CHAPTER 64 - Father of necromancy
The truth behind the experiments - History about Necromancy
Some may have heard about black magic in their childhood. So many are the bedtime stories passed down generations about how those greedy and terrifying wizards, blinded by greed would come to kidnap you in your sleep if you misbehave.
Those are the kind of histories that people will disregard once they grow up, only remembering them once the need to scare their own kids comes, starting the cycle once again.
Histories like those are often considered fantasy, a tool created by someone to serve a purpose, yet this is not the case. A big part of these tales are true, in fact, they show something that has been occurring for eons in the darkest places of our dear planet Arur.
Arur has always been a land full of conflicts, and in every conflict, everyone tries to get the upper hand even if it means playing dirty. In the midst of all of its fights, a long time ago, one battle gave birth to the first ever necromancer on the face of Arur.
Surrounded by enemies and dead allies' bodies all around, the protagonist of various tales delved into the arts of black magic, specifically necromancy. Giving birth both to a new branch of magic and a calamity at the same time.
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The Canyon of lost souls
Gallard was cornered, only accompanied by a few dozens of the men that before had marched to battle with him to fight for his nation. The army, which before numbered far over a few thousand, now consisted of just those of his small group.
They had been nothing but a small defensive force hastily prepared, designed to help stop the fast advance of their enemies. Their fight has been a losing battle from the start.
They had been forced to fend off the assault and buy time in a bordering fortress, but their numbers were so small in comparison to the opposing side that they were outnumbered 25:1.
Gallard is now known for being the first ever necromancer to exist, but at the time, he was the best mage of his region, leaving him in charge of the defense. When faced with those odds of winning, he wanted to leave, resign from his position and take his family to a safe place, yet his family was taken hostage by his own kingdom.
He only had one choice, either fight and defend the fortress till his last breath, saving his family and his kingdom in the process, or leave, abandon both things and escape on his own.
He took his choice. He stayed behind, supported by the small army at hand to make a last stand there and wait for the reinforcements to arrive. It was an admirable and magnanimous act from his part even if forced.
His last one.
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What is a mage? It is a question that most of us now have it easy to answer.
Lots of mages have appeared throughout the years, yet every single one of them have been considered amazing, powerful and most of them, wise. They were, are, and will always be powerhouses whenever they may go, and at the time where Gallard stood his ground at the fortress of Heretria he wasn’t any different.
He was a wall, a shield that protected those on his side with thick mana barriers and various spells.
He was a spear, an unstoppable force that tore through the enemy rows with powerful and intricate spells from a distance.
He was the fortress itself, yet he was only one man, limited by his mana reserves and concentration. Forced by the circumstances to fight day and night, day after day, he was finally inflicted with a grievous wound to the chest at some point.
Being forced to stay in bed while each day more and more of his men died, slowly being whittled down by the siege of their enemy, he couldn’t take it. He knew they were doomed from the start, but deep down, he had hoped for a miracle, but there were no miracles in war, he had to choose, fight the enemy and die throwing spells for his kingdom, or die there, laying in bed.
Refusing to die and resorting to his last choice, he took from his chamber a grimoire that he had stolen from a mage he had been tasked to subdue long ago. That mage had been searching for a way to life endlessly, with not much success. His tomes contained his inheritance, all the information that he had gathered about the topic in all his life.
Gallard however, wasn’t planning to follow his notes to the very detail, he wasn’t dumb, he knew that nothing good would come from messing with immortality, yet for him, a puppet who wouldn’t die no matter what was enough. He just needed to take whatever probe useful and devise its own method to chase after power.
He was bedridden, so for two long, grueling days, while the last of his men died, he tweaked with the spell of the long death spellcaster.
He changed the spell to affect a long area instead of a specific target, and the targets would only work as vessels for his magic, creating perfect puppets for him to control with ease after imparting on them simple orders.
He took his time to rise as undead every single one of his death allies inside the fortress, getting better with each try and getting closer to an effective spell by the time the opposing army started bangign on the doors of the fortress.
By the third day after he had been wounded, the fortress’s doors were breached. His foes smashed the reinforced doors of the fortress and came in droves, ready to slaughter whoever that still breathed, yet unfortunately for them, not even once of those they seeked were breathing now.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
All of the men that had been throwing arrows, rocks and all kinds of weapons at them the days prior were dead, their bodies scattered through the ground.The invaders went through all the buildings, finding no one but the corpses.
They were just about to enter the main building and finish the last survivors that they thought to be in the top tower when screams started going off.
Loud, unnerving screams of fear entered the ears of the assailants all at the same time as the bodies of the enemies they had been facing those last days rised to their feet again.
The scene of their victims rising once more, each one delivering a surprise attack on the closer enemy on sight with their fallen weapons. Dozens if not hundreds of soldiers died in one fell swoop as the attack came out of nowhere.
They were frozen in shock by the terrifying silent advance of the dead toward them.
Their dead counterparts however, didn’t wait for them to get their bearings. Ordered by their master to simply lay down, then get up and kill everything that moves, in that order. Gallard soon joined too, bombarding the battlefield with spells, killing dozens of soldiers at a time.
The deaths of the opposing side only rose as time passed. The soldiers soon noticed that they had fallen into a trap and they were caged inside the walls of the fortress with the dead, so they fought back.
Some of them tried to flee, too scared to fight against the undead, yet it was impossible now, the rest of their army was still blocking the entrance, and the attacks of Gallard were clearly aimed at those by the door, easily disrupting any attempt to clear the way.
One after another, they all started to die, overwhelmed by numbers. Not many had entered the walls yet, making Gallard’s job even easier, Gallard had deliberately let enough of them enter to cause some damage as a whole but not losing control over the situation.
