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The dark energy spread across the moonlit sky like a rippling haze. Seeing Maloka arrive, the necromancers' faces lit up with relief.
"Lord Maloka!"
"W-we're saved…"
But just like that, their two heads were severed and spun through the air before landing with a dull thud on the ground. Their relieved expressions were still on their faces. Varos had mercilessly taken their lives.
Leven, startled, turned toward him. "Was it really necessary to kill them?"
It was standard protocol in the King's Order not to kill captured necromancers recklessly.
Varos responded indifferently. "And why exactly shouldn't we kill necromancers?"
"Huh? Well…" Leven hesitated.
The reason was simple. If a necromancer was turned into a soul, they could be forced to divulge secrets through other necromantic rituals. Killing them recklessly risked sensitive information leaking.
And then it hit him. What was the point of worrying about information leaks when Maloka himself was right there, floating above them? He had already seen and heard everything.
Maloka, for his part, barely reacted to the deaths of his subordinates. It was the same as with Demphis. Life and death meant...
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