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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 · 奇幻
分數不夠
201 Chs

Mother Tree

'Any minute now,' he thought to himself, checking the smoke above as he picked his way through the brush.

He had been walking for over an hour now. His back hurt from lugging around his backpack full of things, but he didn't mind. If it meant escaping these woods, he'd do it again twenty times over.

But his hopes were soon dashed as he took one final step.

He felt a faint resistance press against him, trying to stop him in his tracks, but he pushed through, and then, as if he had entered a separate dimension, the area around him changed from a peaceful, healthy forest to a smoldering wreck of fallen branches and charred corpses.

Smoke wafted up from small fires, floating up into the air and creating the trails he had followed to get here. Battered, green-skinned, and pointy-eared women covered in dirt and soot rushed to and fro, chanting under their breath and dousing what fires they could with water.