webnovel

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 · 奇幻
分數不夠
201 Chs

Don't Work Like That

Morne's thoughts were flooded with memories just as vibrant and dreadful as last night's nightmare.

It took everything within him to push those memories down, leaving him with a frosty gaze no less biting than the chill of the mountain.

"You know these people?" the Dryad asked carefully, seemingly sensing the distraught emotions hidden behind that cold expression.

Ethaniel's head shot up, and he snarled at Morne and titled his torso to protect the child in his arms. "Of course he does. You were wrong to trust him, Heneria."

"Quiet, Ethaniel," the Dryad snapped. "He clearly holds resentment for these barbarians just as we do." With a huff, she turned back to Morne, her tone much nicer but still decidedly imperious. "Answer the question, please."

"You could say that," Morne replied, his face a mask. "They put me through something like this," he waved around at the village, "eight – ten years ago. I had planned to look for them, once I was stronger."