Chapter 22: Ch. 21 – Corpse Party

The only videogame Momo had ever played religiously was Extreme Dining Dashers on her Nintendo DS. Her mom had gotten it from the GameStop bargain bin for $2.99, and it was quite possibly one of the worst feats of game design in modern history, but Momo adored it.

Ever since then she had always dreamed of working in a restaurant. Not as a chef, obviously, but as the person who yelled at the chefs while providing very little value of their own. The Gordon Ramsey of her own quaint, toxic kitchen.

With a fleet of a hundred skeletons in hats and aprons standing before her, Momo felt a childhood dream come true.

The skeletons had helpfully hauled in all of the ingredients, spreading them out amongst the kitchen’s many countertops. In the most demanding voice that Momo could manage, she commanded her fleet to separate into three sections: one to chop the venison, another to dice the toilet brush broccoli, and the third to create the dumpling skins.

Gifted to her by Valerica, the high-level skeletons were bright and quick. They got to work immediately, divvying up the tasks like worker bees. As they chopped, Momo strutted around her kitchen like an army sergeant, peering over skeletal shoulders to inspect their work. The dumplings had to be folded just so. The toilet brush had to be cut in a way that made it legitimately resemble a vegetable.

There were precise details to the work, and Momo would settle for nothing below perfection.

[Focus] was one hell of a drug.

Coming down from the spell, Momo found herself in a far corner of the kitchen with her hands wrapped around her knees, her head beating like a drum. A hundred skeletal eyes looked at her in obedient, expectant fear.

Watching their fearless leader awaken, they quickly raised their hands in a military salute.

“Uh.. down, boys,” she murmured, and they relaxed, but only by a little.

She heaved herself off of the floor and inspected the results. Focused-Momo was a ruthless commander; all the ingredients had been chopped, seasoned, and stuffed into perfectly-folded dumplings. All that was left was to pan fry them in the cabbage beer and then they’d be ready for consumption.

She smiled proudly at her work. Part of her wished her parents could witness her now, how fanatically dedicated she was to achieving the perfect dumpling; another part of her wished for nothing less. Her mother would have given her one of those you certainly tried looks, and then dumped the entire pan in the trash bin.

With the food prepared, she ambled down to Valerica’s office. As she strolled through the Main Hall on her way, she was suddenly stopped in her tracks. The familiar stench of rotting rat was absent. Morgana’s statue was scrubbed and dusted. The table was set with a tablecloth, napkins, and silverware.

Momo had to do a double-take to certify that she was still in the same Morgana’s Dawn. The space was liveable in a way she had never seen, like it might genuinely be inhabited by self-respecting human beings, and not cave-dwelling goblin people.

She should try threatening the sanctuary with annihilation more often. It was quite the motivator.

---

“The dumplings are ready.”

“Still not sure what those are, but wonderful!” Valerica grinned, “in other good news, the Earl has gracefully accepted our invitation. He’ll be in attendance at tomorrow’s potluck.”

Two letters were lying on Valerica’s desk. The first was sent by Momo, cordially inviting the Earl and his court to a celebratory dinner at the Dawn. She had lied that the murderous deed was done, and the blight of necromancy had been cleared from the woods.

Next to it lay the Earl’s reply, stamped with the King’s seal.

Momo,

You have done well. I will arrive after noon tomorrow with your rewards.

I trust you have not betrayed me.

Momo’s stomach turned.

“But I did betray him,” she mumbled, suddenly unsure of herself. The adrenaline from [Focus] had now properly worn off, and the reality of the situation began to dawn on her. Not only had she misled a very powerful mage, but she was leading him right to her house. It was like rule number one in what not to do when a random man threatens you.

“Yes, you did, and beautifully so,” Valerica added, “you are coming along well in your training.”

Even Valerica’s assurance couldn’t assuage her worries. She had seen his might in person. If he could flatten a blob the size of a tower with one casting, he could surely turn Momo into a pile of pudding with much less.

“What if he doesn’t agree to our demands?” Momo continued worryingly, “what if he’s more powerful than us?”

“You injure me,” Valerica’s eyes turned fire-bright, her ego bruised, “do you not think I can take on a measly Earl?”

“What if he’s not so measly?”

“A [Holy Mage] is but a scrawny mouse to me, Momo. And we have set the finest trap for him. All he has to do is crawl his way in and sniff the cheese.”

“The cheese being my dumplings?”

“Exactly.”

Momo nodded in understanding. Valerica always put things in terms that made sense to her. They were just a symbiotic pair, the two of them. Except one of them was preparing to threaten an expert level Mage, and the other was worried she might be getting a stress rash.

---

The Earl, ever punctual, arrived a minute after Noon. She observed his arrival from her nook under the roof of the sanctuary’s eastern tower. Her fingertips anxiously tapped at the window sill as she watched his party disembark from their horse-drawn carriage.

Him and his court gathered by the stablehouse, parking their steeds there per Momo’s instructions. He had brought six lackeys with him. She recognized one of them as his second in command, the dual-wielding assassin from before. The other five were foreign to her, but they were menacing all the same. Two looked to be spellcasters - holding long wooden staffs and dressed in white robes. The other three were dressed in plate metal and wielded greatswords.

