The moment the skill leveled, Ethan's world expanded.
[Expanded Summoning Capacity] (B-Tier)
Simple. Direct.
Even after two consecutive Tier upgrades, the description remained brutally concise, adding a mere 8 points to his Summon Capacity. But for Ethan Sorel, this was no simple addition. It was an explosion.
First, his class's Calamity Trait kicked in, doubling the effect from +8 to +16. Then, the amplification from [Death Conscription] cascaded, and the number in his status window skyrocketed to an unbelievable figure.
[Summon Capacity: 100/340]
But that wasn't all. His gaze locked onto the new Calamity Traits that had appeared, and his breath hitched for the third time since he’d begun his journey.
[Calamity Trait]:
1. Your controllable range for summons is increased to 500%.
2. Upon death, your summons can be instantly revived at full health within your Summon Capacity. This effect can only be triggered once per hour for each individual summon.
Holy sht.
Either one of these traits would have been game-breaking. The first didn't just increase his range fivefold; it increased his area of control by a factor of twenty-five. He could now command his skeletons across a 500-meter radius, turning a small patrol into a sprawling net of death.
The second trait was even more absurd. It was a de facto increase to his army's size, a get-out-of-jail-free card against any boss with a wide-area instant-kill ability. Even if his entire legion was wiped out in a single devastating attack, he could simply reopen his Summon Capacity and redeploy them instantly, fully restored. His combat effectiveness would remain undiminished unless his skeletons were killed twice within the same hour.
"This is going to speed things up considerably," Ethan murmured, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. He raised his wand.
A pale gray vortex swirled into existence, and six Skeleton Warriors stepped out in perfect, synchronized motion.
"Scout for mobs and engage at will. Notify me if you find any humans."
The Soul Flames in their eye sockets flared in acknowledgment. With a clatter of bone and steel, they marched off to join the grinding operation on the plains' periphery. The expanded control range meant Ethan wouldn't have to relocate for a long time.
He began the orchestration. Wave after wave of his wand brought forth six high-level skeletons at a time. He had to cast [Death Drain: Feedback] three times, consuming a total of 75 Death Miasma to replenish his mana, before his Summon Capacity was finally full. This time, he adjusted his army's composition. He found that too many Skeleton Warriors became clumsy and inefficient against a single, powerful boss. He settled on one hundred warriors, dedicating the remaining 240 slots equally between Skeleton Marksmen and Skeleton Mages.
The Ascension of [Death Drain: Feedback] to SS-Tier had also boosted its maximum range to 100 meters. For Ethan, that meant 200 meters. He could lie there, motionless, and siphon Death Miasma from corpses scattered across the battlefield. The skill could target up to twenty corpses at once, though the yield from Normal mobs was meager.
[You have successfully siphoned 2 Death Miasma from the corpses of 20 Normal "Prairie Bison."]
[You have successfully siphoned 2 Death Miasma from the corpses of 18 Normal "Prairie Bison" and 2 Elite "Savanna Wolf."]
It seemed that anything less than a boss—be it Elite or Champion—yielded the same paltry amount as a Normal mob. But corpses were one thing this field had in abundance. Siphoning every thirty seconds, Ethan quickly refilled his Death Miasma reserves.
What followed was a mind-numbing but efficient cycle of passive leveling. Every ten minutes or so, a pair of skeletons would approach, depositing a small pile of loot dropped by the mobs. Ethan didn't even bother looking at the junk. He ran it all through a single mass Ascension before tossing it into his inventory to gather dust. The information in his head told him the empire's major cities had auction houses. He could offload it all there later for a tidy sum.
His army of 340 skeletons, The Ossian Legion, tore through The Verdant Plains with devastating efficiency. The stat disparity was so immense it was less a battle and more a culling. Even the local bosses were no match for them, swarmed and obliterated before they could mount a serious defense.
[You have slain the Level 10 Black Iron-Tier BOSS "Prairie Bison Brute." You gain an additional 50% experience bonus. +1950 EXP.]
[You have slain the Level 10 Bronze-Tier BOSS "Savanna Wolf Alpha." You gain an additional 50% experience bonus. +6000 EXP.]
The gear and skill books dropped by the two bosses were mediocre, with nothing a Necromancer could use. However, one item stood out from the pile of vendor trash, catching Ethan’s eye.
[Basic Skill Tome]: Use to gain one skill point.
