Alaster finished his examination in front of the woman who had actually dealt the killing blow against him. She was attractive, in the conventional way, as all Experts were. Her clothes were that of a Mage’s though simply from her face and build it was obvious she did not physically fight.

The young man crouched before the fallen lady. He was not sure what he was looking for, or even if there was any point to his examination at all. The Spell certainly had not specified any elaborate conditions.

Perhaps it was the idea that these twelve people had been sent after him with the goal of killing him, and had succeeded. Was it not natural for there to be some kind of animosity between the two? And yet, Alaster felt nothing.

Perhaps it was due to the pain of his soul. But Alaster felt nothing towards the twelve. Nothing except curiosity. Just how would the Spell work? And if it worked well, how effective would the twelve be?

Shaking his head to clear the unnecessary thoughts, Alaster stood up and took his place at the front of the laid-out bodies.

The Spell did not detail any specific range, limit, or cost.

‘Any thoughts?’ Alaster asked his mental mentors.

‘Not really. It’s the first time I’ve seen the System reward a user like this.’ Sedall said thoughtfully.

‘Screw the System! I’ve also never seen something like this. Sure, I’ve seen Spells that could link the Memories of a dead guy to an item for a little while. But back to the body? With no defined time limit? This is like what the Corrupted System did for you, kinda.’ Belgroth said in excitement and impatience.

‘And they will still be able to use their Abilities?’

‘Should. Nothing I know would provide a reason as to why not. But this is also something I’ve never seen before.’

‘Oh, shut up you two! Alaster, do it!’

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at the childish Demon that was older than all of Human Civilization, Alaster raised his right hand over the bodies. The young man started slowly, channeling Necrotic Mana through the Mana Streams of [Rebirth].

One hundred Mana. Five hundred Mana. One thousand. Five thousand.

Alaster sacrificed his Health for more, yet the Spell hungrily devoured all that he offered, without a sign of stopping. His Health plummeted, triggering both [Regeneration] and [Last Stand]. Without hesitation, Alaster directed the Mana streaming into him directly into [Rebirth].

Five thousand Mana turned into ten, then twenty.

At this point, Greenish Black Mana began to radiate off of Alaster, originating from his raised hand. The Mana flowed into syrupy streams, flowing from Alaster’s hand into the twelve bodies.

Yet still there was no reaction. More and more Mana flooded into the bodies.

Twenty Thousand turned into Thirty Thousand. Turned into Forty Thousand. At fifty thousand the bodies began to grotesquely twitch and snap. Bones reformed and repaired. Flesh knitted together once more, binding wounds and reconnecting limbs.

Finally, as the Mana toll reached sixty thousand, the first body began to levitate off the ground, then the next. Soon, all the bodies were off the ground, rising higher. At a certain point, the bodies changed to point their feet to the ground.

Finally, and without warning, the Mana Streams snapped. Severing the bodies from Alaster’s Mana.

The bodies dropped, yet not lifelessly. Each one dropped into a deep kneeling position; their heads bowed.

“We greet our master.” They recited as one.

Their voices were not the drone like voice Alaster expected from a Minion, even one as advanced as these. Each one was the same as they were when they lived.

Alaster observed the twelve.

The Necrotic Mana had saturated their bodies, filling them to the brim, and turning their skill a darker shade of black. Not a black of race, but a black of nothingness. Their hair had turned dusty grey. But besides that, the only evidence that remained to their prior state was the state of their clothing. Cut, shredded, and stained as they were.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Raise.” Alaster emotionlessly commanded.

They did so as one, staring at Alaster. As they did so, Alaster noticed that their iris’ had taken on a ring of blood red that seemed to glow faintly. They still retained their normal eye colors of blue, green, brown, and black, but now each iris had a ring of vibrant red.

‘Interesting.’ Alaster noted but moved on.

“Whom do you serve?” He asked.

“You, m’lord.” Once more in unison.

“Anyone else?”

“None.”

“Do you recall your memories?”

At that, they hesitated, until the Mage Woman stepped forward slightly, “Apologizes m’lord. We have regained our memories of our past lives, but it is fragmented. Broken. It will take time for us to sort through them.”

“Alright then. Are you still able to use your Abilities and Spells from before your deaths?”

The woman, clearly the instinctual leader, nodded, “Yes sir. The potency is somewhat diminished, as none of our Abilities have an affinity towards Necrotic Mana.”

