The City of Erenen was a beautiful one. 

Tall spires of stone, marble, metal and crystal that went as far as the eye could see greeted the eyes with beautiful abandon, and the very streets were imbued with the essence of magical knowledge. Out of every city I had been to, none were as culturally united and unique as Erenen, where your magical talent, both biological and mental, dictated everything about your life.

The crowd around me was the most colourful out of every city, and they were also the most varied, wearing clothes and sets of armor and even hair of every colour in the rainbow. The only unifying feature in the fashion of Erenen was magic; every outfit, no matter how cheap, had some sort of enchantment, and that meant runes inscribed across the fabric. 

Of course, the difference between a commoner's enchanted pants to last a bit longer and a noble's enchanted cloak of protection was night and day.

It was, by nature, a remarkably classist city in that Nobles, who had been bred for magical prowess, had an innate advantage and held most of the positions of power. Magical prejudice wasn't at all rare in the Alliance, but it was at its most prominent in Erenen. On the flipside, even those with poor biological talent could and would rise to power if their intellectual prowess was high enough; Erenen's mages, even the nobles, cared far less about blood and far more about contributions to magical research.

It was a beautiful city. But, as I came to know the instant I was teleported into the Teleport Gates of Erenen and saw the flag of Maburh and the flag of the Alliance dancing with the wind's whims over the castle, it was also a broken one. What on god's earth had happened at the end of the war that Erenen of all places would exhibit Maburh's flag in friendship like that?

The fuckers literally blew part of the city up; I would know, it killed me!

But still… I took in a deep, deep breath.

As expected, Lurline was no longer with me — at least not physically. She had assumed an intangible form like spirits were able to do, and would likely follow me in such a form until such a time where I decided to return to my laboratory in Adstow. The Gemstone would take 24 hours to recharge, meaning at least a day would be spent here — but that was alright.

"Hail, child." A guard greeted me. Clad in silver plate armor with two blue crystals embedded on each hand, this man was clearly one of Erenen's Magiknight Corps. His face could not be seen through the helmet, however. "What is it that you seek in Erenen? Have you gotten lost from your parents?'

I couldn't help but feel a little miffed. Child? I know I'm young, but really, dude? Rude.

"I am visiting. I lived in Erenen as a child, and am now interested in pursuing a higher level of magical education." Neither were lies, per se. "It has been a very long time since I last visited, but I have come alone and have a place to sleep."

He paused.

"I see." A second of discomfort. "Well, then. Enjoy your stay."

Erenen used to be harsher on unknown visitors — why was it that I was able to walk in like this? Well, no matter. I smiled at the man, letting long locks of white fall over my eyes, and nodded. 

"Thank you, good sir. Have a nice day."

Now free to explore at my own leisure, I walked away from the teleport gate — a circular structure built from Gold, as that was the only metal capable of sustaining spatial magic — and into the city streets. I also took a second to ponder on the fact that my hair was not, in fact, supposed to be white… but that wasn't too important.

My steps were calm and purposeful. My direction was clear, and I kept my chin up. None in these streets would recognize me — that I knew for a fact. The few who could were not as free as to roam around the streets at their leisurely decisions. Still, I kept my eyes peeled for any signs of a familiar face…

And my ears closed to the murmuring around me.

For the clothes and jewelry I was wearing would attract attention even in a city as rich in nobility as Erenen. The way they would look at me, the way they would whisper as I passed… all of that, I ignored. Perhaps this noble-like appearance is why the guard let me through this easily.

Not that it mattered.

For my objective was…!

"Oh," I heard Lurline's voice echo in my mind. "So this is where you were headed all along."

My lips curled into a small grin. I needed information. Though Lurline could supply me with some of it, it wasn't as if she usually kept the whispers of the events that happened in the human world too close to her heart. No, if I wanted information, the best place to get it would be…

I walked inside. The woman guarding the door made a motion of bowing her head toward me. It came to me that it was... odd, to have such a clearly powerful guard next to the open library of Erenen. The sword on her waist was clearly enchanted, and her deep red hair was remarkably striking.

"Welcome to the Royal Library, little one. I recommend that you take care."

I would. I most definitely would. As I stepped inside, what was revealed to me was a place where I had spent a good portion of my free time — the library Harrim had preferred, back when I was but one of his many apprentices in the Academia. A place as big as a castle, with an absurdly large number of tomes organized by author (Always by author, even when inconvenient) in rows of the world's matters.

The Royal Library. A place built from the ground up by magic from nothing but silver and gold.

And the world was suddenly open to me.

After all, Erenen's culture was that of valuing knowledge above all else. Even their city was designed to reflect that philosophy; unlike most nations, that had citizen-only libraries that depended on approval, Erenen's Royal Library of Ether was open to all who would walk it's hallways. A monument to the leader's desire to spread knowledge — Erenen possessed only two libraries, one of which was this one.

