The shadows still clung to the world as Alexander emerged from the depths of the dungeon. His body was coated in grime and dried blood, but his red eyes glowed with a quiet intensity. He'd faced his first real trial underground—four hellish levels of skeletal beasts and a monstrous Rank D boss that nearly took his life. But he survived. And in surviving, he grew stronger.
In his gloved hand, he held a ring: dull silver, etched with unreadable runes. The moment he slid it onto his finger, the system chimed in his mind:
[You have equipped: Ring of Wisdom. +35% EXP gained from kills.]
His lips twitched into a faint, satisfied smile.
The Evolution System confirmed what he already felt in his bones. He was getting stronger, sharper, colder. The power was addicting, but it wasn't senseless. Every step he took was calculated.
He trekked through the Forest of Echoes once again, aiming to return to the clearing where he had made camp. His summoned skeletons followed him, their bones clinking quietly like hollow windchimes. The mana cost of maintaining them was constant, but manageable. His subclass, Monarch of the Undead, cut the strain down immensely. The skeletal soldiers didn't speak—they didn't need to. They understood him. Loyal to the bone.
That was when the fog thickened.
Not natural fog. This was the stench of magic. A pulse. Cold. Unyielding. Ancient.
Alexander stopped in his tracks. His breath crystallized as if winter had returned to this part of the world.
"Something's here," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
A shrill wail shattered the silence.
It wasn't a wolf. It wasn't even alive.
From the mist emerged a flickering figure—a ghostly shape, gliding above the ground. Its form shimmered between corporeal and ethereal, as if the world couldn't decide whether it belonged in it.
[New Undead Detected: Specter — Rank 3. Level 12.]
[Warning: High danger. Resistances: Light (Slight). Weakness: Dark. Classification: Undead.]
Alexander raised a hand.
"Shadow Bullet."
The orb of shadow flew at the creature, but passed cleanly through it.
"Intangible."
The Specter let out its Banshee's Scream. The wave of sonic terror slammed into Alexander's senses. He dropped to one knee, clutching his ears. Even the skeletons stumbled, one collapsing into a pile of brittle bones.
Alexander grit his teeth. Blood trickled from his nose.
"Reform. Now."
The skeleton that had crumbled began reassembling itself, bones snapping together with a chilling echo. Alexander muttered under his breath.
Shadow Fog.
Dark mist surrounded the area, sapping the enemy's strength slightly while empowering his summons. The Specter shrieked again, but this time Alexander was ready. He activated a new ability granted by his recent evolution.
[Necromancer Active Ability Unlocked: Undead Harvest. Gain 25% EXP from kills made by your undead.]
"Focus fire!" he commanded.
The skeletons surrounded the Specter. As the creature became momentarily tangible, they struck. One buried its blade into the thing's ghostly ribs, another brought down a rusted axe. The Specter shrieked again and went intangible, passing through a tree.
But Alexander had seen enough. His eyes gleamed with infernal calculation.
"Lure it. Time your strikes. Wait for tangibility."
The skeletal minions obeyed without hesitation. The Specter flickered in and out, but the moment it solidified again, it was impaled from three angles. A second later, it burst into black mist.
[Specter defeated. EXP gained: 1,240. Additional EXP gained from undead kills: 310.]
He staggered briefly, then straightened. The mist cleared.
But something else was wrong.
A distant war drum.
Alexander turned his head slowly.
From beyond the treeline, he saw movement. Dozens, no—hundreds of small, stocky figures emerged. Goblins. Green skin, crooked teeth, low-slung weapons.
Among them, towering over the horde, were bulky orcs. Muscular, snarling, crude armor cobbled from bone and iron.
[Detected Hostile Creatures: 130 Goblins. 69 Orcs. 1 Orc Shaman (Lv. 10)]
His heart didn't race. His hands didn't shake.
He counted them calmly.
Two hundred enemies. One commander. One necromancer.
He smiled.
This would be a massacre.
---
Alexander sprinted back through the trees, leading his undead behind him. He couldn't take them all in a frontal assault, not without planning. But he wouldn't run either. That wasn't his nature.
He found a rocky ridge overlooking a narrow clearing. The perfect bottleneck.
He raised both hands, channeling his mana.
Raise Undead.
Three new skeletons clawed their way out of the earth. Then another set. Then another.
He had over fifteen skeletal warriors assembled now, arranged into a formation. Bones sharpened into spikes. Rusted armor scavenged from the dungeon. Eyes glowing with undeath.
He watched as the orc horde drew nearer.
The Shaman stood at the center, painted in war runes, holding a staff made of bone and crystal. Its eyes scanned the terrain—clever, for a savage.
Too clever.
Alexander cast Shadow Fog again, spreading his influence through the ridge. The terrain darkened. His skeletons took position behind rocks, in trees, waiting.
He pulled the shadows around himself.
Stealth wasn't his strongest suit, but fear? Fear was a weapon.
The goblins came first.
Then they died.
Spears impaled from the underbrush. Arrows fired by skeletal archers took down stragglers. Goblin screams filled the air. The orcs roared in rage and charged forward—right into the funnel.
Alexander raised his hand.
"Now."
A dozen skeletons burst from the ground, attacking from all sides. Goblins tried to flee but only ran into more traps. The Shaman began to chant, lightning crackling across its staff.
Alexander narrowed his eyes.
The orc leader was dangerous. He would need to be surgical.
But his mana was high, his undead strong, and his strategic genius unrivaled.
The battle had just begun.