Why Did You Summon Me?

Chapter 422: A Blatant Instigation

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

The Phantom King glared at the two wraiths in front of it; one was shaped like an S, and the other was shaped like a B. The Phantom King took a deep breath, and a suction force pulled the wraiths into it. After assimilating the wraiths’ memories, the Phantom King realized that the enemy had gained control of them the moment the wraiths had caught up with them.

“Is this the work of a living necromancer?” The Phantom King muttered. “How intriguing...”

Back at the center of Duat, an unsettling, black castle that had a gruesome design towered above the ashen-grey landscape. A colony of bats — which were actually vampires, gargoyles, wraiths, banshees, and other undead creatures that had transformed — flew around the castle. Besides the massive gate of the castle were rows of revenants, each wearing black armor. This made the black castle even more terrifying to behold.

Beyond the gate, however, was an interior that was a stark contrast to the ghastly exterior of the black castle. It was clean and tidy, and there were no bones or cobwebs to be seen. Anyone who saw this would consider the owner of the castle someone who valued cleanliness. [1]

In the middle of the hall, a throne, which was made of ivory-colored bones, sat on the highest pedestal. A humanoid being emitting green-colored undead energy was seated on this throne. This being was none other than the aforementioned Grandruler.

The Grandruler was a being made completely from energy. Its fondness for the human structure made it assume a humanoid form, but somehow, it managed to look more jarring than the hordes of undead below it.

Phantom King Charnal and Skeleton King Galthran stood below the high throne, amidst other undead, reading out a report on the latest brush with a mysterious group of invaders. The two informed their master that they had yet to locate the invaders, who seemed to have vanished into thin air.

“Maybe they fled and returned to the land whence they came,” Charnal said.

“How unsurprising of you, projecting your own cowardice onto the invaders, who — I cannot stress enough — were dauntless enough to come here in the first place,” Galthran said, unkindly rebuking his partner. “Unlike you, I believe that I will see them again, soon, and this time, it’ll be our swords crossed!”

“Hmph! As expected of someone who, despite the large size of their skull, has no brain. You consider yourself a peerless fighter, but we all know that, in a battle, you’ll end up being beaten till you’re a pile of bones; and, as if that is not enough, you will revive in another body and still get reduced to a pile of bones!” Charnal coldly replied. Soon, the exchange of words escalated into a full-blown quarrel, right before the Grandruler.

The Grandruler was not interested in breaking them up. It just silently watched the vassals quarrel.

However, when the two noticed the stifling silence in the hall, they instantly shut their mouths and bowed out of the vicinity.

As the Grandruler’s vassals, Charnal and Galthran each controlled sates of their own, and they were the kings of their kind. However, their relationship with the Grandruler was that of subjects and monarch; they were nothing more than nobles in their territory. This feudal system had existed in Duat for many, many centuries.

“You fools, your incompetence and impudence sicken me,” said a revenant standing amongst the horde of undead below the throne. This revenant had on a raven-black armor and a grotesque helmet. It was Deathrider King Taamik — the cavalier most loyal to the Grandruler.

King Taamik pulled out a snow-white saber from the scabbard at its waist and pointed it at Charnal and Galthran. “To restore the majestic name of my lord, I seek to duel the two of you. Yes, the two of you together. I hope My Lord will approve of it.”

Feeling grossly offended, the Phantom King and the Skeleton King were about to dish out a chilling retort when the Grandruler finally spoke, “Enough! I approve of the duel, but it shall only happen when I want it to, not now.

“Now, I’m more interested in the invaders.” The Grandruler’s gaze shifted to another one of its undead vassals — a skeleton mage, whose aura differed from those of the undead around it.

As every undead currently in the hall was a leader or a king of their species, it was only natural that they had an air of authority around them. However, this skeleton mage seemed weak, like a mouse standing beside cats. How the skeleton mage got to be here, standing amongst the top brass of Duat, was anyone’s guess.

In spite of the skeleton’s mage underwhelming presence, the Grandruler treated it courteously. “Sir Pyganon, you must now understand that hostility is not the reason why we sealed ourselves; the Laws on our soil cause any living being who steps foot on it to become undead. Now, tell me about these invaders; do you have any idea who they are?”

The skeleton mage, Pyganon, nodded. “Your most respectful Majesty, the invaders are not of the living; instead, they are a different category of reanimated beings. We humans call them ‘Soul Armatures’ — a term that we talked about in the past.”

“A dead person who is reanimated into a suit of armor? Fascinating; it seems our visitors are more similar to our kind than most would expect.” A small smile appeared on the Grandruler’s face. “I look forward to seeing how these suits of armor move around.”

