Eternal Rest

Eerie chanting resonated from the top floor, and dark clouds gathered above the tower, shrouding the moonlight and casting an absolute blackness upon the already gloomy night. Hours passed, and the tower's master sank to his knees, beads of sweat forming on his wrinkled, pale face. Yet, he couldn't stop; he had to continue. The chanting grew louder and more eerie, the ritual reaching a crescendo, and finally, silence enveloped the tower. The storm subsided, and dark clouds gave way to sun rays, bathing the top of the tower in the first light of the new day.

The ritual persisted throughout the night, and the master depleted every ounce of his mana to employ the skill he aptly named Soul Convergence. The skill activated, and the prisoners below the chamber, the sacrifices, screamed in agony. The screams were soon silenced as their bodies plummeted to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. Their vital force could be seen leaving their bodies, drawn to the formation on the floor above. The circle in the chamber flared up in a blue light, and the vital force transformed into a vortex, immediately drawn into the old man in the middle, providing him with the final burst of energy required to complete the convergence.

With the final push, mana crystals were depleted of their energy and crumbled into small shards. The ritual was completed, and for a moment, everything stood still. Then, the master's eyes bulged as he let out a shriek, releasing a pulse of mana from within his body, bursting into a spray of bloody mist and gore. The mana pulse continued to travel through the puppets, crashing into the chamber walls so forcefully that visible cracked lines remained.

Nothing persisted but a cloud of bloody mist and remnants of human puppets. The disciple, now the sole living person and mage in the tower, left the safety outside the chamber and took a peek inside. The red mist obscured the view within, and only after entering and surveying the carnage did Sailas realize that the Master had truly perished.

"May you rest in pieces…" he uttered, crestfallen, then the sudden realization hit him.

"Who's going to clean up all this mess now?"

On a stormy, windswept night in a clearing surrounded by the forest, a necromancer diligently manipulated his staff, inscribing a complex web of lines into the ground for his ritual. Five staves were firmly embedded in the earth, forming a pentagram with engraved lines connecting them. Each staff held an emerald crystal, radiating ominous energy.

In the presence of the necromancer, a mysterious huntress stood, shrouded in a hood that concealed most of her features. A faint yellow gleam emanated from her eyes, providing the only glimpse of her face. Two elegantly curved daggers adorned her waist, while a bow was securely strapped to her back. Clad in matte black leather armor, her figure blended seamlessly with the shadows, accentuating the luminosity of her piercing eyes.

As for the man, his pale skin bore visible cracks, and dark veins traced across his body—a testament to numerous self-inflicted experiments. The necromancer's expression twisted in pain, hinting at the toll his dark arts had taken on him. The observant huntress couldn't ignore his discomfort.

"You don't look so good. Are you sure you're up for it? If you think it’s too much, say now so we can make adjustments to the plan in time," the huntress inquired about the necromancer's well-being.

“Y-you…what?! It took me months to prepare everything! The location, the means…I'm not going to stop now, regardless of my affliction, you hear me?" The man retorted vehemently, taking a breath before continuing.

"I chose this place precisely because it was a battlefield, once, hundreds of years ago. The armies that fought tainted this area with darkness affinity. It faded over time, but the earth is still brimming with dark mana, can’t you feel it? There are enough remains to use for the summoning even after all this time. So no, I won't give up now. I will complete the ritual, and then, me and my raised army will sweep this region void of life!" The necromancer declared with unwavering determination, narrowing his eyes at his companion.

"As long as you, of course, can stop others from interfering on your side.”

Collaborating on numerous occasions, the necromancer and the enigmatic huntress had orchestrated chaos before, but never on such a grand scale. The necromancer, a practitioner of deathly arts, specialized in summoning hordes of zombies, skeletons, and various mindless undead creatures. Remarkably reaching level fifty-four, an uncommon feat for a human necromancer, he stood as a testament to his proficiency in the dark arts.

The huntress, aware of the impending challenges, cautioned the necromancer, emphasizing the need for their diversion to succeed while she handled potential interference. The necromancer, snorting in response, assured her of creating a substantial diversion.

