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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 · Fantasie
Zu wenig Bewertungen
201 Chs

Infection, Part 1

Morne and Essenla waded their way through the thigh-high grass, surrounded by trees and shrubbery as far as the eye could see. Which wasn't far, considering the dense vegetation, but still.

Morne kept his spear crossed against his chest as he walked, so as not to catch the blade on the unruly grass around him, and focused as much as he could on what was in front of him through the eye slits of his helmet.

Essenla had a much easier time seeing her way forward, on account of not wearing a helmet, and had taken the lead, guiding Morne through the forest in the general direction the Dryads had directed them toward.

At her hip was her goblin longsword, sheathed in a scabbard. The Dryads had determined that it was in proper enough condition to keep using.

Other than being extremely dull from hacking at wooden armor for an entire battle, it was completely undamaged. The blacksmiths had sharpened it up and given it back to her, making Essenla immensely happy.