The morning haze over the Forest of Echoes was thick and unmoving, muffling sound and light as if the air itself mourned the age that had passed. But in the heart of the forest, beneath the crumbled towers and shattered bones of ancient kingdoms, a new power stirred—a kingdom not of the living, but of the undying.
Alexander stood before the Undead Necro Dark Altar, its black stone humming with latent energy. He had returned to it again this morning, compelled by instinct more than logic. The pulsing dark aura of the altar resonated with his very soul, amplifying the strength of his undead legion and tethering him to the very foundation of this new domain.
He raised a hand, letting his fingers trail the cold surface of the altar. Around him, skeletal workers toiled under silent orders—hauling stone, digging trenches, and constructing the first true foundations of the Necropolis of Ash and Bone.
It was time to build.
---
The Infrastructure Begins
Using the knowledge granted by the altar and his Evolution System, Alexander had crafted three unique undead labor units:
1. Grave Diggers – These skeletal drones specialized in excavation and construction. Their claw-like hands could tunnel through even the densest rock. They had minimal combat capabilities but were immune to fatigue and possessed an eerie sense of geometry and structure.
2. Ashforged Smiths – Armored undead with blackened bones and flickering red eyes. They wielded phantom hammers that could strike both physical and spectral materials, allowing them to forge necrotic alloys and soul-imbued metals in eerie silence.
3. Necrotic Planters – Slender undead shaped like withered druids, their fingers sprouted black vines and fungus. They walked through fields sowing cursed seeds and blood-fertilized roots, which would grow into twisted plants and crops suitable for feeding undead beasts or powering necrotic rituals.
Already, under their tireless labor, new structures were forming:
A Barracks of Bone, where newly raised skeletal warriors could train and be refined.
A Shadowforge, built within a collapsed tower, its cursed flames ready to forge dark weaponry.
And the beginnings of a Necrotic Farm, rows of gnarled plants slowly emerging under the poisoned soil.
Alexander stepped back from the barracks as the final arches were sealed in bone and obsidian. He whispered to himself, "A kingdom made not of gold... but of death."
---
Summoning and Testing New Undead
Later that evening, Alexander stood within the cracked courtyard. Around him, twelve skeletal warriors stood in tight formation—his first test group for the new undead warrior units.
Using his enhanced control through the Monarch subclass and the Evolution System, he had unlocked:
Bone Knights – Heavily armored, using tower shields and spears forged in shadowflame.
Revenant Archers – Quick, lightly armored skeletons with soulpiercing bows, their arrows able to disrupt magic and penetrate light armor.
Hollow Reavers – Agile dual-sword wielders who moved with terrifying speed, favored for ambushes and flanking.
He ran them through simulated drills. His mind flicked through commands like second nature now, no longer taxing his mental capacity as before. His Mental Control Pool had expanded considerably since reaching E Rank. Each unit had a "Mental Load Value," and while he couldn't field hundreds yet, he could now sustain and command small squads in real-time with deadly precision.
Afterward, he summoned two Builder-class undead and gave them blueprints of the central fortress tower he wanted erected. The skeletal engineers bowed silently, already sketching the ground with bone-carved measuring tools.
Alexander turned toward the forest beyond the ruins. "I need more raw material," he muttered.
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The Wandering Merchant of the Dark
That night, under the veil of unnatural moonlight, a stranger arrived.
A rift tore open near the ruins—thin, almost imperceptible. From within stepped a hunched figure cloaked in velvet black. Chains hung from his robes, and a lantern pulsed with red mist dangled from his clawed hand. He didn't walk—he glided over the ground.
"Ahhh... the new Lord of Death awakens... at last," the figure hissed.
Alexander was on edge immediately, but the altar behind him pulsed faintly—not a threat, it seemed to whisper.
"Who are you?" Alexander demanded.
"I am known as Veymor the Bound, a Wandering Merchant of the Dark... and I deal in things forgotten, forsaken... or forbidden," the merchant croaked.
From within his cloak, he pulled out strange items:
A vial labeled "Crystallized Soul Ash – Grade B"
A scroll titled "Grave Binding: Animate Mausoleum"
And a black shard, humming with raw corruption: "Chaos-Eater Fang (D-Rank)"
Alexander narrowed his eyes. "What's the cost?"
Veymor smiled. "Not gold, young King of Corpses. I trade in memories, secrets... or favors to be called in... later."
He left behind a warped obsidian coin etched with necrotic runes. "Call me again when your needs... evolve."
And like smoke, he vanished into the night.
---
Skirmish in the Forest
The very next morning, Alexander dispatched a scout patrol—two Hollow Reavers and one Revenant Archer—to the eastward ridge. They hadn't gone far when he felt the sharp snap of control falter.
Something was wrong.
He rushed with ten Bone Knights, arriving just in time to find the shattered bones of one scout and a twisted corpse of what used to be a boar. Now it was mutated—massive, half its flesh gone, its ribcage exposed and pumping black fluid. Its eyes glowed purple, leaking pus.
"Chaos corruption..." Alexander growled.
He fought it quickly, but the beast was strong—resilient to physical blows and unnaturally fast. It took concentrated dark magic to bring it down, and even then, its corpse twitched long after death.
Nearby, he found a pool of ichor seeping into the ground—evidence of a Chaos Nest taking root. Not active yet. But growing.
---
Preparing for the Next Wave
Back at the Necropolis, Alexander called his undead leaders together—Bone Knights stood beside Ashforged Smiths, and even the Necrotic Planters watched from the rear.
"We are not alone in this forest. Chaos has taken root."
He glanced toward the black horizon. "We must fortify. Expand. Prepare."
He marked new blueprints—defensive walls built from fused bone and stone, siege weaponry powered by cursed cores, and the reinforcement of the altar chamber itself. Chaos would return. It always did.
But he would be ready.
For now, the foundations were laid.
And soon... the dead would march.
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End of Chapter 12