
Soon, the first head fell.
The second and third heads followed.
In spite of that, Jhuro took the extra time to cut his enemies limb, disabled them so that Nura couldn’t use them further.
After that, the sullen face Jhuro Yashura swiped rotten blood from his sword. And then calmly put it back again.
He glanced at the remaining dead man that filled to empty spots in the formation.
Back in Blackwood’s tent.
Nura was excited.
“Dance, Jhuju. You will dance again for me. Dance!”
The entire army of the death moved, pounced toward Jhuro Yashura with madness!
Jhuro Yashura didn’t run. He was confident to wipe out this entire army now.
It was because Nura forced him to use a skill that he didn’t want to use ever again.
And that skill was called ‘Water Flowing Style’.