Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Rhett made a dull sound from his iron helmet, like the breathing of a sleeping giant.

"You're late, Eleanor, after the time you agreed to meet."

Irene stopped, put on her round hat, and stroked the white feathers on it as she apologized, "I'm sorry, Reed, for troubling you to come out and open the door for me personally."

Only after Irene had completely entered the corridor did Reed grab the delicate, teacup-like handle and slam the door shut. It wasn't an emotional issue; he was simply naturally stronger. "This couldn't be more comfortable for me, you know, I can't get along with those nagging old men in there."

Irene patted his rough companion's shoulder armor and said with a smile, "Don't be like that, Reed. If those gentlemen knew that the founders of Dreya called them 'Lords,' they would probably be ashamed to death."

The joke clearly amused Reed, who emitted a strange tremor from his armor. The gentleman, trying to remain serious, decided to change the subject, "You're late, which is unusual for someone as punctual as you."

"I had some personal matters to attend to. I've already taken care of them."

Lifting the thick red curtain, Irene saw those gentlemen.

The "master," dressed in dark green, became the center of attention. Standing on the round table in the center, one foot on the chair, one arm raised in the air, as if grasping at a hazy, dreamlike poetic scene, or a fleeting, brilliant inspiration. But in reality, grasping vines was his forte, so he simply told a classic dirty joke. Classic vulgarity never goes out of style, and he received applause and cheers from the audience—a rather satisfying ending, wasn't it?

Echel, like a victorious general, stepped down from the height and gave Irian a hug.

"My old friend, your arrival has made the air feel much fresher and sweeter."

"Is every outlaw as eloquent as you, Echel?"

"Of course, in order to survive, every Leviathan Ranger must master at least four languages, among which Sparrow Language is mandatory, and that stuff is everywhere."

Irene didn't know how to answer, but the kind-hearted Echel solved his problem with a question.

“You’re too late, Eleanor. You’ve put our friendship to the test.”

Irene decided to play along with this old drama queen.

"I'm so sorry, Echel, how can I salvage our friendship?"

"Ha! I did it!" Echel's sudden shout startled Irene. He turned around and high-fived everyone, then took a large stack of money bags that had been hidden from view from the long table and pocketed them. "I won! I'm the gambling king!"

Irene's face darkened. "What you bet on has nothing to do with me."

“Your story, Elion. As the creator of Twilight Memories, you've never told your own story. You haven't even told us about your family. We've never heard of the kingdom of Moroki, which, you know, is practically a gathering place for the dead royalty of every kingdom. And you, in our eyes, remain as mysterious as ever. Twilight Memories is our sanctuary, Elion. We are grateful to you, and we want to know more about you.” Echel's tone was sincere and earnest, but then she added, “You won't let your old friend lose all his winnings, will you?”

Irene's hands were clasped together, and the main hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"My story isn't as interesting as you think. If you don't mind being bored, I don't mind telling you."

"You haven't heard of the name Morokui because the name itself carries a sense of hidden knowledge. Our country is the same; a country composed of magicians is more like a local organization of the mystical side. This country was shattered ten years ago because... the last king felt that... managing the country was a waste of his time on magical research, so the country was dissolved, and the king fled with the main city."

A loud crash drew everyone's attention. Reed scrambled to his feet; the shocking information he'd just heard had caused even this battle-hardened warrior to stumble unexpectedly. The others didn't blame Reed; they were quite surprised themselves, but unconsciously, their awe of the mysterious leader had diminished considerably.

"I am a high-ranking mage from such a country. I have lived in this world for about three hundred years as a living person. As for the reason for my long life, that is another story. When my life was about to end, I foresaw all of this. I explained everything to my descendants and made all the arrangements. Then I went into the tomb I had built for myself and was buried with my wife, who had been sleeping for a long time. My burial items were merely the notebooks I carried with me on my journey into the mystical world. It was like a copy of my life."

“I fell into eternal slumber, as I had assumed. But in fact, I had been a lich for some time, until the headmaster of Andrei reawakened my senses and invited me to join him.”

"What bothers me the most is probably my troublesome grandson."

"I sealed my tomb, but perhaps my resurrected self damaged it, causing a lapse in the magical mechanisms. When I regained my senses and revisited the place, my tomb was in ruins. My beloved Quirai was scattered all over the ground, and some parts were even missing. The rage over my desecrated wife intensified my obsession, and I decided to punish the fool who disturbed Quirai's rest. This was not complicated for me; with my superb magical skills, I easily restored the magical images from that time."