It was a given that they would not make magical tomes and research papers available to all. Those, one could only access within Erenen's magical academy, the Admiration Academia. But the non-magical tomes, those without any state secrets, the ones that contained history or philosophy or mathematics… So long as you were within this place, you could access them all.

And history was what I wanted above all else.

All I needed to do was find a book on the Alliance's war against Maburh. That was all I needed. If I could find that, then…!

I'd find it.

I'd definitely find it. And I would finally know if I was truly alone in this new world after all.

It took me less than two hours to find a book on the subject and read through it all. Fast reading was one of my many skills, after all. But even with that…

This…

This is…! My fists tightened with enough force that the nails dug into my skin and drew blood. Despite myself, I lost composure almost entirely, biting into the skin of my lower lip in rage. 

Propaganda. This book, and the summary of most others on the matter, were pure propaganda. The Alliance was depicted as an unnecessary alliance borne from paranoia, and its leaders — the people who had called me friend, the people who had believed in me — depicted as lunatics or ingenuous, and promptly replaced when the war reached its peak. In the end, a "peace treaty" was signed. A peace treaty that benefited Maburh more than anyone else.

And of the Necromancer, only a few mentions were made. The Alliance's "Little Monster". Proof of their rotten intentions; they had groomed a child genius into a monster with no love for life, a weapon for senseless slaughter that had to be "put down". 

This…

This…!

My Mana Core flared. What ran through my veins at that moment was not anger. It was irritation, or bitterness, or even hatred. No, what I felt right then was an insatiable and unsurmountable bloodlust. And my Mana reacted in kind, burbling, spinning, ready to burst.

But I felt Lurline's consciousness press against mine.

"Calm down," she said, her voice hesitant. "This is not the time to draw attention to yourself."

She was, of course, right. With this overpowered Mana Core of mine, even if it was only the one, I could produce enough pure energy to disturb the real world. Already the wind had picked up around me, spinning and tearing at my skin. For now, no one had noticed; the library was a large, sprawling place with hundreds of shelves at at least that many tables.

But if I let it build up…

I sighed, and let my mana slowly back down. Inhaled softly.

"This… how the hell is this fair?" I mumbled, irritated. 

I had wanted two things from this expedition. The first was a grasp on what had happened to the world since my unfortunate demise. That, I had acquired, even through twisted means like propaganda. I knew now that Maburh had used the spy to crush the Alliance on every front, and that the leaders had not learned of the Spy's presence until it was far too late. I knew that the spy, that blasted woman, was now lauded as the hero who ended the war, and that the Obelisk's decision to resurrect me was probably what cost us the war to begin with.

I knew now that this was, if perhaps indirectly, my fault. And I also knew that the books made no mentions of the previous leader's fates after the war officially ended.

But of the second objective — of the place where I was buried — I found nothing at all. Not a single mention of the Necromancer's place of rest. 

Goddamn it.

I sighed.

"Guess I was too naïve. The easy way never works, now does it?"

That's right.

I had never succeeded in life by taking the obvious path or the easy one. I had succeeded by making of other's wastes my treasures. By working my ass off and disregarding my personal safety. By going above what was expected. Why should this new life be any different?

I cast my gaze back at the book I had opened. Cast my eyes upon her name — the name of the War's sole hero, Duchess Anastasia of the kingdom of Gadun. The heiress of Von Hoedrr's fortune. The woman who killed me.

After the war, she had been lauded as the world's hero and given a fortune even larger than her family's. She had received the support and alliance of each great nation in kind, and even spent a few years as a teacher in Harrim's Academia — my Academia — before settling back down in Gadun. She, who had already been 32 by the time I was killed, was now an elderly woman of 82 waiting for death, having passed down her title and duchy to her daughter, one Samira Von Hoedrr.

She'd even had the guts to write an autobiography. Dumb fuck. Due to that, I knew exactly how to get her. I was not going to give her the blessing of a quiet death. I was not going to give her the blessing of any death at all. I was a Necromancer. Death was my bitch. 

It was about time she learned that lesson. But, first… my eyes wandered further into the page.

'During her time in Erenen's Academia, Duchess Anastasia harboured a deep friendship with the good Viscount Raphael Varisis, known for his contributions to the field of Onomancy and Chronomancy (...)'.

Raphael Varisis. I mouthed the name to myself, tasting the way it felt on my tongue. Raphael Varisis. Vah-ree-sees. My very first target. No. My very first victim. This time, the grin that came to my lips wasn't overjoyed or even proud. It was murderous. 

Raphael Varisis, of the Noble House of the same name. Will he die in his manor or his office, I wonder…?