The Second Life of a Legendary Necromancer

Chapter 29: Factions, Conflict (4)

A week passed.

The field war eventually ended with the victory of Red Berserker, the guild infamous for harboring criminals.

Players who supported Free Maker despaired.

The Red Berserker Guild immediately restricted access to Blade Canyon for ordinary players.

Even those who managed to enter were forced to return all the items they obtained.

Unable to acquire the rare dropped equipment, ordinary players were left in tears of frustration.

Red Berserker declared:

“Does this piss you off? If it does, start a fight. We’ll gladly accept. But if you lose, all your items belong to us.”

Among the guilds originating from the Kingdom of Watyrion, there were few that could overpower Red Berserker.

Some guilds of similar strength existed, but they showed no intention of stirring up conflict.

Moreover, the number of recruits joining the Red Berserker Guild was reportedly skyrocketing.

Enticed by the promise of hunting freely in Blade Canyon and other dungeons, many were eager to join.

Although joining or leaving a guild in this game was not a decision to be taken lightly, the allure of efficient hunting grounds and valuable items was hard to resist.

“I expected Red Berserker’s numbers to grow rapidly.”

Rapion looked at the woman before him, Free Maker’s guild master, Mellinia.

She was the defeated party in this war.

As a ranker in the 200s, she had participated in the battle, only to lose and suffer a drop in levels that significantly affected her ranking.

For rankers, even participating in wars was a weighty decision, not to be taken lightly.

After Free Maker’s defeat, many assumed its members would retreat, discouraged.

Losing multiple times could devastate rankings, so risking further humiliation seemed unthinkable.

The overwhelming disadvantage made it seem like there was no hope left for Free Maker.

“Thank you for your support. These potions… they will certainly be of great help in the next war.”

Contrary to expectations, Mellinia’s eyes still burned with determination.

She couldn’t forgive those who oppressed ordinary players, swelled the ranks of criminal factions, and tainted the cities.

Above all, she could never condone their indiscriminate slaughter of NPCs, expressing her fury with clenched fists.

“I, too, cannot stand to see criminals tarnishing my homeland.”

“It seems we share similar sentiments.”

“Of course… However, as a businessman, my support isn’t purely based on principle. I believe Free Maker will reclaim what was lost from Red Berserker. From a business perspective, it’s only natural to invest in a guild with a promising future.”

Mellinia’s expression briefly reflected surprise at Rapion’s candid words.

Though unnecessary, his honesty fostered greater trust.

His seemingly paradoxical approach conveyed a solid promise of support.

“This potion… it’s the one that’s been gaining fame recently.”

“You recognize it, I see.”

Free Maker guild members exclaimed in admiration as they inspected the potion.

As high-level players in the late 100s, they typically used mid-tier potions in emergencies.

However, they didn’t avoid using lower-tier potions altogether.

For minor wounds or urgent situations where they needed to sprinkle potion haphazardly while running, lower-tier potions were more cost-effective.

After all, wasting mid-tier or higher potions would feel like a significant loss.

Higher-tier potions were best reserved for proper treatment in critical moments.

Even top-level rankers carried lower-tier potions for emergencies, frequently using them to treat wounds quickly.

“I heard the Sellatan Guild plans to mass-produce these potions. Are you sure it’s alright to give them to us like this?”

Free Maker guild members asked while pointing to the Yeonwol Potion.

Despite their recent defeat, they were brimming with resolve to emerge victorious in the next battle.

“Actually… Yeonwol himself supports Free Maker, which is why I brought these potions to you before they hit the market.”

“…Really?”

Mellinia, who had been quietly examining a Yeonwol Potion, looked surprised.

“This is fortunate for us, but compared to Red Berserker, we lack considerable strength. What gave him such faith in us?”

Sellatan Guild supported Free Maker with an array of potions, from Yeonwol’s lower-tier to mid-tier ones.

These were the most potent potions currently craftable by players.

“Yeonwol greatly admired Free Maker’s policy of protecting NPCs and held it in high regard. He seems to genuinely care for this world’s residents.”

Free Maker’s ironclad rule:

Never harm NPCs unnecessarily and protect them from players.

This guild was practically the precursor to the “Vigilantes,” who would later be known for defending NPCs.

“I, too, align with Yeonwol’s perspective. Though I may not contribute much to battles, as a merchant, I wished to support Free Maker’s cause in this way.”

