Chapter 30: Becoming a Level 10 Necromancer.

[Experience Gained: +11,450]

[Summoned Entities: Experience Gained +5,725]

[Spirit +8.21]

[Silver Coins +100]

[Attribute Points +5]

[Level Up!]

The flood of notifications hovered before Thoren’s eyes, overlapping one another.

For a brief moment, he simply stood there, staring.

Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.

Looking at the massive amount of experience gained from a single prolonged battle, Thoren could not help but feel deeply satisfied.

The exhaustion lingering in his mind was real, but the reward far outweighed the cost.

“Hah… hahaha.” A low laugh escaped his lips. “Who would have thought I’d earn this many silver coins as well?”

The sound echoed faintly through the thinning fog.

Although he had lost a considerable number of Level Eight and Level Nine skeletons during the battle, the gains were undeniable.

Not only had he successfully broken through to Level Ten, but his undead army had expanded to an absurd degree.

Thousands.

Thousands of Undead Mad Dog Mistveils, ranging from Level Four to Level Nine, now stood under his command.

Silently prowling within the fog like obedient predators awaiting orders.

Thoren’s gaze shifted.

Several meters away, the massive body of the Mini Boss lay motionless in a spreading pool of blood.

Even in death, its presence was overwhelming.

Its colossal frame dwarfed the surrounding terrain, and the scars carved into its body told the story of a brutal, hard-fought battle.

A slow, satisfied smirk crept across Thoren’s face.

“This…this..was the greatest prize of the entire battle.”

Without ceremony or hesitation, he raised one hand.

[Undead Summoning.]

Dark energy surged outward.

The Mini Boss’s corpse trembled.

At first, the movement was subtle, barely noticeable but then its massive limbs began to twitch.

Cracked bones groaned as muscles reanimated unnaturally, pulling themselves together.

Slowly, inexorably, the enormous body rose from its pool of blood.

Its hollow eye sockets stared blankly in Thoren’s direction.

From the illusory Floating Lantern hovering beside him, four streams of soul fire burst forth.

They streaked through the air like comets and plunged directly into the creature’s forehead.

Instantly, yellowish flames ignited within its eyes.

Not the mindless glow of mindless undead beast but something deeper.

Something aware.

The fog around the creature reacted immediately.

It stirred, shifted, and flowed toward the Mini Boss as if answering a silent imperial command.

Within seconds, its massive form blended seamlessly into the surrounding mist.

Apart from the eerie flames burning within its eyes and the numerous ghastly wounds carved into its fur.

It was almost impossible to tell that it was no longer alive.

Thoren exhaled slowly.

“Now… I’m getting closer to my goal.”

With a Level Ten Mini Boss under his command, just how many people could realistically stand against him now?

And that wasn’t even accounting for the thousands of undead under his control.

A thought crossed his mind, and his grin widened.

“Ah…right. I almost forgot my little leeches.”

He tilted his head slightly.

Hovering above him were hundreds of Undead Hollow Breath Leeches, drifting silently through the air like pale phantoms.

Their soul cores glowed faintly, casting eerie reflections through the fog.

Allowing such invaluable minions to go to waste would be foolish.

Although none of the undead Hollow Breath Leeches had reached Level Nine, their utility was not diminished.

Their numbers alone made them terrifying.

Quantity had a quality of its own.

Satisfied, Thoren began to reorganize his forces.

He withdrew most of the human skeletons and beast skeletons back into his Undead Space, leaving only the Level Eight and Level Nine Undead Mad Dog Mistveils to patrol the area.

“Now,” he muttered, “let’s check my stats.”

The familiar panel materialized before his eyes.

[Name: Thoren Starfall]

[Occupation: Necromancer]

[Rank: Iron]

[Level: 10 (3,950 / 25,000)]

[Attributes: Strength 20, Agility 14, Constitution 14, Intelligence 20, Perception 17, Charm 12]

[Spirit: 33.66]

[Skills: Undead Summoning, Bone Manipulation Skill]

[Talent: Ex-Rank Undead Space]

[Sub-Talent: SSS-Rank Soul Lantern of Eternal Crypt]

[Abyss Market: Unavailable (Available at Bronze Rank)]

[Attribute Points: 5]

[Inventory]

Thoren’s eyes lingered on the experience requirement.

Twenty-five thousand.

Just to reach Level Eleven.

Only now did he truly understand why high-level awakeners were so rare within the town.

This was merely the threshold of Level Ten, and the difficulty had already increased dramatically.

Advancing further would only become harder.

“If I hadn’t awakened as a Necromancer…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

“Returning to the surface in fourteen days would have been nothing more than a pipe dream.”

The early levels had been deceptively easy, lulling most awakeners into a false sense of progress.

But beyond Level Ten, the climb was steep, like ascending toward the heavens with nothing but sheer will.

“I won’t overthink it,” he said, straightening his posture. Confidence returned to his eyes. “I still have more than ten days.”

For now, rest came first.

“I need to recover.”

He summoned a Level Eight Scorpion Skeleton and climbed onto its broad back, lying down with a weary sigh.

Although he had not personally fought the Mad Dog Mistveils, commanding hundreds of undead and resisting the Mini Boss’s oppressive aura had placed immense strain on his mind.

Mental exhaustion was far more dangerous than physical fatigue.

“How I wish I had a proper meal right now,” he muttered softly, closing his eyes.

Time passed quietly.

After nearly an hour of rest, warmth returned to his limbs, and the fog no longer pressed so heavily against his senses.

His thoughts felt clearer, sharper.

Refreshed, Thoren rose and dismissed the scorpion skeleton back into his Undead Space.

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Let’s get out of this fog.”

Choosing a random direction, he moved forward with slow, measured steps.

The mysterious fog, once the bane of countless awakeners, now felt harmless to him.

Almost… welcoming.

For over an hour, he encountered not a single beast.

At first, the silence puzzled him, but realization soon followed.

“This was their territory,” he murmured. “And now, it’s mine.”

As the Mad Dog Mistveils had been conquered, nothing else dared to approach.

Gradually, the fog began to thin.

Shapes sharpened.

Distances expanded.

A few minutes later, Thoren stepped fully out of the fog.

“Where is this…?” he muttered, brows furrowing.

The scene before him was one of utter devastation.

Broken bones littered the ground. Skulls, both beast and human, were scattered everywhere.

Rusted weapons lay half-buried in the dirt, alongside shattered armor and splintered shields.

In the distance, the massive skeleton of a colossal beast was embedded deep into the earth, as if it had fallen from the sky.

Claw marks scarred the land. Craters dotted the battlefield. The remnants of violent clashes lingered in the air like ghosts.

Even without knowing this place’s history, Thoren understood one thing clearly.

This was a death zone.

Yet, he felt no fear.

Instead, excitement stirred within him.

He strode forward, confidence evident in every step. He could hardly wait to test his newly acquired undead against whatever unfortunate souls might cross his path.

Then, movement.

A group appeared in the distance.

They were heavily armed, their equipment gleaming even beneath the muted light of the abyss.

These were not low-grade Iron gears.

Their gear was expensive.

And as Thoren observed them, he realized, they were observing him as well.

Without hesitation, he continued forward, his undead minions spreading subtly behind him.

When only a few meters separated the two sides, a tall young man stepped forward.

His gaze locked onto Thoren.

“You must be the renowned Necromancer,” the man said evenly.

“Thoren Starfall.”

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