The crack of bone against stone rang out in the fog-drenched graveyard. A rusted sword split a zombie's torso clean through, its rotted form crumpling to the mossy ground. Ten skeletal warriors stood in a loose formation around Lucien, their movements jerky, inconsistent. Coordination was improving, but barely.
Lucien sat quietly in his bone-forged wheelchair, arms folded as he watched. Every movement of the undead required effort. Thread-thin links between his mind and theirs vibrated with tension. Controlling so many felt like playing a dozen out-of-tune instruments at once.
"Third on the right, stop swinging like a drunk," he muttered.
The skeleton ignored the command, overshot its next swing, and was promptly torn in half by a zombie's clawed hand.
Lucien winced. "Useless."
The others rallied, barely managing to take the zombie down. Even now, even with direct control, they were weak. Level 25 undead still outclassed his basic skeletons in raw strength and durability.
Early on, Lucien had discovered that he could summon and dismiss his personal constructs by calling their names—but only if he assigned them. The system treated named constructs as bound entities. With years of roleplaying and story writing behind him, naming them came naturally.
He had chosen the name "Verrik" for his goblin swordsman construct. Clean, sharp, brutal.
He reached out mentally.
"Verrik."
The air cracked.
From a vertical tear in space, a gate of necrotic flame erupted—tall, arching, forged of green ethereal fire. The mana within poured out like a tidal wave, the temperature dropping as the power radiated.
Lucien's silver locks lifted in the sudden wind, catching the ghostly green glow. His face, pale and expressionless, looked momentarily divine. Ethereal. A being not of this world.
From the heart of the gate, a figure emerged.
Verrik.
The Goblin Swordsman construct walked through the flame with eerie calm, his bone-carved blade resting at his side. His form was elegant death: reinforced bone, joint stabilizers, mana-infused tendons. In his skull, twin flames of necrotic green burned like living embers—his eyes, glowing with Lucien's will.
It moved with precision—ducked a blow, stepped in, and cleaved the attacking zombie in two.
Lucien exhaled slowly. "Clean. Reliable."
The status window pinged in the corner of his vision.
**+250 Soul Points [Lv. 25 Zombie]**
**+250 Soul Points [Lv. 25 Zombie]**
**[Soul Points: 3,475]**
**[Animate Dead – Proficiency: 98%]**
Close. Too close.
He surveyed the battlefield. His skeletons weren't just fragile—they were barely sentient. They obeyed commands, but only barely. The moment he focused elsewhere, they lost cohesion.
And against level 25 undead, that was a death sentence.
He extended his hand toward a fresh corpse. "Animate."
Bones snapped together. A new warrior rose.
Then came the chime.
**[Animate Dead – Proficiency: 100%]**
**New Variant Unlock Available: Skeleton Archer**
**Upgrade Cost: 500 Soul Points**
**Note: Future variants and summon cap increases will require Soul Point investment.**
Lucien's brow furrowed.
He had expected evolution. But a cost?
He opened the Soul Store.
**[Upgrade: Unlock Skeleton Archer Variant – 500 Soul Points]**
**Effect: Allows summoning of Skeleton Archers. Weak ranged units with high accuracy, low durability.**
He hovered over the confirmation. A lesser mind might've hesitated. But this?
This was investment.
He clicked.
**[Skeleton Archer Variant Unlocked]**
One nearby skeleton shimmered. Its limbs elongated slightly. A spectral bow formed in its grip. The stance—firmer. Intentional. Its head turned slightly, awaiting orders. Necrotic green light pulsed behind its eye sockets.
Lucien pointed at an incoming zombie.
The archer raised its weapon. A spectral arrow formed midair and launched.
The shot struck true, embedding in the zombie's shoulder and staggering it backward.
Lucien's lips twitched upward. "Finally. Accuracy."
Then the tide shifted. Four zombies emerged together from the mist—closer, coordinated. Lucien's skeletal warriors rushed to intercept. The archers fired. Missed. Two warriors shattered under pressure. The others hesitated, faltered.
Lucien's mind screamed with the effort to hold the threads together.
Too much. Too unstable. Not ready.
