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The Necromancer's Coach

*cancelled*

Slyfiend · Urban
Not enough ratings
7 Chs

PROLOGUE 104

The Old Man waits at the edge of the courtyard, sweat dripping down from his forehead. His eyes keep scanning across the snow. He's lost sight of the Great Progenitor. The snow seemed to collapse under the progenitor and before he knew it, the young man had disappeared from his eyes at the blink of an eye.

His eyes have the ability to peer through shells and husks and see souls very distinctly. The Great Progenitor's soul is unfathomably bright, showing how strong his will is so finding him under all the other souls shouldn't have been difficult, however the rogue blizzard has completely shrouded the progenitor, hiding him from his eyes with all the souls acting as his shroud.

The Old Man was impressed. He was aware that the souls that composed his office held a fair bit of resentment towards the progenitor due to the level of condescension his actions portrayed but to think that these souls, the particles of snow would manage to conspire together against him and the progenitor was quite fascinating to the Old Man. The snow which was made of souls seemed to see eye to eye with the blizzard as it promptly swallowed the progenitor.

The Old Man still remained relaxed as he was aware that the progenitor's soul was one that could not be affected by the bits and pieces that made up the blizzard. The strength of Progenitor's will made it quite difficult for him to molded or hurt while he was in his soul form.

It has been 3 hours since the young man had disappeared. The Old Man was certain that something was wrong. He immediately started walking into the blizzard.

"Release him." He said softly to the breeze.

The breeze kept flowing like it normally does. The Old Man's left thumb twitches.

"You're aware of the stance I have against using my powers." The Old Man said coldly with a smile plastered on his face.

"The young man was the only person I have had a conversation with in eons and if you choose to treat my guest this way, you leave me with no choice."

The Old Man raises his hand and points his index finger to where the most amount of souls are congregated and was just about to bend his left thumb before he turns around immediately.

"Yo Old Man" A voice calls out from behind him softly.

The Old Man's eyes widen before he teleports to the black pavement and helps the young man get up. Once the progenitor is up on his feet, the old man looks up at him with reverence. His dutiful gaze is countered by a left hook that sends him swirling to the snow.

-x-x-x-

He didn't think that the snow would conspire together to hide the Progenitor from his eyes but they clearly held a lot of anger towards the progenitor. The Old Man was this close to running into the blizzard himself before a noticed a figure emerging as a slump from the back of a skeletal tree. The man walked as though his feet was made out of lead. The moment he reached the edge of the courtyard, he collapsed.

The Old Man beams with pride.

-x-x-x-

I really want to deck the old man again. Harsh? Was that what he called it? That was insane. I remember everything but I don't think I'll forget what I saw. They hated me. Every single one of them. They showed how they screamed, cursed, cried and sobbed while they lived. My mind exploded with information as I tackled their misery. They showed their children, their parents, some even brought up their pets being killed, tortured and maimed. I was worse than the lord of devils, I had killed them all in their eyes. The explosions I wrote about killed most of them. The monster outbreaks I described in shoddy grammar made them lose their loved ones. One particular soul should me her divorce proceedings. The experience was bizarre and it didn't stop. It was fine for a minute but they didn't stop. Their tears didn't stop. At first, I tried to console them but then I realized that they were full of shit. There was no way I could soothe a bunch of souls who had lost their lives to me. They tied all of their misery to me. I was the root of all their pain even though I am no different from them, a character whose misery was required for some fucking protagonist to do what he needs to do. The only difference was the scale. My world does have its misery, the misery wasn't brought in through dungeons and monsters. It was people that made my life hell. It was a drunk truck driver who fell asleep on the wheel, crashing into my parents who were carrying my older sister with them from the airport. It was a highschooler who got a great deal of pleasure by sticking signs that read "Orphans are people too" on my back in the hallways that made me feel like shit. I felt like shit. I always felt like shit, I was dealt a miserable hand by my world's progenitor but you don't see me being annoying. Hell I made other people's life miserable in return. In the end I yelled and screamed at them to shut up. Of course, getting 5 million people to stop being selfish was impossible so I made a promise to the Blizzard that had soothed their hearts and I started crawl out of the snow. The souls kept badgering me with images of promises and trauma. They were trying to threaten me but I would just scoff and keep crawling. When I got myself out of the snow, I kept crawling upwards but kept failing. It had turned out that I was numb because of being buried and confused the grey sky for snow.

As I narrated my experience with that horde, the old man's face went from terror to even more reverence, as though I had proved my title as the Universe's Progenitor. The Old Man then explained the terms of my job and what was expected of me. I was to only help guide Kayde to certain artifacts or elixirs, any techniques that would help him grow stronger and of course, to get him to embrace necromancy quicker. That was all my duty required from me. I was to ensure that I don't establish myself as an important character or go past my area of expertise.

The Old Man handed me a file.

"This is who you will be possessing." I took the file and started to skim through it as the old man continued.

"His name is Marcus Mortillum and he's a History Professor at Prism Academy."

"How the fuck am I supposed to teach necromancy techniques to Kayde when I'm a history professor."

"Making you a combat or a mana specialist was not an option as that would make you a combatant in future conflicts, an individual who could interact with Kayde, while being a non-combatant was essential."

"I just remembered everything I wrote about in this universe and you want me to start teaching the history of this place now all of a sudden? Why couldn't you make me somebody who teaches math or something."

The Old Man who was now getting slightly annoyed.

"Well, you weren't particularly gifted at mathematics in your previous life so I failed to see how you would be proficient teaching mathematics that has progressed 400 years from the time period you were residing in."

I place my hands on my hip.

"You must be going through puberty old man because I don't remember you speaking to your dad this way before."

Both of us look at each other for a moment before busting into laughter.

"Goodbye Progenitor."

"Goodbye Old Man, I don't regret decking you."

The Old Man handed me a few documents that I skimmed through, once I saw that I had to keep my role for only a year, had to ensure that the odds of Kayde winning were above 40% and not to encroach into another role. The story had to remain the same according to the old man which I had no issue with. I had to keep my promise with the blizzard after all.

I signed the documents at the end. I glance past the old man and look at the blizzard which still continued raging on. I waved to the blizzard, trying to show that I still remembered the promise of shattering my soul at the end of my mission. With that I blinked.