Monarch Chapter 79

Chapter 79

Rayne had no idea what his one move was going to cause.

The moment the arc of death mana struck the ceiling, the dungeon itself seemed to scream.

Stone cracked like thunder. Not just above the necromancer, but everywhere. The jagged protrusions shuddered, then shattered, and the shock rippled outward through the chamber.

The ceiling began to fall.

Chunks of stone tore free in a violent cascade, slabs slamming down with enough force to crater the floor. Dust exploded into the air, choking and blinding everyone, as debris rained down indiscriminately.

Rayne moved instantly.

A massive slab crashed down where he’d been standing a heartbeat earlier, pulverising stone into shards. He sprinted, boots skidding over fractured ground as smaller chunks pelted his armor. Something clipped his shoulder, but he ignored it and kept running.

“Shit! What in the nine hells is going on?!” Varrick’s voice echoed from behind him, followed by the clang of metal and a shouted curse as another impact rocked the chamber.

Rayne didn’t look back.

His party scattered through the chaos, shields raised over their heads as they ran, ducking and weaving between falling stones. Nate nearly went down when a chunk struck the edge of his shield, but John yanked him sideways at the last second. All of them rushed toward the hallway.

But Rayne’s eyes were locked forward.

On the necromancer.

The debris had caught her.

Stone and broken ceiling supports had collapsed around her position, burying her mana shield beneath rubble. The barrier flickered wildly through the cracks, its surface spiderwebbed with fractures from the impact.

Rayne surged toward it and slammed both hands onto a cracked stone slab embedded in the heap. With a grunt, he heaved it aside.

The necromancer lay there with a glare on her face.

Pinned beneath fractured stone, her one shoulder was crushed under the rubble and her robe torn apart. They were also smeared with dust and blood. More importantly, her mana shield sputtered unevenly now, struggling to reform its shape.

Rayne didn’t hesitate, knowing this was his chance.

He raised his sword to end her once and for all, but the instant he brought it down, darkness flared.

A blast of dark energy erupted from beneath the rubble. Rayne barely got out in time as it struck one of the falling stones behind him.

The stone shattered in an explosion of fragments, and shards hit his back. But he didn't care about any of that and focused on the woman who screamed and thrashed beneath the debris, trying to force herself free.

Rayne had no intention of letting her do so. He was on top of her immediately.

He knew she couldn’t fire another blast so soon. But that didn't stop her from sending another mental attack towards him.

A wave of dark thoughts slammed into his mind. Run. Back away. You’re going to die. That this was going to be the biggest mistake of his life. All of these thoughts urged him to stop.

Rayne only snarled.

He lifted his boot and brought it down hard.

The necromancer screamed as his heel crushed down on her ringed fingers, grinding them into the stone. Mana fizzled violently as one ring shattered outright, fragments skittering across the rubble. Her shield flickered in and out of existence before disappearing completely.

She looked up at him with wide, shaking eyes.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” she gasped, blood running from the corner of her mouth. “You have no idea who you’re making an enemy of—”

“I don’t really care,” Rayne said coldly.

Her breathing hitched. More panic crept into her voice now. “If you kill me right now, you’ll be branded by someone you can’t even comprehend. Your death will come sooner than you think. Listen to me. You need to—”

Rayne drove his sword down.

Steel punched through robe, through flesh, with almost no resistance. The blade slid into her chest as if her body had already accepted what was coming. She screamed, back arching, fingers clawing uselessly at his greaves.

Rayne twisted the sword.

Her scream broke into a wet gasp.

She looked down at the blade buried inside her, disbelief flickering across her face, mouth opening again to speak—beg, curse, threaten, he didn’t know nor did he care.

Rayne yanked the sword free and slashed.

A thin red line opened across her throat. Blood spilled out in a sudden rush, her words drowning in a gurgle as she collapsed completely against the rubble. Her dark eyes fluttered, tried to focus on him one last time—

Then they went empty as she died.

Notifications buzzed inside his mind the very next second, but Rayne ignored them for now and turned back immediately.

The debris falling had finally slowed, but the chamber was almost destroyed.

The floor was buried beneath shattered stone, dust hanging thick in the air, mixed with splattered remains of undead and chunks of the stonefur bear’s corpse. Spiked stone had pierced the bear's corpse, but Rayne didn't give it more than a glance.

He looked at the edge of the chamber where the chimera lay unmoving.

Rayne’s breath left him in a long, shaky exhale as he spotted it.

The massive undead monstrosity lay crumpled near the far wall, its twisted body half-buried beneath rubble.

One of its tendrils was pinned flat under a fallen slab, another torn apart and leaking blackened ichor that pooled across the stone. Its head—what passed for one—had been completely crushed beneath a massive block of ceiling stone, caved in so thoroughly that nothing recognisable remained.

Varrick stood in front of the corpse.

His greatsword was planted tip-first into the ground, both hands resting on the pommel as he leaned forward slightly, catching his breath.

His [Force Shield] was raised above his head. From the looks of it, the stone had done most of the work, and Varrick had finished the rest without hesitation.

Rayne felt tension drain from his limbs. Fighting that thing was the last thing he wanted to do.

As he watched the chamber, movement caught his eye near the hallway.

Nate was the first to emerge, coughing dust from his lungs, followed closely by John and Kesh.

Their gazes locked onto the chimera first. Then, one by one, they turned to Rayne.

No one said anything, but they recognised that the danger had passed.

Rayne gave them a single nod and stepped towards the centre of the ruined chamber.

