The air grew heavy, thick with a sudden, suffocating majesty. As Ethan Sorel’s focus narrowed, the world seemed to ripple around him. There was no physical transformation, yet an invisible weight descended upon the clearing, as if a primordial entity had cast its shadow over the mortal realm.
-49,940!
The soul flame within the nearest skeleton’s eye sockets spasmed, warping into a jagged, agonizing shape. A massive, pale-gray number erupted above its skull.
[You have slain a Level 20 Skeleton. +50% Over-Level Bonus applied. Gained 30 EXP. “Trailblazer” active: +6 bonus EXP.]
The creature didn’t even survive the first tick of damage. It collapsed instantly, its bleached bones hitting the dirt. There wasn't a single scratch on its frame, yet the essence that animated it had been utterly extinguished, leaving behind a hollow, brittle shell that was promptly ground into dust by the mindless shuffling of its peers.
But [Death Gaze] was far from finished. The skill pulsed once per second, a ten-second death sentence.
Ethan’s vision swept across the ranks. Everywhere he looked, soul flames flickered and died. Skeletons dropped like marionettes with their strings cut.
-124,850! (Crit)
-49,940
-124,850! (Crit)
By the time the tenth skeleton shattered, the silence of the clearing was absolute, save for the rattling of the survivors.
"This is insane," Ethan muttered, a rush of pure adrenaline surging through his Soul Essence.
For those ten seconds, he had felt like the arbiter of reality. The life and death of every creature in his line of sight had been reduced to a mere thought. He’d expected high damage, but the sheer scale of the numbers left him momentarily stunned. It was even more devastating than his Calamity Trait-enhanced Skeleton Warriors.
He did the math quickly. With 2,497 Spell Power and his class trait granting a ten-fold multiplier to [Death Gaze], plus the 100% damage boost against undead from [The Death Codex], the result was a flat 49,940 true damage. No resistances, no defense—just raw, unadulterated erasure.
With his spell crit rate sitting at 35% and [Dylan’s Scrying Orb] boosting his crit damage to 250%, four of his targets had been hit for over 120,000 damage. And that was just the base effect. The most terrifying aspects of this SSS-tier skill hadn't even been triggered yet; these skeletons were simply too weak to survive the first second of contact.
His mana dipped by 5%, but a quick mental command burned 4 points of Death Miasma to top it off. He turned his eyes to the scattered remains.
[Drain Death Miasma]!
[Success. You have harvested 4 points of Death Miasma from 20 "Skeleton" corpses.]
[Warning: Death Miasma storage is at maximum capacity. Consume points to continue harvesting.]
"Undead really are the best fuel," Ethan noted. The yield was double what he’d gotten from the bison back on the plains.
He glanced at his status. He still had 11 unspent skill points. He’d been hoarding them for Level 10, hoping for a breakthrough. While [Death Gaze] required a staggering 50 points just to reach Level 1, he considered dumping his current points into [Death Drain: Feedback].
No, wait, he told himself. The Forsaken Reaches is a goldmine for Necromancer loot. I might find a rare low-level book like [Expanded Summoning Capacity].
A 10% power bump from a standard skill level-up wasn't worth the opportunity cost. Not yet.
Meanwhile, The Ossian Legion continued its relentless harvest. In minutes, Ethan’s experience bar jumped from 0% to 27%. It was like a factory line of death. Unlike the Verdant Plains, where he had to hunt for mobs, the skeletons here were a self-delivering resource. He just had to stand there and watch the meat grinder work.
Yet, a nagging doubt remained. If [Death Gaze] worked by incinerating Soul Essence, these skeletons clearly possessed it. So why wasn't [The Death Codex] harvesting any Soul Points?
"This is The Forsaken Reaches... we were cursed in life. Our Soul Essence is locked to this soil."
Ethan’s hair stood on end. He spun around, his hand already twitching toward a spell. He hadn't felt a single ripple in the air.
"Who’s there?"
"Me? Just another of the Forsaken." The voice was ethereal, sounding as if it were whispered from miles away while standing right in his ear. "Let me think... ah. Rod. That was my name once. You may use it."
A translucent figure drifted in the air. It maintained a human shape but lacked any substance, a flickering phantom of blue light.
[The Forsaken — Rod]
Special Elite (Soul Essence Construct)
Level: 20
HP: 100,000 / 100,000
(Immune to Physical Damage)
[Current Exploration: 10%]
Ethan blinked. A single encounter had jumped his exploration progress by 10%. This ghost wasn't just a mob; he was a key.
"What curse?" Ethan asked, lowering his guard slightly. "How do I unlock the Soul Essence here?"
"The curse... yes, the curse! It was horrible!" Rod’s face suddenly contorted, his spectral hands clutching his head. "Horrible! A nightmare! The curse!"
Ethan watched, unimpressed, as the NPC spiraled into a scripted breakdown. "Okay, take it easy. I get it. It was bad."
Rod eventually went still, his eyes wide and hollow. "I... I forgot. Let me think. I need to think..."
The ghost turned into a broken record. Ethan sighed, leaning against his staff. At least the Legion was still killing things in the background. If he were any other player, he’d be sweating, trying to protect a glitchy NPC from a literal tide of bones. But Ethan just waited.
