Miss Witch’s Devotion Has Gone… Twisted

Chapter 118: The Necromancer

"Only bloodstains…"

Loren crouched down, studying the blood on the ground, slipping once again into his Sherlock mode.

He knew a bit about criminal investigation techniques;

at the very least he could tell these stains were caused by a blade wound.

After checking the blood, Loren began examining the door. It had been smashed open by something—blown off its hinges and slammed against the wall—and there were bloodstains on the door as well.

"The door was smashed open by a body, and the killer's physical strength wasn't enough, so he was injured while smashing the door.

"Logically, if he had the strength to send the door flying, his physical toughness shouldn't have been dented by the door."

For this to happen, either there was some simple method that enhanced strength alone, or it was a player who boosted strength without boosting physique—and obviously Loren was the only player in this world.

So there was only one possibility.

Loren leaned against the door, scrutinizing the bloodstains. They had long since dried, but they looked noticeably different from the blood on the ground.

The stains on the door were darker, like blood flowing from a decomposing corpse."Search the nearby area and see if you can find any traces proving the killer came from the sea.

"My guess is the murderer was a corpse."

Loren instructed the Wind Messengers, and casually shared his hypothesis.

"How can a corpse kill people… you mean a necromancer?"

Laila quickly reacted, understanding what had happened.

"Yes. Many people died yesterday, and Anselm buries the dead at sea, so if a necromancer lurked in the ocean collecting corpses, that would work.

"Normally, when corpses pile up they attract something nasty, but the Anselm coastline is protected by the God of Vows and Wind, so that shouldn't happen.

"Therefore, the only explanation is a necromancer at work."

"Master Mentor, we found some seaweed."

As Loren finished explaining to Laila, a Wind Messenger arrived carrying some seaweed.

Loren took the seaweed and examined it. Each strand had drag marks, showing the seaweed had been pulled off while walking.

If it had been a living person, they would have thrown the seaweed off as soon as they reached shore, or it wouldn't have stuck to them at all.

"Confirmed. The killer is a necromancer…"

Loren told the Wind Messengers his analysis and told them to investigate along those lines.

"The motive is easy to understand. Whether domestic or foreign, Anselm has executed many people, so naturally some hold grudges. This could be an act of revenge."

This kind of thing wasn't unprecedented;

even after the game began, there were many terrorists attacking the God of Vows and Wind's territory, often with instigators from other countries.

"Report progress to me."

It wasn't that Loren cared deeply about the safety of the Kingdom of Anselm;

he wanted necromancy magic. Necromancy would be quite useful.

For example, if his practice of raising witches were exposed again, he could just hide in the forest and use a couple of skeletons to till the fields.

Loren had prepared thoroughly and left himself escape routes. Even if he didn't wipe out the gods, he could live reclusively with the witches;

he had seeds ready, combined with magic, he could be self-sufficient.

"Thank you for your help, Master Mentor."

The Wind Messengers clearly had no idea about Loren's true motives.

Loren had indeed given them a lot of help, and they did not know how to repay him.

According to Anselm custom, when one receives help one must provide a tangible reward.

After giving a few orders, Loren returned to the inn, bringing breakfast for twenty for Anna and the others, both of his hands full.

"Do you think the Wind Messengers can handle it?"

"I doubt it. To gather so many corpses, that necromancer probably lurked for a long time. Even if he acts, he only sends corpses—it's unlikely they'll catch him.

"But corpses are finite. If the Wind Messengers watch closely at night and exhaust the necromancer's stock, that should do it."

Loren didn't say that aloud to the Wind Messengers, but he suspected they'd figured it out themselves.

Loren hadn't been gone long. When he returned to the inn, Anna and the others had just woken up.

"Awake? Wash up quickly and then eat."

"Okay!"

Eating with Loren was Anna's happiest time;

she was the first to rush into the washroom.

During the meal, Naclis hesitated for a long time before speaking up.

"What were you two doing out alone?"

Naclis tried to sound casual, but she couldn't suppress a tone of grinding bitterness.

"Oh, there was a necromancer attack last night. We followed the Wind Messengers to investigate."

"Mm."

Naclis responded and visibly relaxed. She didn't even notice Anna snatching the food in front of her.

...

The Wind Messengers moved quickly. That afternoon some arrived at Loren's door.

"Master Mentor, we have new findings."

"Take me to see them."

"I want to go too!"

No matter where Loren went, Anna followed at his side. Others hurried after him as well, even though Loren was only going to inspect the scene.

The Wind Messengers led Loren to the shore. The beach was piled with corpses of all kinds.

There were executed prisoners, those who died of old age, a lot of pirates—basically the bodies from the sea had not been eaten by fish, and many were not severely decomposed.

"We salvaged many corpses. They were lying on the seabed, and fish did not nibble on them…"

The Wind Messenger spoke gravely. He had even hauled a corpse out to introduce to Loren.

"This is someone I executed twenty years ago. I didn't expect his corpse to remain intact, only slightly rotted. He's still wearing the clothes he had then—these clothes I remember very clearly…"

Because executions were rare, the Wind Messenger remembered everyone he had put to death.

"Exactly as I thought. My guess was right: he has been lying here for at least twenty years…"

Loren stepped forward to inspect. He glanced at the piled corpses;

they were not severely decomposed, though their clothes had mostly become rags.

"I think I already know the killer's identity… did this man have descendants?"

"Yes. His offspring were sentenced to exile."

Exile in the Kingdom of Anselm was not merely relocation to a remote area;

they were dumped on deserted islands. Exile was essentially indistinguishable from the death penalty—beheading would at least be a quicker death.

"Then it's certain. This corpse's clothes were deliberately preserved, likely to remind him of his vow of revenge…"

No sooner had he finished speaking than Loren's Intuition sounded another warning.