Zarkus blinked in surprise, struggling to grasp the enormity of what the necromancer had just revealed. "M-Magical abilities? Spells? Curses?" His voice trembled, unsure. "What do you mean? How... how do I use them?"
The necromancer chuckled darkly, his grin spreading wider, eyes gleaming with twisted delight.
"Ah, eager to learn, are we? How delightful." His voice slithered through the air. "It's simpler than you think, little one. All you need is a clear image in your mind—picture your desire, focus... and let the magic flow."
He leaned in closer, his whisper like the rustling of old, brittle bones.
"Spells, curses, hexes... they will come to you as naturally as breath."
Zarkus frowned, a mixture of skepticism and fear clouding his thoughts. "Just imagine it? That's all? There must be more to it than that."
The necromancer threw back his head, laughter sharp and mocking.
"Ha ha ha! Oh, but of course there's more!" He sneered, pacing slowly around his subject. "Visualization and focus are only the beginning. You'll need mana—the fuel that powers your magic. Lucky for you, you now have a vast reserve."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"Though... even that has its limits. Practice, little one, I will teach you to wield it with precision... or fail spectacularly."
Zarkus nodded slowly, still absorbing the implications. "Mana? So I've got a limit to how much magic I can use? I'll need training to make it... efficient?"
A smug grin curled across the necromancer's skeletal face.
"Indeed, mana is your fuel, but yours regenerates at a rate far beyond any human's. You will learn to harness it, regulate it, and when you do..."
His eyes glinted with dark promise.
"You will unleash devastation unlike anything this world has ever seen."
Zarkus digests the necromancer's words, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Mana... so I can cast spells and enchantments, but I need to be careful with my mana use... I suppose I'll need to practice and train to become more efficient with it," he finally says, looking up at the necromancer with a determined expression.
"What kind of magic am I capable of casting, exactly?"
The necromancer's eyes burned with a madness that bordered on ecstasy. His voice rang with unhinged excitement as he circled closer.
"Ah, the possibilities, little one—endless!" His bony hands gestured wildly, conjuring visions of power.
"Fireballs, lightning, curses to rend the soul, necromantic rites to raise the dead, transmutation of flesh and bone. Every school of magic lies at your fingertips now. You are no longer a mere goblin or a broken vessel. You are an arsenal—a living weapon of unparalleled power."
Zarkus shivered, a mix of excitement and dread crawling through him as the necromancer's words sank in. "Fireball... lightning bolt... necromancy... curses... transmutation..." he muttered, his eyes wide with amazement. "I can cast spells from every school of magic? I'm an arsenal?" The enormity of his newfound powers both thrilled and terrified him.
His grin stretched wider, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows across his gaunt features.
"Yes... a triumph," he whispered, almost reverent. "With the power flowing through you, the limits are... negligible. Few can stand against what you have become."
The necromancer circled around Zarkus, his skeletal frame gliding effortlessly, eyes gleaming with grim satisfaction.
"I must confess," he rasped, his voice cold yet dripping with dark pride, "you've exceeded even my expectations."
YOU ARE READING
Beyond the Veil of Death
FantasyResurrected by dark magic and molded into a powerful undead by a ruthless necromancer, Zarkus was once nothing more than a lowly creature. Now, he finds himself at the center of the Demon Lord's army, forced to lead an army into war. But as Zarkus s...
