Wrath Of The Necromancer (EN Version)

Chapter 1

Amidst the snowy mountains, where temperatures can drop as low as -100°C, a lone white building stands, isolated from society. Despite its harsh surroundings, which seem uninhabitable to most, this building shows signs of life. At the gate, two towers overlook the perimeter. Inside, two soldiers keep watch with sniper rifles, while another scans the area with binoculars and a powerful searchlight.

A black limousine approaches the gate, immediately caught in the beam of the tower lights as the snipers ready their aim. The car stops a few steps before the closed gate. Moments later, a soldier steps out of the guard post, rifle in hand. After a tense pause, he salutes the car and signals for it to enter the facility grounds.

"Status?" A man in a black suit steps out of the car and immediately questions the soldier who rushes up to him.

"Most of the subjects couldn't survive after their genetic alterations. For this one, we'll need to administer the dosage gradually so the subject's body can adapt," the soldier, standing at 180cm, reports, holding a file in his hands.

"How long will it take?"

"About three months, assuming there are no complications," the soldier replies, as though anticipating the question.

"You have one month. Get results," the man in the suit commands.

"Your Excellency, I kindly urge you to reconsider. Forcing the subject to handle that much in such a short time will destroy his body." The soldier's face pales at the statement, glancing anxiously at the man walking beside him.

The man stops, casting a sharp glare at the muscular soldier. If looks could kill, this soldier would have perished a hundred times over.

The soldier feels a surge of panic but refuses to back down, hoping His Excellency will reconsider. After a few moments, the man finally speaks again.

"One month, or you die."

The soldier is left speechless, unable to muster a response. Though he knows he could easily kill this man, doing so would lead to a life far more shattered than the one he has now.

"You! Speed up the process and get results in one month!" the soldier orders his subordinate, who stands nearby on guard duty.

"Yes, Sergeant!" The subordinate salutes and hurries off, leaving the two of them alone.

In one of the laboratory rooms, a man floats in a cylinder filled with green fluid. His body is neither thin nor muscular, and he wears a breathing device over his mouth. Several people in lab coats move anxiously around the room, their faces tense.

"Increase the dosage by 20%," the lab chief orders.

"Dose increased by 20%." At that moment, the man inside the cylinder convulses, his body shaking so violently that the fluid begins to bubble. If his voice could be heard, only God would know the agony he must be feeling.

After hours of enduring the pain, Aiden feels his body growing numb to the torment. The tremors begin to subside, and he considers this a small victory. But relief fades when he hears the scientist give the order to increase the dosage again. The pain returns, worse than before.

Aiden feels his body beginning to give way, losing all control. The pain dissipates as he feels himself slipping away. Opening his eyes, he no longer sees the green fluid or the scientists but rather a dark, endless sky.

Rising slowly, Aiden hears whispering voices around him—some murmuring, some groaning in pain, and others crying softly. He looks around and realizes he's in an old, desolate graveyard, seemingly abandoned and left unguarded.