Before anyone could open their mouth to ask how all this had happened, Rayne spoke first.

“That was a mana skill,” he said in a steady, calm voice. “The gods granted it to me a few weeks back. I’m still new to it, so I was keeping it hidden. Especially because of how unstable and powerful it is.”

John let out a low whistle, taking out his helmet. “Going by how you used it, you seem to have a pretty good hang of it.”

Rayne shook his head. “I doubt it. That was more luck than skill. If Lukara wasn't gracious today, I might have broken my sword or injured my hand instead.”

At that, a voice answered from above them.

“It didn't look like luck to me.”

All of them turned as Bran dropped down from the broken ledge above, landing with a soft thud despite the rubble beneath his boots. He straightened and walked toward them, eyes sweeping the ruined chamber once before settling on Rayne.

“You thought well,” Bran continued. “Bringing the ceiling down on her. Even good mana shields don’t handle heavy physical bombardment well. Not when it’s sustained and coming straight down at her.”

“And that ugly [Flesh Doctor] didn’t even have a good shield to begin with,” Varrick said, cutting into the conversation.

He approached from the opposite side, hauling his greatsword on his shoulder. His armour was scratched and dust clung to him, but his gaze was sharp and never left Rayne, as if the man was reevaluating him.

Rayne felt a knot tighten in his chest at the gaze and realised something. Even if his party stayed quiet, there was no chance Varrick would. News of [Death Strike] would spread through the camp soon enough.

At least it wouldn't be out of nowhere with his new spellsword status.

“That shield of hers,” Varrick went on, bringing Rayne’s attention back to the topic and gesturing with his chin toward the rubble where the necromancer lay buried, “was uncommon grade at best. Sturdy, yes. Reliable, maybe. But not meant for prolonged engagements. Definitely not against repeated stress. It actually suits her level. But that's the weird thing.”

Kesh frowned. “What do you mean? How's that weird?”

“That’s weird because,” Bran said slowly, eyes going over the chimera, “the chimera was really strong.”

Varrick nodded. “Exactly. That thing was far beyond what she should’ve been capable of creating. Even with the right skills, you don’t just stumble into high-level monster corpses like that. And from what I can tell, she was nowhere near killing stronger monsters like that. That's what bothers me.”

Although Rayne didn’t know how much he could trust Varrick’s judgment on the exact grade of the shield, he agreed with the fact that the necromancer had been weak.

Compared to her chimera, she had been nothing.

If she was level 49 as Varrick had said, then the chimera had been at least twenty—maybe thirty—levels above her.

Even without fighting it directly, just getting grabbed by it had made his skin crawl. How she had made it didn’t make sense. But speculation wouldn’t give them answers.

Rayne exhaled and looked at Varrick. “We should see what we can find here. Maybe we will get more clues. She was loaded with magical accessories.”

Varrick gave a short nod. “I’ll check them.”

He didn’t waste time. The man turned immediately and headed toward the collapsed rubble where the necromancer’s body lay buried, already crouching down to move the stone slabs aside.

Rayne let him do his work and turned to the others. “We’ll check the core room. After that, we rest. Heins should be arriving with the rest of the forces soon. They can deal with the body and hopefully bring some food for us.”

No one argued.

Rayne led the way toward the dungeon’s core room, stepping carefully over broken stone and splintered debris before entering through the shattered doorway.

At the centre of the room stood the dungeon core, resting on a stone podium as usual. Its faint glow pulsed steadily.

But the room itself was larger than most core chambers Rayne had seen. And there were quite a few things inside.

A simple cot sat pushed against the wall, sheets half-torn and stained. Dried strips of jerky lay scattered nearby, some still wrapped in cloth. A small, worn pillow rested at the head of the cot, flattened by use.

But he didn't care about any of that.

His eyes moved past the bedding and paused at the books. Three of them lay stacked beside the cot.

He stepped forward immediately and picked up the first one. The leather cover was thick with what looked like drawings of runes he didn't recognise stitched into it. He flipped it over and read the title etched into the front—Necrotic Creatures and Their Abilities.

The second book was similar in make, its spine worn from repeated use. The title was—Foundational Necrotic Spell Structures.

Then there was the third.

It had no cover at all. Just a stack of bound pages held together with a simple thread, its edges frayed.

Nate leaned closer and squinted. “That looks like a diary.”

Rayne nodded slowly. “Could be. Mages love writing things down. I wouldn't be surprised if necromancers are the same.”

He picked it up and flipped through a few pages, realising that it wasn't a diary in the normal sense.

It was more of a research journal.

Every page was filled with sketches of monsters. Detailed and gruesome ones with information about their bodies—muscles, bones, organs. How they functioned and what parts could be used in a chimera. There were even sketches of failed experiments the necromancer had conducted.

Rayne flipped through it slowly, forcing himself to ignore the slight unease crawling up his spine. But he couldn't ignore the fact that there was value in the journal.

And as he reached the middle, a page caught his eye and he paused.

There was a sketch of a red goblin displayed there and an entry about an experiment the necromancer had done with it in an attempt to “make it smarter,” in her own words. Maybe she was trying to make her constructs intelligent and had tested it out on the goblin, but it made Rayne think back to his first few weeks in the army.

His mind went back to that night in the forest when he had interrogated that goblin and it had told him how they had been taught ambush tactics by a strange red goblin.

Now, as Rayne read the journal, he realised that there was a good chance the [Flesh Doctor] was the reason why the goblins had acted so differently.