Reborn with a Necromancer System
Chapter 128: Imprisonment

Chapter 128: Imprisonment

The cold stone wall bit into Kai’s back as he slowly stirred. Pain swam just beneath the surface of consciousness, dull, throbbing. His wrists were numb, chained overhead. His feet slightly lifted, but still touching the ground, chained together.

’Should’ve just annihilated them with my army. Next time, losses or not, I’ll win.’

Then came the footsteps.

Slow. Heavy. Full of purpose and loathing.

But it wasn’t the sound that brought him fully back.

It was the voice.

"What did you do with the princess’s body!?"

A sharp crack tore across his cheek. Pain bloomed, and he felt his head snap to the side. His teeth tore the inside of his mouth. Blood pooled on his tongue.

He spat a gob of it onto the stone floor.

The first thing he woke up to was violence.

’Typical.’

The makeshift prison cell was only a repurposed wine cellar with no wine left in the racks. Moss crept along the mortar between the damp cobblestones, the air rank with mildew and the faint scent of mouldy wood. Water dripped in some forgotten corner, the sound so irregular it could drive a man mad.

One drop.

Every few minutes.

Never quite rhythmic enough to fade into the background.

A single iron sconce held a dwindling candle. The light flickered, casting warbling shadows that twisted across the arched ceiling like crawling insects. Rust-streaked bars sealed the heavy wooden door, and rats sometimes scurried just beyond reach, sniffing toward the dried blood on the floor beneath Kai’s boots.

The chains binding him were bolted deep into the stone, etched with suppression sigils, he couldn’t even access his life essence, let alone his mana.

He took careful note on how the sigils were drawn, so he could replicate them in the future.

’Delightful. Another cell. A little comfier than a cage, at least.’

He couldn’t move more than a foot in any direction. Not even enough to stretch out.

He couldn’t sleep well. He couldn’t stand fully. He couldn’t sit comfortably. He was trapped between postures, the pose leeching strength from his limbs.

"Lovely start to a morning I’m having," he muttered, blinking at his captor. "May I know my torturer?"

The man glared down at him, lips curled in contempt. He wore silver-edged plate armour with a lion crest across the chest.

Forne’s royal insignia.

’A knight. Better than an inquisitor, I guess?’

His hands were trembling. With rage, with grief, maybe with both. This was personal.

"Torture is the least of your worries," the knight growled. "You killed a member of the crown. My men are combing the citadel for your accomplice. She’ll be dragged in here soon enough."

Kai’s gaze roamed lazily over the man. Young, maybe in his late twenties. Blonde hair slicked back beneath a dented helmet. A faint scar traced his jaw. He was trying to look composed. He wasn’t succeeding.

’He knew her,’ Kai thought, ’Aliza.’

A memory sparked, the royal caravan, the dead guards littered around the area, and the arcane panthers that were long-since destroyed. This one had been the one protecting her until the end. Loyal. Desperate. Probably the kind to believe in duty, honour, redemption.

The one Kai allowed to live.

’A useful corpse.’

Kai tilted his head and smiled.

"Well, now. Aren’t I lucky? I always wanted yours."

The knight stepped back, confusion twisting his expression just as the illusion Kai had woven over himself with Mirage’s Veil flickered and fell away. No longer a generic prisoner. Now he saw the silver hair, the vivid green eyes, the faint glint of pointed ears.

Recognition was instant.

"You...?" the knight breathed. "You’re the one who... You saved her life. Back at the caravan. I remember you. I even kept your bizarre magic a secret for the princess, and you kill her!?" He raised his hand to smack Kai.

Kai smiled, blood on his lips. "I didn’t kill your princess, knight."

"Then where is she?" the knight snapped. "You were seen with her the day she disappeared. Night too. It’s been over a month. No ransom note. No coup. No war declaration. Just silence."

Kai shrugged as best he could, which wasn’t much, hanging as he was.

"I didn’t say she’s alive either."

The knight lunged. Another strike cracked against Kai’s cheek. This one blurred his vision. A tooth wobbled loose. He let out a strained laugh.

"Don’t play with me, kid!"

"I’m not... playing."

Kai coughed, red flecks hitting the stone.

"If you let me down from here, I can show you the state she’s in. I can even... restore her."

The knight froze.