“But, Your Majesty, there is one issue we cannot overlook,” the skeleton mage hurriedly said. “A Soul Armature should be inseparable from its summoner. This means that they must remain in close proximity to each other. The Soul Armature may be dead, but its summoner should be a living being. The moment they set foot on our land, those summoners should have turned to undead — as I did.”

“Oh? What happened to them, then?” The Grandruler asked patiently.

“One of the invaders is a very special Soul Armature, whose actions are completely unbound to his summoner’s limits. He goes wherever he pleases and does whatever he pleases. Do you remember that foolish fiend I told you about before? Yes, he is the person a question — an enemy we both share. That Hope,” the skeleton mage said with seething malice.

“Now that he’s here in our realm, he is basically courting death. He must have been lured by the bait I laid out earlier; I’m sure of it! This is our chance,” the skeleton mage said, hoping to coax the Grandruler into action. “I hope that we will be able to banish him from existence right here, on our lands. Believe me, he really is the greatest obstacle we will face in our bid to conquer Isythre!”

“Mhmm, very intriguing,” the Grandruler murmured, mulling over Pyganon’s words. “I do not think he was lured here by your bait. I’m more inclined to believe that he came here, a realm unfamiliar to him, for another reason altogether — a more complicated reason.”

The skeleton mage was silent, brainstorming on how best it could persuade the Grandruler to move against Baiyi as soon as possible. Fortunately for it, the Grandruler’s next words were in line with its desire. “Taamik, you’re the strongest of my elite vassals, so you will lead the force to take this Hope down. Xander, Modor... aid him.”

The three vassals straightened themselves the moment they heard this. They bowed low and left without a word. The Grandruler turned his attention to Charnal and Galthran, who failed to stop the invaders, and commanded them to desist from chasing after the invaders. The Phantom King and the Skeleton king were appalled at this, but they said nothing.

Afterward, the Grandruler dismissed its vassals, and once it was alone, it turned its head, lost in thought.

While Baiyi snuck away from the armies of undead on his tail, the group from Da Xue, who were on an excursion, had arrived at their destination. This micro realm was beautiful; it possessed lush green mountains and crystal-clear creeks. This sight made the students feel rejuvenated. This was especially so for the students of the Archery Faculty, which was comprised mostly of young, beautiful fairies —a species attuned to nature.

They basked in the gentle breeze for a while before picking a strange scent. This scent seemed out of place for such a beautiful place. It was the scent of death.

“Huh? There are undead here?” Mia stared at the student who had just informed of this, with her mouth agape.

Modred hurried over and asked, “Where exactly? How many are there?”

The fairy student shook her head sideways; she had no clue herself. Although these fairies were training to be Gale Snipers in the future, they had yet to master the basics; thus, the best they could currently do was to pick uncanny scents carried by the wind.

“Pfft. You guys are so lame. You just gave me more work!” Mordred grimaced in an unladylike manner, scratching her head. She turned to Mia and said, “I’m taking a part of my gang to go check it out, okay?”

“Please be careful,” Mia said and hugged Modred, after which she whispered, “Please, the moment you spot any signs of danger, flee.”

“Flee?! Nah. Dragons are not crybabies. If there really are undead here, I’ll incinerate them all to a crisp, in no time flat,” Mordred exclaimed. She activated her armor, and her helmet, which had been hanging behind her, moved up to cover her head on its own.

Modred walked out of their tent and whistled shrilly, and a large dragon descended from the sky, causing quite the scene at the campsite.

Modred climbed atop the dragon and waved at Mia, after which the beast flew off, without any thought for the campsite it had just destroyed.

Mia’s gaze shifted to the destroyed tents, and she realized why her sisters had been so worried about her. Simply put, Mordred was just too unreliable!

Mia hurried over and began to set up new tents, and a few moments later, some girls rushed up to her. They complained that several guys had taken advantage of the brief chaos to flip up their skirts. When they had confronted the bold perverts, the boys denied it. Instead, they blamed it on the raging winds that were created by the clumsy dragon from earlier.

Mia listened to the girls before telling them to refrain from wearing short skirts on outdoor trips. She advised them to opt for conservative and safe long track pants [2]. Mia told the girls how she had gotten an earful from their Grand Principal whenever she wore short skirts, which she used to love wearing. Back then, she was at their current age.

“But, Miss Mia, we’re not half as beautiful as you are. If we have to wear those tacky tracksuit...” One of the girls grumbled.

Mia calmed the girls, telling them that a woman’s beauty was not restricted to her appearance; her inner qualities and decorum had to be taken into account as well. [3]

Sometime later, the girls left, but the trouble did not end there. A while later, Mia was surrounded by students complaining about a variety of things: a problem with the campfire, some fool had accidentally ingested a toadstool, a class was given more tents than another...

Mia felt as though her head was splitting. Were excursions this bothersome? Suddenly, she felt regret for putting her sisters in so much trouble when they went on excursions in the past, as kids.