The wind was low, a dry rasp against the leaves. It didn't feel like morning. It felt like the end of something.
Kerry's eyes opened. The first thing he saw was the canopy, jagged and dark against a sky that looked like a bruised plum. Then came the smell. Iron. Raw and heavy. He was lying in a pool of it, his own blood cooling against the damp moss. But the heat of the wound was gone. There was no throbbing, no jagged edge of pain in his ribs.
Just a hollow, echoing cold that seemed to have replaced his heartbeat.
He was alone. The "Flames" were gone. The survivors must have fled or been dragged off. What remained were the pieces they left behind torsos, limbs, faces frozen in the moment the light went out.
Kerry lifted his right arm. It felt heavy, like it was filled with wet sand. Strange, ink-black symbols crawled up his skin, weaving through the bloodstains like living shadows. In the center of his palm, a mark had been seared into the flesh. A skull, dark and permanent.
"You have died once, Kerry."
The voice didn't come from the woods. It came from inside his skull, vibrating against his teeth. "Now live as one who commands death itself."
He tried to draw a breath, but his chest didn't want to move. He didn't need it to.
[Host Vitality: 0%. Status: Undead.]
The words flickered in the air, a cold blue light that only he could see. He scrambled back, his boots slipping on the slick earth.
"No," he rasped. His voice sounded like dry parchment rubbing together. "Not this."
[System Integration: Complete.]
[Welcome again, Host #001.]
[First Task: Command the Dead.]
He looked at the bodies. He knew them.
Taren, the boy who shouted at water. Serik, whose arrogance had been cut short by a jaw. They were pale, their eyes staring at nothing.
"No," Kerry whispered, his hands shaking.
"Not them. Stop it."
The ground didn't listen. It groaned. A wet, snapping sound echoed through the clearing, the sound of bone being forced back into place. One of the corpses lurched, its fingers digging into the mud, pulling itself up like a puppet on invisible wires.
[Task Accepted.]
[Raising the Dead.]
The bodies shifted. It was a slow, agonizing mimicry of life. Limbs popped into sockets.
Necks craned. A faint, ghostly blue light bled into their empty sockets. The smell of the forest changed, the sweet rot of the damp wood overcome by the sudden, suffocating reek of the grave.
Kerry wanted to run, but his legs felt rooted. He could feel them, not as people, but as weights. Shadows at the edge of his mind that he could pull. They were bound to him now, anchored to his soul by a chain he couldn't see.
"Why me?" he asked the empty air. "Why did you choose a Null?"
[Because you died… and did not stay dead.]
The sky grew heavier, the light fading until the forest was a sea of grey. Kerry looked at a puddle near his hand. The reflection wasn't him. The skin was the color of a winter moon, the eyes dark pits, and a black mark glowed on the side of his neck like a brand.
He closed his hand into a fist. The cold in his veins sharpened. "If this is what I am… then I'll learn to control it."
[System Acknowledged.]
[New Objective: Summon Your First Servant.]
[Requirement: One corpse nearby.]
His gaze drifted. He didn't want to look, but he had to. Claude was lying a few feet away. The boy who had been terrified of his own fire. The boy who had tried to save his own life by stealing a phone.
"Forgive me," Kerry whispered.
He reached out. A black aura, thick as tar, bled from his palm and sank into Claude's chest. The earth beneath the body cracked.
Shadowy chains rose from the fissures, coiling around Claude, hauling the boy upright. His eyes snapped open, two pinpricks of blue fire burning in the dark.
"Rise," Kerry commanded. The word felt like a physical weight leaving his tongue. "And serve."
[First Servant Summoned: Rank F Undead — Graveborn Soldier.]
Kerry collapsed to his knees, his breath, the one he didn't need hissing out of him. He stared at the thing that used to be his friend.
A monster born from a massacre.
The sun was low when the last of the teams trickled through the gates. They were bloodied, exhausted, but they were whole. Except for one.
"Lord Kael!"
A senior instructor ran across the courtyard, his face pale in the twilight. Kael stopped. He didn't need to hear the words; he could see the empty space in the formation.
"The Flame Team," the instructor panted.
"They haven't returned."
Kael's face went stone-cold. He didn't wait for a report. He didn't ask for permission. He stepped onto his flying sword, the blade humming with a jagged, angry energy as he tore into the sky toward the northern forest.
They found the clearing an hour later.
The air was still. Too still. Kael landed, his boots hitting the blood-soaked moss with a heavy thud. The scouts behind him gasped, some turning away to retch.
Corpses. The entire unit was scattered like broken dolls.
Kael walked through the carnage, his eyes scanning every face, every mangled uniform. He was looking for the split hair. The white and red.
"Where is he?" Kael's voice was a low growl. "Where is Kerry?"
He dropped to his knees, his fingers tracing the mud. Footprints. A struggle. But no body. No Kerry.
Kael stood up slowly. His face was a mask of grief held back by a thin layer of rage. "We're returning," he said, his voice tight. "Report this to the council. The borders are gone. Something else is in these woods."
Kerry didn't know how he got there. One moment he was in the forest, surrounded by the dead; the next, he was waking up to the sterile, white glare of a hospital room. The smell of antiseptic was sharp enough to make his head swim.
He lay on the bed, his chest unmoving. He watched a nurse through the cracked door, talking to an old woman in the hall. Their voices were muffled, distant.
His fingers twitched. He opened his eyes, and the world was covered in a glowing, blue grid. A rectangular box hovered in front of his face, cold and mechanical.
💀 [SYSTEM BOOT — VISUAL PROTOCOL]
[Host Detected: Kerry]
[Location: Medical Ward — Unknown Facility]
[Initiating Biometric Scan…]
— SCAN COMPLETE —
Host Condition:
* Vitality: 0 (Undead State)
* Heart Activity: Low / Stabilizing
* Blood Loss: Significant (External)
* Consciousness: Present — Dazed
* Body Integrity: 64%
[NECROMANCER CORE — STATUS PANEL]
* Name: Kerry
* Title: Fledgling of the Abyss
* Level: 1
Attributes:
* Strength: 6
* Agility: 8
* Endurance: 7
* Intelligence: 12
* Willpower: 14
Kerry blinked, the panic rising like a tide. The forest, the wolves, the ash, it felt like a fever dream, but the interface was solid. He rolled out of the bed, his feet hitting the cold floor. He didn't feel the chill.
Another window snapped open.
💀 [Necromancer System — Daily Quest Activated]
Quest Title: "Strength of the Dead"
> Even those who've crossed death must train their flesh to command it.
>
Daily Tasks:
* Push-ups — 100
* Sit-ups — 100
* Squats — 100
* Run — 3 kilometers
Quest Reward:
* +2 Strength, +1 Agility, +1 Endurance
* 1 × E-Rank Gate Key (Trial of the Fangs)
Quest Failure:
> Penalty Zone will be activated.
>
"A penalty?" Kerry muttered.
System Notification:
> [Failure to complete tasks before sunset will result in immediate transportation to the "Realm of the Dead."]
> [Survive… or be devoured by your own creations.]
>
Kerry looked at his hands. They were pale, the ink-black symbols still etched into his skin, hidden under the hospital gown. He exhaled, a long, shaky breath.
"This is what I wanted," he said. The words felt heavier now. Before, strength was a dream. Now, it was a requirement for staying "alive."
If this was the path of the Necromancer, he would walk it. He didn't have a choice. The dead were already waiting.