By the time his experience hit 43%, Rod snapped out of it, pointing a shimmering finger toward the frozen north.
"There! I remember... there!"
"What’s there?" Ethan asked.
"I forgot."
"Stop. Don't start again," Ethan cut him off, raising a hand. "I’ll go. Just stay quiet."
He sent a mental command to the Legion. The 100 Skeleton Warriors shifted formation, turning into a phalanx that began to push north. They were a wall of steel and bone, effortlessly shoving aside the weaker skeletons. The Marksmen and Mages followed in the center, raining destruction on anything that closed in. Ethan walked calmly in the middle of the storm, with Rod drifting silently beside him.
The ground was soon carpeted in white fragments.
[Slain Level 20 Skeleton... +36 EXP.]
[Slain Level 20 Skeleton... +36 EXP.]
The efficiency was staggering, though Ethan was annoyed by the lack of loot. These mobs were broke—not even a copper coin dropped. As his experience bar hit 80%, he looked out at the endless horizon of clicking teeth.
"A good AOE spell would make this a lot faster," he complained. For now, he had to rely on the Legion’s individual strikes. He turned to the ghost. "How much further?"
"Soon... soon..." Rod droned.
"Useless," Ethan muttered.
A flash of gold light erupted around Ethan.
[Congratulations. You have reached Level 11. Quad-Stats +1, Skill Point +1, Free Attribute Points +15.]
Still, they marched. Ethan was starting to wonder if the ghost was just leading him in circles when Rod’s eyes suddenly flared.
"There! It is there!"
In the distance, a massive, upright sarcophagus stood defiant against the gloom. The wood was rotted, the lid half-collapsed, revealing a glimpse of something withered inside. Most importantly, the sea of skeletons had stopped. They circled the area at a distance, leaving a wide, empty berth around the coffin as if afraid to approach.
Ethan grinned. "Finally, something interesting."
As the Legion stepped into the dead zone, the surrounding skeletons melted back into the shadows, their soul flames vanishing into the dark. Ethan tested the boundary, sending a single warrior back a few paces. Immediately, the mobs swarmed. He pulled the warrior back in, and they retreated again.
"Right. Safe zone. Or a trap."
He approached the sarcophagus. As he drew near, thick, rusted chains erupted from the ground behind the coffin, wrapping around it in a violent clatter.
[Warning: You have discovered a Soul-Binding Sarcophagus. Exploration +2%. (Destroying it adds +3%).]
[Warning: Destroying this object will release a powerful entity. Proceed with caution.]
"Yes! Destroy it! Break the chains!" Rod screamed, his voice reaching a fever pitch. He didn't wait around, though; he turned and bolted into the darkness. "Run! Everyone run!"
Ethan ignored the fleeing ghost. A boss was just a giant loot box with legs.
[Soul-Binding Sarcophagus]
Shield: 1,000,000 / 1,000,000
Phys. Def: 1,000
Mag. Def: 1,000
A million health was a tall order for a normal party, but Ethan wasn't normal. He couldn't fit his whole army around it, but eight Skeleton Warriors stepped up, their greatswords glowing.
[Crushing Blow]!
[Double Shot]!
[Fireball]!
-36,708
-13,240!
-42,638!
The air was filled with the whistle of arrows and the roar of flames. The sarcophagus’s health bar didn't just drop—it evaporated.
BOOM!
The wood shattered. The chains, however, remained intact, constricting tightly around the figure inside. It was a desiccated husk, little more than skin stretched over a skull.
"He’s coming! He’s out!" Rod’s voice echoed from somewhere far away.
Ethan braced himself. The corpse’s eyes snapped open—hollow pits that suddenly ignited with twin bursts of icy blue fire. The chains began to float, whipped around by an invisible gale. The temperature plummeted, and a layer of [Glacius] frost began to creep across the stones.
"Outsider..." the corpse hissed, its voice like grinding stones. "You have interrupted my ascension!"
The thing stared at Ethan, its fury palpable. Then, it tilted its head, a skeletal grin spreading across its face. "Ah... such rich death energy. Your essence will be the final key to my transformation."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "You bosses really need new scripts."
He flicked his wrist. The Legion closed in.
[The Forsaken — Nirell]
Half-Frost Lich (Dark-Gold Tier Boss)
Level: 20
HP: 3,000,000 / 3,000,000
Spell Power: 12,800
Defenses: 1,500 Phys / 2,100 Mag
Resistances: 20% Frost
Skills: Frost Spells, Undead Summons, Shadow Curses.
(Note: A failed aspirant to Lichdom. Dangerous and unstable.)
Nirell was leagues beyond the boss Ethan had fought before, but the result was the same. Before the Lich could finish his monologue, a coordinated volley from the Legion slammed into him.
His health bar plummeted by nearly a million in the first second.
Nirell’s glowing eyes widened. The arrogance vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated confusion. He looked at the hundred elite skeletons surrounding him, then back at Ethan.
For the first time in a century, the Lich felt a flicker of genuine terror. He was supposed to be the master of the undead—so why was he the one about to be lynched by an army?