Rosh lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. The room is still, a deep quiet that seems to amplify the thoughts racing through his head. He feels fine—better than fine, in fact. His body is stronger, his senses sharper. Every sound, every faint movement of the air is crystal clear.
Yet, the more he thinks about the day, the more he can't shake the unease. The dark sphere, the pain, and then… nothing. No memory of what happened next.
"What was that thing?" he mutters to himself. The image of the dark tendrils flashes in his mind again.
"It had felt so… foreign, yet in an odd way, familiar. It doesn't make any sense."
His hand presses against his chest where the dark tendril had pierced him, half-expecting to feel a wound, but there's nothing—no mark, no sign of damage. Instead, he feels stronger, more alive than ever.
"Why do I feel like this?" His thoughts spiral deeper, trying to piece together what little he can remember. "That dark sphere… what was it? And why did it feel like… like I've seen it before?"
As he searches his mind, the dull throb in his head returns. A warning. He winces, the pain intensifies, making his vision blur. The more he tries to recall, the sharper it becomes, like a blade digging into his skull.
"Stop. I need to stop thinking about it."
He lets out a long, frustrated breath, turning on his side, trying to clear his mind. His eyes drift shut, but then—
A faint glow flickers in the corner of his vision.
His eyes snap open, and there, just before him, the darkness in the room twists and coils like smoke, condensing into a single point. His pulse quickens, panic surging through him. He pushes himself up in bed, heart racing.
The glow brightens, and as it forms more clearly, he sees it—a dark window, ethereal in nature, framed by shadows and crowned with a skull at its top. The hollow, empty eyes of the skull seem to stare directly at him, and for a moment, the air grows impossibly cold.
"What the—?" His voice catches in his throat, as the black mist curls and flows around the window, making it appear alive, pulsing faintly.
Rosh's breath quickens, but he forces himself to stay still. Panic won't help. "Why isn't anything happening? Is it gonna attack?"
He waits, expecting something to happen—an attack, a voice, anything—but nothing comes. The window simply hovers in the air, dark and foreboding. And yet… no danger. No malice.
His heartbeat slows slightly, curiosity creeping in despite himself. The strange sensation that has been gnawing at him all night returns.
"This feeling of familiarity. Why does this feel like I've seen it before?" His brow furrows as he tries to dig deeper into his memory, but the sharp, stabbing pain flares up again. He winces, gritting his teeth.
"Not now. Don't think about it now."
Slowly, cautiously, he leans forward, eyes locked on the strange window. His instincts scream that it's connected to him, that it's not here to harm him. Tentatively, he reads the faintly glowing text that appears at the top.
Name: Rosh
Class: Necromancer
Mana Type: Dark Mana
Mana: 200
Strength: 14
Agility: 16
Endurance: 12
Intelligence: 18
Wisdom: 17
He stares, blinking. "Stats? These are my… stats?"
He doesn't understand what the numbers mean. Are they good or bad? He has no frame of reference, no way to compare. Still, it feels surreal—his entire being quantified in front of him. He's alive, after all. That must count for something.
His eyes move lower, and he spots the section that grabs his attention the most.
Skills:
Necromancy (LV 1)
Gravebound (LV 1)
Dominion (LV 1)
Insight (LV 1)
Shock washes over him. "Wait… there are more than one skill mentioned here?"
He only remembers awakening one ability—the power of Necromancy. But there are several listed here. His mind races, trying to understand.
"How do I have these?"
Nervously, he focuses on the first skill, Necromancy, and as he thinks about it, the window changes, and a description appears beneath the skill.
Necromancy LV1: The ability to summon the undead. You can raise basic skeletons from fresh corpses.
He thinks, "I awakened this skill and this is all necromancy is supposed to do."
He quickly shifts to the next skill.
Gravebound LV1: Allows the storage of up to two undead in an alternate space. Summons can be called forth from this space with reduced mana cost. Bound creatures return to this space when destroyed.
His breath hitches. "This is something entirely different—i didn't awaken this, not that he knows of. And yet, this is shown here. Is it actually real? I'll have to try when I rais an undead later."
Dominion LV1: Increases the level of control over your summons. At higher levels, summoned creatures will be easier to command.
Rosh exhales slowly. These skills—he hadn't awakened them, yet they were his to wield.
"Are these abilities supposed to be mine? What am I now?"
Lastly, he reads the final skill.
Insight LV1: A passive skill that allows you to better understand and interact with magical forces.
"Insight? Like understanding magic?"
Suddenly his head begins to ache again, harder this time. "Why does this feel so familiar? He grits his teeth, the pressure building as he struggles to remember something just beyond his reach. But the more he thinks, the more it hurts—until he finally gives up.
Panting softly, he leans back. "Enough. Just… enough." He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the tension ease away.
"How do I make this thing disappear?"
The window vanishes instantly, as though it had been waiting for his command.
Rosh exhales deeply, the room returning to its usual quiet. But the quiet isn't comforting. It's heavy with new questions. What was that? Why does it feel so familiar? His mind aches again, the thoughts gnawing at him, but he knows better than to push further. Not tonight. He wants to rest, needs to clear his mind before trying to piece together the mystery that has upended his world, his thoughts.
He shifts under his blanket, his eyes growing heavy, the weight of exhaustion finally taking its toll.
The room is silent, but not for long.
On the desk near Rosh's bed, the small black stone begins to pulse faintly, the cracks in its surface seeping tendrils of darkness into the air. Slowly, the tendrils weave and stretch, coiling into a dark, shadowy form. It grows larger, denser, until the shape of a figure emerges—a silhouette draped in darkness, two horns curling from its head and wings unfurling behind its back. Its glowing red eyes gleam in the dim room, scanning its surroundings.
It moves silently, approaching Rosh as he sleeps, the shadows swirling around its form. It leans in, watching him, its glowing eyes narrowing.
It whispers, "I will be waiting for you, my love."
And then, as quietly as it had formed, the figure dissolves, vanishing into the darkness.