Chapter 52: Chapter 47

Transmigration magic comes hard to anyone, let alone undead. Many mortals might claim that they detest the world, but their deep-seated feelings are bound to the world, preventing them from ever learning the transmigration magic. So, even for undead, transmigrating is a damned chore that takes more than just channelizing mana. After all, who doesn’t have desires in this world? Bread for me, slaughter for others, and power for some others. All undead are unique, but only a few, if not one, ever manage to learn transmigration magic.

I was sitting beside my lady’s bed, hesitant to wake her up. The sun hadn’t wiped out the lousy moon, so the dawn was still far away, but we weren’t in our house to wait until everyone else had woken up. I hadn’t slept last night for evident reasons, but I wasn’t sleepy in the least.

We undead don’t need sleep, but it’s a routine we enjoy and one that we never want to forget.

I shook my lady’s shoulder slightly, and she mumbled something before covering her face with the sheet. Another attempt earned me a scratch on my arms, and I was hit with the pillows on my third try. When her eyes finally fluttered open, she stared around the unfamiliar conical drapes that extended from the ceiling and covered the bed on all the sides, like the rigging of a ship. A few unusual breaths and some uneasiness were reasonable, and she sat up in fright.

When her gaze finally landed on me, she let out a sigh of relief. “Come closer, mongrel. I want to see if you are really here.”

I stood up from the cushioned chair, and she pulled me to her bed without any warning and pinned me under her, my legs dangling outside the drapes. I was calm as usual, much to my lady’s displeasure.

Her voice was still slurry as she wiped her eyes and said, “Why did you put me to sleep?”

“I still need to use transmigration magic, my lady,” I said, holding my hand on her mouth. “Your mouth stinks.”

She ignored me with a glare and asked, “Transmigration magic?”

“Yes. That’s how I came to you; from a different world,” I said, and she removed my hand from her lips and planted a kiss on my forehead, a tad embarrassed. Not me, of course.

“So if you want to leave me, you need to know transmigration magic,” she said, but it sounded more like a question. “In other words, if you get attached to me, you won’t be able to use the spell anymore.”

“Well, attached is a complicated term for undead, but you could say that,” I said, trying to think of ways of phrasing it better. “For transmigration magic, I need to disregard everything around me and detach myself from the world. Your memories might make it hard for me to transmigrate, but I will forget them over the course of a few thousand years unless they become craters inside my head like bread.”

“Doesn’t bread affect your spell?” she raised her eyebrows.

“My stubborn belief that better bread is found in other worlds negates that, my lady.”

She paused, lost in thought. “Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you scared that I’ll never let you leave?”

I ruffled her hair with a smile. “If you care about me, then you will let me go, my lady.”

“I’m sorry to break that pipe dream, mongrel,” her lips curled to a smile. “I obsess over you. I’ll make you succumb to your desires and lock you up in this world for eternity. Do you want to forget me? In your dreams, bastard!”

Well, my machinations did backfire on me, but it was not like I expected her to go soft on me. I sighed, turned around, and pinned her under me, much to her surprise. I was atop the bed now, despite my ardent dislike for cushions.

“Then I will resist, my lady,” I placed my finger on her chin and lifted it up. “You’ve never seen me serious, have you?”

“How I wish to see that!” she wrapped her hands around my neck, giggling.

“I don’t mean it that way, my lady!” I hurriedly added, but her grin forced me to bite my lips.

“My mongrel is rattled,” she pulled me closer with a smile and almost buried my face in the crook of her neck.

The door to the room almost burst open, and I started at the entrance. I had locked it last night, but Casey was standing there with a detached latch, Beth grinning beside her. Well, I wasn't surprised.

“Why the hell aren’t you naked?” Beth asked in surprise, walking inside blatantly.

I tried to get out of my lady’s embrace, but she tightened her grip and glared at her friends. “You got problems with that?! My mongrel is innocent, unlike you horny girls.”

Sure, I am innocent after killing millions, torturing thousands, and usurping hundreds of kingdoms.

“You are just as horny, baby,” Casey giggled, and I saw my lady’s ears turning red. “Who wanted Ruddy to–“

“That has to stay between us, Casey,” Beth smiled, placing her hands around Casey’s shoulders. “Unless you want Leti to punish us.”

My lady let me go, and the soft bed recessed under my weight as I sat down. “Good morning, lady Casey and lady Beth,” I greeted politely.

“Oh, Ruddy,” Beth grinned at me. “You need to thank me, don’t you?”

Yes, I need to thank her for almost losing my transmigration magic. How should I do that?

“Anyway,” Casey said. “It’s time for some sparring. We will have our first round in a couple of days, and I don’t want any of us getting knocked out in the first round.”

“Will you graduate if you lose the first round?” I asked, securing my lady’s hair with a bun once she was up.

“Depends on the judges, Ruddy. Three royal mages will grade your performance, which will ultimately decide your passing grade,” Casey said, touching her chin.

“Those judges are bastards! If they fail me this year, I’m going to burn them down first,” Beth was more riled up than usual. “In my first year, I hadn’t actually tried to fail, but that bastard Parolov had forced me to repeat a year for my behavior. He’ll be one of the judges too, along with lady Mylan and Crover.”

“Lady Mylan is king’s concubine,” Casey said. “All Cognoscente female mages have to enter the harem. So, it’s always better to be discreet about your mage ranks instead of flaunting it.”

