I sat heavily on a fallen log, pain gripping my left side where my arm should’ve been. I hissed out a breath between my teeth and bit down before forcing myself to release the tension in my jaw. In an attempt to distract myself I pulled up my status screen.

  Name: Crowley

  Race: Wight

  Class: Necromancer 24

  Health: 500 of 540

  Stamina: 250 of 340

  Mana: 1000 of 1177

  Strength 22

  Agility 20

  Constitution 54

  Endurance 34

  Spirit 117

  Intelligence 20

  Perception 25

  Dominion 107

  Free Points available: 15

  Skills

  Path of the Cryptkeeper

  Aria of the Misted Grave Tier 2

  Create Ghoul Tier 4

  Path of the Grave

  Mark of the Grave Tier 4

  Fog of Dread Tier 3

  Path of the Reaper

  Bind Specter Tier 4

  Spectral Sight Tier 3

  Create Shade Tier 3

  Path of the Wight

  Ghostfire Tier 3

  Soul Sight Tier 4

  Harbinger Tier 4

  Path of the Horned King

  Summon Winter Bound Tier 3

  Whispers of the Hunt Tier 4

  Unsorted

  Basic Swordsmanship Tier 2

  Basic Archery Tier 1

  Basic Riding Tier 1

  Basic Sorcery Tier 3

  Tome of the First Bone Sage

  Passive

  Death Energy Reservoir Tier 3

  Limbo

  [Error Locked behind Prerequisite]

  I stared at the box of text with assorted feelings, a certain sense of pride took the forefront. I’d come a long way from when I had woken up in that clearing. It had only been what, three weeks?

  But I couldn’t shake the sense that I simply wasn’t doing enough, some of my stats had grown leaps and bounds while others seemed stagnant. My physical stats glared like a sore thumb. I glanced at my side, or a missing limb. If I had invested more into them would this have happened?

  I shook my head, I had fifteen free points to assign. And I would have to split them between my physical stats.

  Updated Stats:

  Strength 25

  Agility 25

  Constitution 55

  Endurance 35

  Perception 30

  They looked better to the eye and I had gained a hundred points in both health and stamina. It would have to do.

  I turned my attention back towards the forest around me where my undead meandered in loose patrols of the area. It would be secure enough for the time being. I needed to plan my next move. If I was going to stay for any length of time then I needed to probe the Goblin settlement and test their reactions before going back to Riverrun.

  Or I could keep walking and just disappear into the forest. I had gone west to reach the fog wall, there was bound to be more land in another direction. And abandon the village to Harald’s machinations. He had an Abyssal touch to his soul now, and that wouldn’t be good long term.

  But what would be the point of trying to interfere if I didn’t plan to kill him and usurp the authority he held?

  I shook my head, no Crowley. You can’t just plot to murder someone when all that’s happened are simple disagreements. You’re overreacting.

  I sighed, maybe the Goblin Farm had more merit than I was willing to give it credit for. They weren’t just lying around doing nothing, they had fortified and organized. Maybe it would be enough of a challenge to actually help the villagers level up and get some experience fighting.

  Nodding to myself I began to formulate a plan. I would leave in three months but in the meantime I could help the rest of the village get their feet under them. It would at least alleviate some of the weight on my mind.

  And so that’s what I did, we set out the following morning and planned to probe the Goblins. But as it turned out, that wasn’t needed. The Gnolls were doing it for us.

  I watched the conflict from atop a hill, yipping and screeching replacing the delicate forest sounds. And I listened, Whispers of the Hunt on full display.

  Turkinvesch growled at the attacking Gnolls and looked towards his archers.

  “Fire.” He commanded.

  A barrage of arrows flew from the palisade, most of them hitting something. Blood and pained yips flew into the air and danced merrily in his ears.

  “Fucking overgrown dogs,” He snarled, he raised his hand and dropped it, signalling another barrage.

  He watched the Gnolls take the hit and they did it badly, more and more were dropping. Even more would drop from the infected wounds the arrows were sure to give them. Afterall what else would happen with arrows laid in the latrines?

  A steady back and forth ensued, the Gnolls pushed against the wall and arrows answered them. Occasionally their Shaman decided to be worth a damn and throw some of their magicks into the fray.

