"No options? I've only just begun my journey in magic. I want to turn her into undead. Of course, I could use runes, but then she would become a regular zombie, which would still be useless," he said.

Examining the bound girl, he discovered that her skin was not black like his, but white. And if you thought she was delicate like a baby, you were mistaken. She had the skin of a woman who had worked in a collective farm for several years. How did he know this? He was born after the USSR ceased to exist. But his intuition told him so. So you just have to believe, and that's it.

Then he examined her long black hair, as if he hadn't seen a girl in millennia. Bringing his nose closer to smell, he didn't detect the scent of flowers. As they say in books, movies, or friends, she smelled as if she had just come out of the sewer. Does she really live in filth?

Full of doubts, he left the bound girl and began collecting souls again. But before closing his eyes, he looked at Anino, who, injured, sat on the floor and thought about something.

"Did you bring her?" he asked.

Hearing the question, Anino looked at his master, shook his head, and said no.

"Then let's leave it for later. I'll continue working, and you watch her," he said, finishing his last words. Closing his eyes, he began collecting souls again to restore his wounded soul. Fortunately, the progress of increasing the energy reservoir had slowed down, and the progress of restoring the soul had begun to pick up speed, which pleased him very much.

Sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, he began to extract souls from monsters again. This process became easier with each new soul, which never ceased to delight him. Because the process became easier, he processed the soul faster, which meant he became more efficient.

***

"Hmm, she became human? I thought she would remain a beast forever. But I was wrong," said the yellow-eyed woman who had been watching the black man and the girl... a girl who looked older than her child-like appearance. And that was strange.

"The last time I saw her before she fell, she looked like a grown woman with a good figure. She also had beastly ears and a tail. But now she looks more like her mother when she was a child," she continued her story.

"It's a shame I can't intervene right now. I can only watch," she added with sadness in her voice.

*** It's been a few days.

I sat in front of a pile of about a hundred different monster corpses. They sat on the ground, slowly emitting necro-energy that drifted towards the man in black.

On the first day, Anni guarded the girl and never took his eyes off her. But over time, he started running off to hunt for half an hour, leaving the girl unattended. He was an idiot.

Because he ran off, I had to focus on four things. First, to collect the souls of these poor creatures, and I had almost finished, with about four to six big souls left. Second, to gather energy. I gave the necro-energy to the book, and collected the rest in myself.

And here comes the third thing. I don't have a huge reservoir, and it has recently started increasing very slowly. Because of this, the soul stopped receiving new injuries, and energy was accumulating more than it was being used. To prevent losing a lot of energy, I first tried to stuff it into the book. But it turned out that it's allergic to all types of energy except for necro-energy and soul energy. I learned about the latter recently when an escaped soul accidentally entered the book and was devoured like livestock. To avoid losing so much goodness, I tried to create the foundation for the "Via Deus" technique. As it turned out, if the energy runs out, I can stop the process and nothing will happen. This means that when the energy runs out, I can simply take a break and wait until enough mana is collected. Of course, I use several times more necro-energy as the foundation. After all, I want to be a necromancer.

I've thought a lot about this question: if I really like necromancy? And I realized that it suits my criteria the best... But more on that later. And now I have to watch over this girl... Go away, devil... just a poor girl.

I thought about my ways. I also thought about this girl and the red thread that entered her not fully matured hole.

It's strange that I found this thread in the doll, also in its hole, but it was real. Recently, the thread entered the girl's secret place, which still smells like poop, not flowers or rivers.

This worries me. Sometimes when I just need to wait, I look at the floors and walls covered in claw marks. In the bedroom where my collection is now located, there is a doll that belongs to a girl. Putting all these things together, I can guess that this girl was locked up here and then escaped. I have many questions, but the thought that she might have been trapped here has melted my heart.

But this thread doesn't let me rest. While I had it, there was no reaction. And how did it end up in the hands of the girl? It started to twist in my head like a snake. Maybe the girl enjoyed it? That's crazy. But in any case, the hole in the toy and the girl, the thread and this house are connected.

"Hmm. Mmm... I was finally able to restore my soul. I just don't know if I did everything right or created some kind of Frankenstein."

He waited a few minutes, hoping to hear the voice of the mysterious woman, but she remained silent and did not appear.

"Strange, why isn't she contacting me?" he thought, looking at the girl. "Maybe she has this mysterious voice? No, probably not her."

"Mm, hrr..." a strange sound was heard.

Unexpectedly, the girl began to look around and make scary noises.

He left all his things, approached the bound girl, and noticed that she was trying to free herself but could not. Seeing someone approaching, she stopped and looked at him with curious eyes.

"What's wrong with her? Has she gone crazy?" he asked, and her eyes filled with anger, as before. "Oh, no, everything's fine. You had me scared for a moment," she replied.

He watched as she continued to struggle and soon said, "Don't bother trying. I tied you up using techniques used in sadomasochistic relationships. So don't bother trying to escape."

"Why are you looking at me like that? I'm not one of those people. If you're worried because I read a book and was curious about how to tie someone up for a masochist, that doesn't mean I'm like that."