“Explain.” Alaster commanded.

“Due to our bodies being completely infused with Death Mana, our Abilities are all tainted by it. The Abilities will still work as intended. Just slightly weaker.”

“By how much?”

“Roughly five to ten percent sir, depending on how well the original Mana of the Ability fuses with Necrotic.”

Ten percent weaker? Even then, Alaster suspected that would put the twelve on par with most Experts.

“Are you all ok with serving the one that killed you?”

They all bowed their heads, “Sir,” the woman replied, “We were defeated. By rights, we are dead, but still, we breathe. Due to your generosity. We will serve you until we prove incapable.”

“Do not misunderstand. It was not generosity that led to your revival. I intend on using you to exact my own plans and desires.”

They knelt down, bowing their heads.

“You are all the first of a new breed of Undead. Ones with your own independence, bound to me as you are. You still think your own thoughts. You have your own desires and goals. Your own loves and hates. Serve me well, and you will be allowed the freedom to follow them.” Alaster spoke with conviction.

“I have those I require dead. I have more that I no not their identity. I have those I wish to protect. My power is limited, as are my thoughts. I cannot be everywhere I need, nor want, to be. Nor can I think of everything. I need those I can trust wholeheartedly to be on my side who can think and operate independently from me. That is your reason for rebirth.

Each one of you are potent fighters. Your skills will be put to work and pushed to the limit. But I don’t just need fighters. I need planners. Builders. Spies. Politicians.

I will soon find myself drawn into the world of Nobility and Politics. A world I detest. I will not allow myself to be a pawn for someone else’s goals. Which you will all help me with. I imagine as elite Experts of the Tarian Military, you each have ample experience navigating the tsunami of Politics?”

“That is correct m’lord. Though it will take some time for us to recall these experiences properly.”

“You will have time. What I am saying, is that if something happens, or I do something, that you believe is not ideal, speak up. I do not know everything. But understand this, you are still my subordinates. I will do my best to take your counsel under advisement. But what I say goes.”

Alaster let the words settle, including the threat.

“Now, introduce yourselves and your specialties. I will not be able to best make use of you without knowing what you are capable of.”

The woman was first, introducing herself as Catherine, a Mage that specialized in lengthy and costly Spells of incredible power. Not just large beams to destroy, though that is what she was most familiar with. She could also create large shields, capable of defending against even the strongest of Siege Magic. And even generate an aura that enhanced Mana Regeneration for others, except herself, for as long as her own Mana lasted.

After Catherine finished, one of the others introduced themselves. One by one, each of the twelve spoke, revealing their truly impressive powers. Alaster quickly discovered that despite being elite fighters, each one of the twelve had a hobby that they had devoted countless hours into mastering.

Catherine could create her own Mana Crystals, and through practice, could do so into specific shapes, including as small as rings. Alaster was not sure of the exact uses for such a talent, but was impressed, nonetheless.

Samantha, the rogue that had plunged her twin daggers into Alaster’s neck was actually a skilled tailor and enjoyed stitching Runes into the clothing, effectively enchanting them.

As the last of the twelve finished speaking, there was a quiet and hesitant knock on the Training Hall door.

“Come in.” Alaster allowed with a sigh. He still was not done speaking with the twelve Reborn.

At his words, the door quickly opened to reveal a petite young girl, no older than sixteen.

‘You’re not much older than she is.’ Sedall commented, which Alaster ignored.

He was much older than he was.

“What is it?” Alaster asked bluntly, knocking the girl out of her trancelike staring of the twelve.

“Umm, oh! The City Lord has requested your presence at his residence.”

Alaster sighed deeply, already having some idea of the reason.

“Alright. You are dismissed.”

The girl hesitated, not quite used to the summons of the City Lord being so casually ignored.

Alaster stared hard at the girl before raising his hand and pointing towards the open door.

“Go. Away.”

With a startled yelp, the girl fled the room.

“Politics. I swear, if I could, I would just ignore them. Regardless, are you twelve able to enter my [Soul Domain]?”

Catherine, the now obvious leader, spoke up, “We are.”

“Good. Some of my other Minions are already there. They are much simpler than you twelve. Feel free to do whatever you want within the Domain, so long as it doesn’t harm myself, yourselves, or the other Minions.” Alaster instructed, opening his Domain.

“Oh! One last thing. You twelve need a title. Something to distinguish you from the rest of the Minions. How about my Death Knights?”