7. Ray: great panic! (Two hours back in time)

The high buildings of Farskyer City lined the way. In the deep darkness surrounding them, only Armen’s red knit cap was clearly visible. Ray was trying to catch up with him when, suddenly, a Hero with two long, dark braids appeared in front of them. Armen raised his hand, saying cheerfully, “hi, I’m an undead!”, and the Hero’s eyes widened and pierced Ray as a terrible voice thundered, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”. In a matter of seconds, everything was engulfed in darkness. His dad’s chuckle faded, even Armen’s smile disappeared, and the camera focused on a sea of shadows that wanted to devour everything…

Ray woke up with a start, covered in sweat.

After spending the whole night reviving Armen with his dad, he had given in to tiredness and fallen asleep on the sofa. He sat up, grumbling.

“Gah… A nightmare?”

His heart was still pounding in his chest. Rubbing his cheeks, he tried to brighten up. What did he dream about, again? As he tried to remember, his uneasiness grew stronger.

Did he just dream about Armen happily announcing his nature to everybody?

Well, but it was just a dream. Normal dreams did not affect reality. Logically. Still…

Ray stiffened, his nails digging into the edge of the sofa. What time was it? Half past two. It had been almost two hours since Armen had left to get his textbooks… He couldn’t have possibly said anything to Azritz, could he? About him being an undead…

His heart began to race again.

Nah. Armen was usually the honest type, but he knew how to keep quiet when he wanted to. Ray didn’t really worry about that. More importantly, maybe he shouldn’t have let Armen go alone? It was his first day living as an undead, and generally, undeads were just babies upon reviving. Even though Armen remembered his past life, his body was new, and all of his senses had altered. Not being able to feel the ground while walking, he was most likely having a hard time keeping his balance at this very moment. He was no longer able to control his strength, nor feel anything even if he touched boiling water… What if he began to eat lifeforce earlier than expected? What if he became a Fury? No, no, but that would probably make him the first undead in history to become one on its first day of life.

The young necromancer was torn between the hopes of keeping his relationship with Armen the way it was before and his desire to help him.

That’s why he had told him not to worry and had let him go back to his home on his own. That’s why he was now biting his nails, trying and failing to convince himself that Armen was fine.

After a while, he realized he was pacing back and forth in the living room. He stopped in his tracks.

“Should I go?” he muttered.

He grabbed his coat… then put it down.

“Dang. I should calm down.”

He breathed in and out, trying to empty his mind…

It was a wasted effort. Ray wasn’t like Armen: his mind just couldn’t seem to stop thinking again and again about all the things that had happened, about the revival process, the insertion of the core, the necro-bond, its functionalities, his own principles, and his unwavering decision of giving his friend all the freedom he could…

DRIIING!

The sound of the doorbell almost gave him a heart attack. Then a wave of relief overwhelmed him as he rushed to the door. He paused for a second, remembering on time that showing his stress to Armen would be a bad idea. He tried to regain some composure, then opened the door more calmly.

“Armen, that was fast…”

His words got stuck in his throat as he saw the slender figure of a black-haired man with a beaming smile on his face. Ray sighed.

“Oh. Dad. It’s you.”

“What’s that disheartened tone for?!” the Lord Necromancer protested.

Ignoring him, Ray waved at the red-haired guy behind.

“Hi, Arkill.”

“Hey,” his dad grumbled. “Aren’t you going to say hello to your dad too?”

“… Mm. Hello.”

“Hoho! Did you just say ‘hello, daddy’?!”

“I didn’t.”

“Heehee, don’t get upset, dear… Cheer up, I’ve brought you a little something…” He pointed at the bulky bag Arkill was carrying. “My beloved books! Hardcore necromancy. Incredible stuff. Oh yeah, I’ve just talked with Armen on the phone. He’s on his way back.”

Was he? An amused glint flickered in his dad’s eyes.

“Did you think I was Armen? You should have known I wasn’t him thanks to your necro-bond, you know.”

He was right. The necro-bond linked both the master and his familiar. Ray would be able to know it the instant Armen got close enough to the house. It felt weird, as if he had an extra limb, or rather, an extra body he could move as he pleased if he wanted to. But he obviously wouldn’t do that. It was Armen’s body, not his. Lost in thoughts, Ray stared at his dad while this one was walking in and saying, “Arkill, put down the bag and stay outside so you can wait for the newbie”, then he began talking about making lunch.

Dad, do you even realize you never think about Arkill’s will? Ray thought, his eyes fixed on the life reaper that was obediently stepping out of the house. You may love your familiars, but you don’t treat them as your equals. I will never become like you. I won’t let necromancy change my principles. Not in a thousand years.

“Ooh, your face is screaming, ‘I’m hungry!’,” his dad said.

It was totally not.

“So? What do you want? Yokohama onigiri? Green couscous? Hare à la royale? Qingdao escalope, demonic caviar—?”

“Noodles,” Ray cut his dad off. “Keep it simple. Just noodles.”

His dad smiled.

“Noodles, then! Okay, get some rest, I’ll take care of everything!”

He sure was in high spirits… Ray sighed, and he was sitting down with a book when his dad came back from the kitchen asking:

“Noodles with or without tomato sauce?”