560th year of the New Republic Summer
Vincent was in the waiting room with Sif to see a dhampir attorney for his suit against the judge and constables in charge of corpse collecting in the lower stacks. He had his shiny necromancer badge and a mountain of debt on his work shirt. 1000 skulls to be paid with interest to the Republic Government. Apparently, there are fees for not joining the Necromancers’ Union. That’s what he got for working during a strike.
Long antennae from a cockroach peaked from the edge of a painting. Vincent thought about crushing it, but it would be rude to bring attention to it. He wasn’t interested in making more enemies while drowning in debt.
On the bright side, he was flush with jobs even as a lvl1 necromancer. A few enterprising customers bought him a place to set up shop on the bad side of town. That was ok; he felt like his luck was finally turning around.
He only needed to raise 1000 corpses, each with their own classes, and leveled to 25 monthly for a year. Oh, and then he had to pay 100 silvers a week to keep the collectors off him. Vincent was sure it was all to bury him in debt to own him.
Vincent met the gaze of a painting wearing an ornate red coat with gold trimming carrying a shield with Camazotz fangs on its face.
He wasn’t in a bad state. Really, he was fortunate that the black knights didn’t want to fight a nearly lvl200 werewolf. The warrant they need to get rid of his sister’s corpse would need a day or two to write up with the local bureaucracy. That gave him a day to use a lawyer to bring them to heel.
Black Skull Inc kept Adriana Camazotz on retainer. A bastard girl from the Camazotz family who chose a utility class like law must have been difficult to get. The bidding war over her must have been outrageous.
The man in the painting might have been her father or whoever had sex with Adriana’s mother. Vincent’s pay-per-product contract looked far too official for a seedy organization like The black skulls. The dhampir made sense.
“I’m being insulted,” Sif grumbled.
“Rumor has it the longer you wait, the lower they think of you. It’s been a few hours.” Vincent said.
Vincent crossed his legs and tried to get ahold of the tier 1 lightning spell. At 2MP/sec, the spell was a steal. Its range was a little on the light side, along with its punching strength. The only thing the spell had going for it was its width. He mumbled the words under his breath and slowly burned mana for negative energy to power the spell. Sporadic strings black as coal shot out erratically without any power added to them. He held his palm out and tried to get a feel for the spell. Unfortunately, his health drained noticeably.
Buffs aside, he needed more foods that allowed health regeneration. He could rapidly raise his VIT by losing and restoring health from spell practice if he had some health potions. Buying them himself wasn’t an option. Healing potions were always in high demand. Adventurers needed them, and border towns often hosted adventurers. Vincent remembered bumping into some on the road.
He pulled the nearest coffee table and stacked his pilfered health potions. 10 bottles from 5 adventurers. The team still had 20 more between them, so he didn’t endanger them too much. Magic would always cost him health, but that could be mitigated with health potions.
Vincent practiced his shock spell for another hour before they were called to see Andriana.
They walked into the woman’s office, his necromancer patch on full display.
“Greetings; my name is Andriana Camazotz, and I will be your legal adviser this evening. What can I do for you?” Andriana said.
He expected a dhampir when he first walked in. Vincent would think many dhampirs would want to get back at the system that spawned them.
“This magnificent wolf is Sif Sax, and my name is Vincent; we’re here because the black knights of lower stacks are unlawfully attempting the theft of a preserved corpse belonging to a necromancer,” Vincent said.
“How would they lawfully steal a corpse?” Andriana asked.
“I was unaware of a corpse tax,” Vincent said.
The dhampir snorted. “At least you have a sense of humor; most guys just give me a blank stare. What’s wrong, dog? Do you have a bone to pick with me?” Andriana sniffed the air, and her eyes widened before her cheeks blushed a light pink. “Oh my, the corpse in question does it hold any relevance,” Andriana said.
“It is the corpse of my own sister,” Vincent said.
“I’m sorry for your loss. What was your level?” Andriana asked.
“Oh, you think you have the right to judge him,” Sif said.
Andriana paused in her note-taking at Sif’s words.