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“You mean if my lady shows exceptional prowess, she’ll be forced to marry that old king?”

“Not exactly. She would be decreed a marriage with the crown prince. But if the prince rejects it, then yes, she’ll be forced to marry the king after she becomes a Cognoscente mage. Else, the king will send her to higher nobility houses or to the aristocrats."

“That means all three of you will be losing before the third round,” I stared at them, one at a time.

“Yes,” Beth said, her eyes downcast. “All we need to do is pass, and the fame is not on our bucket list. Though, I will try to reach the third round. I need to prove my skills to that bastard royal mage who had failed me.”

My lady hated losing, but the resolute expression on her face meant she would hold back. Not that she needed to, because I would kill the king and his cognoscente mages before she entered the palace, but this was a good prospect for her to grow up. Winning was not always about subduing your opponents.

“This is a messed up kingdom,” I said, which earned me a few nods. “If the king had a male harem, then those brats at school wouldn’t have flaunted their strength so carelessly.”

They laughed, and my lady pecked my cheek before jumping off the soft bed. “Resist for as long as you can, my mongrel,” she whispered in my ears before ambling to the bathroom.

“Sparring pants are in the closet, Leti,” Casey said, smiling at my lady’s haste.

Mana lamps burned bright around us when we reached the intricate lawn of the manor. Garlan was already waiting for us, yawning uncontrollably and shivering in the cold winters, despite wearing a new robe over him. I don’t really know if he stole it from the manor or threatened the drunk Baron to lend him one.

“What’s up with this training, Rudolf?!” He asked me because he didn’t expect any answer from the villainess ladies.

“Graduation tournament, bread lad. They need to train to lose believably.”

I earned a smack and two glares, but I grinned at them.

“Beth against Garlan,” I said. “And my lady against Casey. Winners battle it out, and I can be the final boss if you want.”

“Do you think you are stronger than us by default, Ruddy?” Beth raised her eye at me.

I ignored her and glanced at Garlan, who was looking at me with reverence. “I can beat them up, right?”

I thought their insults had numbed Garlan’s ego, but I suppose he was a man with pride underneath all the pretense. And perverseness. They faced each other first, both eager to thrash the other. We stood at a distance, on the pavement outside the lawn, and patrolling private guards stopped by to see the exchange with interest.

“I won’t go easy on you, lady Beth,” Garlan said, stretching his stiff body as the shimmering light from the mana lamp swathed him in a strange gleam.

Beth clicked her tongue, but she knew better than to underestimate a mercenary.

The stalemate lasted for a while, as both stood facing each other on the lawn until Beth charged for a roundhouse kick, casting [Dispel] on Garlan’s glowing hands before he could get his cogs running. My bread lad was forced to stop his casting abruptly, but the kick on his thick hands did little harm. Beth recoiled, taking a few steps back in haste, and retained the balance she had lost. Her short black frock that reached her thighs fluttered in the winter winds and the sparring pants provided much-needed comfort for brawling.

I cast [Ward] around us before the noise from the spells could alert the suspicious guards outside or commoners who were fast asleep.

Garlan rushed forth this time, his momentary jab leaving him wide open on his right side. Beth ducked, and flames sizzled around her wrist as she landed a strong punch against his cheek that forced my bread lad to recoil. Beth’s expression contorted as the fire burnt away the skin on her hands, but she wasn’t bothered much to address her injuries at the moment.

My bread lad’s face adorned a burnt scar now. He was used to it.

A kick followed, but Garlan locked Beth’s leg in his hands, and sizzling flames forced him to retreat again, his clothes ablaze, as Beth cast [Smoke] and lighted it up using a ball of fire from her [Blast] spell.

My bread lad used [Drizzle] to put off the raging flame on his clothes, and I wondered why he was rolling on the ground against the thieves when his clothes caught fire the other day. Not that he didn’t know any water spells.

“Damn!” Beth cursed as she raised her training pants and watched the bruise in annoyance. “That fucking hurt!”

Garlan grinned and cast [Boulder], but Beth sidestepped on one leg, only to collide against another large stack of mud. My bread lad charged, making use of her fleeting distraction, and stopped his [Strength] laden punch before it could connect against her cheek.

 Beth stared at his fist, wide-eyed, before limping a step back and falling on her buttock.

“Garlan,” I walked to Beth once my lady nudged me, “you can stop now.”

My bread lad chortled, and Casey rushed to Beth before me, watching the bruise on her legs.

“That was [Strengthen],” I said, casting [Heal] on the blood cot that would have started festering in a couple of days. “If Garlan was your enemy, your bones would have shattered and not just broken.”

Beth clicked her tongue and watched the portly man with annoyance. “Why the hell is that man so strong?!”

“I’m a mercenary hardened by battles, lady Beth,” Garlan said. “Even top academy graduates can’t afford to win against the mercenaries, who train watching men die every damn day.”

Beth bit her lips and got up once I had healed her leg. The guards cheered at Beth, while Garlan earned a few curses for not going easy on a lady, which only riled Beth up, and she chased the guards away.

My lady was already on the lawn, despite the commotion, waiting for Casey too eagerly. Well, I hoped my lady wouldn’t make it past the first round because I doubted she would let anyone trample over her. Casey was strong, despite her lack of interest in brawls, and my lady wouldn't be able to beat her without mastering external casting.

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