My Summons are Broken ( Necromancer Novel)

It all started a few years ago, as he described it—a tug. Those who had reached his level of power could faintly feel how fate affected the world. Sometimes it came in pulls, other times in whispers in the wind—maybe a premonition. But there was always a sign of something. He felt it, so he followed that feeling far and wide, even leaving his family for months.

As a man who had lived for hundreds of years, most things couldn't surprise him, but the scene in front of him did. He stood in front of a skirmish of sorts. The energy one side gave off was that of dark magicians, those whose power had been corrupted by demons. The other side was a power he had little knowledge of, but fate whispered something in his ear.

"Others know," he thought.

He pieced the puzzle together quite easily. He was not the only one who had heard fate's call, but he was the one who had arrived first.

"Maybe the others didn't feel the strings of fate as strongly as I did?" he pondered as he rubbed his chin.

Both parties had decimated each other, which wasn't surprising. What surprised him was the little boy in the middle of the carnage. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, with a short sword embedded in his heart and blood leaking from his wounds. The strongest of people would die from those injuries, but the boy happily clapped as he played with a skeleton. From what it wore, it had been a dark magician, now dead and under the control of the child.

As he walked toward the dark-haired boy, the necrotic energy grew fierce, so much so that he couldn't believe a boy so young could produce it. However, he was correct. As he stood a few feet away from the boy, the air around him stirred and distorted. The boy's laughter died when their eyes locked, and his eyes turned pitch black. His skin went pale, and dark veins ran from his eyes to his cheeks.

His power shot up drastically from low copper to high Titanium in mere seconds. While whatever possessed the boy couldn't harm him, it was still drastic enough for him to raise a brow. The pair stood still, neither willing to waver their gaze, before the boy spoke in a voice not meant for a child.

"Are you the one fate brought, strong one?" the entity asked.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for whatever you are," he retorted with venom.

"No need for the attitude. I didn't forcefully possess the boy. In fact, he called for someone, and I was the one to answer," he paused. "From the look in your eye, it seems you don't believe me. You should know I did try to take this vessel as my own. The potential is simply too much to leave alone, but that's why your god led you here, correct?"

Mikael didn't reply right away. Instead, he opened his ears and eyes to fate. It was the way his patron god was trying to speak to him. It told him that the boy needed not to fall into the wrong hands and to take him as his own son. It spoke in whispers and riddles, but with his many years, it bore wisdom.

"Yes, I'm here for the child. I suggest you leave him rather quickly. I've been wandering around for months now, and I'm missing my wives."

"So soon?" the entity replied sarcastically. "Here I thought this was the beginning of a long-lasting friendship," he smiled. "I'll leave you with a few warnings as someone who used to live in this very plane. The fact this boy could call on me at this age is terrifying. Not only that, he did die here. You see the blade in his chest," he pointed at the sword sticking out of the child. 

"Somehow, he lives. I say all that because what he is and does affects not only you but the dead. He is something different in this world. This could be both great or a calamity that could destroy much more than these planes. Be careful, or the Destruction Eternal may not be the only person you need to worry about."

"Your words are deeply appreciated, Mr....?"

"You may know me," he smirked. "Some call me Sid the Destroyer or?"

"The one who demons fear," Mikael finished. "A man from the era of gods summoned into the body of a mere lad. Mikael smiled at how fate worked. His first true interaction with one who fought the Destruction Eternal and drove him away thousands of years ago now spoke to him in a body that couldn't walk home by himself.

"May I ask how he survived this?" he gestured to the bodies around him. "Or that," he pointed toward the wound on his chest.

"Fight or flight is an instinct both humans, demons, and beasts share. Turns out this boy is a fighter and an intelligent one at that. He may not have known what he was doing, but he had access to his power a lot earlier than most. Once the fighting started to happen and the bodies piled up, his power rose, and he raised their corpses to fight on his behalf.

  He called on someone to help after they realized who was killing their men. I answered the call, but even I have no idea how he's alive. Necromancers are a tricky bunch. Most are weak, only being able to summon a few corpses, play with bones, or do some divination. We both know the few strong ones are like fighting high-ranking demons."

"I share the same feelings. Little buggers don't die even if you kill them. Going around disrespecting the dead without a care in the world. The necromancer trials didn't even deter them a bit either." The necromancer trials were a period in history when necromancers were branded as demon worshippers and hunted across the world. Necromancy was already a rare power, but with their genocide, the power became borderline extinct. They were no longer considered an evil power. Death isn't inherently demonic. The Eternal of Death actually fought alongside the good eternals before they were sealed.

"Looks like my time is running out," Sid closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Being among the living after thousands of years of wandering in the spirit world makes you appreciate life. Cherish it and chase true immortality. With the Eternal of Death missing, your soul would wander until he comes back. Limbo is quite boring, let me tell it!"

The two shared a hearty laugh before the boy's eyes lost their darkness, and his skin returned to a healthy color. What was a strong warrior was now a teary-eyed boy grabbing Mikael's robe.

"Grandpa!"