  If Turkinvesch had his way the Shamans would answer to him, and this fight would already be over. What was the point of being a war leader if he couldn’t command the entire army?

  Shaking his head in frustration he barked out another order, “Drop the oil.”

  I watched the front of the palisade ignite in crimson flame, creating a thick wall of fire. I frowned, the gears in my mind clinking together. The defense was strong, simple but effective. The villagers would be slaughtered in their current capacity.

  I turned towards my Revenants, “Take some undead and retrieve as many corpses as you can. Do not risk battle.”

  The undead shambled off to do my bidding and I waited, musing over the facts and observing the rest of the fight. It had mostly ended after the fire wall, but there were a few Gnolls attempting to find another way in. Was there another way in?

  I would have to send Lucius to really find out, maybe Liam too. But this information would do for now. The village wasn’t ready to start assaulting the Goblins. But there were plenty of Gnoll bands wandering the frontier, they’d have to start with that. Hopefully Harald would see reason.

  The Goblins watched my Aria with trepidation while they did the battle clean up for them. Dragging the corpses off into the trees. Where I would raise them. What surprised me was the small war band that came seeking answers. The wall of fire had dwindled by this time and they ran forward, weapons and armor clinking in their gate.

  I watched them, the Winterbound taking up positions around me while the Aria that hadn’t been sent out gathered in a loose circle around the area.

  The war band hesitated and stopped just at the edge of the circle of undead. Smart.

  One of them called out in their guttural tongue but the meaning of the words was lost on me. Instead I simply stood there, mask on and loose clothing swaying in the breeze, and stared at them.

  This went on for several minutes, a Goblin yelling at me, saying gods know what, and me standing there unanswering. After the first minute I had already become annoyed, and it was blossoming into pure frustration. I didn’t have time for this.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  I gave the mental command to form up and begin our march anew, to leave the bickering Goblins to their own devices. But that was before one of them shot an arrow at me.

  I took a step away from the war band, a raised voice called out and an arrow flew directly into Syndra’s shield. She growled, a primal fury bubbling into her lips.

  Turning I eyed the archer, a Goblin of likely medium build, his eyebrows arched down in anger yelled towards me. Another Goblin, the one who had been originally speaking I guessed, looked quietly content that they had regained my attention.

  “Kill the archer.”

  Three spears blossomed from the archer’s body and the feathers of a shadowy arrow peaked out from his nose. The rest of the Goblins howled in fright and rage, their meager war band stepping forward. Whether out of instinct or stupidity is anyone’s guess.

  “Another step,” My voice flowed coldly, “Slaughter them.”

  I bent down and retrieved the arrow and examined it, it was rusted and covered in mud. And, was that… I glanced back over at the Goblins, they were contaminating their arrows.

  The arrow burned in my hand, teal flame consuming it.

  The war band hadn’t taken another step yet and my corpses had arrived, I did a quick count, fifteen new Aria.

  I decided to make a point. Ghostflame dripped from my extended hand and crawled over each corpse in turn.

  Standard Aria Undead has been raised. Times 15.

  Current minion count: 72 of 215

  The Goblins ran, they turned and ran back to their little hole in the mountain as quickly as their stubby legs would carry them. Shouting one word, Krilnoti. It probably meant Necromancer, or maybe monster. Who knows.

  I hadn’t wanted to interact with them yet, my hope had been that they would simply wait and watch my undead collect the corpses. But I should’ve known better. Now I had killed one and terrified the rest. So much for diplomacy. It wouldn’t have worked anyway, the language barrier alone would’ve killed that idea. Even if I bound a goblin specter to translate.

  Now I was curious about what other types of residents these goblins had, their population had been listed as varied. Unless it counted prisoners, and I’m sure they’ve captured some Gnolls. I shrugged. Wouldn’t be my problem yet.

  Now then, one last thing on my list. I needed to hit level twenty-five before I returned to Riverrun.

  I raised my hand and animated more of the corpses lying in wait.

  Standard Aria Hounds have been raised, Times seven.

  Current Minion Count: 79 of 215

  I gave the mental command to the pack, hunt. They took to the area immediately and I waited, not exactly patiently but close enough. I was running out of time before the next Monster Release.