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“I am deeply confused,” Andriana said.
The dhampir bent down over the desk, exposing pale tantalizing cleavage. Vincent’s eyes couldn’t help falling on the glorious smooth mounds, and he glanced up to see the dhampir’s lips twitching upward. Sif growled.
“I am level 3 at the moment,” Vincent said.
The dhampir gave Vincent a strange look before her eyes glowed, staring daggers at Sif. Then she saw Vincent, and those glowing vampire eyes widened.
“Great, I can’t take you anywhere without fighting off the leaches,” Sif said.
The dhampir’s eyes twitched and showed no other reaction. Vincent heard teeth grinding, and Sif seemed utterly pleased with herself.
He answered her questions until they finally came to an end. Vincent sighed, glad the interrogation was finally over. Andriana tapped at her notes before looking up at him.
“Not many men are so devoted to their family. I will help you; the black knights who attempted to steal from you are overtly breaking the law. My cease and desist order will prevent them from further actions. Preserved corpses by a necromancer are the property of that necromancer. It is a right protected by two of the five families and born by the others.” Andriana sighed. “Come back in a week; if there are any updates, I will send a thrall to find you.”
Vincent smiled at the woman and stood up to leave. Sif joined him, and they left for the poor crime-ridden side of town. His zombie workshop should be set up ready to receive him. A start-up kit was already prepared; all he needed to do was put in the work. He was heavily in debt, but the demand for zombies and other undead had drastically increased thanks to the union strike. As a result, the supply was at an all-time low giving him the perfect opportunity to build a strong foundation.
No sooner were they at his new workshop did a mighty howl echo through the town, rattling the town walls. Sif stood straight as a board for a moment before turning to him. “My father demands my presence. I will find you again when I can.” Sif threw herself at him, and they kissed before she vanished.
The middle-aged baby necromancer calmed down after she left and found a crowded street. Working with someone powerful like Sif was a great defense, but werewolves were uppity. He walked down the street, stealing off the top as he made his way. His new necromancer robe was a rough black stain-resistant thing lined with pockets that helped him store copper and silver pennies from unsuspecting travelers. He followed the signs after filling his pockets until they clinked with every step. Sif might have considered it a form of weight training. His robe bulged to the point he looked like a fat merchant. His only protection was his necromancer and black skull patches. In small towns, clothes made the man even with stats was an invasive opportunity to make enemies.
His lab was more of a warehouse, but there was plenty of room and a few corpses with needles sticking out of their arms. Seeing them made Vincent want a drink. Old Jim liked his despots a wine made from the black grapes of Sobek. While the people hated magic, they had vineyards to spare. Vincent preferred the utilitarian hard liquor made in the lands of Magnus from sweet potatoes and yams. While he was flush with coins, he wasn’t so rich he could afford to drink.
Vincent unlocked the heavy door to his workshop and began pulling the corpses inside. They were the best kind of resource free. Sif would be on his ass about exercise if she was with him. He didn’t blame her for it; her role was more drill sergeant than the princess of her pack. If he spent any more time with her, he would be the most ripped necromancer ever. The others would surely make fun of him for it when they weren’t busy making zombies designed to protest for higher pay. What’s next, beggar zombies?
He closed the door to his workshop at that thought. Three corpses were enough to start. Most of the process of raising involved preservation enhancements on the onset. If he could make them look like beggars, how much could he actually make? While most necromancers made undead to sell to mercenary companies, only the easiest contact wasn’t a requirement. Vincent didn’t have the skill tier needed to make good money from that practice. At the same time, alchemists were double-dealing with drugs and dumping bodies on the streets with no undead to gather them. The protest had stopped many processes naturally handled by the undead. The streets were already looking shabbier without undead to pick up the trash.
How many corpses were baking in the sun filled with maggots because of the strike?
Well, he had to fulfill the service.
That’s what necromancy was to the 5 families at the end of the day a service class. Most cities didn’t have slaves to spare like Sobek. Feeding people was a chore that the vampires and undead overlords of the Exu, Erebus, and Camazotz lands didn’t want to deal with.
