"Raise Dead!" Aron shouted, sitting up with sweat dripping from his face like rivers. His heart pounded like drums before going silent, the headache plaguing his head quickly disappeared, and the dark cave seemed as clear as if it was daytime.
He stood, seeing the skeletons staring at him, confused. CLANG! He picked up his sword, jumping at them with a swing.
CLANG! With a single swing, he ripped the first one apart across the waist. The other skeletons grunted, rushing at him with rage.
[Swordsmanship] [Level 2] [S-Exp: 1/20]
[Level 2] [Exp: 18/20]
Aron lifted his sword, lunging to the side and dodging the charging skeletons with a smile, "I don't know why, but I can't feel any pain in my back," He couldn't help but laugh, clenching his fist on the sword as green veins bulged on his forearms.
The blood had stopped flowing to his brain, and his lungs already gave up their last breath. As his organs slowly died, his bones dripped with necrotic magic, soaking his muscles in arcane power.
Aron turned toward the skeletons, smiling as his eyes spazzed out, freaking out as his brain started changing. An undead doesn't think with his head but with its soul.
GWA! The skeletons growled, rushing and stabbing him from every direction.
Aron's soul pulled on his body, clinging for dear life, his last string of sanity since transferring consciousness from the brain to it couldn't be more dangerous.
God created humans in his form, breathing in them from his soul, and to him, those souls return after death.
But those lost souls that ignore the natural order, straying aside are dammed to never unite with him unless purified, as filth shouldn't mix with the greater divine. Keeping his integrity is more important than any life.
Most undead lose their souls transforming, becoming mindless monsters in search of their original selves, attracted to souls. That's why they attack humanoids.
^Oh! God, I'm dying...^ Aron's soul cried, clinging to his body with all it got. ^Not after I finally survived, the church's work would have been in vain... I can't die yet,^
[I can't take your soul. And I don't feel like letting you wander without a goal.] A voice boomed inside Aron's head as green veins bled on his skin.
[Let's see what you can do. I've shown your mercy that I haven't shown to any mortal, calling my arch nemesis for a favor.]
Ding! Aron's body stopped moving, and the skeletons froze for a second. Their necrotic magic got sucked away into his body as flesh melted from his bones, burned by an eldritch green flame.
The skeletons around Aron disintegrated as he stood. The flame from his body burned the rust out of his sword, turning it into a black charred blade.
-------------
[Name: Aron of Lostville]
[Level 2] [Exp: 18/20]
[Class: Tamer] [Secondary Class: Necromancer]
[Necrotic Mana: 10/10] [Level 1] [S-Exp: 5/10]
{Skills}
[Tame Monster] [Level 1] [S-Exp: 0/10]
[Swordsmanship] [Level 2] [S-Exp: 1/20]
{Spells}
[Raise Dead] [Level 1] [S-Exp: 0/10]
[Control Dead] [Level 1] [S-Exp: 0/10]
[Absorb Dead] [Level 1] [S-Exp: 5/10]
-------------
Thud! Aron fell to his knees, staring blankly at the ground. A load of information fell on his soul.
^I'm a lich, no, an undead paladin in the service of death himself. He doesn't ask anything, only watches with amusement.^ Aron stared at the sky with his flaming green eyes. ^I can understand it now,^
The god of creation. The death of destruction, the two beings at the top of existence, two faces of the same concept.
"This isn't the world of the living. This is the world of the dead." Aron cried, staring around in horror, "Stones, ground, wind, and sky. They are all dead, inanimate objects praying to the god of death. The living are the intruders!" He lifted his hands, crying and then laughing.
He slowly stood, scratching his skull, "The underworld, a universe of guts and gore, that's the true world of the living. Why did I have to learn this," He sighed without lungs.
His skull crackled as his ribs moved, "I know since I crossed the bridge between life and death." He then looked at his hands.
"To whom I'm talking? My soul is still shaken by the transformation. I have more things to worry about."
He looked at the ground and picked up his sword. "I only have ten hours to exist. I need to fix that first."
Just by focusing, Aron could sense the magic flowing inside his bones, understanding it like mortals understand hunger and sadness.
[Necrotic Mana: 10/10] [Level 1] [S-Exp: 5/10]
^I consume one necrotic mana each hour. I have to increase it first. I can increase it by absorbing souls from the undead or the living. Of course, the latter provides more.^
Aron started walking around the room he was in, looking around, "I'm at the heart of the dungeon. I have two options, going up and escaping, or going down and clearing the place first." He smiled without lips, eldritch green flame engulfing his bones.
He turned and walked to the walls, finding the two ways. One lead up and the other down. He went deeper into the dungeon.
After just a few steps, he looked down seeing only bones, all of his clothes burned before his flesh had turned into ash. But he didn't mind, smiling, ^I'm a pile of bones.^ He noticed something even stranger about his body. Some of his bones were twisted, bent as if they had melted a bit.
CRACK! Aron stopped, hearing something ahead of him. He stuck to the side of the wall, relaxing so his flames fade.
CRACK! CRACK! A massive skeleton twice as tall as a human walked across the cave, dragging a greatsword behind him as he grunted, a faint blue flame burning in his eyes.
"A giant skeleton," Aron gasped, "I can feel it. He has more necrotic magic than me, I can't control him, but I should be able to absorb him. If I beat him," He lifted his sword.