Archvel stood before the massive corpse of the giant, staring at it intently.

He paced back and forth, whispering to himself.

“Turning this into a level three undead… it could increase my power a lot. Its power would make it my strongest servant by far. I believe, according to my experience, if turned into undead, as a level three undead, this giant should have three to four times the power of an ordinary skeleton sentinel.”

He stopped and looked at the giant again.

“But… this isn’t something I should rush. The last thing I need is a mistake.”

He crouched near the giant’s head, running his fingers lightly over its cracked skull.

The sheer size of the creature was intimidating, even in death.

“No,” he said aloud, shaking his head.

“This needs planning. Rushing it will only lead to disaster.”

Archvel straightened up and summoned one skeleton sentinel and then ordered it.

“Guard this body,” he commanded.

“Make sure nothing disturbs it. If anyone or anything tries to approach, eliminate them. Understood?”

The sentinel gave a slow, mechanical nod before moving into position.

Archvel turned and began walking back toward the hidden entrance of the Dark Archive, his dark robes flowing behind him.

His thoughts were already focused on his next steps.

“I’ll need time,” he muttered to himself.

“Two or three days. I need to study this creature carefully and understand how to handle its transformation.”

As he entered the underground sanctuary, the cool, damp air greeted him.

The familiar surroundings of the Dark Archive felt almost comforting after the intense moment outside.

Archvel moved toward his study chamber.

He sat down at the large stone table, resting his chin on his hands.

He started staring at the ancient parchments scattered across the table.

After a moment, he leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.

“Two days,” he said softly.

“That’s how long I’ll give myself to prepare. By then, I’ll know exactly what to do.”

His skeletal servants moved silently around the chamber,

Archvel watched them for a moment, then stood up and began searching through the shelves for the materials he needed.

The giant outside wasn’t going anywhere, and Archvel wasn’t going to rush. This was too important to leave to chance.

-

Two days later, Archvel sat in his study chamber, surrounded by tomes and scrolls.

The torches illuminated the room.

His skeletal servants moved silently in the background, organizing materials and ensuring that nothing disturbed their master’s concentration.

Archvel’s eyes were fixed on one particular tome.

He muttered aloud as he read,

Stolen story; please report.

‘Enhancement of the physical body through necromancy,’” he read the title. A small, satisfied smile crept across his face.

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

Archvel leaned forward, flipping through the yellowed pages, his excitement growing with each passing sentence.

The tome described the various methods necromancers had devised to strengthen their bodies, methods that were especially appealing to human mages, who often suffered from weak physical constitutions.

“‘Most mages,’” Archvel recited from the tome, “‘especially those of the human race, lack the physical endurance or strength to survive prolonged combat without the aid of spells or artifacts. To remedy this, some have turned to necromantic experiments on their own bodies, seeking to enhance their muscle, bone, and overall durability.’”

He paused, tapping his finger against the edge of the table.

“Fascinating… but risky,”

The text warned of the dangers inherent in such experiments.

“Many mages who attempted to enhance themselves ended up mutated beyond recognition—or worse, dead. The magical processes involved were volatile and required an exceptional level of skill and control.”

Archvel chuckled softly to himself.

“So that’s why it’s not common practice. The weak ones fail, and the ones who succeed… well, they probably don’t tell anyone.”

His eyes continued to dart across the text until they landed on a specific section.

“‘Transformation of Bone and Muscle Between Humanoid Creatures,’ also known as the ‘Northdeath Body Spell,’” he read aloud.

The name of the spell immediately caught his attention.

“Northdeath Body Spell?” he repeated, leaning closer. The description beneath the name was brief but intriguing.

The spell allowed the caster to transfer the physical attributes of a humanoid creature to their own body, effectively enhancing their strength, speed, and endurance.

However, it required the body of a humanoid monster to function properly, as the spell relied on the similarity of anatomy between the caster and the donor.

Archvel’s lips curled into a smile as he leaned back in his chair, the tome still open in his hands.

“A humanoid monster, huh?” he muttered.

His thoughts immediately turned to the giant lying outside the Dark Archive, its massive form still untouched since the day he defeated it.

“I suppose you’ll do nicely,” he said aloud, as if speaking to the absent creature.

One of the skeleton servants, standing silently nearby, turned its hollow gaze toward Archvel at the sound of his voice.

He ignored it, too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

He couldn’t deny the appeal of the spell.

The giant’s raw physical power could become his own, and with his mastery of necromancy, he could ensure the process went smoothly—or so he hoped.

Still, he knew better than to underestimate the risks. The tome’s warnings were clear: even the smallest mistake could result in failure, and failure in this case would mean death—or worse. Archvel frowned, running a hand through his dark hair.

He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the tome in his hands.

“Of course it’s worth it; power is always worth it.”

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

One of the skeleton sentinels stood outside, its bony hand raised as if it had just completed the gesture.

Archvel glanced at the creature and waved it in.

“What is it?” he asked.

The skeleton didn’t speak, of course—it wasn’t capable of speech—but it gestured toward the entrance of the Dark Archive.

Archvel nodded, understanding its silent message.

“You’re telling me everything’s clear outside,” he said.

“Good.”

Archvel closed the tome and set it carefully on the table.

He gestured for the skeleton to follow him as he made his way out of the chamber and toward the surface. Not much after, his gaze immediately fell on the giant’s massive corpse as he came to the main halls.

It had been two days since he’d last inspected it, but the body remained untouched, guarded faithfully by his Sentinel.

Archvel approached the creature,

He stood before the giant, staring down at its lifeless form with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

“This will be dangerous,” he said aloud, as if speaking to the giant itself.

“But you’re the perfect candidate. Humanoid enough to make the spell work and powerful enough to make it worth the risk.”

He turned to one of the larger skeletons standing nearby. “Keep guarding the perimeter,” he ordered. “No one is to disturb this area. Understood?”

The skeleton nodded, its empty sockets fixed on Archvel. Satisfied, Archvel turned back to the giant.

“Two days of preparation,” he said softly.

“That’s what I’ll give myself. Two days to ensure that everything goes perfectly.”

Archvel knew that he had spent two days deciding, and now he believes he needs to spend at least two days to learn the spell and the ritual to start.

He knew from the experience of all the stories and legends that he had read inside of Dark Archive.

There is no need to hurry, or hurry will result in a fate worse than death when it comes to magic. Especially the necromancy and dark magic.

He crouched down beside the giant’s head, placing a hand on its cold, lifeless skin.

“You’re going to make me stronger.”

He had work to do, and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment.

The Northdeath Body Spell was dangerous, but if anyone could master it, it was him.