"Who are you, old man? What brings you here so early?" Our adept protagonist questioned, taken aback by the sight of the elderly figure kneeling at his doorstep.
His usual routine of summoning Lucas Frost for a game of chess and some morning tea was disrupted by this unexpected visitor.
"Master Nero, I implore you to accept me as your disciple. I am willing to traverse the depths of hell itself to serve your commands!" pleaded the old man, tears in his eyes, yet an unmistakable fervor burning within them, a blend of desperation and resolve.
"You're past your prime, old man. The time for cultivation has long passed. Return home, let go of the past, and spend your remaining days in peace," our protagonist advised after swiftly assessing the man with his divine sense. Few could escape his keen perception when he willed it.
He sidestepped the man and proceeded with his day. Lucas arrived, and the usual chess match commenced.
"Another admirer of yours?" Lucas Frost quipped upon seeing the old man still kneeling steadfastly in the direction of our protagonist.
"A seeker of answers. A story echoing the world," our protagonist replied with a shrug, focusing on the game at hand. As the sun ascended, yielding to the night, the old man remained unmoved.
"Go home. Seeking revenge won't resurrect the dead," our protagonist urged the old man.
"I'd do anything for revenge, Master Nero. Please allow me a chance to prove myself," the old man replied, his voice barely audible, his health visibly deteriorating from maintaining a single posture throughout the day.
Yet, driven by his goals, he persisted.
"Stubbornness won't keep you alive through the night," our protagonist warned before retiring for the day. His dreams were peaceful, as always.
The next morning, he emerged to find the old man still frozen in his unwavering position, this time eternally still.
"How foolish mortals can be," our protagonist sighed, shaking his head as he retrieved something from his soul space—a large, black book concealed by weathered, rusty chains.
The Book of the Dead, as it was known across dimensions, was a tome steeped in ancient power, rumored to hold the secrets of life and death themselves.
Its leather cover was weathered, etched with indecipherable glyphs that seemed to shift and writhe like living things when observed too closely.
The chains binding it were not merely rusted iron but seemed to pulse with a latent energy, as if they were shackling something dangerous within.
With a weighty sigh, Master Nero broke the chains, each link protesting as if releasing a long-held captive.
The book exuded an aura that seemed to bend the very fabric of reality around it, whispers of forgotten incantations echoing in the air.
Opening its pages revealed text written in languages unknown to modern civilization, scripts that danced and morphed, challenging comprehension.
Yet, Master Nero navigated its contents effortlessly, seeking a solution to the plight of the old man who had perished in his relentless pursuit.
The Book of the Dead was of course the most powerful immortal treasure in Nero Deathbinder's possession and the reason why he was feared by most of his enemies in life.
One of course did not want to be enslaved for all of eternity by the one who defeated them in the end. A breath later, he call upon the words of power.
"Seemingly dead, arise from the darkness, from the winter of shadows. I summon thee, wandering spirit, to fulfill my will."
The incantation rippled through the air, charged with an ancient, foreboding power. Our op mc's voice carried the weight of eons as he traced the cryptic symbols within the Book of the Dead.
The words wove a chilling bridge between the realms of the living and the departed, beckoning forth the essence of the old man who had knelt tirelessly at his doorstep.
The spirit emerged, a spectral figure enveloped in an eerie mist, its form a ghostly, shifting presence.
Eyes, haunted by the weight of unavenged wrongs, fixated upon our op mc with a mixture of despair and smoldering fury.
"By the forces that bind the realms, by the laws that govern life and death, I offer a pact," Our op mc declared, his voice commanding yet laden with a dark reverence. "In exchange for your service, I shall grant you the means to seek vindication upon those who transgressed against you in life."
The spectral figure hovered, its ethereal presence suffusing the air with a palpable sense of otherworldly malevolence, contemplating the terms proposed.
"I accept," the spirit whispered, its voice a spectral echo that sent shivers down the spine.
"Then be shackled by this contract," Our op mc continued, his words resonating with ancient authority. "Your purpose shall intertwine with my will until the endless eternities cease to exist. May your vengeance be as merciless as the cosmic void and guided by the relentless pulse of retribution."
A ghastly sigil materialized, a shimmering mark that bound the spirit to the accord, sealing the pact between the living and the restless dead.
The spirit, ensnared by the contract, bowed in eager submission.
With a final gesture, our op mc closed the Book of the Dead, the ancient tome emitting a sinister hum before descending into an ominous stillness.
The spirit, now bound by the pact, dissolved into the shadows. After a dozen breaths, the old man in his kneeling posture stirred, initially trembling but swiftly growing accustomed to his stance.
"Your servant stands ready, my Dark Lord." The old man pressed his lips against the ground in utter subservience.
"Go forth and unleash your retribution. Let the ache in your heart be sated with the euphoria of this day. Lay waste to your foes. Spare no one, leave no corpse unbroken." With a voice steeped in malevolence, our protagonist commanded.
"Thank you," the old man uttered as he rose to his feet, bowing deeply before ascending vertically into the sky.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished from sight, leaving behind a faint echo of joyous laughter in the distance.
"Hmm, it appears you have found me a companion to accompany me henceforth," a curious voice echoed in the ears of our op mc.