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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 · Kỳ huyễn
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
201 Chs

Monotonous Predictability

The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like a century.

As Morne watched the forest rise and fall like the tides on a beach, another image appeared in his mind, that of the eerie vision he had experienced, shortly after their second true battle with the elves.

In it, he had seen countless civilizations grow and die, just as the Mother Tree was doing now. Each time, the people would rebuild, and each time, they would be destroyed.

Unlike that time, which had nearly given him an aneurism in its extremes, this was almost monotonous in its predictability, a shallow copy trying to imitate something far above it on the totem pole.

But the message wasn't lost on Morne, and as his recalling of the vision became firmer and more vivid, his eyes grew dull like a drunkard's as he shut off the outside world, sinking into his memories.