“Ah, of course.”

Mellinia gave a wry smile.

NPCs.

The inhabitants of this world.

Some dismissed them as mere AI controlled by computers.

However, most players who had experienced and engaged with Elthera’s world felt otherwise.

“These people… feel real.”

They seemed more human than programs following fixed algorithms.

They felt pain, expressed emotions, thought, and reacted to even the smallest events with laughter or tears.

They were like genuine humans.

Mellinia couldn’t bring herself to belittle these residents as mere NPCs in a game.

Though some players mocked her for caring so much about NPCs, she was sincerely grateful to the merchant before her, who shared her sentiments.

And she deeply appreciated Yeonwol, who supported their guild with potions despite being able to make a fortune by mass-producing them.

“In response to your faith, we will drive Red Berserker out in the next battle.”

Rapion observed Mellinia’s resolute expression and felt reassured in his decision to invest in Free Maker.

“Even if Free Maker’s defeat causes losses, supporting such a guild enhances my soul’s worth.

In the long run, from a philosophical perspective, it’s not a loss at all.”

He let out a bitter chuckle.

“I’m still lacking as a businessman.”

Mellinia, carefully packaging the potions, seemed to recall something and looked at Rapion.

“Oh, by the way, have you heard the recent news? The quest circulating among alchemy rankers.”

“What kind of quest?”

“The daughter of Duke Dilen of the borderlands has fallen ill with a mysterious disease.”

“Hmm.”

Duke Dilen was a high-ranking noble with formidable martial skills and influence, known for defending the Kingdom of Watyrion against demon beasts at the borders.

“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Ah, that makes sense. It’s a quest shared subtly among rankers.

Many once knew about it, but since no one has found a solution, it’s faded into obscurity.”

If it was an old and obscure quest shared only among rankers, it was understandable that Rapion hadn’t heard of it.

“Apparently, to cure his daughter, he’s summoning physicians, both players and NPCs. He’s even posted notices asking for skilled alchemists to come forward. If Sellatan Guild is interested, why not consider taking a look?”

Rapion wore an expression of regret.

Unfortunately, among the player alchemists, there were none who specialized in developing medicine for diseases.

Their interests lay solely in creating combat-related buffs or healing potions.

He was about to shake his head when a certain figure suddenly came to mind.

“If it’s Yeonwol, perhaps he might take an interest?”

Sellatan Guild’s declaration of full support for Free Maker came around the time Yeonwol reached level 85.

He had relocated to a hunting ground where level 110 monsters roamed and was gradually leveling up.

“Good work. You’re going to be my business partner, so you need to survive for a long time.”

In the past, the Sellatan Guild might have supported Red Berserker.

To be honest, my memory of this part is hazy, likely because so many guilds backed Red Berserker at the time.

However, considering how Sellatan remained quiet for some time afterward, it’s possible they went all in on Red Berserker, failed spectacularly, and took ages to recover.

Now, that future had changed.

By investing in Free Maker, the Sellatan Guild was now operating under slightly better circumstances than in the previous timeline.

“Master, all monsters in this area have been dealt with.”

“Good job, you tin can. What about the loot? You didn’t skip out on picking up trash items like last time, did you? If so, you’ll need another lesson.”

“…I brought everything.”

Eltis placed down an axe and a helmet, sweating profusely.

During a hunt for Kalgalquir monsters, I noticed a strange lack of trash items.

Turns out, this tin can hadn’t bothered picking them up and had left them on the ground!

When I scolded him harshly, Eltis had the nerve to justify himself indignantly.

“Master, the most honorable knight among knights, should not lower himself to trifling garbage like this…”

Of course, my fist hit him before he could finish.

Somehow, I always felt like punching that annoyingly handsome face of his, and now I knew why—it was because he looked like the type who wouldn’t pick up trash items.

After a few rounds of training that stopped just short of killing him, he finally started picking up loot properly.

“He’s a bit dense. Loyal, but dense,” I thought, observing Eltis.

He could understand and follow orders well, but perhaps because he had no memories of his past life, he lacked basic common sense.

While he had the awareness of a knight, beyond that, he was practically an empty shell.

Not long ago, I suggested a basic tactic where the tank and damage dealer switch formations mid-fight, but the tin can didn’t understand, nearly causing a disaster.

Without memories, his understanding of strategy and tactics was gone, leaving his combat instincts severely underdeveloped.