"Verrik!"
The swordsman answered with a blur of motion. Blade met flesh. One zombie down. Then another. A third was bisected with a clean horizontal arc. The last fell moments later, its skull crushed beneath a precise downswing.
Lucien sat in silence, chest heaving.
His eyes drifted back to the remnants of the failed formation. Ten warriors had faced one zombie—and barely survived.
That wasn't control. That was a liability.
And then the idea struck.
Lucien raised his hand.
"Dismiss."
The skeletons crumbled to dust, their threads severed in an instant. He stared at the empty graveyard for a moment, calculating. Then he extended both hands outward.
"Animate. All."
Green mana surged from his core. Ten corpses lifted from the ground, bones reassembling and reshaping—but this time, each one shimmered with bow limbs instead of blades.
Ten archers.
A ranged formation.
"Spread wide. Rotate fire. Engage with hit-and-run."
The undead moved.
Lucien watched as the archers broke into pairs, moving in staggered formation. One fired while the other repositioned. A rotating pattern of motion and precision.
The zombies lumbered forward—but were met with arrows from every angle. Not a single skeleton stood still.
Lucien narrowed his eyes. This was better. This was control.
**[Animate Dead Proficiency: 107%]**
---
**A few hours later...**
**[Animate Dead Proficiency: 132%]**
**New Upgrade Unlocked: Total Summon Cap Increased to 20**
**Skeleton Warrior upgraded to Skeleton Soldier**
**- Improved armor plating (bone-reinforced)
- Equipped with basic shield and spear
- Obedience threshold reduced
- Basic formation logic unlocked**
Lucien grinned. It was paying off. He dismissed the archers and began testing with the new soldier template. They were tougher. Smarter. Less like fragile puppets and more like soldiers in training.
He watched them drill through formations for several minutes before finally slumping in his chair, satisfied.
"Well earned," he muttered.
He opened his system panel.
**[Soul Points: 2,890]**
Still plenty.
He flicked through the Soul Store, scrolling past dozens of minor enhancements, odd traits, and obscure spell modifiers. Then, one item caught his eye.
**[Catalyst: Forgotten King's Remorse]**
**Tier: EX**
**Cost: 2,500 Soul Points**
*Description: A cursed relic used in the forging of ancient constructs. Increases power ceiling dramatically, but also raises the risk of failure. May damage or destroy materials upon attempt.*
Lucien stared.
His fingers tingled.
Without hesitation, he clicked.
**[Catalyst Acquired: Forgotten King's Remorse]**
**[Soul Points Remaining: 390]**
He dismissed his current soldiers and Verrik with a thought and turned toward the crypt.
As he descended into the cold stone halls, his mind swirled with ideas.
What would he use it on?
He passed under the archway into the main chamber—and there he saw Alazaar, seated upon his crumbling stone throne, silent and unmoving.
Lucien approached.
"Master," he said, raising the writhing catalyst from his storage.
Alazaar's eyes flared. He did not move, but his voice broke the stillness.
"That... is not natural."
Lucien nodded. "It's called Forgotten King's Remorse. A catalyst—dangerous, but full of potential."
Alazaar leaned forward, watching the object twist and pulse in Lucien's palm.
"Tell me, boy… this power of yours—can it only shape the dead? Or might it forge something else?"
Lucien paused. "I'm not sure. I've only ever used it to create constructs—things bound to death and mana. But if it can be pushed further... maybe."
Alazaar slowly stood, the green fire in his sockets flickering with curiosity.
"Then let us push it. I have lived nearly a millennium… and I've never seen anything like this. Come."
He led Lucien to the treasury—a vault deep beneath the crypts, where ancient weapons lay sealed in magical stasis. Alazaar reached into one such lock and retrieved a silver sword etched with runes.
"This was once wielded by a knight who thought to strike me down. His steel could not pierce my wards. But it endured."
He handed it to Lucien.
"Try it," Alazaar said. "Combine the two. Let us see if the Necroforge can shape more than just flesh."
Lucien's pulse quickened.
"Let's begin."
He opened the Necroforge.
And fed it steel.