The assault came from all sides at the caged soldiers, their undead foes were relentless as they couldn't die with normal attacks. They were forced to deal blow after blow to them before they lost enough mana to crumble on the ground. Their lack of mages was their doom, as they were forced to resort to the blunt edge of their weapons.
Not long after the start of the ambush and not knowing what was actually happening, the general of the enemy forces told everyone to retreat and leave the already trapped soldiers behind, inside the walls.
The screams and clashing of swords inside the fortress went on for a while before the last soldiers died, meeting the cold dirt as they fell down. Over half of the undead still remained, and then were already rushing to the door, ready to chase, but they stopped there, waiting for orders.
The general that made the sound of the retreat couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked at the men they killed standing on the door, looking at them with eyes devoid of life. They had been forced to back off once more, and it had been a few days since they were stuck here in this battle. It seemed as their though to be dead enemy had just grow back its claws.
‘This is going to be a long and bloody battle.’ Was what he thought as he laid eyes on the impregnable fortress that had kept them at bay for more than a week now already.
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Gallard was conflicted.
‘So much blood, so much death…’ He really didn’t want this to end like this, yet he was hell-bent on making it back to its family’s warmth embrace back home, and he wouldn't let a measly army take his life inside those walls.
He was ready to abandon his humanity to survive, and so he did.
For days, he fend off the attacks of the army, expanding his army of undead and experimenting on the dead of each one of their tries, improving his technique and control over the dead as time passed.
Each time the enemy army would come, they would find themselves against something new. Explosive soldiers that would detonate upon death, modified bodies that would melt their flesh to gain an extra quick when needed or human bodies turn into mounts with the help of Gallard’s bone alteration. Those were just a few of the tactics he implemented, faced with the ever so dwindling army.
Little by little, his enemies were backing off, being more and more careful, and treading on the edge of caution after losing countless men to him. Gallard, being fully conscious of this, was in a dilemma.
He had done it, he had achieved the impossible and held off, he just needed to wait for the reinforcements to arrive any day now and then go back to his family, but he had doubts. The magic that he had initially despised and judged as immoral and viewed as a crutch to those inferior to him had saved his life, not only that, but it had infinity of possibilities and room to grow.
He knew that once his allies came, they would force him to give up on pursuing that power, scared by his might and the implications of the magic, yet he didn't want that to happen. He had finally found a magic that allowed him to grow, to experience the thrill again of getting stronger by the day that he so desperately needed.
He had fulfilled his role, but not ready to surrender all his magic, he pushed forward.
‘I more power! Once the king sees how far I have come in so little time he will not stay still, I need enough power to be the one in charge.’ With those thoughts, he took another path, a darker one.
“You sure I will be able to make it Gallard? I think the infection is already far too grave.” One of the soldiers said he was wounded by the enemy and was dying by the minute, an infection spreading in his leg wound.
“Yes, I told you you will walk again just fine.” Gallard had promised to help him, reassuring him that he will even walk again. What he didn’t know was the methods he would be using.
For hours, Gallard examined the soldier condition, trying to find a way to implant on him a spell to make an undead out of him before he even died. The soldier soon caught on what he was doing and rebelled against him, yet it was useless. Gallard silenced him with magic and soon found himself experimenting on another one of the soldiers, the small group of soldiers inside the fortress that still kept their life soon found themselves trapped with an even worse enemy than death.
Gallard experimented upon every single thing that he could get his hands on and deemed useful, taking huge leaps in his investigations, and finally achieving the spell he wanted so much to develop, planting a few on some of the soldiers that survived the siege attacks on his fortress.
By this time he had already got a message from his side telling him that reinforcements would arrive in just a couple of days, so he had to rush things. His enemies still outnumbered his forces, yet the difference in numbers wasn’t as stark now as before. He would only need one big move, to hit the weak spot of the opposing army and finally make it all crumble under the pressure of his undead army.
He took advantage of those who had doubts on their minds and were wounded after besieging him. Soldiers who were scared of facing his undead troops and had been wounded to some extent, stealthily sowing the seed inside of them that would later on be his key out of his chains.
Those soldiers went back to its tents as normal, back inside the enemy base to rest and sleep. However, in the middle of the night, they opened up their eyes. Their bodies started to twist as a foreign energy cursed through them, infecting their blood as if it were a disease and causing them extreme pain.
They were unable to scream as the first thing the infection got rid of was their vocal cords, secretly spreading all over them and their necks before starting melting off the whole upper part of their bodies, soon killing them after a long time of muffled cries of pain.
The afflicted enemies weren’t many, yet they all rose up again to their feet and were meticulously controlled by their master as ordered. Half of them went on to slaughter the people on command, and the other half got ready to burn the whole place to ashes once their master sent the order. They spread evenly throughout the plain they had used as base.
‘It’s time, it's time to show the world that I am no less than any other of those great magicians of old. I will grow my power till my mere name sends shivers down the spine of my enemies, just you wait!’ Gallard then sent the order, and explosions covered his enemies headquarters one after the other, soon followed by an undead wave that purged the land of anything that breathed air.
By the time the reinforcements arrived, no one could be seen, Gallard had won a day prior to their arrival and fled the kingdom, and over the course of the years, he would appear here and there, slaughtering everyone that came across him.
For decades, people were scared of him, frightened that one day their villages and cities would be his next victim, till one day, when soon after attacking a small village he disappeared, never to be seen again.
From that day on, he was remembered as one of the worst enemies of humanity, but even after so many years, there are small groups of people that trail after him, craving the power of necromancy once again, even with all the repercussions that it implies.