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Chapter 5
My ancestor and I blinked in unison.
“Ancestor?”
[Speak, descendant.]
“Do undead normally have consciousness?”
[…Of course not. Even non-mediated undead, raised without a host, do not possess a consciousness.]
Right, it’s normal for them not to have one.
Then, what exactly is this creature in front of me?
“Hello?”
Golgol?
“What’s your name?”
Gol?
The skeleton tilted its head repeatedly, as if it didn’t know its own name.
Then, as the one responsible for the ritual, I should give it a name.
“From now on, your name is Golgol. Got it?”
Golgol!
Hmm, looks like it likes the name.
[Even so, it’s just a name…]
Gal!
Ancestor, doesn’t it seem like it likes it?
Wait a minute—so, if I think about it, Golgol might be my very first undead?
“Hmm, I feel kind of proud.”
[But does that mean I can’t inhabit a body now?]
Huh?
Come to think of it, the original purpose of creating undead was to use my ancestor’s body, but I had forgotten.
Then what do we do?
“Golgol.”
Gol?
“Could you lend me your body for a bit?”
Gol…?
Golgol tilted its head in confusion at my request. Then, it gave a strong nod of agreement.
Good. With Golgol’s consent, I looked at my ancestor.
“Shall we try it?”
[Good. You know how, right?]
“Uh… yes.”
I didn’t really know.
But somehow… something instinctively came to me, like when I had just created Golgol.
Yes, as if controlling limbs naturally.
It was probably thanks to having unlocked the Blessing of Death.
Anyway, I focused my consciousness.
[Hmm, like this, perhaps.]
Slowly, my ancestor began to merge with Golgol.
My heart raced as I watched the union of ancestor and Golgol.
It was a tense moment.
Heorun’s hero, slayer of dragons.
A hero whose name was etched into history was reincarnating here after a long, long time.
I don’t know how long I focused, but…
[…]
Golgol bowed its head deeply, then slowly lifted it again.
From the empty eye sockets blazed a sharp, radiant light.
The moment I looked into those eyes, I instinctively knew:
The Dragon Slayer Arc had been reborn here.
Shivers ran down my spine as my ancestor reached out.
[Hand me the sword.]
“…Yes.”
I moved toward the decorative sword hanging on my room’s wall.
At that moment—
Ping―!
A dizzying sensation and blackness overtook my vision.
[Descendant?]
“Uwaaaahhh—!”
I lost consciousness amidst overwhelming dizziness.
It was the second time I had passed out today.
When I regained consciousness, the ceiling above me was familiar.
And… a face that was both familiar yet slightly unfamiliar.
“Awake, are you?”
“…Lady Hela?”
“You may call me stepmother if you like. If that’s what you wish.”
“Ah, yes.”
Hela, my father’s lawful wife—my stepmother—tidied the towel that had been wiping my sweat and spoke.
“The servant who came to announce mealtime found you like this. I heard you were practicing necromancy—is that right?”
“Yes, I apologize for the trouble.”
“No need for apologies. I just hope you balance your practice with care for your body. Rest well now. I’ll be going.”
“…Thank you.”
With that, my stepmother left the room.
I blinked, still feeling a bit dazed.
Somehow…
‘I can’t quite get used to this.’
By the way, is it really correct to call her stepmother in a case like this?
I didn’t know.
Lost in awkward thoughts about titles, I heard:
[You’ve woken up.]
‘Ancestor, what happened?’
[You suddenly vomited and collapsed. Seems like a magic exhaustion issue.]
Magic exhaustion?
Come to think of it, when I collapsed, it felt like all the magic in my heart had drained away.
If that’s the case…
It seems maintaining a permanent possession is difficult while experiencing magic exhaustion.
‘Hmm, so what should we do?’
[No need to worry too much. Even now, if your magic reserves increase, it will gradually get easier. But for that, you’ll need to train necromancy even harder.]
Apparently, simply honing necromancy can increase one’s magic reserves.
The same goes for others—swordsmen improve their reserves through sword training, mages through magic.
‘So training really is the answer.’
Sigh.
I got up, exhausted, and looked around.
“But what about Golgol?”
[Hmm. After you collapsed, it disappeared.]
What? It was really gone?
Just then…
“I think I can summon it again.”
[How?]
“Like this.”
A bit of my heart’s magic flowed out with my will.
By my bedside, the familiar skull appeared immediately.
Golgol…!
It made a distressed face(?) as it saw me. I nodded, signaling I was fine.
“This much is nothing.”
Golgol!
Ah, so this is why raising undead is rewarding.
It warms your heart.
“Would simply summoning it like this help with necromancy practice?”
[Of course.]
That was a welcome confirmation.
‘So it’s like automatic training just by existing?’
I decided to keep Golgol in a permanent summon state if possible.
It doesn’t consume much magic, so it should be fine.
Now, a question arose.
“Golgol, what do you want to do?”
Golgol?
“Hmm… would you like to learn swordsmanship?”
