Christoph was rummaging around the chamber trying to find tools for his escape. He knew he had a sword on his side and a heavy book strung through leather throngs on the other. What good is a book to me? One might giggle a bit at his ignorance in this troubling time.
Claws will be good. He opened and closed his new hands several times; checking over the creases in the flesh and the hardened scales that shifted around the wrist and knuckles. It wasn’t easy. Moving each finger was like running. He felt himself mentally straining to will his appendages to cooperate. The undead form required a bit of getting used to.
He reached toward his corpse and grabbed hold of one of the white bones that jutted from the pillar. Giving it a pull and a twist, he found that it broke quite easily… much easier than it had when he had been encased in them. The notion of brittle bones was more probable to the boy than his hands now becoming magically imbued vices.
There has to be more here. Another door, maybe? He left his body behind. Survival was the name of the game he was now forced to play. Behind enemy lines, possibly surrounded by monsters, he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight to get out. Even with claws, I couldn’t take many on. I can barely move right. He stumbled as he turned his head and scowled at his tail flicking behind him.
Running his hands along the walls, he found no other doors. This room had one exit. It was almost like a stronghold; had he the knowledge of how to properly use the door to its fullest extent. There were a great many tools, items, books, and works in progress scattered around. There must be more weapons. The truth was, the treasury just down the hall was where most of the valuable weapons or tools for combat were. This room was more for the practicing, the fashioning, and the creating of magical items, potions, and the like.
Christoph moved about the room’s various tables and stations unable to find anything he’d deem useful. I can’t even tell what these potions do. For all I know, one could melt me and one would make me explode. He scratched at his scaly face as he pondered what to do.
This was the moment that the papers, all sprawled out in the frantic workings of a madman, around the potions table became something more than jumbled symbols and enigmas. They were actually legible! Christoph’s eyes widened as the shapes and letters were made available to him. His language was written out before him, and he now understood how to comprehend it.
“What in the Seven Hells?” He leaned over the table and scanned over the documents. “I can read!”
There may be lapse in understanding as to why he was able to comprehend almost instantaneously. The change came not from his new body or the knowledge he’d gained from his previous life. He knew nothing that the dragonkin wizard knew. They did not share thoughts, no… this was because of his Gift and what the dragonkin left behind.
There was a cowl beneath the hood of the robes he wore. This cowl draped around the horns and down the neck of the body. This object should take some time for a person to understand its use and train to use it properly. However, this body was already attuned to the item, and Christoph’s soul allowed him to exceed what many souls could withstand—as magical items, even when used properly, produce a sort of backlash or weight on the user.
This item, Hood of Languages, was more than likely one of the more expensive items on the dragonkin’s present form. The items he possessed were well worth a king’s ransom, but certain items made the bulk of the pot. The Hood of Languages allowed the user to read any existing language in the tongue they knew best. For Christoph, it even allowed him to absorb the knowledge without the first clue on how to read it.
Was it easy? Not at all. He stared at the pages and laughed aloud, that deep growl of a laugh, while reading the few words he could easily make out. “Take three,” he’d paused and moved further down the page, “mix until b-blue.” With work and time, he’d be able to begin translating and even learn the written form of the language he’d spoken all his life.
“This is incredible!” Still unsure of how it was happening, the lad remembered a certain object he’d forsaken in his haste to find a means of escape. “Maybe this has answers.” He pulled the book from his side and set it on a cleared area of a table beside the potion station. This book was bound in black leather, engraved with crimson and gold symbols that were not part of a language but some runic inspiration of magic.
He opened the book with care toward the center. Though the pages seemed ancient, they curled and bent with ease. Christoph took care of his claws as he wasn’t sure if one would tear something important to shreds. Unknown to him, these pages were far more durable than the common parchment. Magically imbued paper was necessary for such advanced magic to be properly inscribed. Still, his newly acquired claws felt massive to him. He strained himself in care of his movements—still trying to keep his tail from swinging him all over.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The book was filled with fascinations. Spells as simple as “Embers”, which was commonly used for starting fires without a flint, existed beside spells such as “Greater Undead: Paladin of Death”. Christoph didn’t know how to perform any of these skills, but there were a few spells which caught his attention.