  Howls of anticipation flowed through the air and we set off after the hounds. A scent.

  We moved quickly through the forest, as quick as I could at least. You’d be surprised how much your balance is affected when you’re missing a limb.

  Leaves and branches crunched and shattered beneath the weight of the horde. The forest almost seemed to move out of the way, guiding us towards our prey. And soon we found the tail end of a Gnoll scouting party.

  The Horde wasted no time, following my commands and engaging the foe. The Gnolls yipped in terrified surprise, the undead bursting from the trees with their weapons mid swing. It was over before it truly began.

  You have defeated Gnoll Scout, level 19. Experience points have been earned.

  You have defeated Gnoll Scout, level 15. Experience points have been earned.

  You have defeated Gnoll Ranger, Level 21. Experience points have been earned.

  Not enough. That’s all right, the flow was established now, the hunt was on.

  Standard Aria Hound has been raised, times 3.

  Current Minion Count: 82 of 215.

  Howls drowned out the remaining forest ambience and I considered a new plan.

  I separated five of the Revenants and assigned them each ten Aria Undead and one hound, the objective was simple. I kept the other two Revenants and the remaining hounds for my personal hunting party. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

  My murder crowed overhead and I mentally assigned one Raven to each group before giving the order. The Undead hurdled into the brush and were gone in a matter of minutes. They would just need to bring back the corpses, only then would I get the experience for killing them.

  We moved forward, following the hounds. We stumbled on another Gnoll patrol. I frowned and paused in my pursuit. What were so many doing out here? I hadn’t run into this many the last time I came through here.

  The answer came to me when a Gnoll yipped excitedly and dragged a screaming Goblin down from the low branches of a tree. It’s muzzle ripping into the little creature’s throat and throwing out crimson liquid in violent spurts. The Gnolls were hunting too.

  Fine by me.

  The Undead hurried forward engaging with the hunting party. A clash of iron and growls of annoyance became the forest ambience. I extended my hand and began casting Mark of the Grave. There were at least a dozen, maybe more of the furry demons. I readied Fog of Dread next but paused, more yips and howls. I furrowed my brows and looked around, Spectral Sight paving away the obstacles to my vision.

  There were more, dozens more coming towards us. And I had just split up my forces.

  “Dammit,” I snarled, “Castien, Shades, you’ll be needed soon.”

  A billowing fog ripped from my palm and enshrouded the area hastily. Ghostfire rippling in its seams.

  It was chaos. And not just because of the numbers. The arriving Gnolls seemed panicked and anxious. They crashed into their brethren yipping and barking while the Aria pushed forward. The Revenants recognizing an opportunity to crush the opposing line.

  I summoned Harbinger into my hand, the cold hilt of a sword slightly comforting. I would have preferred the spear but you can’t exactly wield a spear with one hand. I took a deep breath, the sound hollow through the mask and exhaled.

  My eyes tracked the arrival of yet more souls into the breach, but not Gnolls. Goblins. They were just as panicked as the Gnolls had been.

  They’re running from something, I realized my own eyes went wide. They’re fucking running from something.

  But it was too late for me to run.

  The air grew heavy, sound muffling and growing distorted. Whispers of the Hunt going silent, a bitter mocking laugh seemed the only thing the skill produced.

  I stepped back, nearly tripping on an exposed root but managed to catch myself, stomping my foot down. The experience notifications began to dwindle slowly. The frightened yips of the Gnolls becoming higher pitched. High pitched screams gurgled out from the Goblin throats.

  “What the hell is happening?” I asked aloud.

  The answer came when a gnarled hand reached out into the fog and ripped a Gnoll into the darkness. Whatever it was, it was massive. My shades emerged from my shadow.

  Keer peered into the fog before turning back to me and readying his weapon.

  Something clicked violently against the branches of the trees, and the underbrush seemed to rip apart. I could see its soul, ancient and violent. It was a vibrant emerald that seemed to blaze all the brighter for the rage its body seemed to exhibit.

  Pull back, that was my first thought but my nerves steeled themselves. I had taken on literal demons. And I wasn’t going to get anywhere hunting the Gnolls. This was a fresh challenge.

