"Alfred," I called, my voice echoing in the chamber. "Prepare the platform. We're going to see if we can take this a step further."
Alfred moved to the center of the chamber, his expression as composed as ever. He began to adjust the symbols etched into the stone, expanding the circle to accommodate the larger body of the goblin king. I watched him work, my mind already racing with possibilities.
If I could successfully animate the goblin king and bend it to my will, it would be a significant leap in my understanding of necromancy. Not just reanimation, but true control—something that could change the very nature of how we think about this dark art. The goblin king was a creature of immense strength and a twisted form of intelligence. If I could harness that, it would be more than just a mindless puppet; it could become a tool, a weapon even.
