The undercity of Virellia was a labyrinth of crumbling stone, rusted pipes, and puddles reflecting the faint glow of residual mana crystals embedded in the walls. Above, the city's towers pulsed with energy that barely penetrated the twisting alleys below. Khan moved carefully through the narrow passageways, the Industrial Revenant trudging at his side with deliberate precision while the Carrion Husk followed limply, its stitched bones scraping against uneven stone. Every shadow could conceal a threat: gangsters hunting salvage, rogue adventurers seeking unregistered necromancers, or the unpredictable traps left by city engineers who abandoned broken infrastructure. Each step was measured; he had already learned that brute force alone would not keep him alive here.
The undercity was a treasure trove of neglected death. Collapsed warehouses, forgotten sewers, and abandoned service tunnels were scattered with bodies that had never been properly accounted for, each carrying fragments of mana and spirit energy that could be bound into obedient thralls. Khan had learned to recognize the patterns of death here, to see not only the physical remains but the lingering threads of life that clung stubbornly to the world. Tonight, his target was a collapsed tunnel entrance where a recent construction accident had killed a small crew of laborers. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid odor of rotting flesh. The energy lingering around the bodies pulsed faintly under Soul Sight, fragmented yet potent. Three complete souls were there—enough to create two new thralls and push him closer to the next level.
Khan knelt, examining the corpses with precision, calculating the sequence of binding that would maximize efficiency while minimizing mana drain. He could have rushed in, destroyed, and reanimated indiscriminately, but he knew the cost. One misstep could shatter his fragile mana pool or leave a thrall unstable and uncontrollable. "Stay sharp," he murmured, whispering instructions to the Carrion Husk. The creature shuffled forward, clearing rubble while Khan focused every ounce of will into the first corpse. Threads of violet mana extended from his fingertips, burrowing into the remnants of life like roots searching for soil. His vision blurred with concentration as the fragments struggled against his control. Pain lanced across his temples as the mana strain threatened to overwhelm him, but gradually the first body twitched and rose, skeletal fingers extending stiffly.
The Husk intercepted the first intruder, a ragged scavenger who had been hiding in the shadows, his eyes widening as he stumbled into the alley. Khan silently gestured, forcing a second skeleton into position as a defensive measure. Chaos erupted quietly. Bones clashed against steel as the intruders attempted to assert dominance, but the coordinated assault of his underlings, guided by his precise commands, quickly incapacitated them. The entire encounter lasted barely minutes, yet by the time it ended, Khan was sweating, bleeding, and drained of mana, but his victories were undeniable. The alley was silent, his thralls standing obediently amid the detritus of battle.
By sunrise, Khan had expanded his small army: three skeletal servants and an Industrial Revenant, each bound tightly to his will, each a step toward independence and control. His body ached from the exertion, every wound a reminder that he remained weak and mortal, but the thrill of command, of orchestrating death itself with strategy rather than brute force, was intoxicating. He had begun to understand the subtle art of necromancy: that survival was not simply about power, but about manipulation, calculation, and patience. His rented room in the lower district became a small headquarters where he could rest, study, and prepare for the next expedition into the undercity. Outside, the city pulsed and hummed with life, oblivious to the small necromantic army growing quietly in its shadow. Khan leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes, his mind already mapping the next area he would claim. The undercity would yield wealth, mana, and experience, provided he endured. And Khan intended not just to endure, but to rise.