My Harem of Dangerous and Crazy Women as a Reincarnated Necromancer

Donovan, Lynn, and the inquisitor had been descending beneath the Church’s headquarters for several minutes, down a spiral staircase carved into the rock.

The place was cold, damp, and barely lit by a few torches stuck into the walls. Every turn looked identical to the last, and after so many, Donovan no longer bothered to count them.

The staircase just kept going down.

And down.

The only constant sound was the metallic clanking of his armor, its echo lost both above and below them.

”Hey, how much farther?”

”Not much now, sir,” the inquisitor replied without turning around.

Donovan went down another full turn.

”And now?”

”Almost there, sir.”

Another turn.

”Almost there how much?”

”A little more, sir.”

”You said that five minutes ago.”

”And it was true five minutes ago, sir,” the inquisitor replied with admirable patience. ”It’s just that now there’s a little less to go.”

Donovan let out a growl inside his helmet. Behind him, Lynn covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

”You sound like a kid on a long road trip,” she remarked in a low voice.

”I feel like one,” Donovan replied with obvious sarcasm. ”Seriously, why can’t we just meet where we always do?”

”Because this meeting is different, sir,” the inquisitor explained. ”Today the highest authority of the clergy and the Inquisition will be present. And she rarely leaves down here.”

Lynn stopped dead in the middle of a step.

”The highest authority?” she repeated, eyes wide. ”Do you mean... that we’re going to meet the Sovereign of Dawn?”

”That’s right, miss.”

Lynn pressed both hands to her chest, and for a moment it looked like she might burst into tears right there.

”It can’t be,” she murmured, her voice trembling. ”I... I’m just a priestess from a small village... I never imagined someone like me would have the honor of being in her presence.”

She turned to Donovan, her cheeks flushed.

”Donovan, do you understand what this means? She’s the woman who fought alongside the party of heroes three hundred years ago to defeat the Demon Lord! She’s in all the holy books! I grew up listening to her stories!”

Donovan, who until then had been trudging down the steps reluctantly, stopped.

”Wait, wait... How the hell is she still alive after three hundred years?” He turned to the inquisitor. ”Is she an elf or something?”

The inquisitor stopped as well. He took a moment before answering, as if measuring how much he could say.

”No, sir. She’s human,” the inquisitor replied. ”The Sovereign of Dawn is someone like you. A person brought from another world by the great goddess to save us.”

”And why didn’t anyone tell me?” Donovan asked, with some irritation. ”I’ve been in this place for eight months playing mascot at your masses. And in all that time it never occurred to anybody to mention there was another reincarnated person right under my feet?”

”It was her order, sir,” said the inquisitor. ”The Sovereign of Dawn expressly forbade that her existence be revealed to you.”

”Why?”

”I don’t know...”

”And why now, then?”

”I don’t know that either.” The inquisitor lowered his gaze. ”I only follow orders. If you want answers, you’ll have to ask her in person.”

Donovan clenched his jaw beneath the helmet.

For a moment he considered pressing the issue, but he realized the man knew nothing more. So he simply snorted and resumed walking.

Lynn followed in silence. But she was no longer smiling; instead she watched Donovan’s back with a worried expression he never saw.

They descended a few more turns, until the staircase ended abruptly in a wide stone antechamber, and at the far end of it rose an enormous door.

It was made of dark wood reinforced with iron, twice as tall as Donovan, and covered in engravings from top to bottom.

Human figures wielding swords and staffs, a radiant sun at the top, and at the bottom, a monstrous silhouette with arms outstretched, surrounded by creatures, being pierced by a lance of light.

The inquisitor positioned himself beside the door and stepped aside.

”This is as far as I go,” he announced with a bow. ”She awaits you on the other side, and has asked to see you without company.”

Donovan shot one last glance at Lynn. She swallowed, visibly nervous, but nodded.

Then he opened the door.

Upon entering, the first thing that enveloped them was absolute silence, so deep it made the stairs they had just left behind seem noisy.

The second impression was even more overwhelming.

They were in a gigantic circular chamber, carved into the mountain itself. The vaulted ceiling rose so high above them that the light of hundreds of candles barely managed to pull it out of the darkness.

The walls were covered in murals depicting scenes of battle: armies clashing, cities burning, nightmare creatures emerging from the earth.

And beneath each mural were long inscriptions carved into the stone, in an ancient script Donovan couldn’t read.

The entire perimeter of the room was lined with gigantic statues. There were at least a dozen, all different.

One held an enormous greatsword, another raised a staff toward the ceiling, and another stood wrapped in a long cloak, its face hidden by a hood.

And among them all, a woman with a serene expression stood out, hands joined before her chest as if praying.

The heroes of three hundred years ago, Donovan realized.

Lynn had stopped just past the threshold, mouth slightly open, slowly turning in place to take it all in.

”It’s... it’s impressive,” she whispered.

Donovan didn’t answer. All his attention had fixed on the figure seated at the center of the chamber.

The woman occupied an altar of white stone reached by a few steps.

She had light blue hair, falling to her waist, and red eyes that stood out even in the dim candlelight.

Her appearance was strangely simple. She wore only a plain white dress and was completely barefoot, without a single jewel or religious symbol on her body.

Beside her was a small table holding a chisel and a silver hammer.

She sat motionless, hands resting in her lap, watching them with a half smile.

Lynn knelt the moment she laid eyes on her, bowing so low her forehead nearly touched the floor.

Donovan, for his part, didn’t even move.

The woman didn’t seem offended. She tilted her head slightly and looked Donovan over from top to bottom, from helmet to boots.

”Thank you for coming,” she said in a calm, courteous voice that nevertheless sounded strangely cold. ”I know the stairs down here can feel endless.”