"So these only drop from world bosses, huh?" Ethan muttered, picking up the tome. The logic was sound. If dungeon bosses could drop them, the market would be flooded in no time, given how many times Normal difficulty dungeons could be farmed daily. World bosses, on the other hand, were a rare and unpredictable spawn. The book had dropped from the Bronze-Tier Savanna Wolf Alpha, which likely represented the minimum quality of boss required.
Ethan held the simple book in his hand, his mind focused.
"Cataclysm."
[Target: Basic Skill Tome]
[Please select the desired outcome: Tier 1 / Tier 2 / Tier 3.] (Click for details)
Option 1: Ascension to [Intermediate Skill Tome]. Cost: None.
Option 2: Sublimation to [Advanced Skill Tome]. Cost: 2000 Gold Coins.
Option 3: Cataclysm to [Tome of Perfection]. Cost: 1000 years of Lifespan.
"What the hell? The cost is insane!"
Ethan was floored by the requirements. The [Tome of Perfection] demanded a thousand years of his life. How many skill points would that even grant? He was morbidly curious, but there was no way he could afford to find out.
He shook his head and decisively chose the free Ascension.
With his confirmation, the plain book in his hands grew more ornate, its cover tooling becoming sharper and more defined.
[You have received "Intermediate Skill Tome" x1.]
[Intermediate Skill Tome]: Use to gain 5 skill points.
The free upgrade had quintupled the reward. A moment later, the book dissolved into a mote of golden light and sank into his brow.
[You have used "Intermediate Skill Tome" x1. You have gained 5 skill points. Current available skill points: 6.]
Still not enough to level [Death Drain: Feedback]. Ethan closed the panel, content to continue basking in the glorious, ever-increasing stream of experience points.
But a sudden psychic ping from his legion forced him to his feet.
One of his Skeleton Warriors, scouting at the very edge of his control radius, had spotted a human. At this stage of the game, no other player should be out this far. That meant it could only be one person: Bramwell, the appraiser from Starter Village #9527.
"He certainly wandered far enough," Ethan grumbled. "What's so damn interesting about this place to 'field excursion' to, anyway?"
He pinpointed the skeleton's location and started walking, annoyed at the inconvenience. He hadn't taken more than a few steps when he froze, a grave expression hardening his features.
[Alert: Your Skeleton Warrior has been killed.]
[Alert: Calamity Trait has been triggered. Your Skeleton Warrior has been revived at full health within your Summon Capacity. This unit cannot trigger the revival effect again for 60 minutes.]
A jolt of ice shot through Ethan. His pupils contracted.
One second, the skeleton's health bar had been nearly full. The next, it had been completely erased. Vaporized. How could something with that kind of obscene damage exist in a starter zone?
Equipped with [Dylan's Scrying Orb] and bolstered by his Aura of the Fallen, his Skeleton Warriors possessed over one hundred and fifty thousand health. A health pool that massive, and it was one-shotted? Casually? He hadn't seen the death happen, but the feedback from his connection to the minion was stark and absolute. It had been annihilated without a chance to even fight back.
"Could Bramwell be that strong?"
A flicker of shock, bordering on dread, crossed his mind. He began to doubt if this person was his target at all. He stopped walking. Friend or foe, he had no way of knowing what lay ahead. His immunity in the Starter Zone had already proven faulty once before in the dungeon. What if it failed again? Against an entity that could instantly delete one of his elite minions, his entire army was nothing but a field of brittle bones.
For the first time, Ethan regretted using Cataclysm on [Expanded Summoning Capacity]. If he had more than ten years of Lifespan in reserve, he wouldn't be this hesitant, this powerless.
The sudden death of his warrior was a brutal wake-up call, a hammer blow of reality that shattered his burgeoning god-complex. He had become untouchable among players, yes, but that didn't mean he was invincible in the vast world of Myriad Realms Online. There were beings in places like The Sanctum Prohibitum who could snuff him out like a candle.
With that sobering thought, Ethan decisively turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. He simultaneously commanded The Ossian Legion to pull back, abandoning the coordinates of the encounter.
"From now on, I'm always keeping at least ten years of Lifespan on hand," he vowed, a lingering fear chilling his spine.
Cataclysm was a god-tier Talent, but survival was paramount. Any Soulstone of Vitality he found would go directly to replenishing his life force. Upgrading gear and skills could wait.
But Murphy's Law, it seemed, was in full effect. The more he tried to avoid his fate, the faster it ran to meet him.
He hadn't gotten far when a lazy, drawling voice echoed from behind him.
