The Animagus: From Hunter to Monster-Chapter 96: Lord á Necros (1)

Buji's environment changed. His mind seemed to transcend, and expand. His horizon somewhat became wide.

Thick darkness enveloped him, very oppressive. He inhaled sharply, but the air was stale.

"Mr. Zin!" he called out, stretching his right hand out as if lost.

"Mr. Zin—"

The silence that had taken over bore its weight on him, distant echoes from clanking sound reverberated through the space.

'They've forsaken me, as usual?'

The weight of silence bore down on him, amplifying the distant echoes that reverberated through the space.

This place—

His breath hitched. His eyes darted around as he began to take down the description.

It was a hall.

The hall was vast, looking somewhat like an ancient structure with towering stone pillars which stretch far beyond his sight. On the walls lined cracks, some of which were barely visible, others visible enough to resemble purposeful jagged scars.

His eyes looked up to find the ceiling was shrouded in darkness, proofing alone that the Hall's height was immeasurable.

On the pillars, flickering blue torches clung unto them, their flames swaying unnaturally despite the absence of wind. The dim glow of the light from the torches illuminated the hall, just enough for him to see what he was in for—battle remnants.

Broken and rusted weapons were scattered across the floor. Armor pieces, some crushed, some still bearing the shape of their former owners.

The ground on which he stood was hard and cold

Weapons, broken and rusted, were scattered across the floor. Armor pieces, some crushed, some still bearing the shape of their former owners, lay abandoned. The ground beneath him was hard and cold—stone, yet oddly pulsating, as if something slumbered beneath.

Then, he saw it.

Blood.

Dried pools, smeared trails, crimson stains seeping into the cracks. This hall had been a battleground.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

Where am I?

His thoughts were interrupted.

Click… Click… Click…

A sound.

Faint at first, then growing louder. Rhythmic. Deliberate.

Buji turned toward the source, his pulse quickening. His instincts screamed at him. Something was coming.

The shadows beyond the torches twisted, writhing unnaturally. Then, from the darkness, they emerged.

Tall, skeletal figures clad in ancient, corroded armor. Their movements were unnatural, stiff yet precise. Some held chipped swords, others wielded long axes with blades darkened from age—or dried blood. Their hollow eye sockets glowed with a dim, crimson light.

One stepped forward.

It tilted its head, as if studying him. Then, in one sudden motion, it raised its weapon.

Clang!

A second later, the entire hall roared to life.

From all sides, they charged.

Buji barely had time to react. His feet stumbled backward, his mind struggling to process the sudden onslaught. His hands instinctively reached for a weapon—but he had none.

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Damn it!

He twisted his body just as the first strike came. A jagged blade slashed through the air, missing him by inches. The force alone sent a gust against his skin.

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Another attack—this time from behind.

He ducked. A rusted axe swung just over his head, embedding itself into the stone wall.

I can't fight like this.

His breathing was erratic. His heart pounded against his ribs.

He needed a weapon—anything.

His eyes darted to the fallen warriors. A broken sword lay mere feet away.

But before he could reach it—

A spear came flying toward him.

With no time to dodge, he rolled to the side. The spear missed by a fraction, its sharp tip embedding deep into the stone floor. A fine crack split from the impact point.

His hands found purchase on the ground. He pushed himself up. The skeletal warriors were not stopping.

More were coming.

Buji lunged for the broken sword. His fingers wrapped around the hilt. The blade was dull, chipped in several places, but it was better than nothing.

Step. Step. Step.

The first skeletal warrior was upon him.

It swung.

Buji barely raised his sword in time. Clang! The impact sent vibrations through his arm, numbing his grip.

Too strong.

The skeleton pushed forward, attempting to overpower him. Its glowing eyes locked onto his, as if mocking his struggle.

Buji gritted his teeth.

He twisted his body and, with all his strength, shoved forward. The skeleton staggered.

Now!

He took a step back, adjusting his grip. Then, he countered.

His sword slashed across the skeleton's chest. Crack! The old armor shattered, revealing the brittle bones beneath.

Buji didn't stop. He slammed his foot against the warrior's knee, breaking its stance.

With one final strike, he plunged his sword into its skull.

Snap!

The skeleton went limp before collapsing into a heap of bones.

But Buji didn't have time to catch his breath.

The others were already on him.

One. Two. Three. Ten.

The skeletons surrounded him, their eyes burning brighter.

Buji exhaled.

They're not mindless. They're learning.

His movements were being studied. The hesitation in their attacks was proof.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. His body ached. His breathing was uneven. He couldn't afford to slow down.

One moved.

Then another.

A sword came from the left. An axe from the right.

Buji dodged, twisted, parried—but he was getting slower.

A sharp pain seared through his leg. One of them had grazed him. Blood trickled down his skin.

His grip on the sword tightened.

Damn it! How long can I last like this?

Another strike. Another parry. His body was on the verge of collapse.

Then—

The torches flickered.

The hall trembled.

A presence emerged.

Buji froze.

From the far end of the hall, the shadows shifted. A dark figure slowly stepped forward, its movements unnervingly smooth.

It was tall, wrapped in black chains that clinked softly with each step. Its face was obscured by a cracked, bone-white mask, etchings of ancient symbols carved into its surface.

The skeletons stopped attacking.

They stepped back—no, they knelt.

A chill ran down Buji's spine.

This thing… is different.

The chains unraveled, slithering like living serpents. The figure slowly raised its head.

A pair of piercing, glowing eyes locked onto him.

Then, the pressure came.

An invisible force slammed into Buji's chest, forcing him to his knees. His vision blurred, his limbs trembled.

This… power…

The figure lifted a hand.

The torches dimmed.

The air grew thick, suffocating.

Then, in a voice cold as death itself, it spoke.

"You do not belong here."

The shadows surged.

The world went dark.