Donn's army of undead marched silently behind him, their feet leaving no trace on the blood-soaked ground. The battlefield had long since been abandoned by the living, but the dead moved with purpose, following his every command. The sky above was a swirling gray, thick with clouds that seemed to mirror the unrest within him.
The words of the stranger still echoed in Donn's mind. Power draws attention. That much he already knew. But what he didn't know was how to navigate this new world of limitless necromancy. He wasn't a scholar, nor was he a warrior, until a few days ago, he had been nothing more than a wanderer. But now, with the Necrotome in his possession, everything had changed.
Donn scanned the horizon. Ahead, nestled between two steep hills, was a small village. Its presence had drawn his attention earlier, and now he approached with a growing sense of purpose. He didn't know what he expected to find, supplies, maybe, or information, but something inside him urged him forward.
As they neared the village, Donn raised his hand, and his undead soldiers halted in perfect unison. He had grown more comfortable with their obedience, though the eerie silence that accompanied them never ceased to send a chill down his spine.
With cautious steps, Donn entered the village. It was small, nothing more than a few crumbling houses and a marketplace. The air was thick with the stench of abandonment. No one had lived here in weeks, maybe months. Still, the sight of the village sparked a hunger in him. What had these people left behind?
Donn moved toward the center of the village, his eyes scanning for anything useful. His undead remained outside, waiting. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for, a half-opened cellar door tucked beneath the floorboards of a ruined tavern. He pried it open, revealing a stash of supplies. Weapons, food, and a few trinkets scattered around.
Kneeling, Donn sifted through the items, picking up a rusted sword with a grimace. The blade was worn, but still sharp enough to be useful. He set it aside, eyes falling on a small, locked chest at the back of the cellar.
His curiosity piqued. With a swift motion, Donn smashed the lock open with a nearby rock and pried the chest open. Inside lay a single, polished stone, glowing faintly with an unnatural light. The moment his fingers brushed the stone, the Necrotome in his hand pulsed, as if resonating with the artifact.
Donn's breath caught in his throat. There was power in this stone, ancient, like the magic that flowed through his veins. But what kind of power? He had never encountered anything like this before.
Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath him. Dust fell from the ceiling of the cellar, and the air thickened. Something was coming. Something powerful.
Donn shot to his feet, clutching the stone in one hand and the Necrotome in the other. He could feel it, an approaching force, like a storm building on the horizon. His instincts screamed at him to flee, but he stood his ground, eyes fixed on the village's entrance.
The earth shook again, and the silence of the dead was broken by a deep, rumbling growl. From the shadows of the hills, a hulking figure emerged, a beast, larger than any man, its eyes glowing with a feral, crimson light. Its body was covered in thick, matted fur, and its claws were long and jagged. A beast from nightmares, it was a creature born of ancient magic, one that should not exist in the mortal world.
Donn felt the Necrotome hum in his hands, feeding off the energy of the beast. This was no ordinary creature. It was drawn to the power of death.
The undead soldiers behind him stirred, their glowing eyes locking onto the creature. Donn's heart raced as he realized what he was facing, a predator of the undead, a creature that fed on death itself. His army may not be enough to defeat it, not in its current form.
But Donn wasn't powerless.
Without a word, he raised the Necrotome high, its pages flipping wildly as if caught in an invisible wind. The magic that surged through the book felt different now, stronger, darker. It called to him, urging him to take control, to wield it without hesitation.
The beast roared, its voice shaking the very ground beneath him, and charged. Donn's grip tightened around the tome as he spoke a single command:
"Rise, stronger."
The bodies of his undead soldiers twisted and cracked as dark energy enveloped them. Their bones restructured, their armor reforged itself into darker, more menacing forms. His once simple army of soldiers transformed into towering, skeletal knights, far stronger than before, their power enhanced by Donn's evolving command.
The beast crashed into the line of skeletal knights with the force of a storm, its claws tearing through the undead. But for every soldier that fell, two more rose, summoned by the endless well of necromantic energy Donn now commanded.
He felt the raw power surging through him, filling him with a sense of control he had never known. This was what the Necrotome had promised, unlimited dominion over the dead, and the ability to face even the most powerful creatures without fear.
The beast fought fiercely, but Donn's army was relentless. With every swing of its claws, the undead returned with renewed strength, their glowing eyes fixed on their prey. The battle raged for what felt like hours, but Donn's focus never wavered. He controlled every movement, every strike, as though his undead were an extension of his own body.
Finally, with one last defiant roar, the beast collapsed, its massive body crashing to the ground. The earth shook with its fall, and the village returned to an eerie silence once more.
Donn exhaled, lowering the Necrotome. His soldiers stood tall, victorious. The beast lay still, its crimson eyes fading as life left its body.
He approached the creature's remains, his gaze falling on its massive form. Even in death, it was a sight to behold. But more importantly, it had been drawn to him, to the power of the Necrotome. This was no coincidence.
Donn knelt beside the beast, placing a hand on its cold, matted fur. The Necrotome pulsed in his hand, and a single word echoed in his mind:
Consume.
The beast's body twitched as dark energy poured from it, flowing into Donn. He could feel its power, its strength, becoming part of him. And with it, a new understanding, a deeper connection to death, to the creatures that roamed the shadowy edges of existence.
He stood, eyes glowing faintly with the same crimson light that had once illuminated the beast's gaze.
The first hunt was over.
And it had only made him stronger.