The weight of the dungeon's silence lingered behind Alexander like a ghost as he stepped out into the mist-choked woods of the Forest of Echoes. The corrupted carcass of the Chaos Wretch still twitched as if the very act of death resisted being final for the chaos-born. The glowing necklace now rested against his chest, warm and pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat. Its enchantment—boosting his mental capacity by 25%—was already making a difference. Thoughts sharpened, commands to his undead flowed more efficiently, and the background noise of mental strain dulled.
It was time to expand.
The newly completed necrotic watchtower stood vigilant at the forest's edge, manned by Skeletal Archers and two Hollow Bone Sentinels. Alexander passed them with a slight nod. His Dominion was evolving. Faster. Smarter. Deadlier.
Back at the ruins, now dubbed Necropolis Seed, his undead workforce was bustling. Builder-Type Bonewrights chiseled stone with unnatural precision, laying foundations for the Forges of Ash and the first Alchemical Pool. Scavenger-Type Carrion Seekers brought in materials scavenged from far reaches of the forest, dragging broken metal, decayed armor, and rare plants Alexander marked as magically sensitive. The Necrofarms glowed with dark life, feeding off necrotic energy and blooming with twisted fruits and corpsebloom flowers.
He reached the War Table—a raised obsidian slab enchanted with minor tracking runes and chalk-marked maps. The recently added dungeon was now mapped and sealed, its entrance guarded. What concerned him now was the emerging corruption in the southern end of the Forest. Wildlife had been found mutated, oozing shadow ichor, their eyes glowing with the same hue as the Chaos Wretch.
"It's already spreading," Alexander muttered. "Phase One isn't far."
Just as he turned, a Bonewing Shade—a recently evolved flying scout—screeched overhead and landed, relaying a psychic report directly into his mind.
"Disturbance. Chaos signature. Estimated thirty kilometers east."
He grimaced. That was too close.
"Mobilize a scouting party. No direct engagement. Shadowcloaks only. If it's a nest, I want eyes, not corpses."
The Bonewing took off, its shadowy wings vanishing into the canopy.
---
Later that evening, under the eerie moonlight, Alexander stood before his Altar—The Undead Necro Dark Altar—his hands resting upon its blackened stone. Channeling the Soul Ash from the Chaos Wretch, he felt the energy rush through him like molten glass—burning but enlightening.
He had nearly enough now to attempt Spell Fusion—a rare ability to blend two compatible spells into a new form. He eyed the two candidates:
Shadow Fog
Basic Shadow Bullet
With enough Soul Ash, he could attempt to fuse these into something more versatile—perhaps a Shadow Spear that could debuff and pierce through even magical defenses. But he hesitated. Timing was everything.
Instead, he opened his spellbook and scrolled to a page newly etched by his system—unlocked through his recent promotions and mental upgrades.
New Available Spells:
Grasping Hands of the Lost – Summons skeletal hands from the ground to immobilize enemies.
Soul Drain – Siphons a portion of health and mana from a target. Bonus effect against the living.
Wraithstep – Teleport a short distance through the shadow plane.
He smiled. These were far beyond basic-level necromancy. And with his upgraded mind and mana capacity, he could cast them far more efficiently than before.
"Let's test them."
He walked into one of the necromantic arenas—training grounds designed to test undead synergy and spell capability. Two Wailing Revenants materialized at his command, sparring dummies animated by weak souls. He cast Grasping Hands of the Lost.
From the ground burst dozens of skeletal arms, yanking one Revenant down with force.
"Good restraint. I can scale it."
Then, with a flick of his finger, Soul Drain. A dark tendril lashed forward, draining essence and feeding it into Alexander's core. The rush of energy thrilled him.
"Efficient. It scales with damage."
Finally, the Wailing Revenant lunged—and Alexander vanished. Wraithstep blinked him behind it.
"Perfect."
---
Hours passed. As dawn threatened the eastern sky, Alexander stood on the uppermost ledge of Necropolis Seed, eyes scanning the horizon.
Behind him, a scout approached. A Shadowcloak.
"My lord. We've found something. Not a nest—yet. But... a hive. Smaller. Pulsing with chaos. Wildlife around it have all mutated."
"Location?"
The scout handed him a rune-inscribed bone shard. Coordinates etched in.
He closed his eyes, calculating. That location was near the abandoned Elven watchpost ruins.
"We burn it," Alexander said coldly. "Before it blooms. Assemble a purge squad."
The scout nodded and vanished.
Alexander turned back to the rising light.
And whispered, "Let them come. This world has a Necromancer now."
---
End of Chapter 16