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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

Infection, Part 2

Morne was having a hard time gauging how perceptive this monster was.

While he didn't have any proof, he was sure that it had sensed them before somehow, but now they were only a few feet away and it had yet to react to their presence at all.

Essenla waved him down, and when she got his attention, pointed at his spear, then at the mushroom on the thing's back.

Morne nodded. The mushroom was likely a weak spot.

Creeping even closer, until he was within thrusting range, he took a quiet breath and pierced forward with his spear, burying the blade, and then the pole into the mushroom as far as the spear would go.

Green pus exploded out, splattering the dirt and his armor and making him thankful that his armor didn't have seams.

Morne expected a roar of pain, or a bloodcurdling screech, or any sound, really, but the monster just kept chewing away at the tree root.