《Requiem of the Unliving》


 Prologue - The Ritual

    The Ritual


    I was excited and nervous. This was the day; the day I will find out my future. All the children of the village were going to be tested for their affinities¡­ if they have an affinity for a type of mana, they will rise, and become a mage. It was the hope of everyone that their child would become a mage. It was one of the few ways one can rise in this world.


    A mage of Light had shown up at the village, to take a census and test the children for their affinities. This happens about every ten years, so to keep accurate. I myself was nine, on the older end of the kids being tested. Still I had hope. Would I become a mage? Would I be a sturdy earth mage, capable of blessing fields and raising walls of rock? Would I become a mage of Light? Spreading healing, and curing diseases? Or perhaps I will become a famous pyromancer, and bring ruin to the enemies of the holy empire. These thoughts, these fantasies, swirled about my mind as I waited for my turn for the test.


    I almost miss when it is my turn, caught up in my thoughts. ¡°Boy! Pay attention¡± The old mage said. And so my test begun. The mage was silent for long minutes. ¡°Come with me, boy, I need to conduct a few extra tests.¡± My heart did flips. Would I be a mage?


    I was led to a building, and the light mage turned to me with a complex expression on his face. ¡°Boy¡­ you have an affinity¡­ but you will never be a mage¡± His words bounced around in my head. I was confused, so I asked why. ¡°Boy, you have an affinity for death; for necromancy¡­ I''m actually supposed to kill you¡­ but I cannot bring myself to. You must never try to become a mage. Never become a necromancer, or you will be put down.¡±


    <hr>


    I woke from my dream. Once it was a nightmare¡­ now I am numb to it. Needless to say, I did not heed those words, seeing my surroundings are filled with undead. Today¡­ I will ascend. I will discard my fragile life, and become more.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    My activities have not been unnoticed. My undead were fairly discrete, burying themselves until nightfall, and digging up graves for more parts. Unfortunately, I was noticed anyway. I have fallen back many times. Hopefully, tonight will be my last.


    I stood from my bed, and began striding through the halls of the small tomb. My undead were mostly hidden, save for a few guards. They will ambush the templars, to give the illusion that I am desperate, and want them to die. Maybe a few will die; that will be nice. However, I don¡¯t expect them to succeed. Indeed, I do not want the templars to fail.


    I turn the corner at a junction. It was almost time now. My scout skulls have reported the templars nearing the tomb. I will have to prepare the ascension ritual quickly. If i get the timing wrong, they will believe themselves too late¡­ or will come too early, and mess things up.


    I feel a sense of loss as my undead begin to be cut down. Most necromancers think of the undead as merely tools¡­ but I feel for them nonetheless. They are my only family. I have reached the ritual chamber. In the center is a prepared skeleton with engraved bones, and careful linen wrappings. It is decorated with enchanted jewelry. Next to it is a staff made from the twisted bones of three children who died of plague. This is the kind of morbid thing that most necromancers go for when making a phylactery for their soul.


    I begin chanting my ritual. The walls, covered in skulls, begin to glow, and I feel the death energies begin to suffuse my body, becoming weaker as I do so. Death energies can be toxic to necromancers as well; hence why so many appear sickly and pale. We are not immune to it. It truly takes a lot of willpower and control to make a ritual like this work.


    My voice starts as a whisper, slowly raising in volume as all of my undead start also. I feel the fighting become more frantic, as the templars try to reach me before I complete the ritual. I begin to feel the body of the skeletal form before me, and the staff, as the three of us become linked by the energies. My body starts going numb, and I have to really work on focusing, my vision going darker.


    The templars reach my ritual chamber right as I reach a crescendo, and my skeletal form stands up, staring at the intruders. ¡°FOOLS. Leave now and I may spare your souls!¡± I shout at them through my skeletal form, and take up my staff, as the skulls around me continue the chanting, my original body falling to the ground, lifeless.


    Our battle was short and intense. I killed three of them before I was slain, and my phylactery was destroyed. I faintly heard their shouts of celebration as I faded out of consciousness. I would smile if I could; everything went according to plan.

 Chap. 1 - Rebirth

    Rebirth


    I awoke. It was different, my mind suddenly snapped to consciousness. I was gone, then I wasn¡¯t.


    My plan worked. I was no longer living. I was in the dark; my body was thrown in a mass grave, along with my undead. I noticed that my body no longer had intact flesh. Only rotten scraps remained.


    I struggled. Hmm, looks like I was in a bit of trouble. With the weight of the soil above me, and my undead pressing around me, I was immobilized. Fortunately, I did not use up all of my remaining undead in the attack, though most of them did. I had skeletons beneath the roots of trees in hibernation, surrounded by runes to hide their power. I still felt the threads connecting them to me. My mind beckoned them to come to me, and begin digging.