  I stepped into my fog, focused intently on the soul blazing nearby.

  The cawing of crows brought my attention skywards, hundreds of them blotted out the sky. A mass of dark writhing feathers, and then they descended.

  I swung Harbinger ineffectually at the carrion beasts. They pecked and ripped at exposed portions of my body and everything else that lay beneath them. Gnolls screamed, their yips ceasing to exist. I cut down a few of the crows but they nimbly dodged around the swinging blade.

  I ducked another of the swooping creatures, “Enough,” I muttered, Ghostfire coming to life in the fog. Swooping crows froze on contact and fell to the ground, shattering.

  Teal flamed flickered, casting the area in an eldritch uncertain light.

  A gnarled hand reached around a tree, fingers tightening around the trunk. A face, no a skull emerged from the shadows and I was faced with a mirror. The creature stared at me, likely thinking the same as I. Our masks. I understood why Liam had shot me now, I did look like a monster.

  A low growl rumbled in its throat, and it pulled itself out of the forest to stand before me in all of its hideous glory. Standing seven or eight feet. I looked up towards it, fear gripping my heart.

  I choked down the delirious laugh bubbling in my throat. This was insane. I was insane. I should’ve ran when I had the chance. I held up Harbinger in a loose guard position and tightened my grip on its hilt.

  The creature roared, or maybe screamed, it was hard to tell, before it charged forward. Stepping into the fog and swinging a massive hand at me. I jumped back, Harbinger coming down in reprisal. It cut shallowly into the thick hand of the beast.

  I jumped to the side, avoiding another swipe from the creature and rolled to my feet. My balance wavering before having to move out of the way again. The beast was relentless. I kept moving, reposting when I could. A deadly game of cat and mouse ensued.

  And quickly ended, I felt the root move up ever so slightly on my next step and I tripped over it. Falling towards my left side. I couldn’t catch myself and the beast pounced. Striking my torso with the back of its hand. I skittered over the ground, my body bouncing violently before slamming my back into a tree.

  I coughed and blood sprayed out to paint the dirt in front of me. I raised my head, the world tilting. Blurred at the edges by a red haze. It had nearly killed me with the one hit. I tried to push myself up, my left shoulder pressing against the bark of the tree. Useless. It was all useless.

  Where was Castien? Where were my shades? Why was I fighting this thing alone?

  The beast didn’t roar again, it approached silently. Gnarled limbs creaking under its own weight. Thick roots burst from the ground, weaving themselves around my legs and body.

  No. Not like this. I didn’t survive hell to be killed by an overgrown shrub. I didn’t come back to waste my second life as fertilizer. There was already one of my bodies doing that and that was already too many.

  I called upon Ghostfire not as a weapon, as a shroud. It wrapped around my body, hoarfrost coating my restraints. If the forest wanted to turn on me then it could rot. Mark of the Grave infested the roots, necrosis taking its toll on the trees that had been my allies. It wasn’t effective but it would weaken the restraints further.

  I poured death energy into the Ghostfire.

  A spectral blade appeared from within the fog, Myer swung his sword down at the beast. Lodging it firmly into the shoulder. The beast howled in rage and pain, turning to swipe at Myer but its hand passed through empty air.

  It roared and stared at me, its emerald soul pulsating. Arrows blossomed from that soul, or at least its rough position. Before exploding.

  The beast took several steps back, clawing uselessly at its chest. The rest of the shades came forward, attacking the beast. The Winterbound finally arriving from within the fog. Syndra rushed to my side, cutting me free of my restraints.

  “Where were you?” I half growled, stumbling to my feet.

  “Do not blame them,” Elden said, appearing beside me, “There is some kind of interference from this creature. We couldn’t pinpoint you.”

  I groaned in pain, continuing to draw in death energy in an effort to ease my injuries.

  I stepped forward, Harbinger igniting in my hand.

  “My lord, you should rest,” Syndra quickly said.

  I shook my head, “No, this thing needs to die.”

  And I would fight it, I needed to. I wanted to.

  I held up Harbinger, focusing the death energy into its point and brought it down, burying a quarter of the blade in the dirt.