A normal skeleton could just be used as a disposable weapon, but Golgol had consciousness.
So I wondered if it could learn sword techniques…
Golgol!
It nodded enthusiastically, almost as if excited.
I smiled at Golgol and looked at my ancestor.
“Could you teach Golgol some basic sword techniques?”
[Basic skills, yes.]
“Golgol, do you want to try drawing the sword from the display case?”
[Now? Without rest? If you overdo it, your body can’t take it.]
“I think this much is fine.”
As I said, summoning Golgol isn’t much of a burden.
Moreover, my magic reserves had increased compared to before I lost consciousness.
The exhaustion was due to post-depletion effects, not a lack of magic.
Golgol drew the sword and assumed a stance.
[Hmm? Why is this sword bent? Palaon has deteriorated this much… Golgol, draw the sword beside you.]
Golgol.
Ah, I had bent it. I’ll fix it later.
Anyway, Golgol drew the new sword and assumed the stance.
[Follow my stance. Imagine there’s a sword in my hand.]
My ancestor stood before Golgol, demonstrating the stance.
Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, back straight, gaze forward.
A classical stance one might have seen somewhere.
[Watch closely.]
The motion continued—raising the sword above, then striking down straight.
Even with an empty hand, it felt like the sword was real.
[Try it.]
Golgol.
Now it was Golgol’s turn.
It watched my ancestor and adjusted its stance, then raised the sword correctly.
And vertically—
Whoosh!
The sword cut through the air with a crisp sound.
A strange sensation tickled my mind at that moment.
[Not bad for the first time… hmm? Descendant, why are you like this?]
“Wait a moment. Golgol, want to try again?”
Golgol!
Excited, it swung the sword again.
“Again.”
Golgol!
The same downward strike as before.
I focused on the ticklish sensation, having Golgol repeat the motion over and over, until I finally told it to stop.
[Why? Is there a problem?]
“Well…”
How could I explain the feeling and phenomenon?
That’s it.
“It seems Golgol’s practice is shared with me as well.”
[What? Really?]
“Yes.”
Shared training? Training points shared?
Yes, it’s better to call it shared training points.
Simply put…
‘Automatic training?’
Or maybe it’s like a macro.
The next day.
After recovering, I headed straight to the training grounds.
It was early morning, but knights including Sir Balt were already practicing.
“Master, you’re out.”
“Yes, Sir Balt.”
“I heard from Wilhelm that you need training.”
“Yes, indeed.”
I nodded.
My main goal was training Golgol, but I needed training myself.
[You never know what might happen on the battlefield. Even a mage needs self-defense. Until your necromancy reaches a certain level, be prepared for melee combat.]
True enough.
Moreover, having obtained the shield Krasion, I should at least learn basic usage.
“Then, I’ll just make ten laps around the training field. But what about that skeleton beside you…”
“Ah, that’s my undead. Could you train it as well?”
“Train an undead?”
Sir Balt’s eyes widened.
It must have sounded strange to him.
I guess some things are just hard to understand about a genius.
[…]
‘Your nose has grown high, hasn’t it?’
I think my nose was always high, ancestor.
Anyway, Sir Balt hesitated but allowed Golgol to join.
“If it helps you, I’m happy to oblige.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes. If so, Master, please make just ten laps lightly around the field.”
“…Yes.”
Aerobics.
I hated aerobics even in my past life, but it couldn’t be helped.
This wasn’t just exercise—it was training.
Training to survive in a violent, barbaric medieval land.
Under Sir Balt’s guidance, the training began.
Every morning, I learned sword and shield techniques, and he marveled at my rapid improvement.
“You’re amazing. Such quick progress… impossible without talent for swordsmanship.”
“Hmm, is it that remarkable?”
“Yes. It’s a shame if only you hadn’t already blossomed in necromancy…”
I understood his feelings.
‘They lost a sword talent to necromancy—of course they’d be disappointed.’
[Don’t cheat. You’re sharing training points with Golgol.]
Ah, from experiments, it seemed my training points were not shared with Golgol.
A little disappointing, but that’s fine.
One day, as I continued training and necromancy research…
“Sir Balt, excuse me…”
The old butler Maroon called, and Sir Balt left briefly, returning with a slightly serious expression.
“Master, I think training should end for today.”
“What happened?”
I asked, seeing his serious face.
After a moment, he spoke:
“Viscount Hadion has sent someone.”
“Viscount Hadion… the neighboring territory?”
“Yes. I was called by the Baron, so I must go.”
“Ah, understood.”
I watched Sir Balt leave.
Then I noticed a man entering the lord’s castle.
A figure full of greed… or, politely speaking, corpulent.
‘Could this be the one Viscount Hadion sent?’
[Yes, I overheard—he’s the administrator Purvil.]
Administrator Purvil.
‘Ugh, his appearance is unsettling.’
Sure enough, not long after, I heard a shout from my father’s study.
“How dare you—! Only a madman would speak such nonsense!”
It was my father’s furious voice.