    While I waited, I took stock of the situation. It was apparent that my plan went off without a hitch. They bought the lich ritual, hook line and sinker. I never left my body. I never became a lich. That whole ritual was mostly about making it look like I was becoming a lich. That and making my body die in the ritual chamber. The chamber was important to the whole settup. It kept me from actually dying. My soul was forced to remain in my body, and its mana was cycled out, and replaced with pure death energy. It might of not worked, however the deaths of the three templars cemented it.


    Unlike a Lich, I was not dead; I never truly died, and my soul was not replaced with a phylactery. I believed that replacement was why liches always went crazy. They had no soul, they were just constructs, just like any undead, but with a much more powerful control mechanism. No, I still have a soul, even if its nature was changed. I was not undead, but unliving. What few muscles in my face remained twisted into a smile, in spite of the pressure exerted on my body.


    I even feel emotions! Remarkable! Liches only have facsimiles of emotions, if that. But I have my emotions! This is revolutionary! I am not Undead. No,I am unalive¡­ or wait. That doesn¡¯t sound very good¡­ no I am Unliving. There, much better.


    After exactly five hours, twenty three minutes, and sixteen seconds, my skeletons started arriving, and digging at the dirt of the mass grave. Fourteen hours thirteen minutes and fifty eight seconds after that, I felt the clawl-ike fingers begin to scrape at the dirt around me. It was not long after that I crawled my way out of the hole. My body was mangled by all the weight, but I was alive¡­ or rather unliving. My skeletal minions pick me up, and begin to carry me away.


    <hr>


    It takes days of travel. We travel at night, and bury ourselves in shallow graves during the day. It¡¯s not like we can¡¯t take the sun, but I would rather not be seen by the living right now. Finally, we arrive at the tomb. My last tomb. My home base. The tomb I was operating from was just a distraction; I knew that the Templars of the Light would look for it. So I built a fake home. I have been operating there for years; I did not make it easy on the brutes. When they drew close, I erased all evidence of my true Tomb, and withdrew my active undead there¡­


    From the outside, my tomb looks like a large hill. Notable only in that its one of the biggest in the area. Only I know the truth. Buried under tonnes of dirt is a pyramid.


    This is one of the tombs of the lich-king from so long ago. It was completely destroyed and sacked. Just a bunch of bricks and a few tunnels of empty rooms. The only thing left of the lich-king''s legacy was the relatively high density of death mana (Not as high as what naturally occurs in a swamp - so it isn¡¯t outside of the realm of normal).Stolen novel; please report.


    That and one of the research journals of the lich-king, which I found by following the density of death mana still left. That journal is what gave me the idea in the first place. Early on in the lich-king''s reign, he needed to mass produce intelligent undead, not just rely on necromancers and the occasional vampire. He wanted a kingdom of the dead. One of the dead-ends was what clued me into this method of ascension. It described using a process by which the soul never leaves the body, and is forced to use death mana. The lich king abandoned the process, because the subjects retained their memories and values, without the advantages of the lich ritual - that being invulnerability. It never got to the process he eventually used, as this place was sacked before that. Nonetheless, this provided a lot of insights, and provided a way to become undead without becoming a lich. This was what I wanted all along. True, I was not invulnerable like a lich. However, I am still me. Most liches lose any semblance of their former humanity. This way, I can retain my empathy; my love; my care. I can stay me.


    It took awhile to unbury the entrance to my tomb. Soon, however I was inside, and walking the halls again. I rebuilt the ruins years ago, and had my undead bury the place. I used it as my home for years, before I thought of this plan.


    I had my skeletons bring me to one of the preperation chambers. I normally use these rooms for cleaning skeletons and otherwise preparing them for raising. I am not a fan of zombies, as skeletons last longer, and are more flexible. Though they are killed easier, at least baseline skeletons. I have my minions bring the tools forward as I lie down on the operating table.


    My flesh Is stripped from my body by the hands of my skeletons. My vision goes dark, and I find myself unable to move. There is no real pain, though it is uncomfortable. I control my skeletons remotely. Looking through their eyes, I treat my body as any other. I peel flesh from bone. I remove fragments of that which is broken, then I replace anything missing. Both of my lower legs have to be replaced, which is done. Bronze spikes (for corrosion resistance) are shoved into my joints, and are bound with soft, but tight, leather. I can hold bones together with magic, however it is so much easier to simply bind them together, and save yourself the hassle.


    Next comes the hard part. I heat up my furnace nearby, and begin to melt down gold. I have to exert extra mana on the skeleton I am working through to protect it from the heat, but it is worth it. Gold is one of the best mana conductors around, and unlike other materials, it works with any mana. This is ironic, as silver is the best mana insulator. Perhaps it is precisely because they are so similar that they react as polar opposites with regards to mana. That is a question for the alchemists to answer, however. I begin laying down a very thin layer of gold in specific patterns along the bones, with a few deeper points. As I do so, I scribe spells and effects into the patterns. Mana changers, force producers, and all sorts of enchantments are laid out in these designs. On the skull, I lay out enchantments to store power and information, and even assist with calculations.


