Reborn with a Necromancer System
Chapter 142: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 142: Behind Closed Doors

The next day, at the Eldridge estate, Kai stood with Naia in the open courtyard. Birds chirped nearby, but Kai’s attention was fully on the girl before him.

Naia’s brow furrowed in focus, a bead of sweat glistening on her temple. She extended her hand toward the training dummy, her fingers trembling slightly. Kai watched as a faint gravity distortion formed in the air around the target, subtle, controlled, until it suddenly fractured.

A thunderous boom echoed through the courtyard as an explosion of fire erupted from her palm, engulfing the dummy and incinerating it in an instant. The blast wave knocked back chairs, scorched the stone, and sent a gust of heat sweeping through the garden.

Kai reflexively put up a barrier formed from condensed shadow, and it rippled against the heat. Once the heat died down, Kai dropped the barrier.

Naia fell to one knee, panting, eyes wide.

"That wasn’t gravity," she said breathlessly. "That wasn’t even close."

Kai blinked, stunned. The sheer volume and heat of the flames rivaled anything he’d seen from even the trained battlemages from the church. He stepped forward, offering her a hand.

"You didn’t lose control," he said. "You called on something deeper. Raw, powerful. That wasn’t a mistake. Your fire magic won out over your gravity magic."

She took his hand, eyes searching his face. "But it felt like... I lost myself in it. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted it to work."

"And it did," Kai replied, his voice calm. "Magic answers emotion."

’At least with what I’ve read. Necromancy and magic formed from life essence seems different.’

"You’re on the edge of something rare, Naia. You just need to learn how to work with it. Fire isn’t something to be tamed, but to be unleashed."

Naia’s lips tightened, pride and unease mingling in her expression. "You think it’s something more? Not just me messing up?"

"No. I think you’re trying to impress me," Kai said with a dry smile. "And accidentally tear open the sun."

She snorted. "If I incinerate a house, I’m blaming you."

They continued the lesson, working on modulation and focusing on smaller bursts. But nothing quite reached the earlier peak. Frustration crept into Naia’s stance as her results fluctuated.

One moment, she sent out something similar to Kai’s flamethrower, the next, a messy half-gravity half-fire combination that almost blew a hole in the ground.

"That, if controlled, might work like an precise explosive..."

"Explosive?"

’Right. They aren’t using black powder or gunpowder yet.’

"A powerful blast that could shatter everything it impacts."

"That’s... Scary..."

"It is, but it can be powerful."

Kai encouraged her until the end of their lesson, leaving her with notes and the promise to revisit the breakthrough tomorrow.

---

As the sun dipped low, Kai left the Eldridge estate’s iron gates behind, wrapping himself in the cold shadow of his Umbral Mantle. The skill shimmered around him, cloaking him in bending light and artificial shadow.

The palace loomed ahead. Kai slipped through the servant’s path along the outer wall, keeping low, navigating by memory and instinct.

Deeper than he’d ever dared.

The corridors became unfamiliar, and marble gave way to darker stone. Hanging tapestries depicted archaic myths, and flickering enchanted lanterns buzzed with residual warding spells. He stopped only when a familiar presence tickled his senses: Prince Arion.

Kai ducked behind a gilded column, breath caught. The prince passed by, cloaked in starlight silk, his eyes distant but glowing faintly with violet runes. Runes that Kai had to strain his mana sense to see.

’He probably really was born with that... Royal blood, hey?’

Arion had the same sight as his sister. Young or not, if he looked directly at Kai, it would be over.

Kai pressed himself flat against the shadowed wall, holding still as a statue. A single moment stretched into eternity, then Arion turned a corner and vanished.

Kai exhaled and moved.

At the corridor’s end loomed a great archway. A relic of older architecture. Worn stone carvings depicted serpents, thorns, and spirals swallowing the sun.

Beyond the archway, in the connecting hallway, rested a massive mahogany door, reinforced with blacksteel bands and etched with runes.

[Forebearer’s language translated to 60%]

The air turned thick with the scent of burnt herbs and something sweet but rotten, like corpse-soaked incense. Kai stepped forward.

His vision blurred. He felt his connection to the shadows and his dead falter.

He froze.

’The Devourer?!’

Kai’s head swivelled. Nothing. His Umbral Mantle broke, and the shadowy veil fell away. He stood exposed in the dim hall, a single bead of sweat trailing down his cheek.

He looked at the archway again. Within the serpents, thorns, and suns, were more runes.

[Forebearer’s Language translated to 61%]

"Anti-magic?" he muttered.

"Who’s there?!" a man’s voice barked. Harsh, commanding, and laced with exhaustion. A voice trained to authority but worn thin by too many nights.

Kai’s heart slammed into his ribs.

Then, he heard something much less harsh.

A sob.

Soft at first, then sharper. A girl’s voice, muffled by the door. It wasn’t loud, but it cut through him.

A broken thing, desperate, weary, constant.

Mana flowed from beneath the door.

’Kleo?’ he thought. ’No... not Kleo. The mana is slightly different. Firra?’

He didn’t wait for the authoritative voice to find him.

Turning on his heel, Kai sprinted back the way he came, his pulse roaring in his ears.

He reactivated his Umbral Mantle, but it didn’t feel right. The skill flickered at the edges, its coverage uneven. After being forcibly cancelled, it was unstable.

Like a fractured mirror held together by tape.

He took a deep breath, slowing his heartbeat. One misstep in the palace, and he wouldn’t get another chance. Getting caught, would mean another round of imprisonment, or worse.

He didn’t look back.

---

By the time he reached the Eldridge estate, the sky was black and scattered with stars. His limbs trembled.

He entered his room through the attic window, closed it, and hunched over the floor, gasping.

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

He stumbled to his desk, grabbed a piece of parchment, and began to write, ink smudging with the speed of his hand. He needed to record it.

"Grand door. Mahogany. Blacksteel bands. Runes that are old, much older than anything I’ve seen. Similar to the arcane locks beneath the academy. Smells... blood, incense. Pained sobbing from behind the door... Might be Firra? Anti-magic zone... strong. Even stronger than Joran’s anti-magic fists. Voice: male, tired, powerful. Possibly a captain or royal guard. No other signs of wards."

He sketched out the runes, making sure to get every detail down.

’Before getting through there, I need to figure out how to disable those runes.’

He paused, staring at the parchment. He committed it to memory.

The details would allow him to plan their attack.

He trembled.

’She’s alive, maybe... but for how long? I’ve wasted too much time. A week might not be enough. I’ll have to tell Kleo. The devourer can wait, but Vepice and the tournament can’t. I need to deal with this soon.’

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