“Inspect” was one of the first spells in the book. It had simple runes and short explanations about the spell from the previous owner of the volume. “Combine ‘Inspect’ with ‘Projection – Screen’ to display the information. Combine with ‘Viewing Glass’ or ‘Wandering Eye’ for distance. Check self regularly. ‘Inspect’ and ‘Widen Field’.”
Christoph leaned back a bit. That’s what the soldier used. “Projection – Screen” and “Inspect.” The magic was meant to display the information for others or for one to take their time and look through it instead of going through the data in the mind. Christoph looked over what the spell required. There was one quick hand movement and the words.
The dragonkin put one arm out and motioned the gesture. “Inspect.” The small runes and spark of energy flashed around his hand, but there was no information. I didn’t think I’d be able to. It’s magic! Christoph then continued to read, “Think of the target.”
Myself. Christoph shut his eyes as hard as he could. The protective membranes on his reptilian eyes shut first, then the larger flesh. He motioned in the air again. Me. Me. Me. “Inspect!”
With the growling voice of the dragonkin making his tail speed back and forth in surprise, information began flowing through his mind. There were different descriptions that were hard for him to make out at first, but soon the magical abilities of his cowl offered the solutions. There were labels for different paths one may take in life—skill sets that an individual may train and better themselves in.
The more physically inclined classes were grouped together, then the more technically advanced, and then there were the magically adept. There were many different professions, skills, and classes that could be learned and trained. In this body; however, there was one class that was far superior to the rest.
“Wizard: level 78.” He was viewing a wide range of viable data. There were plenty of levels higher than the basic “1”. He saw “Alchemist: Level 61”, “Enchanter: Level 70”, “Rogue: Level 10”, “Blacksmith: Level 5”, “Gem Crafter: Level 13”, “Crafting – Cloth: Level 17”, “Crafting – Leather: Level 12”, and many more.
Wizard was by far the most practiced and specialized skill the dragonkin had put his time toward. Beneath wizard, as if his mind drilled into the word, there were specializations within the class. The different pathways a wizard could take were laid out before Christoph’s mind’s eye.
There were plenty of levels in Evocation which broke down into further information about the different elements or attribute types. Fire, acid, lightning and thunder, ice, water, earth, wind, darkness, and a few light spells (for use against those like himself), and so on. He had a wide variety of levels spread out over the style of magic usually meant to deal the most damage. But in the end, even his Evocation magic was a side fancy when compared to his major goal.
To be a King of the Undead, one must understand death and the undead. The dragonkin had spent decades working through the specialized style of magics under the flag of Necromancy. It is only natural for one that desires the existence of a lich to then follow the pathway to rule over all that is dead.
Now, even Necromancy has its numerous pathways. Some use the grip of death offensively, others use it primarily to build defenses against dark or holy energies, and others use it to raise minions or small groups of fighters. There are those talented enough in the arts to burst a man’s heart in his chest with a simple wave and word. Others could build a wall constructed of countless skeletons to defend a border or town. There are only a few in history, but some could raise an entire graveyard and stomp the grasslands down with a marching army of the undead.
Christoph inhabited a body that had previously taken to all aspects of Necromancy. It was best to cover all the bases. Defensive spells in case he was set upon, offensive so he wasn’t simply relying on the thoughtless minions he created, and the minions that provided both fear and sheer numbers as advantages. He’d used such power to become the ruler of these great halls and all those within. Christoph had no idea how to use these spells; however, just seeing them in the book tickled his curiosity.
Had Christoph used “Widen Field”, he’d have seen a number of other things. He would use it regularly some time later, but he only focused on his basic stats at this point. The numbers shown were spread out across the spectrum of abilities.
He knew so much! There was line after line of information that his brain struggled to interpret even with the magical item on his head. How strong was he? The information sped through Christoph; filling him with a sense of dread that something so foul and overwhelmingly powerful existed.
Soon; however, the dread became more like anxiety. Once he’d seen the various levels and skills of his new body, all that the wizard had made for himself, Christoph looked toward the door. Goblins, monsters, and the unknown were beyond those massive slabs of black metal.
The dragonkin’s eyes were opened wide and the tail swung wildly. Unable to control himself, his tail flung him back into the desk, toppling several vials and his majestic self over. Pointing at the doors with a shaking claw he screamed internally, They think I’m him?!