“My grandson is a person with a great talent for magic. I did not tell him about my death. I watched the magical image of that little brat who was not even eight years old, noticed the hidden magical seal, and even detonated it with my half-baked magic.”

"Irene, you mean your grandson blew up his grandparents' graves out of curiosity?"

"Is there a problem?" Irene's eyes were filled with murderous intent.

"No, no, this kid is too unfilial, he should be taught a good lesson."

"He has disappeared."

"Huh???? How did it get lost???"

"The impact of the explosion stunned him, and at that time, the king was fleeing with the main city. He may have sneaked out, so my son did not notice his disappearance."

So your grandson is now homeless, his fate unknown?!

"He's still alive, that's the only thing I'm sure of. As for the suffering he's endured outside, it's good for a boy to suffer a little, after all, he's the filial grandson who blew up the ancestral graves."

"You're right, Irene. Let's split the money I won. I'm a little sorry about that. I'll take good care of you from now on, brother."

Irene glanced at him and uttered a concise yet infinitely useful word.

"roll."

Chapter 145 Before the Exam

The Bone Forest was noticeably more lively than before, not only describing the crowd before Lyle but also the restless magic emanating from the land. Not long ago, it had been a deathly still forest of bones, as if someone had injected rabies into the earth; magic spewed from the soil like restless fleas. The dense magic in the air was as unbearable as a pungent stench, especially for Lyle, who had long lived in the cold, damp Cassandra. He knew, of course, that this dense magic was beneficial to spellcasters, and he also knew the terrifying riot of corpses that a necromancer's snap of the fingers could cause on such land.

This place felt more like a gathering than an exam for necromancers. Just outside the white circle marking the exam area, groups of Andrei people huddled together, whispering amongst themselves, much like when Lyle first arrived at the club's recruitment fair. Small shops lined both sides, where masked merchants, unwilling to reveal their faces, were fiddling with trinkets on their counters.

Lyle leaned closer to take a look.

The wish-granting cursed doll, the lucky die with six dots on all six sides, the wand enchanted with an instant-death spell—mostly small items containing subtle magical power, and their prices were shockingly high. Having been immersed in the world of the scholar, a walking source of magic, Lyle's sensitivity to magic had increased considerably. He was certain that those subtle magical powers merely possessed some aesthetically pleasing effects, offering only a token psychological comfort.

It's all a scam, which is why these shady dealers add another layer of deception to their charade. Lyle finally managed to divert Nia's attention from the wriggling, muddy lucky starfish, not just because of the label saying 100 Orius, but also for the sake of the little monster. It would be a great pity to let its short life end at Nia's hands or be devoured by her.

Among such a group of fraudsters, there are always exceptions. Lyle shielded his eyes with his hand, partly to block out the bright light, and partly out of embarrassment. Ms. Ellian sat openly behind a gleaming gold counter, its smooth surface itself a work of art, upon which were displayed various carved crosses.

How did you come up with such a brilliant idea—selling crosses during the necromancer exam? The Holy Light shop was deserted. Just as Lyle was about to silently turn and leave, Nia disappeared; her mischievous tentacles were nowhere to be seen. Lyle began searching the surroundings for his naughty child.

He found it.

Black tentacles climbed onto the golden table, and amidst Nia's "Waaaaaaaa!" cries, they began to swing the glittering crosses in the air. Nia inadvertently discovered that magic could make these glittering little things emit a bright light, and her mood seemed to brighten considerably, like a runaway disco ball, radiating holy light in all directions.

Those unfortunate masked individuals who were struck by the holy light often clutched the affected areas and screamed in agony, or scattered and fled in pain, causing chaos.

Those crosses were real, powerful weapons. Lyle rushed forward and snatched these medieval energy weapons from Nia's tentacles, hoping that the victims were too badly injured to come back and demand compensation.

"Peace, Ms. Elian."

"Goodnight, Plague Doctor." Throughout the chaos, Elian sat to the side, watching Nia persecute others at will, even clapping her hands. "Want a protective cross? May the Holy Light protect you." Elian casually picked up a small cross.

"What's the use of this?" Lyle was curious enough about these real things, and this one didn't seem to have been used just now.

"Make your exam score move up one place, and move up one place with each use."

"Is it really that effective?" The power of the Holy Light seems quite reliable.

"Of course, as long as you target this little guy with students whose grades might surpass yours..."

"Will they fall behind me because of mistakes?"

"They will forever lose the chance to hand in their papers."

"..."

