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#ANTIHERO
#NO-HAREM
#WIZARDS
#UNDEAD

Heretic Mage: Rise of the Dark God’s Necromancer

Death. Servitude. Submission. That was all Morne had known for the past eight years. Everything he had known and loved had been taken from him, and it was his fate to be a slave, passed around from master to master like a disgusting disease no one wanted but everyone received. Soon after, a demon with a tantalizing promise appeared. "I’m here to Anoint you," the demon whispered. "My lord, Jiklok, has deemed you a mortal worth keeping an eye on. And I have another offer as well." The demon offered Morne a path to the power he had lacked in life, a way to seize his own destiny. Necromancy. The things he asked for in exchange seemed... small in comparison. Using his newfound necromantic powers, Morne would inflict on those who did him wrong all he had suffered and more. Those who had destroyed his village would be slaughtered beneath waves of undead, those masters who had sold and traded him like cheap wares would be forever bound to Morne's service, just as they had bound him. He would be his own master. Death. Servitude. Submission. ...... No MC harems are to be found here. If you need that kind of stuff in a story, you won't like this. Currently dropped. If you like this book, consider checking out my other ongoing book. It's called "Crown of Nightmares: Banished to Hell For My Bloodline!"

Lolbroman25 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
201 Chs
#ACTION
#ADVENTURE
#R18
#MAGIC
#DARK
#ANTIHERO
#NO-HAREM
#WIZARDS
#UNDEAD

A Small Drop

It felt like a deity had peered into their hearts, judging the good and bad decisions they've made over the course of their lives and finding them lackluster.

No one was spared. End, Essenla, the Dryad, the elves, the Runners, all froze in place, unable to move.

Rather than an existential dread, a quagmire of emotional distress, it was rather like death itself had placed a hand on their shoulder, creating a very real, very frightening sensation that made them feel like they had been dipped in oil and were being brought to a fire.

None of them could shake this feeling, and when a second, louder CRACK-ACK rang out, sending tremors through the fog that reached each of them, they felt their blood run cold.

Meanwhile, within Morne's Inner World, something truly unique was happening.

Like a fallen angel being cast out of Azath's realm, a black, humanoid shape was spat out of the shadowy black sun that hung over his Chimh Well.