The last words of the Wandering Merchant of the Dark still echoed in Alexander's mind as the strange figure disappeared into a curtain of shadow that shimmered out of existence. The obsidian coin he'd received pulsed faintly with necrotic energy—something ancient and buried, but not quite asleep. It wasn't cursed, but it wasn't harmless either.
Alexander stood alone at the edge of his growing necropolis, the Undead Necro Dark Altar looming in the background like a sentinel of forgotten gods. The night air was cold, unusually still. Even the undead, typically restless despite lacking fatigue, waited in perfect silence—as though they too understood that something larger had just shifted.
He stared at the coin in his hand, turning it between his fingers. The merchant's words haunted him:
> "When the moon is full and the altar weeps black ichor, toss the coin into the blood basin. Then… ask only what you're prepared to pay for."
Cryptic.
But everything in this world was.
Alexander slipped the coin into a pouch beneath his cloak and turned his attention back to his undead workforce. The skeletal builders were constructing a new forge made entirely of blackstone, lined with soulglass harvested from the lower tunnels. Meanwhile, scavenger units had returned with raw materials: rusted metal, bones of beasts, and even shattered runestones that glimmered faintly with residual energy.
In the distance, his Warrior-type undead patrolled the forest perimeter—cleaving down early signs of chaos-corrupted wildlife and staking the ground with warding glyphs.
But something gnawed at him.
The merchant's visit was no coincidence.
Chaos was moving.
The creatures he'd fought so far were nothing compared to what was coming.
He needed more power. More control. And most of all… more knowledge.
---
By morning, he stood at the Undead Necro Dark Altar, eyes closed, both hands resting on its surface.
He wasn't praying.
He was listening.
The altar responded to intent, not worship. It fed on purpose, not desperation.
The runes beneath his fingertips shifted slightly as if rearranging themselves to his current level of power.
Then… new information poured into his mind.
A fresh system window appeared:
---
[New Skill Acquired]
Name: Necrotic Sigilcraft I
Type: Support Magic
Cost: Varies
Effect: Allows the user to inscribe temporary necrotic glyphs and runes to grant undead increased durability, damage, or speed for a limited time. Can be upgraded.
Note: Only usable on Undead created by or loyal to the user.
---
His lips curled slightly. This was more like it.
With this, he could reinforce his troops strategically, adjusting for weaknesses in upcoming skirmishes.
A separate message popped up right after:
---
[Builder Unit Upgrade Available]
Sub-type Discovered: Rune Scribes
Traits:
Medium build speed
Capable of inscribing necrotic runes into structures and undead
Enhance efficiency and warding power
Rare resource cost: Soul Ash or Dark Essence
---
He glanced toward the builder squads and mentally issued the command.
Three skeletons stiffened, then shimmered faintly. Runes etched themselves into their bones. Their eye sockets flared with icy purple light.
A few seconds later, they marched toward the Altar, dragging obsidian slabs behind them.
They would be the first Rune Scribes. The foundation of arcane engineering in his undead dominion.
But the silence didn't last.
A death wail—high-pitched and horrible—ripped through the air like shattered glass.
Alexander immediately turned toward the sound, eyes narrowing.
Another one.
Another corrupted beast, perhaps?
He walked to the nearest ridge, Shadow Cloak flaring behind him like an extension of his will.
Through the mist of the morning fog, he saw it.
Not an animal.
An abandoned village—not far from his borders—was now choked in black tendrils. Chaos corruption spread like moss across the wood and stone. Wildlife twisted into hideous forms lurked near the edges. A two-headed wolf limped past a rotted barn, its mouth leaking black ichor.
Alexander's expression turned grim.
> "They're spreading."
He turned on his heel and strode back toward his troops.
"Ready the Scavengers," he said aloud. "We're cleansing that site before it festers."
---
Meanwhile…
In the Desert of Bleeding Suns, beneath the sands where no eyes could see, one of the Chaos nests stirred.
The Warden of Flesh, Threx'Zuun the Mawcarver, opened his nine eyes in unison.
He tasted Alexander's growing power from across continents—through blood, fear, and evolution.
And he smiled with all six of his mouths.
---
Alexander's Character Sheet – Updated After Chapter 12
Name: Alexander Noir
Race: Human (Reincarnated)
Age: 18
Class: Necromancer
Subclass: Monarch of the Undead
Rank: E Rank
Level: 21
Evolution System Progression: E Rank (Next: D Rank at Level 40)
Attributes:
Strength: 15
Agility: 22
Endurance: 25
Intelligence: 60
Wisdom: 58
Mana: 1,800 (+50% from Subclass)
Mental Control Pool: 260 Mental Points
Skeleton: 2 pts
Specter: 6 pts
Warrior-type Undead: 4–6 pts
Builder-type Undead: 3 pts
Scavenger-type Undead: 1 pt
Rune Scribe: 5 pts
Skills:
Raise Undead III
Shadow Fog II
Basic Shadow Bullet
Army of the Dead (Passive, Locked)
Undead Harvest (Passive): Gain 25% of XP from kills made by undead
Necrotic Sigilcraft I (Active): Inscribe glyphs for buffs
Merging Undead (Locked – Requires Mental Pool Capacity 300)
Equipment:
Ring of the Gravebound Scholar: +35% XP from kills
Tattered Shadow Cloak: Grants +10% movement speed and shadow resistance
Blackbone Grimoire: Increases undead control limit by +15 Mental Points
Undead Units (Currently Active):
15 Skeleton Warriors
5 Specters
12 Scavenger Units
8 Builder Units (3 upgraded to Rune Scribes)
---
End of Chapter 13