Even so, he performed adequately as a front-line tank in armor, so battles weren’t a significant issue.

After finishing my preparations, I immediately moved out.

Hunting level 110 monsters had the advantage of consuming little MP, allowing for non-stop killing sprees.

Even without using brute force or unleashing Blue Wave Ascension Blade techniques, I could hunt efficiently, gaining experience steadily through sheer numbers.

It was ironic to say the experience gain was low since I was monopolizing massive amounts of experience from monsters over 20 levels higher than me, thanks to my summoned creatures.

“Let’s move.”

After clearing out the nearby monsters, I was about to relocate when a notification chimed.

I checked the message—it was from Rapion.

Reading it, my expression hardened.

“Duke Dilen’s daughter? Could it be that quest?”

I delved into memories of my previous life.

Though it was an event from long ago, it had been a major incident, leaving many vivid impressions.

“Back then, I was a beginner.”

Even as a novice, I’d heard about the “Dilen Duchy Disaster,” a horrifying calamity.

All the residents of the duchy had rotted away into zombies.

The duke himself had turned into a “zombie host,” infecting all living humans with his curse.

The incident was so gruesome that no one dared set foot in Dilen’s lands afterward, turning it into a forbidden zone.

The zombies dropped mediocre items, and if bitten, one would quickly turn undead without purification.

To make matters worse, after death, your identical corpse would roam for eight in-game days—horrifying to imagine.

“Duke Dilen’s daughter fell ill with a strange disease, and no amount of clerics or physicians could find a cure?”

I stroked my chin.

At this point, death magic that eluded even clerics and physicians could only mean one thing.

“The Power of Decay.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea.”

The famous alchemist, summoned all the way from a distant continent, shook his head.

“I see. Thank you for your efforts,” said Duke Dilen with a sigh.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help. With my current skills, I cannot identify the lady’s illness.”

The alchemist left, leaving the duke to pull up a chair beside his daughter’s seemingly lifeless body.

He gently stroked her hair, revealing golden locks cascading over a horribly decaying cheek.

“How could decay afflict the living?”

Decay was a phenomenon tied to death, a symbol of its inevitability.

Yet, his daughter, who was still alive, was slowly rotting away.

Holy water and high priests’ divine power barely delayed the process, but even that was nearing its limit.

“No one knows the cause.”

“How can such a terrifying disease exist?”

“Medicine can’t solve it.”

“This is clearly the work of an evil spirit!”

“Surely, Duke Dilen, your daughter suffers divine punishment for some terrible crime you’ve committed! Climb the hill and offer a golden tribute to the gods, or she will face even greater horrors…”

The duke had summoned everyone he could—doctors, priests, shamans, mediums, undead hunters, adventurers, players.

He offered a hundred thousand gold, treasures and equipment stored in the duchy, and even a noble title to anyone who could save his daughter.

No one could provide a solution.

Even the renowned alchemist, said to be an expert on diseases, had left with disappointing results.

“My lord, the lady’s decay has progressed beyond 50%. Once it passes that point, it will be irreversible.”

“How far has it advanced now?”

“Forty percent.”

“How much longer can she hold on?”

“At most, a month. I suggest you prepare yourself.”

The duke closed his eyes tightly.

Less than a month remained.

Despite years of searching for a cure, no solution had been found.

Could his daughter truly be saved within the next month?

“My lord, a high priest from the Salemun Church has arrived.”

“Salemun Church?”

Lost in thought, the duke was informed of an outsider’s visit by his steward.

“Yes. While not widely known, they are reputed in the western continent for curing incurable diseases, making the lame walk, and the blind see.”

“I see.”

Under normal circumstances, Duke Dilen would have dismissed them as a cult, but now he clung to any hope, no matter how faint.

“In addition, a player alchemist has come, requesting to examine the lady’s condition.”

“What sort of person is he?”

“Judging by his attire, he seems to have just surpassed level 50. He claims to be an alchemist, though his equipment looks more suited for a swordsman.”

“Hmm…”

A combat alchemist?

Rare, but not unheard of.

However, such individuals were typically jacks-of-all-trades, skilled in neither alchemy nor swordsmanship, so expectations weren’t high.

What’s more, his level was barely above 50—a paltry level for a player.

Yet with less than a month remaining, the duke couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Anyone, absolutely anyone, could bring hope.

“Very well, bring them in,” the duke said dryly, his tone devoid of expectation.