    It takes days of slow methodical work, but boy is it worth it when it is done. Fortunately, boredom seems to be a non-issue for me now. My body is covered with runes. Various mana changers and absorbers collect ambient mana to make use of. They take it to mana banks in my skull and through my spine, which power the various enchantments on my body. Sure, I could use my spells to animate myself. However, this way is much more efficient, and can actually generate surplus mana. Spare no expense on my body. I reinforce it magically, make it stronger than I can normally animate, and even submerge myself in alchemical solutions to make my bones stronger, before sealing them in. I stand up now, feeling really light, and fetch my clothes. Twin crystals in my eye sockets turn light into useful information as I take everything in.


    My crystal eyes seem to spark as I mentally grin.


    I have been reborn.

 Chap. 2 - Alchemic Solutions

    Alchemic Solutions


    ¡°Listen well boy¡± The elderly man said to me. He was sitting at his workshop, with many bubbling mixtures filling the glass vials surrounding him. ¡°Real power comes from knowledge; not from some magic you were born with. What mage could get by with just their affinity? No, we alchemists are the glue that binds them all together.¡± He turns to face me. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear any more of your bemoaning your lack of magic; you hear?¡±


    I nodded glumly. This was not the first time that we had this talk, and it likely won''t be the last. I felt cheated by my affinity with death magic. Naturally, I could not tell anyone this, however many people could tell that I resented the results of my affinity tests three years ago. Following it, I was apprenticed to the local alchemist, who was apparently an acquaintance of the light mage who evaluated me. None knew me more than my master did, and he could always tell when I had hangups about it.


    He stares at me for a moment, before returning to his work. ¡°Now, can you tell me why binding agents are so important?¡± I answered; ¡°Because one must bind the impure energies to a solid, so that a pure distillation can take shape. Without it, you might as well be making a soup rather than a potion.¡± I received an affirmation at that. I was quickly quizzed on my studies as my master worked. I liked him; he treated me fairly, and taught me faithfully.


    <hr>


    I am standing at the boiling cauldron, the actions taking me back to the days of my youth. I hardly go a day without putting the alchemical knowledge to practical use. I am truly grateful to the man for his teachings; it made me the man I am today¡­ or skeleton I suppose.


    My few undead servants continually bring be supplies. I am making a batch of Inscription ink. It is a good deal cheaper than the gold I use on my own body. For a sprinkling of gold dust, i can make many pounds of inscription ink. It¡¯s not as powerful, and is less durable than using pure gold¡­ but these are minions; wasting gold isn¡¯t really worth it.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I will be needing this in the coming weeks. I need to replenish my undead servants. I have the bones. I just need the ink to start producing permanent undead. Then I will need a sealant to protect the ink, and to protect from wear and tear on my minions¡­ then I will need to aquire more *materials* Alchemic or otherwise¡­ I have a lot of work ahead of me.


    As I am finishing up, I feel one of my minions approach. It must be back from its mission. I turned to see an awful sight. This minion was a bit different. Its main body was made up of many skeletal structures. It looked like a walking cage¡­ and that was exactly what it is. In its large chest cavity lies a humanoid shape, forcefully held still by many skeletal hands facing inward. The man inside is bleeding little rivers of black blood from the sharp bones helping to keep him in place.


    ¡°Did you really think you could get away with what you were doing? How many people did you drain dry? Twenty? Thirty?¡± I demand. The vampire hisses and spits at me, but can¡¯t otherwise move. ¡°Who and what are you?¡± The beast asks me in pain and anger.


    My eyes flair up. ¡°Call me Jack. Now, let¡¯s get those pesky arms off of you.¡±


    I begin cutting, turning off my hearing to cut out the screams. I twist and pull the bones from the flesh of this monster. Piece by piece, I remove his arms and legs. If this was a human, I would feel bad¡­ But vampires are monsters. They were created by demons to terrorize the humans. They keep the human memories, but none of the personality. They are as vile as you can go. I would destroy him if I could¡­ but I needed him alive.


    After three hours, I dump the strips of flesh and sinew that I harvested into a salt bath, and step back to admire my handiwork. The vampire was now just a torso, hanging from meathooks on the wall. I sealed its wounds to prevent it from dying. They can feel pain, but not as strongly as humans; so this one was still conscious¡­ if only barely.


    ¡°Well you are a hardy fuck, aren¡¯t you?¡± I chuckle wrathfully. ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill you. I need your blood, you see? It must have the secrets of making intelligent undead.¡± I pat him on the cheek, before turning to attend to my other business.