He dragged one of the corpses to a table before emptying his pockets in a lockbox. Then on one of his shelves, he added the book he stole long ago on basic to journeyman necromancy. On one of the rolling metal medical tables, he placed his health potions they were needed. Surgery was an advanced skill learned from healer classes that many necromancers adopted. It took time to officially gain a skill outside a class. Only class skills had hidden skill trees, while classless skills required feats.
There wasn’t much to it. Vincent found the right spells and took a knife to drain the blood from the corpse in the floor drain. The smell hardly bothered a man gravedigging carts full of corpses in the hot summer sun. The warehouse wasn’t clean vampiric flies flew from the clouting mess to the floor immediately.
Vincent raised his hand and spoke the spell for sparks and felt a jolt of pain lance through his arm. A string of mana attached to one of the flies before a sharp bolt of blue electricity lanced out. The fly popped, dying on the spot. The pain in his arm lingered as the negative energy plagued his living arm.
HP 120/125.723
MP 118.1/138.177
Vincent sighed at the results as the blood drained from the first corpse. The spell did the job, but it cost him to keep it up. Electricity damaged most enemies except a few golems, elementals, and elemental monsters.
Vincent didn’t gain any experience for his necromancer class from the attack. The class was strict about what granted experience towards a level up. It was well known the best way to level the necromancer class was to raise undead and have them attack living targets. The undead themselves decides how much experience the practitioner gained.
He looked through his necromancy tome and found enhancements before plucking the shocked flies off the ground with tweezers. They were mostly intact, which was fortunate for what he had planned.
Hear him out; he planned to raise a corpse but also needed passive xp and pest control. Vincent also wanted to raise his species level. To that end, an idea came around. It was well known that most people died from diseases carried by insects. Blood flies were known to carry parasites on their legs that caused bloat, rabies, necro fever, yellow scabs, and the screaming. He gained levels in human from saving human lives. Vincent found a few dead blood flies in the corners of the warehouse and added them to a metal tray.
Vincent ran down the tier 1 enhancements he could get away with. He had twenty flies at his count, so he started with the horde enhancement. It was a tier 1 spell that bound a group of the undead once raised into a single intelligence. Since he was dealing with flies, their intelligence was limited. The spell formed into a wiggling black splotch, and he adjusted it to wrap around one fly and connect to the others through tentacles of negative energy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t enhance the horde fly anymore. So, it would remain an easily swatted fly until it leveled up as a zombie. It was a good thing zombies leveled up by killing the living. From what he could tell, each fly would, at most, take one enchantment.
What he planned wasn’t anything new zombie flies existed as spy networks for necromancers and their superiors. Anything and everything that could be raised was at some point. Most didn’t use them offensively because a single spell would wipe them out. Truly large hordes of undead flies were terrifying unless they attacked an experienced fire mage. It took hundreds before they gained any real intelligence. Vincent had 20 and planned to use them as pest control. There were spells and agents of the Union of pest control he could hire, but that wouldn’t benefit him.
Enhancements weren’t limited to horde; three tier 1 class enhancements were listed in the tome. Larger undead could handle more enhancements, even multiclass. Unfortunately, the mana cost exponentially increased with each class. There was also wear on the body from each enhancement. Vincent had 19 flies to work with after enhancing one. He carefully maneuvered his mana to make 4 mage class and sipped from a health potion. His body shook from the experience. He made the spell formations and wrapped them around the flies before tying the ends. Each formation resembled a black blanket with threads at the end.
Vincent had another reason for his approach; he was exploiting the system. Each raise counted as a raise, even if the mana cost was low. He still gained experience from raising. The middle-aged necromancer expected to get a perk after clearing the first tier.
10 of the flies became warriors, and the last 5 became rouges.
Once the enhancement process was over, he went to the enchanted washing station and cleaned himself. That was one of the instructions from the necromancy tome he took deadly serious. After that, he practiced calisthenics to eke out an advantage while he waited for his mana to recover.