Valeria was quite amused. And tired, of course.

  Earlier, She exited the inner city, and started her investigation of the suburbs.

  She had managed to reveal several things. First, the outer city had signs of other travelers. Signs of someone relieving themselves discreetly, (Something animals wouldn’t do. Nor would the undead, obviously.) Traces of campfires, (Valeria wanted to know why her predecessors couldn’t just use the houses, but finally concluded it to be a result of some superstition.) And obviously, trash. No plastic, which further confirmed Valerias’ conjecture about low technological advancement of the locals.

  Second thing she found out, was that there were apparently some people capable of controlling the undead, or at least a portion of them.

  The first two ‘Abominations’ She had met were quickly dispatched. Before they left the world of the un - living, Valeria used them as test subjects. She found out, that her not – so – magnifying – glass only listed them as [Abomination !!]. Also, just like she suspected, their pearls truly were always placed in the middle, but that correlation turned out to be more important than she thought. When an appendage was cut off, effectively changing the centre of gravity on an Abomination, the pearl would slowly shift to the new centre of gravity.

  Frankly speaking, that made her work quite a bit easier. The next time she saw any creature with unusual abilities, she would be able to easily predict its weak point by looking at the way it’s moving.

  An amazing advantage.

  Now, there was a possibility that local people knew all this long before she was even born, but she deemed it possible that they didn’t.

  Why? Because she found a local, and he was prodding at the abomination like a purest boy on a wedding night. Now, it was entirely possible that he was simply martially challenged, but it didn’t matter anyway. Why? Because she decided to save him, and leisurely ask all kinds of questions, which was the very source of her amusement.

  Which brings us to the present.

  Abram opened his eyes. His head hurt, and his wound was screaming for help.

  He started circling his mana to make it feel a bit better.

  ‘Oh, shit, abominations will sense me again!’

  He realized that no matter ‘how’ exactly he survived, using mana for anything while he was still unsure of his circumstances was a rookie move, and berated himself for it. He slowed down the mana to a crawl, and looked around. He was in a room, most likely in one of the houses in the dead city of Lebengrad.

  ‘Oh, awake, are you? Good. How’re you feeling?’

  He recognized the voice, and his blood run cold.

  ‘That undead. It seems like it doesn’t want me dead yet, so I suppose I should be safe for now, but… Why?’

  He turned his head towards the owner of the voice. He saw the same old lady as before, however… She was rubbing ointment into her leg.

  “Oh, you aren’t an undead then?”

  The lady laughed and coughed.

  “What, never saw another person? What made you think I was one of them?”

  Abram decided that saying ‘Your face’ wasn’t the best course of action. Instead, his aching brain decided to prove its worth by choosing something even better.

  “Your smell.” He said. ‘Am I stupid?’ He thought.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Abrams’ life flashed before his eyes. If his marriage taught him anything, it was that sometimes, it’s better to shut up. But he didn’t.

  ‘Why? Did my wives’ absence make me too relaxed?’

  What a ridiculous notion. Why would he be relaxed in the City of the Dead?

  The woman looked at him with visible bemusement.

  “I’ll assume your answer was a result of blood loss, and hazy consciousness. Once again. What made you think I’m one of them?”

  ‘Oh. This was a serious question, despite the laughing.’

  He was being interrogated, and he couldn’t even lie, considering the mind reading capabilities the woman displayed earlier. ‘Truth it is. And hoping for the best.’

  Considering that he could no longer feel his gear nor weapons, he was entirely at the strangers’ mercy.

  “I saw you strike at those abominations cores. Considering how perfectly certain you were of their placement, You could’ve been either a necrotic mage, a life mage, or an undead. Then I saw your scars. There’s no way anyone would think you were a living person.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact I am entirely alive. Could you expand on the topic of necrotic mages?”

  “What else is there to tell? I’m pretty sure you know more than I do, considering you’re one.”

  “I’m not a mage. Now answer my question.”

