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Super Necromancer System

In a world full of caped superheroes, supervillains, and monsters, Aldrich is worthless. 95% of humanity has evolved to develop superpowers, but Aldrich is one of the rare few that has no powers at all. Because of his lack of powers, Aldrich suffers relentless bullying and discrimination. Society looks down on him as a burden. He is reminded everyday that he is better off dead than alive. Yet one day, at the height of his despair, after Aldrich is spat on, beaten, and broken, when it seems like everything is taken from him, a familiar screen appears in front of him: a screen from his favorite fantasy role playing game giving him the chance to wield the power he has only ever dreamed of. [Welcome, Host. Choose your Class:] [Class: Necromancer selected] Watch as Aldrich rises from weak to strong. From suffering to finding vengeance. From standing alone to commanding undead legions. From mere man to Lord of Death itself. ___ Feel free to hop into my discord to ask me questions about the story, get chapter updates, character images, and more! https://discord.gg/H7eb2CBPrB Chapter update schedule: 1 per day 5-7 Bonus chapters awarded over the week depending on powerstone and golden ticket rankings, up to a total of 14 chapters a week If you end up enjoying the book and want to give me a small tip, then here's my ko-fi! https://ko-fi.com/johndoever

John_Doever · Fantaisie
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444 Chs

Split

'More than I think?' Aldrich rolled Monk's cryptic words over in his head. At face value, they offered nothing. Promise never backed gratitude. It was the character of the man behind the gratitude that backed it.

The only issue here was that he knew very little about Monk's character. It was the level of secrecy that the Seven Swords operated on. They, unlike most mercenary groups, basically only did jobs for the Trident, limiting the amount of information available on their exploits. On top of that, they personally took very few jobs, moving only when they needed to.

And when they moved, they made sure there were no survivors. Their operations were tight. Clean. Efficient. Deadly.

At least it looked like they operated on some form of honor with how Shuten Doji was absolutely confident that the rest of the swords would never give up on him.

"You!" A deep voice echoed across the barren, sun-scorched plains.

Clint's voice.