The Genesis Of A Necromancer

"Leave here you bastard son, and don't call me that.... I can't have you as a nephew" An old faced man scowled as he kicked a little boy ruthlessly out of the house.

Jack fell to the ground with a loud thud, his face jamming the earth.

Boop!

It slammed hard, leaving him with a large bump on the forehead.

He looked back as the old man shut the door behind him coldly, tears streamed down his eyes for a second.

'Isn't that meant to be my uncle, did I do anything bad.... He let mom stay, so why did he have to chase me away' the unsettling thought ravaged his mind, he couldn't recall doing anything bad to receive such a harsh treatment.

After his father died, Jack tasted the worst of what life had to offer, barely keeping up with life.

At a young age, he was already thrown off into te streets, to take care of himself.

Jack stood heading towards the window, hoping he could still beg his uncle to let him inside the house.

But suddenly he heard his mom's voice.

"Richard.... Ah, mmmm, oh fuck you're so ..thick!" Her soft moans echoed, reaching his ears as he stood by the window.

The sounds like a deep stab to his heart.

'Was this why they chased me away?' he mused, the pain stinging his heart. He had always known of his mother's hidden relationship, but he never said anything.

To think she'd throw him away right after his father died. He too had gotten his fair share of the cheating now.

He should have said something when he had the chance, it was too late now.

The scene faded as Jack opened his eyes. That very memory remained evergreen in his mind, forever hunting him. It reminded him how cruel his world had become.

Jack lay sprawled on the bare ground, staring up at the night sky. The stars shone with an almost unnatural brilliance, like jewels scattered across an inky black canvas.

A cool breeze rustled the tall grass around him, but it did little to calm the storm of thoughts in his mind. The weight of the world pressed heavily on his chest, more suffocating than the threat of death itself.

He had long since stopped believing in the goodness of people. Years had eroded whatever decency remained in humanity, leaving behind a twisted, rotten version of society. The evil had spread like a plague, worsening with each passing day. The irony was almost unbearable—that even with their imminent destruction looming, no one had changed. No one even cared.

His eyes drifted toward the east tower, where the Gleam Dome shimmered faintly in the distance, its energy field the only thing keeping the nether storm at bay. The storm—a swirling, red vortex that blotted out the sky like a wound in the heavens—had appeared out of nowhere years ago, obliterating everything in its path. Thousands had perished in the first wave of destruction, and the remnants of humanity had only managed to survive by building the dome, powered by four towers stationed across the world.

But tonight, something was different. Jack squinted, his heart skipping a beat as he spotted a crack—small but unmistakable—running up the side of the eastern tower. He sat up abruptly, his pulse quickening. A deep sense of alarm surged through him. If the tower failed, the dome would collapse, and the storm would devour everything. He should get up. He should warn someone.

But then, he paused.

The memories of his life flashed through his mind—every bitter betrayal, every instance of cruelty and pain. They had tortured him, broken him, left him to rot. Why should he care what happened to this world?

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, lying back down on the cold ground. "I don't give a damn what happens to this place."

Yet even as the words left his mouth, a knot of fear tightened in his gut. As much as he hated the world, as much as he longed to see it burn, the thought of his own death filled him with dread. Who didn't fear death?

He watched the crack spread across the tower, spiderwebbing outward. Red stardust leaked through the fissures, shimmering like blood under the faint moonlight. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. The inevitable was happening, and still, he hesitated—caught between wanting to live and wanting it all to end.

Suddenly, the city erupted into chaos. Alarms blared, and distant shouts echoed in the streets as people began to notice the breach. It was too late. The dome was failing, and the nether storm was closing in. Jack closed his eyes, a strange calm settling over him as the roar of the storm grew louder.

When he opened his eyes again, he was floating in a vast, dark void. The ground beneath him was gone, replaced by an endless expanse of nothingness. Panic surged through him as he tried to move, but his body refused to obey. He felt weightless, like a ghost adrift in the abyss. His heart pounded in his ears, but there was no pulse in his veins—no sensation at all.

"Oh, so the dome broke," he murmured, his voice echoing in the emptiness. "I guess I'm dead now."

The realization settled over him like a leaden weight. But something wasn't right. He could still think, still speak. If he was dead, why was he still conscious? And why couldn't he move?

Suddenly, a blinding light burst into existence, flooding the void with searing brightness. Jack raised his hand instinctively to shield his eyes, but the gesture never completed. His limbs remained frozen, paralyzed.

"Young one," a deep, resonant voice boomed, reverberating through the space like thunder. Jack's breath caught in his throat, fear prickling at the edges of his mind.

"Who's there?" he called out, his voice shaky. He squinted into the light, trying to make out the source of the voice, but the brightness was overwhelming.

"I am the one. The Great One," the voice replied, calm and commanding, with a presence that filled the air like a force of nature.

Jack blinked, disbelief washing over him. Was this some kind of joke? "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. "What, are we in a bad play now? Terrible acting, by the way."

A booming silence followed his words, and a cold sweat—if he could still sweat—began to bead on his forehead. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory. He had seen the dome break. He had seen the storm consume the world. He was dead.

Was this… real?

His mouth went dry as the full weight of the situation dawned on him. The Great One. A being of unimaginable power. He had just insulted it. His stomach churned with dread. "Oh, hell," he whispered, heart pounding. "I'm so dead."

"You tread dangerously," the voice said, the power in it sending a shiver through Jack's very soul. "But your mistakes are pardonable—for now. Perfection lies in learning, and your journey has only just begun."

"Journey?" Jack's voice cracked. He couldn't keep the panic from creeping in. "What journey? And—wait, can you read my mind?"

There was no answer to that. Instead, the light intensified, and the Great One's voice softened, though it still carried the weight of a thousand suns. "You were among the first to be swallowed by the storm. Your world is gone, but you have a choice. I have a mission for you—one that will determine the fate of many."

A dazzling light engulfed Jack, and in an instant, he was back in his human body, standing on the broken streets of the city. He watched in horror as the Gleam Dome shattered, the nether storm unleashing a wave of destruction that consumed everything in its path. People screamed, ran, and fell—splattered like crushed insects beneath the storm's unrelenting pressure.

Jack saw his own body torn to pieces by the storm. The sight should have filled him with terror, but instead, a twisted smile spread across his face. Watching the chaos, he felt no sympathy, no regret. "It serves them right," he muttered, remembering the cruelty of his world. "Let them all burn."

The Great One's voice cut through the noise. "Be careful what you wish for, young one. The fate of the world may rest in your hands."

Jack's smile faltered. His stomach churned. A mission? To save the world he despised?

"Well, shit."