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My Necromancer Class

Jay was merely an abandoned butcher’s son, living in a small village on the outskirts of a magical world. When humans came of age, they would receive their class from a mana conduit, granting them magic powers, and begin their lives as adventurers. “Status,” Thought Jay, checking his class. [Necromancer Level 1] “...I’m a Necromancer?” His eyes widened in shock. Looking around in fear, he breathed a sigh of relief. No one heard him. This was a monster class, and one of the more powerful monsters at that; a powerful being which raised the dead to fight on its behalf. If anyone knew, they would hunt Jay down and kill on sight. He was not just a threat to the authority of the nobles, but to all living things. “But am I a monster now? Or human? I guess it doesn’t matter. They’ll kill me all the same.” Jay had only one option: to get stronger, building his necrotic powers up so that he may one day become untouchable. Through plotting, secrecy, and sometimes by sheer carnage, he can only attempt to survive in this hostile world. Join Jay as he struggles against all odds and misfortune, against a world that wants him dead, as he secretly rises and bends this world to his will.

Aero182 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
373 Chs

Short

Dark climbed up the side of the bone pile while the bag continued to whisper.

“Key formed. User access available. Please remove advisor key.”

“Key?” Jay said, raising a brow, “Be gentle, Dark.”

Dark’s skeletal claws slowly curled around the bag opening, gently pulling it open.

Jay stepped around the side, peering in. The black cube was… different. It had shrunk and deformed—or reconstructed, into a sphere shape, a palm-size orb. Though there was a slightly raised part of it poking out with squared edges.

The key? Jay thought.

(Dark, slowly pull that square part out.) Jay ordered from behind his death-walker’s sentry shield—standing behind it as a safety precaution. There was no telling what Viladore’s black cube—well, black sphere—was capable of. He couldn’t be sure if there was a booby-trap or a self-destruct.

Dark’s slender white fingers grasped the tiny bit poking out and gently pulled—yet the orb didn’t let go.