  This sentence made Abram feel… conflicted. Call out a lie? Cry? Laugh?

  “Bullshit, there is no way you could’ve destroyed that one abominations’ core if you didn’t have one with bodily reinforcement focus yourse… Ah!”

  Right. Making a necrotic core with a bodily reinforcement focus would be ridiculously inefficient at best, and impossible at worst. Why didn’t He realize it earlier?

  “Sounds like you got a sudden epiphany. Care to share?” The woman asked.

  “How did you reinforce your strength with a necrotic core?”

  “I told you I didn’t. I don’t even think I have one of those.”

  “Then how could you detect the cores?”

  “Again, I didn’t. Do they not know that those things are in the centre of gravity where you are from?”

  “In the middle, you mean? Yes, we do. Doesn’t explain how you found a ‘middle’ of a creature you’ve just saw for the first time.”

  “At this point I am inclined to assume you are just a little stupid, and simply say it’s the matter of experience.”

  Abram recognized the insult, but didn’t get angry. The tone of voice He was insulted with signaled that its owner was tired, and losing their limited supply of patience.

  “Now then, Am I correct to assume you to have one of those ‘Cores’ as well? And on what basis did you conclude I wasn’t an undead at the start of our conversation?”

  Of course he did have a core! Abram worked quite hard to get it, and even harder to develop it.

  “Obviously I have one. Who in their right mind would come to this city without either a core with necrotic or vital affinity? As for why I discarded my first train of thought, no undead cares for their wounds. And they certainly don’t use ointments.”

  “Is there a way to check whether or not I have a core?”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “How?”

  “Theoretically I could feel it…” Abram tried being careful. If someone suggested that he allows for a core search without a presence of a guarantor, He would slug him at best. At worst, they would become mortal enemies. After all, a core search revealed vulnerabilities, and opened the magician for an attack. The searched party would be at the mercy of the searcher.

  “Then try it. I am curious, and not in the mood to cut my stomach open.”

  Abram was shocked. He extended his hand, and reached for the woman.

  “Any instructions?” She asked.

  “Just give me your wrist.”

  She complied. Abram grabbed her hand and searched for mana pathways.

  Empty. And not just normal empty. It was like a real void. He could influence nothing. Abram knew why she was so certain.

  “Mana interference resistance, huh? Sorry about that.”

  He apologized, because he truly was sorry. Mana interference resistance was a rare condition, but a life mage like him knew all about it, for treatment purposes.

  Not so he could know how to treat someone with this condition, but to know why neither his magic, nor his potions worked. He finally realized why this woman had so many horrible scars, or why she wasn’t affected by the poison of necrotic mana.

  Abram wondered how she was still alive.

  Anyway, she was telling the truth. She could never become a mage.

  “What’s your name?” The woman asked.

  “Abram.”

  “Well, Abram, could you tell me what you do for a living?”

  “I am a technically servant of the Hermann family. A combat one.”

  “A technically servant?”

  “Oh. Well, noble families of the frontier are not allowed to raise armies for the fear of rebellion against the king, but are still expected to fight against beasts, bandits, undead, and such. So they hire a lot of servants, who just so happen to know how to fight. I’m one of them”

  “And why were you here alone?”

  “My usual partner, my wife, was developing her core, but failed. She can’t use her magic at the moment, so I’m trying to get promoted to a butler, so that I can get her some actual medicine, instead of the back alley mixtures she used to destabilize her core.”

  Smooth. A relaxed tone of voice she was asking the questions with didn’t make Abram forget about the fact that he was still at this womans’ mercy. Lightly slipping a sick wife into conversation would make her look at him in a more favorable way, hopefully.

  “So you’re here to make contributions, huh? But, Aren’t you a little young to be married?”

  Young?

  “I am eighteen, what do you mean ‘ young’?”

  “Huh, I gave you fifteen at most. Anyway, you need results? Then how about doing a good deed or two, and guiding an old lady?”