Caine sat cross-legged on his usual cultivation platform. This time, however, he wasn't in a deep state of meditation.
Before him lay a body wrapped in rune-covered cloth, emanating a thick, pungent metallic scent that hung heavily in the air. With a casual wave of his hand, Caine made the body float toward him, gently lowering it to the platform's surface as he began to ponder.
This was Soran.
'How should I go about this?'
Caine's expression turned thoughtful. As he had once told Lilith, he couldn't afford to trust anyone. Enemies lurked everywhere, and no one could safeguard his back better than himself. It was a truth that had shaped a decision he'd made years ago—even before his reincarnation.
He would become a Necromancer.
If he couldn't rely on others, he would rely on necro-summons bound by his will. And Soran would be the first of many.