"Not bad, kid. That's a lot of old bones you've got there."
Ethan's feet stopped dead. Not by choice. The speaker was now standing directly in his path.
He was a middle-aged man with a full head of silver hair, sharp, striking features, and a ragged silver robe. Emblazoned on his chest was the symbol of a runic eye.
It really is Bramwell. Ethan recognized the insignia from the appraiser's shop instantly. What he didn't expect was the man's grand entrance.
Who the hell ever heard of a Starter Village appraiser that could fly? The man had literally strode through the air, his words arriving just as he materialized in front of Ethan.
"I was in a rare good mood, out here enjoying a little field excursion, and now you've gone and ruined it," the man said, glaring at Ethan. He then added, "So, talk. How are you going to compensate me?"
Was... was he being mugged?
Ethan blinked, then tentatively asked, "Will money do?" He immediately pulled out a hundred Gold Coins from his inventory.
"Do I look like a man who needs your pocket change?" the man scoffed. But with a flick of his wrist that Ethan barely registered, the hundred Gold Coins vanished from his palm.
"..."
Ethan's hand felt suddenly light. He stared at the man's tattered, worn-out robes, and the corner of his mouth twitched. You don't look like you need it? You might as well have 'I'm broke' tattooed on your forehead.
Still, a wave of relief washed over him as the man took the money. Better to lose some coin than his life. The need to increase his Lifespan felt more urgent than ever.
"What's with that look, kid?" the man asked, following Ethan's gaze down to his own robes. A faint blush crept up his neck. "This was just for the excursion! I'm telling you, I'm not short on cash!"
As he spoke, he waved a hand, and the tattered robe was instantly replaced by a pristine, identical new one.
Sensing the man held no immediate hostility, Ethan took the chance to properly inspect him.
[Bramwell]
Starter Village #9527 Appraiser, Painter.
Level: ???
Health: ???
(An Appraiser who doesn't want to be a painter is no true swordsman.)
The information was sparse, but the final, cryptic description made Ethan suspect Bramwell had yet another identity as a swordsman.
"I'm not an unreasonable person," Bramwell declared, puffing out his chest slightly. "You paid 100 Gold. So I'll give you this painting."
A painter's easel materialized beside him. He casually plucked a canvas from the top and handed it to Ethan. "Not everyone gets to own one of my masterpieces. You should be overjoyed, kid."
An unexpected reward?
Ethan quickly reached out and took the canvas.
[You have received "Huaijian's Painting" x1.]
He glanced at it for a single, horrifying second before resolutely shoving it into his inventory. He was afraid if he looked any longer, he'd burst out laughing. Good god, a three-year-old could draw better than this.
The Wolf's Pounce — by Bramwell
"Why aren't you admiring it?" Bramwell asked, frowning. "Don't tell me you can't appreciate the genius of The Wolf's Pounce?"
"You misunderstand, senior," Ethan said, forcing down a chuckle and spouting the most sycophantic nonsense he could muster. "A work of this magnitude deserves to be appreciated later, when I can be calm and properly immerse myself in the artist's state of mind during its creation."
Appreciate it? He never wanted to lay eyes on that monstrosity again. It was an assault on the senses.
"Hahahaha! You've got good taste, kid! You've got vision!" Bramwell boomed, his mood instantly soaring. He held out a hand expansively. "I'm feeling generous today. You got anything that needs appraising? Bring it out. I'll do it for free!"
He was, of course, just making a casual offer. Only Dark Gold-Tier equipment and above even required appraisal, and there was no way a new player in a starter zone could possibly possess something of that caliber.
"Really?" Ethan's eyes lit up. He couldn't believe his luck. Without a second's hesitation, he pulled out the four pieces of Level 10 Dark Gold equipment that Regi had dropped.
Bramwell, who had already started to lower his hand, froze. "...if you don't have anything, then never mind—" His eyes widened in disbelief, and he snatched the gear from Ethan's hands. "Wait, you actually have something?!"
He examined the items. "Let me see... Ah. So it was that green-skinned Boneling from The Mistwood." A look of dawning comprehension crossed his face as he finally gave Ethan a proper, appraising stare. "Decent strength. And damn good luck."
Withdrawing his gaze, Bramwell's hands began to glow with a silver light. He passed them slowly over the four items, muttering under his breath. Ethan leaned in, expecting to hear some ancient, powerful incantation. Instead, he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.
"One hundred Gold Coins to appraise four items," Bramwell grumbled. "Damn it all, I really took a loss on this one."