Lyle lost interest in the small cross. He looked at a flat cross, about the size of two palms, placed in the lower left corner, and curiously picked it up to play with it; it was quite light.

"What's the use of this? It looks like a special bookmark."

"It's much more useful than a bookmark. With it, you can instantly become the number one in spirit communication."

Lyle looked at Elian with suspicion, "Don't tell me it's some kind of ability to eliminate students again..."

"no……"

Before Lyle could even breathe a sigh of relief, Elian continued.

"After you use it, a giant fist of heaven made of holy light will appear in the sky above the examination room. It will not only kill all the students, but also take your proctor with it."

“…Ms. Elian, I think external things are all meaningless; exams still depend on one's own abilities.”

“While I’m glad you think that way, these crosses were all made by Mr. Raymond himself, and he is very much looking forward to them being put to use.”

"No need to say more, I choose to rely on myself. Goodbye, Ms. Elian."

Lyle fled the Holy Light Extinction Weapon Shop as if he were running away.

Near the entrance to the examination hall, Lyle saw a raised platform.

A gentleman in a grey tuxedo, a reporter draped in a royal tablecloth, and a delusional man with the same Greek-style mechanical body were all on the high platform.

It was a huge gambling operation; the literary society had set up the betting pool.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Andre, it's that time of year again for the necromancy exam, which means a group of newcomers are about to pass their infancy. Without further ado, please cast your vote for your favorite Andre rising star and give these fledglings some material encouragement. We will take 10% of your bets and give it to our newcomers. The gamblers who correctly predict the top three winners will receive a bonus based on the corresponding odds."

Many people stuffed gold coins into the pockets corresponding to the candidates' names. These pockets were displayed openly on the exhibition stand, and the information of the candidates was magically written on slips of paper and exchanged with the gamblers, just like the numbers on horse racing tickets.

"Plague doctor?"

While collecting the gold coins, the gentleman noticed Lyle standing in front of him.

Are you going to join the betting?

"Yes, sir, one Oriol, I bet I'll win."

The gentleman nodded in satisfaction. "That's how it should be, Physician. This is what a top student should be like."

"I've invested 100,000 in you. Although I've already privately confirmed your usual grades with Mr. Dragon, I was certain you would be outstanding even without him. Keep it up, Epidemic Doctor."

“Me too, Mr. Plague Doctor. Please work hard for my next pearl-white whalebone dress, Mr. Plague Doctor.” The reporter chimed in, which Lyle reluctantly took as encouragement.

"Keep it up, Mr. Plague Doctor." Mr. Delusional replied casually while making magic notes. Nia poked the note on his desk with the Plague Doctor's code name marked with 100,000. The Literature Club is united!

Lyle entered the Bone Forest with a blessing in mind and a strong determination to obtain at least 30,000 gold coins.

Chapter 146 Difficult Problem

Inside the examination hall, once the white line was drawn across, the hustle and bustle of the market and the figures of people moving about were far away. The students who had met Lyle once before walked together toward the center of the woodland, where Mr. Dragon and the other proctors were waiting.

Mr. Dragon changed into a pure white robe with light gray stripes, but his towering figure still gave him away. Standing at the very front of the white robe were the flesh-and-blood faction teachers, their black robes smeared with blood, and the ghosts representing the soul faction teachers.

"Next, my students, this is your graduation exam for the foundation course in Spirit Conjuring. Make good use of what you have learned to fight and survive in this ghostly realm. This land has been adjusted by teachers from our three schools, and it will continuously produce monsters. Your exam results will be determined by the number of monsters you kill. When the first student to hunt one hundred monsters appears, this exam will end, and your scores will be fixed. Fight for it, compete, and achieve a good score before your classmates surpass you."

A gigantic canine-shaped skeletal golem emerged from the ground behind Mr. Dragon. Its chilling soul fire swept over all the students, and when Lyle was touched by its flames, he felt as if his soul had been frozen for a moment.

"You must remember that on this land there are only monsters, just as only strength can bring absolute victory in your hands."

Bone Storm.

The enormous skeletal golem shattered into a storm of bones, engulfing every student. Nia had tried to hold Lyle in place with her tentacles, but she too was thrown away by the immense force.

It was a specially modified spell, causing little harm; it merely blew the gathered students away, scattering them across the vast woodland. Thanks to the cushioning effect of Nia's tentacles, Lyle escaped the impact of the fall. He looked around; he seemed to have been thrown to some unknown corner, with no classmates nearby, and no monsters...

The ground trembled five meters away at the three o'clock position.