Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

That night, we camped out.
There are several open areas meant for travelers to rest — like old-fashioned campgrounds.
We parked our wagons in a circle to form a makeshift barricade that would keep outside threats outside.

Since we’re so bundled together, it’d be a real problem if bandits were to shoot flaming arrows at us, but they wouldn’t. Their goal is the cargo, after all. When you circle the wagons like this, at worst they’ll sneak off with a small amount of goods.
They’re discreet thieves. They don’t steal everything, and they don’t harm merchants.
If they go too far with their endeavor, trade routes would dry up, and then proper troops would be dispatched to hunt them down. Even bandits know how to keep their balance.

“The bandits around here are either exiled citizens or nomads. They’re surprisingly reasonable, if you talk to them.”

Or, so Mao taught me.

“Salt’s a necessity and can be used like currency. Hand them a bit, and they’ll behave.”

Of course, what he gives the southern bandits is sea salt. The rock salt we brought this far is far too valuable.

“Each band has its own territory. I’ve already given this area’s band a lump of salt. We should be safe tonight.”

Ah, so those rough-looking fellows I saw skulking around earlier were them.
We pay them ahead, and they make sure no other thieves come near the caravan.

“But you usually bring guards, don’t you?”
“Of course. You have to make them think, ‘Fighting the guards isn’t worth , let’s just take the salt and leave.’”

Mao answered that while casually resting his hand on the sword at his belt.

“You know how to use that thing?”
“Just the basics. The Merchants’ Guild teaches self-defense. I’ve never cut anyone, though.”

He said that rather proudly.

“My pride as a merchant lies in overcoming danger through negotiation, not the sword.”

Fair enough. That’s merchant pride.

Since this time the Demon Lord’s Army is responsible for escorting the caravan, I ordered the eight werewolves to stand watch in shifts.

“Would you like me to stand guard?”

Parker offered, sounding uncharacteristically earnest. I shook my head.

“Your methods scare the humans amongst ours, too.”

After all, ordinary humans always die of fright whenever a necromancer does anything.

Once I made sure the Garne brothers were on watch, I sat down by the campfire.
Naturally, Parker plopped himself down right across from me.

“Hey. You’re in the way. Go rest.”
“Oh, come on, I’m already resting in peace!”

He totally baited me into saying that. And I swear that’s the fourth time he’s used that line.
No new material, huh?
Parker spread his arms, stared at me for a moment, then silently lowered them.

“Guess that joke’s getting old… I’ll come up with new ones…”
“I’d rather you just stop telling stupid jokes altogether.”

Truth is, there’s something I want to ask him about necromancy.
But it’s hard to bring up.
Maybe I should just ask Marlene once we’re back in Lüenheit.
While I was thinking that, Parker stared straight at me.

“If there’s something you want to ask, just ask. I’m your senior brother, after all.”

So it really was showing on my face. Hard to hide anything from this guy…
Realizing I was falling into his rhythm again, I decided to just voice my question to him.

“What do you think will happen to Master?”

That question meant a lot to me.
Right now, the Demon Lord Gomoviroa is essential to the army — a successor to the will of the previous Demon Lord and a mighty demon in her own right.
But if she can no longer remain as she is…
That would spell disaster not just for the Demon Lord’s Army, but for me too.
More than anything, I don’t ever want to be the one to raise my hand against her.

Parker was quiet for a while, then said,

“When our teacher opened the Last Door, what answer did she arrive at? You must know it—that’s why you’re worried, isn’t it?”
“She said life and death are just changes in power. A ‘vortex,’ she called it.”
“Hmm…”

The firelight flickered across the skull in front of me.

Parker shook his head.

“That’s different from the Door I opened, so I can’t say for sure… but she’ll probably be fine.”
“That’s awfully irresponsible.”

I thought he was joking again—but no, his tone was light but serious.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I opened the wrong Final Door, but our teacher didn’t. That’s why I’m kind of relieved.”
“The wrong door?”

He’s immortal, cheerful, and looks every bit the seasoned necromancer.
Yet his voice carried a hint of self-mockery.

“Did I ever tell you I was sick when I was alive?”
“Yeah. That’s why you studied necromancy, right?”

From what I’ve heard, it sounded like he had tuberculosis or something similar. In this world, such grave illnesses could only be cured with magic, and other than specialized healing sorcerers, nobody could enact such magic. I couldn’t do it myself.

“I could hear the footsteps of death getting closer every day, so I buried myself in research—trying to uncover the secrets of life and death, to escape the reaper.”

And when his time came, Parker said, he opened his Last Door.

“To me, life was a puzzle—no, a labyrinth. One that could only be walked while alive. I believed somewhere within it lay a secret exit that transcended life and death.”

Ah. So that’s why he’s Parker the Labyrinth.

“And so you found that exit, then?”

Otherwise, this walking skeleton wouldn’t be sitting here now.
But Parker shook his head.

“I did surpass death, yes. When I reached the exit, I thought I’d outwitted the reaper.”

The fire flickered up from below, casting eerie shadows across his face.

“But beyond that door, there was nothing. There was neither Life nor Death beyond the maze. Just emptiness. Void without an end. There was no joy to find, not even sorrow. Even most of my emotions had faded away.”
“I don’t get it.”

His phrasing was so abstract it went right over my head.
Not to mention, he’s way too lively for someone claiming his emotions are faded.

Parker scratched his head and added,

“I guess trying to visualize what I personally felt would be hard to understand. Hmm… To put it simply, ‘It wasn’t what I expected,’ I guess?”
“That’s grossly oversimplified.”

That doesn’t help either.
Parker folded his arms, frowning in thought.

“It’s surprisingly hard to explain to someone like you, a reinforcement sorcerer. It might look like I achieved my goal, but it’s actually the opposite.”

He tossed a log into the fire and looked up at me.

“I tried to approach the mystery of life and death, but only drifted further away instead. In the end, I was left stranded in a place forever beyond that mystery. Get it?”
“Not really…”

Half of necromancy is philosophy, so it’s already hard for a layman like me to understand.
All I understood was that he’d made some irreversible mistake.

“Well, basically, I failed. But, our teacher didn’t. So, everything’s fine! There, how’s that?”
“That doesn’t reassure me much…”

If anything, it only made me more concerned about Parker. Just in case, I should ask him.

“So, uh, are you fine with that?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m all dandy.”

He rattled his bones cheerfully.

“Before I joined the Demon Lord’s Army, the late Demon Lord told me this: ‘If empty is what you are, then it is your freedom to fill yourself with whatever you wish.’”

Another cryptic piece of advice.

“At that moment, I thought, yeah—he’s right. I can do whatever I want! So I tell dumb jokes, recreate my old face with illusions, and toy around my cute junior brother all I like!”
“Hold up. What was that last part?”

When I stepped toward him, Parker yelped gleefully.

“You see, turns out an empty afterlife can be pretty fun! Hahaha!”
“Don’t dodge the question. Explain that last bit.”
“Making stupid jokes is just my way of connecting with people! A positive approach to social interaction! Plus, I want to cherish what few emotions I have left!”
“Don’t try to wrap it into a heartwarming story, damn it.’

I grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard.
His bones rattled cheerfully as he kept on laughing, echoing under the night sky.