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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

Infection, Part 5

Morne's armor was as sturdy as a mighty oak, and almost as thick, and even it couldn't withstand the mutant's strength. So how, then, could Essenla's armor do such a thing?

The answer was simple. It couldn't.

A blood-chilling CRACK rang through the clearing with all the crispness and suddenness of a fired bullet, echoing off the trees again and again in the ensuing silence.

Essenla fell to the ground in a heap, the armor on her chest turned into sawdust and her bones nearly just as decimated. A low, pained groan drifted from her direction, and her fingers scrabbled at the ground as she attempted to push herself up.

Morne stood while the mutant's back was turned, a hand on his stomach as he did his best to keep his organs from sloshing around inside of him. They weren't ruptured, thankfully, otherwise he would've already died, but they had been tenderized like a slab of cheap meat by the mutant's brutal punches.