  “Rot,” I commanded.

  Vibrant energy clashed against me, pushing against the power I called forth. But my will was forged in fire and death. This was just a forest, and its guardian mortal. Death comes for all in the end.

  The ground blackened, the roots withered, the forest itself cried out in anguish. And then was silenced by hoarfrost. Slowly at first, it spread out from the puncture in the ground. And sped up gradually. My will was absolute, I would not be defied. Not by this thing and not by anyone else.

  The beast stared at me, its limbs creaking in readiness. It pounced forward, blazing past Myer and the Shades.

  I recalled the Shades to my shadow and I fell into blankness. The whirlings of my mind ceased, there was only the beast in front of me, my sword and the Shades who would replace my missing limb. No more mistakes.

  I stepped to the side, a shadow reaching out to pull me further, another to stabilize my feet. Harbinger flicked forward, carving an ethereal line in the leg of the beast. Keer followed from my left side, deepening the cut.

  I jumped back, a shield of shadow planting itself in front of me. Relim held the ground against the beast's reprisal. Lucius darted around the shield, his dagger flashing out in quick successive stabs before retreating.

  Harbinger flicked out in a quick lunge, I buried its blade into the stomach of the beast. I tugged but it wouldn’t release the blade. I let go and jumped to the side, spinning in a small circle as the beast brought both of its hands down where I had been. Lucius pulling me an extra few inches before Harbinger ignited once more and I brought it down into the beast's back. Keer's blade joined it before Lucius hopped onto its back, stabbing repeatedly.

  The Winterbound joined in shortly after, their blades crashing against the beast.

  It stood shakily to its feet and stared at me, Harbinger reforming in my hand. There was something in its eyes that bothered me. Rage? No. Defiance? I shook my head.

  Acceptance. It was accepting death. I frowned but moved forward to finish the beast. The constant necrosis and freezing from Ghostfire had done its job. I planted the blade fully into the chest of the beast, and it spoke.

  I didn’t understand the language but the meaning was clear. There was gratitude in death. It did not wish to be raised once it had fallen.

  I gritted my teeth, it would be such a useful minion. But, I still nodded.

  The beast fell beneath me, reaching out its hand and plunging a claw into my chest. I gasped, the mask fell from my face and I could see the blood dripping from my mouth, landing on the beast in thick droplets.

  You have defeated Ancient Leshen, level 30. Experience points have been earned, additional experience has been earned due to defeating an enemy above your level.

  Class [Necromancer] has reached level 27, stat points allocated, 15 free points remaining.

  Class [Necromancer] can be evolved.

  Notice: Profession slot has been unlocked. Please choose your profession.

  Notice: Titles have been unlocked.

  Notice: You have accepted the pact offered. Skill [Umbral Sovereign] has been acquired.

  Castien let out large hurried breaths, the Gnolls had finally been driven back. He hoped Syndra and the others had gotten to their lord in time. He turned and ran towards his master.

  He stopped beside Syndra and the specter known as Elden, staring at their lord in the final moments of the beast's life. He stood atop the beast, his eldritch blade slammed firmly into its chest. He felt the words of the beast and understood what it was, it was a lord of its own. It ruled here in times ancient. And now it was asking a necromancer to not raise it after death. Castien scoffed at the notion, his lord was no fool, he wouldn’t abandon such a powerful corpse.

  His mouth dropped slightly at the slight nod from his master. Why? There was no room for mercy in the hunt. Their prey didn’t get a choice after the end. Syndra suddenly clutched at her chest and Castien soon joined her.

  The connection between them and their lord had changed once again. He was stronger, he was different now. Castien looked up to see the beast ram its claws into his chest. The mask falling from his face and blood dripping from his mouth.

  “No,” Castien whispered, “It was a trap.”

  The claw fell from his lord’s chest and he stumbled momentarily.

  Castien rushed forward but stopped when he made eye contact with his master. Gone were the deep brown eyes, teal flame blistered in them before subsiding into an eerie teal solidity.

  They stared at each other for several silent moments before his eyelids flickered and he collapsed to the side.

  Syndra rushed to catch him but halted in her tracks, his shadow came alive and caught him in large gnarled hands.