"Don't look at me like I'm a pervert. Look at yourself. You walk around naked like a crazy person, trying to kill everyone. You walk around like you're saying 'fuck me.' You should be ashamed of walking around naked."

Seeing her calm down and sit with her eyes closed, he approached her and began playing with her nose with his finger. When she opened her eyes and tried to bite him, he always moved his finger away.

"Oh, you're so angry... I bet you were alone," he stopped teasing her and started stroking her hair. "You must have been locked up for years and always been alone."

The angry girl looked at him with resentment, but when he began stroking her, she calmed down a bit and stared at him. It was the first time someone had ever touched her like this. The feeling was unusual and almost forgotten for her. She calmed down and began to think slowly. Ever since she could remember, she only knew enemies and the need to kill.

So she began to ponder why she had never thought before, always just killing and hunting. But now, as she was tied up and couldn't kill the enemy in front of her, she began to think about what this person had said. At first, what he said seemed like strange noises to her, but as she chewed them over and over, she began to understand their meaning.

But anger and fear overshadowed that feeling. She wanted to kill him, to suck out his soul. And then play with the dog. To torture it, to enjoy its suffering.

She watched as a naked black man sat on the floor in front of the door where the corpses lay, emitting necro-energy. This man was tall, but skinny. Bones and skin. How could he still move?

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Suddenly a new wave of pain came from his soul. "What is this? How? I restored my soul," he said, looking at his ugly soul. Where there was once a wound, there were now pieces, stacked on top of each other, like many sores fallen on top of each other.

And now an imperceptible soul energy was coming out between them, destroying all joy. He looked at his wounded soul in incomprehension. Was it incurable?

"Hey!!! Answer me!! What did I do wrong?" - the soul pain that everything he did was useless. And the pain from his wounded soul weighed on his consciousness, the consciousness of an ordinary person who did not go through war and did not even have time to create a family.

Seeing the tattoo on his left arm, he quickly stood up and took the book. Holding it with both hands and interlocking his fingers in it, he wanted to tear it apart. It was to blame for everything.

But he quickly calmed down, realizing that the book was not to blame for anything. It only suggested. He was to blame. He made these thoughtless decisions, chasing after his dreams.

But he also understood that if he didn't take these steps, he would already become fallen. It would be like being a walking corpse without a mind. You could say even worse than death.

"Stop," he turned to the girl and asked himself, "Is she not fallen? And if so, how did she manage to keep such a pure and white skin, given the measures just created in this world?" But the pain reminded him of the need to put these questions aside for later.

Looking at the old, black book in his hands, he began to doubt whether he should ask for advice. He hesitated for a few minutes, but eventually gathered the courage to ask, "Tell me, what did I do wrong with my soul?"

The book slipped from his hands and opened up. Words appeared on the white pages, "Your soul was torn apart by a contract, and one part was taken without the possibility of return. This means that you cannot restore your soul on your own. It is like the case where a hand was taken from a contract, and you can no longer have it. Now you have tried to replace the missing part of your soul with a method similar to that used to create a hand from parts of another hand. However, you did not try to restore the nerves, flesh, and blood vessels. You simply physically placed that part."

"So you mean I haven't completed the soul restoration process yet?" he asked, as if suddenly realizing something important.

"Yes. You have successfully taken the first step, the easiest one. But you still have two more steps to take: first, connect the material created from the soul to your soul, and second, transform and purify the soul so that the new part of the soul is not rejected over time. All your efforts were not in vain," the book replied.

"What should I do now?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, you can't do anything now. You are too weak and inexperienced in magic. I suggest you start practicing 'Via Deus.' The first stage of soul restoration has given you the opportunity to start the path of a mage through all three paths. First, create a foundation for the soul so that the soul can later connect passively. However, you will not be able to continue the soul's path for some time," the book explained.

"Hmm," he thought, closing his eyes. He was contemplating everything he had just read in the book. He realized that in order for his soul to begin to heal, he needed to start his journey as a mage. But what was this process called?

"I will name it the path of the mage. And now, I need to create a foundation for my soul. But for that, I need energy... I remember that various types of energy can be used. So, I will use the energy of the soul. But what about the shell?"

He looked at the piles of beasts and monsters that no longer emitted necro-energy. After thinking for a moment, his black eyes glinted.

"How did I not think of this earlier?" He raised his hand directly over the pile of corpses and directed threads of his energy into a 2-meter-tall monkey-like creature with a long neck and two horns on its head.

Closing his eyes, he began to draw familiar runes and then connected them. The corpse stood up, becoming a low-level undead.

"You, come here!" He commanded, pointing his finger in front of him.

The newly made undead slowly began to obey the command. Reaching the boundary of the array, it stepped over it. But it was clear that the array initially tried to hold it back, but quickly gave up. And she was able to leave the room, fulfilling the creator's command.

The strangest thing was that the beasts in the room didn't even look at it. Not that they attacked, they just turned around when it stood up. They all looked at it for a moment, then turned back to the others.

