Rebirth: Necromancer's Ascenscion

A pit of unrelenting darkness—that's what the dungeon was, stone walls slick with moisture and steeped in the stench of decay. 

The air overly damp, carrying faint rustle of chains as prisoners shifted in their cages. 

Heavy boots echoed through the corridor, the rhythmic thud growing louder with each step. Ian lifted his head, watching as a hulking figure emerged from the dim light at the end of the corridor. 

The brute's bloodstained apron clung to his broad frame, his features twisted into a perpetual sneer. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid open the metal gate, the grating clang reverberating through the dungeon like a death knell.

The brute approached Ian's cell, his keys jingling as he fumbled through them with thick, calloused fingers. His beady eyes locked onto Ian's with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

"Wake up, rat," he growled, voice thick with contempt. "You fight twice tonight. Survive, and maybe you'll get a scrap to eat."

Ian didn't respond, his expression impassive as he met the brute's gaze. The man grunted, sifting through his keys, unaware of the silent command that passed through Ian's mind.

Now.

The brute flinched, a choked grunt escaping his lips as a rusted metal rod drove into his side. His eyes bulged, body jerking violently as blood spurted from the wound. Behind him, the Voidwalker had materialized from the shadows, its form flickering in the low light as it twisted the crude weapon deeper into flesh.

The brute roared, spinning around, his massive fist arcing toward the specter. His knuckles connected, shattering the Voidwalker's form into a mist of purple shadows. But the attack was futile. 

The Voidwalker reformed in an instant, its shape coalescing as it struck again.

[Voidwalker Regenerated {- 40 NE}]

The shadowy servant lunged, relentless in its assault. 

The rusted metal rod plunged into the brute's flesh over and over, each wet, sickening squelch sending fresh spurts of blood onto the stone floor. The brute staggered, his strength ebbing, his wild swings slowing.

Another strike. Another. 

His massive frame trembled before collapsing with a final, gurgling groan. His body twitched once, then stilled, a spreading pool of crimson staining the cold dungeon floor.

The Voidwalker stood motionless over the corpse, its glowing eyes reflecting the dim torchlight. It bent down, pried the blood-slick keys from the brute's lifeless grip, and began trying them in the lock of Ian's cage. 

After a few attempts, the mechanism clicked, and the door creaked open.

Ian stepped out, his boots splashing through the fresh blood. The iron stench of death was overpowering, yet it no longer unsettled him. He took a deep breath, absorbing the weight of the moment.

"Good job," he murmured, voice steady.

The Voidwalker inclined its head. "I exist to serve you, my liege."

Ian gave a faint nod. "Return now."

At his command, the Voidwalker dissolved, its misty form dissipating into nothingness. Ian turned to the corpse, his gaze impassive. The brute had been formidable in life, but in death, he was something even more valuable.

A glowing system prompt flickered before him.

[Soul slain. Would you like to bind it? Y/N]

Ian didn't hesitate. 

With a thought, he accepted the prompt. A faint mist rose from the brute's corpse, swirling in the stagnant air before solidifying into a small, pulsing orb of light. It hovered above Ian's outstretched palm as the system displayed its details.

[Obtained soul: Low-Level Human—Pit Brute]

He examined the soul, weighing his options. Another Voidwalker would be useful, but his Necrotic Energy reserves were dangerously low. Draining himself further would leave him vulnerable. 

He needed something more immediate.

His fingers closed around the orb, crushing it in his grip. 

The soul shattered, dissolving into raw energy that surged into his body like a flood. Ian gritted his teeth as the power coursed through him, his muscles tightening, his senses sharpening.

[Stat upgraded] 

[Stat upgraded] 

[Stat upgraded] 

[+450 Soul Essence] 

[+400 Necrotic Energy]

Flexing his fingers, Ian marveled at the newfound strength pulsing through his limbs. He felt faster, stronger—more alive. 

This was only the beginning.

Then, the moment shattered.

The clang of iron rang through the dungeon, and Ian's head snapped up. 

Footsteps. Voices. 

The heavy iron gate groaned open, and two guards strode into the corridor.

One guard scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Hey, ogre, what's taking so long? The people are waiting."

Silence.

The guard frowned. "Ogre?"

Then, his gaze landed on the body. 

They halted, eyes widening at the sight before them—the brute's lifeless corpse sprawled in a lake of blood, and Ian standing over him, his hand still faintly glowing from the remnants of the soul he had absorbed.

The guard's hand shot to the hilt of his sword. 

"What the—"

The second guard paled, his fingers tightening around his weapon. 

"What did you do, bastard?" he spat, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury.

Ian smiled.

A slow, chilling smile.

"What does it look like?" he murmured, his voice calm, almost amused.

The guards exchanged a wary glance, shifting their stances. Their grips tightened, their postures tense, ready for blood.

Ian's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a dark, knowing light.

Let them come.

He needed more death…more souls.