"What?"

"You understand what I can do, yes? I can bring back the dead. Aliza. I preserved her," Kai said. "Immediately after she died. Kept the body in stasis. There’s... a chance. A small one. If I can recover her soul from the one who stole it from her... I can fix the damage..."

A lie wrapped in fragments of truth. He had preserved her. He had stored her corpse just after death. And in theory, if he were more powerful, and with time, maybe she could be brought back.

But Kai didn’t care.

This wasn’t about justice.

This was bait.

A hook.

The knight’s breath grew shaky. His eyes shone with something like hope.

A fragile, dangerous thing.

"R-Restore her?"

"She could live again," Kai said softly. He even let his voice tremble, just a little. "I can try. But I need out of these shackles, first."

The knight looked torn, like an open wound given a fantasy to believe in.

He staggered back, armour scraping stone, then turned and stormed out without a word. The heavy door slammed behind him.

Kai let his head fall back against the wall.

Then he smiled. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"That should buy me some time."

---

The first day passed in silence. Kai spent it measuring the cell with his eyes, counting how many bricks lined each wall, guessing the age of the structure by the erosion on the stone. Petty, idle things, just enough to keep his mind sharp.

On the second day, he began reciting spells in his mind. Not to cast, of course, because he couldn’t even access a sliver of mana, but to rehearse them. To feel their shape, their rhythm.

By the third day, he began composing new sigils in his head, ones that might break suppression cuffs or create false soul echoes. Most would never work, but they kept his mind alight, calculating, iterating.

On the fourth day, he talked to himself.

Not aloud. Just inside.

He imagined debates with professors, arguments with Kleo, mock interrogations by inquisitors, and what he’d do when free from his vengeance and responsibilities. He visualised plans of escape, sketched blueprints in his head, fantasised about vengeance on those who locked him away.

He had no food. No water. No movement.

But none of that mattered to Kai. He could spend weeks or months there without issue. The problems were with everyone else. Kleo, Willam, Naia, Vepice. People who needed him.

And, most of all, reaping vengeance on the Devourer.

The suppression cuffs kept him weak. His muscles ached, his mouth dried into a cracked mess, and the blood on his face had hardened into itchy trails.

More time passed in silence.

---

"Four-hundred and forty-two thousand one hundred and six. Four-hundred and forty-two thousand one hundred and seven."

’Almost a week...’

A few long hours later, the heavy door creaked open. Light from the hallway spilled into the cell, forcing Kai to blink through the darkness.

The knight entered.

He looked worse than before. His armour had lost its polish. His clean-shaven face had grown into patchy stubble. His eyes were bloodshot and ringed with sleepless exhaustion.

Kai lifted his head slowly, already preparing the lie he’d whisper, the words of comfort and hope he’d offer—carefully chosen to manipulate and control.

"I can bring her ba-"

A gag.

Tight, dirty cloth shoved into his mouth, cutting the sentence short. The knight didn’t speak. He simply sat. On a cracked wooden stool pulled from the corner.

For hours, he said nothing.

’He’s breaking.’

He stared at Kai like a man drowning in indecision. Like someone searching for proof that monsters could lie with a smile and wear a saviour’s face.

Kai glared back, bound and gagged, too proud to flinch under the scrutiny.

Eventually, the knight stood and left the room.

Another week passed.

No one came.

Which meant the knight never told anyone.

’Interesting. So, Broderick, the most famous inquisitor, instead of completing his duties, handed me over to some knight? For money? Or does this guy have something on Broderick? I need to know more. But, beyond that, this works in my favour.’

That kind of desperation, that kind of loyalty, meant Kai might get more than just his corpse. He might get a living, loyal, battle-hardened puppet willing to do whatever it took to bring back the princess. He’d just need to write on the surface of his soul.

All he had to do was lie a little more. Pretend a little harder. Push deeper.

Into the scars of grief and loss.

The candle burned out after another six days.

The rats grew bolder by the seventh and nibbled at his feet.

And by the end of the second week, Kai stopped counting time out loud and let his mind do it on autopilot.

And when the knight eventually returned, alone, hollow-eyed, ragged from the loss of his precious princess, Kai lifted his head just enough to speak, his muscles straining against his movement.

"Have you made your decision, Sir Knight?"