Back on Earth, they would have been extras gathering around the watercooler on a medieval movie set. In this world, they inspired fear so deep in her stomach that she lost a health point.

She breathed in deeply, centering herself. It was fine. Everything was fine. She’d follow Valerica’s instructions and not give a single thing away. All she had to do was lead them to the Main Hall without pissing herself. Greater tasks had been done by lesser people.

“I’m so glad you all could make it,” she greeted them at the door.

“We thank you for the invitation,” Yadek returned, “I trust that we will find what we’re looking for inside.”

His paladins tilted their swords at her. The assassin did not move, but pointed an equally menacing smirk. Momo shivered.

“Of course. Follow me.”

She led them through the back entrance and up the eastern tower’s staircase. The Earl’s men eyed every dust particle with suspicion, surrounding Yadek with protection on all sides in case of an ambush. They were clearly prepared to be duped.

You are reading story Momo The Ripper (A Shy Necromancer LitRPG) at novel35.com

Soon enough they arrived at the arched entrance to the Main Hall. As she had trained the feline to do, Dusk waddled pleasantly by. The cat stopped at the doorway, and then scratched at it, her claws replicating the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

Hoping they got the signal, Momo pushed the door softly open.

The Earl’s frown turned rapidly into a serpentile grin.

“Oh, Momo,” he said, emotion coloring his voice, “you have truly outdone yourself.”

The open doors revealed a scene of utter carnage. All around the dining table, the Necromages lay with their heads flat and unmoving, their cowls buried in their plates. Knives sat limply in dead hands, half-devoured dumpling skins hung from forks. The only sound in the entire room was the pitter-patter of blood dripping into Morgana’s ever-flowing fountain.

The three paladins entered the room first, swords pointed forward. From behind, the duo of spellcasters twirled their staffs in unison, casting [Death Magic Barrier] around the group of them. The Earl entered last, powerfully inhaling the air.

He stood silent for a moment before his eyes fluttered open, his nose wrinkling.

He stared deadcenter, at the woman occupying the head of the table. Valerica.

“This one stinks like nothing I’ve smelled before.”

He stalked up to her, placing his fingers to her limp wrist.

“Dead as a door knob,” he said with an unbelieving shake of his head. He turned to Momo, “you have destroyed a truly apocalyptical evil. I have smelled the Death Magic of an expert Necromancer before, but this scent - it’s beyond vile. It’s aura in its most corrupted form.”

Even obfuscated by the hair shading Valerica’s fallen face, Momo could still see the hint of a smirk paint her lips.

“Yadek, it moved!”

One of the paladins pointed in terror at one of the many skeletons bordering the room. Much to Momo’s chagrin, the accused skeleton was indeed moving, its knee bobbing nervously up and down. It was not the only one. The entire row of skeletons was suffering from some sort of nervous tick; some sucked invisible thumbs, others clawed at the back of their hairless skulls.

Oh dammit, Momo frowned. She really had given the whole fleet of them an anxiety disorder.

“How is that possible?” the Earl scowled.

“Skeletons, please stop moving,” Momo said, and the skeletons immediately came to a halt, the voice of their traumatizer rattling through their skulls.

“Ah, this is your army, then?”

“Yup. All mine,” Momo said, projecting confidence, “that there’s Jeffrey, and Steven—”

“You name your minions?” the Earl laughed coldly.

“Easier to… order them around, that way.”

“Ah, right. I should expect such tact and expertise from you by now.”

“Exactly. Now, skeletons, please clear a few seats for the Earl and his guests.”

The skeletons obediently followed suit, dragging six of the necromages from their seats. They hung them over their shoulders like ragdolls. Momo found herself in awe of the necromages ability to play dead - the sanctuary might have a secret future as an acting troupe.

“Please, sit,” she instructed. With the Earl’s go ahead, his lackeys sat. They moved uncomfortably in their seats, the ‘dead’ necromages accompanying them on all sides.

“Skeletons, bring on the second course.”

At Momo’s command, the skeletons wheeled out two carts full of steaming hot dumplings. Like a true hostess, Momo gracefully plated five for each of her guests. She watched with glee as they devoured the food, momentarily forgetting that she was not in fact a Michelin star chef, but a necromancer concocting an increasingly ridiculous scheme.

“Is this a toilet brush?” one of the paladins asked, cleaning a bristle out of his teeth.

“Of course not. That’s broccoli.”

“Brocowhat?”

“An exotic vegetable.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “it’s crunchy.”

“That’s normal.”

The only one who had yet to dig in was the Earl. He watched with interest as his companions chowed down, still suspicious of their enjoyment.

“And you’re sure that this batch was untouched by the poison?” he asked.

“Positive,” Momo smiled.

“I think I’d like to see you eat one, just to be sure.”

“Happy to,” Momo scooped one of the dumplings off the plate, cutting it in half before spooning it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring the cabbage beer aftertaste.

It went down like fine wine. Momo swallowed, making a whole show of it.

A piece of parchment materialized before her, dropping into her plate.

---