Espoire Frieden, the Ancient City of the High-Elves…
"Dear, Hereswith, she…" a beautiful Elf lady who seemed to be in her early thirties covered her trembling lips with her right hand as tears streamed down her face.
"I heard her as well, Judith," a handsome Elf, who was around the same age as the Elf lady, replied with a smile. "Without a doubt, that is our Hereswith."
"All these years… I thought she was dead," the woman said through sobs. "I miss her terribly."
"As do I, my love," the handsome Elf replied. "But I don't dare to hope. I witnessed how our daughter was killed. Her body was burned into ashes using the Moon Crystal. This is why, all these years, I treated her as though she was really dead. Even hearing her voice like this doesn't mean that she is really alive. Perhaps, it is only a fragment of the will she left behind that spoke those words."
The Elf lady sobbed once more, for she too didn't dare to hope. She had carried the pain of losing the youngest of her three daughters, and she couldn't bear to cling to the illusion that she was still alive.
The handsome Elf hugged his wife and let her cry on his shoulder. Although his face looked calm on the surface, deep down, he was also heartbroken.
Such was the fate of the parents who loved their child, whom they had raised with great love and care for the past hundred years.
Headquarters of Memento Mori…
Several Necromancers gathered together for the first time in many years. There was only one reason for their gathering, and it was none other than to discuss what was currently happening in their Holy Land.
"I have just talked to Dracul, and he confirmed that the Ancestral Ground temporarily lost the power that protected it," an old man with a wrinkled face stated. "After hearing his report, I asked him and he confirmed that although everyone there heard Hereswith's voice, no one saw her."
"Your Excellency, what is the cause of this incident then?" a middle-aged Necromancer asked. "Our spies in the Holy City had said that all the Champions of Light had gathered inside the Divine Temple. Perhaps they are discussing this matter as well."
"Knowing them, they are probably feeling pretty anxious right now," an old woman sneered. "They killed Hereswith because they didn't want her to become a Heaven's Necromancer, an existence that they deemed as the greatest heresy to their Divine Order."
"Knowing their Sovereign, he is probably thinking of infiltrating our Holy Land to better understand the current situation," a handsome Necromancer with blue hair and eyes said. "But they also know the consequences of doing that. It seems that they are prepared to wage war on us once again. The question is, are we ready for war?"
All the Necromancers in the room smiled after hearing the blue-haired Necromancer's words.
None of them were afraid of war because they had a nearly limitless number of Undead Warriors that they could call upon when the fighting really did start.
However, they couldn't wage war right now. The reason was simple.
They were putting all of their manpower and resources into something that would make even the Divine Army of Light fear for their lives.
Because of this, all of the Necromancers of Memento Mori that were inside their Headquarters were unable to fight right now.
Only those who were doing "Field Work" and those that were teaching their Disciples were spared from this monumental task.
"Dracul has temporarily lost the protection of the Sacred Land, and he is now merely an ordinary Saint," the wrinkled old man stated. "Kieran is also there, but if the Champions of Light were to really come, just the two of them will not be enough."
"Indeed," the old Lady commented. "I'm sure that Kieran will prioritize protecting his Disciple, Lorelei. As for the other Necromancers gathered there, at most, there is only a handful of High-Rankers who can't do anything against the Saints."
"Knowing the Divine Sovereign, he will not send a lot of people to check the situation in our Ancestral Lands," the blue-haired Necromancer said. "I think it is safe to say that they only have one goal and that is… kill Gaap's Disciple and crush Hereswith's dream all over again."
The Necromancers all sighed for they too knew that this was something that had a high chance of happening. None of them had anticipated such an event to transpire, making them feel helpless in the current situation.
All of their ranks had regressed, and they were now only at the peak of A-Rank. As much as they wanted to help, there was nothing they could do.
If their mortal enemies discovered their current situation, they would break all pretenses and use this as an opportunity to wipe all of them from the face of the world.
"I've already told Dracul that none of us can move," the wrinkled-old man said sadly. "If Gaap wants his Disciple to survive, the only thing he can do is pray that Dracul will regain his powers and protect his Disciple. However, knowing Dracul, he might even help the Divine Army get rid of the Half-Elf instead of extending his hand to help."
"I guess there is only one person who will stand up against them," the old lady commented.
"Indeed," the blue-haired Necromancer sighed. "Gaap. I don't know how much of his lifespan remains, but even if he manages to fend off the Champions of Light, I'm afraid that it will be his last battle in this world."
A pin-drop silence descended inside the room as the Necromancers of Memento Mori pondered about how they might be able to salvage the situation.
At that moment, a black-robed man entered the room, making everyone's gaze land on his body.
"What?" the black-robed man asked after seeing that everyone was looking at him in a weird manner.
"Perfect timing!" the old lady said before clapping her hands together. "A Hero has arrived!"
"Indeed," the blue-haired Necromancer said. "This must be Fate. During this troubling hour, someone is going to stand up for the team."
The other Necromancers inside the room all nodded their heads as they too voiced out their agreement to the blue-haired Necromancer's words.
The black-robed Necromancer, who had no idea of what was happening, felt like he had entered the Headquarters at the wrong time.
He had been busy doing "Field Work" and hadn't participated in any of their Guild's meetings for the past two years.
"Dillon, I have a favor to ask," the wrinkled old Necromancer said. "Can you do us a favor and go to our Ancestral Grounds right now? We need you to protect Hereswith's Grand Disciple from the Divine Army of Light. Surely, you can do this favor right? After all, you still owe Hereswith many favors."
The black-robed man found himself unable to even say anything as the members of Memento Mori listed all of the things that he owed Hereswith when she was still alive.
"C-Can you at least tell me what's going on first?" Dillon didn't know if he should laugh or cry at the sudden guilt-tripping methods that his comrades were using against him.
He had just returned to ask everyone if they also heard Hereswith's words an hour ago, which was something he found very hard to believe.
Dillon didn't expect that as soon as he arrived at their Guild Headquarters, he would be sent out on an errand to visit their Holy Land.
After being briefed on the current situation, the black-robed man no longer tarried and left the place as if his pants were on fire.
If the one he needed to save was truly Hereswith's Grand Disciple, then he would definitely extend his help.
That was the only way he could repay Hereswith for saving his and his daughter's life during a time when all hope was lost and the Gods of the world refused to hear his prayers.
