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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 · Fantasía
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201 Chs

Faith

"I hope for your sake that you know how to use that thing," Essenla taunted as she circled around to the elf's side.

The Dryad eyed her placidly. She knew Essenla was trying to flank her while Morne attacked from the front, but she had no intention of allowing that to happen.

Suddenly, she broke into a sprint, heading straight for Morne.

Morne's eyes widened as he barely managed to parry a spear thrust with his halberd, but just as quick as he knocked away one, another took its place.

The Dryad pressed her attack ruthlessly, her footwork forcing Morne back as her spear pierced out again and again. Morne, being inexperienced in melee combat, was placed firmly on his back foot as his weapon was too slow to block each attack.

One by one, scratches piled up on his armor, and blood started to leak out of the gaps the Dryad had dug her blade into.