Raising his staff and summoning a book, the necromancer prepared for the ritual. With both arms outstretched, he closed his eyes, focusing on the impending task. Opening his eyes abruptly, he initiated the incantation from the book, causing the mana crystal atop his staff to emit a brilliant blue glow, disrupting the mana flow in the surroundings.

As the ambient dark mana swirled in a vortex around the necromancer's glowing staff, held high above his head, anticipation built in the air. Sensing the staff reaching its limit, he uttered the incantation for the skill "Mass Army Summoning." With a decisive motion, he swept down and forcefully slammed the staff into the ground, causing the earth to crack open and releasing a pervasive dark fog that cloaked the surroundings in an ominous shroud.

Within the fog, the necromancer experienced pain as the crystals absorbed the dark mana. As the fog dissipated, the crystals shone brightly before dimming, cracking, and disintegrating. Serving as conduits, they dispersed dark mana underground, covering a vast area of around five hundred meters in diameter before collapsing.

The ground trembled, breaking the silence, and from the earth, bony figures emerged. Hundreds of skeletal beings clawed their way to the surface, a mesmerizing and eerie spectacle. The necromancer, overwhelmed with delight, erupted into maniacal laughter, embodying the madness that fueled his mastery. Beside him, the huntress, initially stunned, composed herself and nodded in acknowledgment of the successful ritual.

The triumphant laughter of the necromancer echoed through the night as he reveled in the success of his grand summoning. "I told you! I told you I could do it!"

"Rise, rise my beautiful army!!" he yelled with a shrill, the command resonating through the skeletal ranks. In the span of half an hour, around five hundred skeletons emerged, each adorned with the armor and weapons they possessed at the moment of their demise, albeit weathered by time.

The necromancer, now drained and on his knees, marveled at the fruits of his labor. The Mass Army Summoning, amplified by the carefully prepared formation, high-quality mana crystals, and the specific location, exceeded the norms of necromantic summoning. The achievement left him physically spent, but his face bore the satisfaction of a successful endeavor.

After uncorking a mana flask and replenishing his energy, he rose unsteadily. Panting heavily, he began organizing the skeletal army, barking commands to prepare for the upcoming tasks under the cover of the night. The undead minions, now organized in lines, awaited their master's directive.

"Look at them! Have you seen anything like this before?" the necromancer exclaimed with elation, gesturing grandly at the assembled undead.

The huntress observed the skeletal army, conceding that it was indeed an impressive sight. However, a tinge of pity colored her gaze as she noticed the state of exhaustion the necromancer was in.

"The master will be pleased," the man whispered absentmindedly. The huntress hesitated, contemplating whether to say something, but ultimately chose silence. The man, a disciple of a high-profile figure among their ranks, wasn't her responsibility. Her pity was devoid of genuine concern, more an acknowledgment of the situation. If anything, a vague interest in him and his class lingered, making his current state intriguing.

Pity. That was all she felt.

Aware of the impending consequences, the necromancer understood the risks of their grand venture. The man sought recognition for his capabilities, perhaps influenced by his master's expectations.

"Yes, I'm sure your 'master' will be pleased," the huntress replied. "Seeing as how we're done here and you don't need me anymore, I'm off to meet up with the others and convey the success of the first part of the plan. Begin your march, necromancer, and do your worst! Try not to overexert yourself!"

"Yes, we best be on our way! Time is of the essence!" the man grinned and commanded his skeletal army to march forward.

The ground quaked as the skeleton army advanced, disappearing into the forest. Yet, one lone skeleton remained behind, unresponsive to its master's commands. Its posture seemed odd, hunched and dazed. Two barely noticeable blue wisps glowed in its eye sockets, reflecting something inconceivable. In the distance, the huntress, with her heightened perception, sensed something unpleasant stirring the air. She stopped, turned back, and focused on the clearing, where she observed the lone skeleton. After feeling nothing amiss, she shrugged off the anomaly, attributing it to inevitable defects.

Unbeknownst to her, something extraordinary was happening to the lone skeleton. Against all odds, a core formed within its flickering blue eyes, housing a soul and the birth of consciousness.