"As I thought. The array only holds back those who have a soul or who are alive. The undead has neither. So, it can be considered lightweight. This means that I can take the corpses out of the array."

With a joyful nod, he began to contemplate what to do next, but first ordered the corpses to be dragged from the room to another one nearby.

Looking at the book, he asked, "Can I create undead that are stronger and smarter?"

This question didn't come up by chance. He had previously noticed that the undead he had created before were a bit stupid, and he needed to give more detailed instructions at the right time. But something was strange.

If at the beginning the undead were stupid and quirky but tolerable, now it seemed like they had become completely dumb. He slipped several times on the corpses lying on the floor and started dragging bodies randomly: one of those sitting in the corner, and then one of those inside the pile of corpses. If that was still tolerable, then the fact that the weaker ones, who couldn't even absorb external energy, had stopped functioning was too much. It was as if his ability to create undead had weakened. What did it all mean?

The book showed a blank sheet of paper and wrote, "You can only create temporary undead using runes. To create undead with your own power, you need to create a soul foundation."

"What..." he read the book's words and was stunned. What was temporary undead? Undead with his own power? Then who helped them get on their feet? It took several minutes before he calmed down and asked, "I don't understand what temporary undead means. And why am I only finding out now that the undead I create will disappear after some time?"

For a while, the book didn't answer, as if it was considering whether to respond or not. But eventually, it answered, "At this moment, you are still an ordinary mortal without magical powers. This is precisely what has prevented you from creating undead using runes or easily controlling energy threads. If you had not inherited the experience and potential from the previous owners of the book, who are currently sealed like an inheritance, which you received. In addition, you did not receive the temporary blessing of Death, which would have increased your proximity to death and everything associated with it."

He was shocked. His brain stopped working, and he couldn't understand what he had just read. All this time he thought he was talented and would easily become a powerful necromancer. But it turned out that it was all just because of the inheritance. He received it from those bastards who wanted to kill him and the temporary kinship that Death gave him. If he had already begun to suspect the first, he was surprised by the second. And most importantly, he found out only now, after the Death buff disappeared.

After pondering on it for a while, he finally asked, "Why did I only find out about this now?"

"There are several reasons. First of all, you didn't ask. Secondly, if you had known, you would have tried to use it. It could have harmed you and also caused you to lose control of your army."

Sitting down on the ground with his back and closing his eyes, he began to reflect on what he had just learned.

"So, all this time I was under the influence of the death buff. If only I had known... But maybe it's for the best. After all, it's not my own power."

He opened his eyes and stood up, started pacing in circles and muttering to himself.

"If this undead was created when I had a temporary blessing, then that means I created this undead with my own power. That means I have a long way to go before I become a real necromancer."

After thinking everything over, all his negative feelings disappeared. He realized that even if he was stronger when he received the blessing of death, now he saw where he needed to go. To become a real black mage, he needed to start his mage's journey.

Perhaps someone else would have despaired in such a situation, but he began to move forward, accepting the reality. And if he had the buff back then, he would make it his power. He used to think that everything came too easily and that everything was unreal. But somewhere he made a mistake that could have cost him his life or soul.

"Ah, damn pain! Well, whatever happens."

He stood up and headed towards the array that was collecting energy around it. Sitting in the center, he raised his hand, and after a few seconds, a book appeared. Placing it on the ground, he put his hand in front of the book and closed his eyes.

The undead he created clumsily transported the corpse from one room to another. Anina dropped her loot and looked at the undead in surprise, then hostilely. Watching her for a while, he realized that she wasn't hostile or particularly strong.

At the same time, the girl stopped trying to break free and watched the man. When he sat down in the center of the array, she left him and began observing the undead and how he often fell from everything possible.

Sitting with closed eyes, he began to create a foundation - a platform for his soul. To do this, he needed to gather as much energy as possible.

However, first he needed to draw energy from his soul, so that in the future his soul would be in harmony with his path as a mage. To do this, he needed to extract energy from his own soul.

Taking a little energy, he began compressing it so tightly that it turned into a ball of his soul's energy. Then he began compressing other types of energy to create a ball with his soul's energy at its center.

The ball, which was originally created from his soul's energy, began to increase in size, and other types of energy began to stick to it, becoming larger and larger. However, this process was long.

***

Watching the black man, she regretted not being able to respond when he yelled. If it weren't for that guy, she would have contacted the man long ago. But now she couldn't, she could only watch.

At some point, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she tasted the sourness of spoiled blood. She closed her eyes again and fell asleep. In the dark room, only the sound of crunching was heard.

***

Slowly walking, the beast-man jerked the music box in his left hand, which did not play. At one point, it started playing again, but the music was weak, indicating that it was far away. However, he had already found its trail and, heading towards where the music box had started playing, slowly approached the house where everyone was.

It took him several days to get closer to the house. Until that day, he had been walking slowly, and sometimes beasts attacked him. Upon reaching the house, he did not immediately enter, but began to reminisce.

This little house once belonged to his third wife, the mother of his daughter. And now it should be empty. He also began to understand how she had managed to hide from his senses. She had been hiding here all this time, in a house where even those like him could not feel.