On the floating screen, the congratulatory words still glimred:
⸢Congratulations on your second awakening⸥
⸢Tap to continue⸥
It didn’t require a physical tap, a ntal command worked fine.
The next display also wasn’t new to Percival, but with a different Class this ti, it bore a fresh description.
⸢Necromancer⸥
⸢Masters of life and death who harvest the power of the dead, tornting their enemies with undead minions and incomprehensible dark magic⸥
⸢Summoning/Ranged⸥
Percival found the word ’incomprehensible’ to be a little ominous.
Perhaps, that was exactly what was intended.
It didn’t matter.
The aning was clear.
This was a path of shadows and bone, a deathly art. A far cry from the sun-blessed steel he once knew.
Necromancers summoned the undead to fight for them, they possessed dark magic and were classified under the combat style of Summoning/Ranged.
This ant they ventured not too close to their enemies, and only fought from a distance, sending their summons to do their biddings.
It was starkly different to his other Class: Swordsman.
⸢Gifted warriors blessed with unrivaled battle intelligence and magical mastery of the sword⸥
⸢lee/Tactical⸥
For the Swordsman Class, lee ant close range, and yet, his new Necromancer Class contradicted that sa battle style.
Percival pondered how he might reconcile these divergent battle tactics.
How he could mix the honor of the front line with the cowardice of the rear, so he could achieve the best of both Classes.
He decided not to think of this now. He would do it later, when he began working on the house.
Working was the best ti to think.
He dismissed the introductory screen, and the next was his profile status:
⸢Na: Percival Nightstar⸥
⸢Race: Human (Outworlder)⸥
⸢Class: Necromancer⸥
⸢Level: 1⸥
⸢Talent: Talent of Necromancy - Mythic⸥
⸢Experience: 000/100⸥
⸢Health: 25,790/25,790⸥
⸢Mana: 10/10⸥
⸢Defense: 20⸥
⸢Attack: 50⸥
Percival’s brow of curiosity raised.
He noticed that apart from Health, all his currencies from Experience down to Attack were consistent with the typical baseline of a new Awakener.
If he had retained his Swordsman Class, level and Skills, why was this the case?
Checking his Swordsman Status Screen clarified this issue.
Both Classes derived their power from different pools within him.
It made sense.
Sword magic and dark magic weren’t going to draw from the sa mana pool.
The Experience, Mana, Defense and Attack Points on his screen were specifically for his Necromancer Class, therefore greatly relied on his growth with the Class.
As they had relied on his growth with the Swordsman Class in the forr tiline.
Health was only consistent stat, but Health was the body. And Percival’s body rembered.
Though he understood this, questions lingered as he moved on.
⸢Attributes:⸥
⸢Strength: 940⸥
⸢Agility: 880⸥
⸢Constitution: 900⸥
⸢Intelligence: 670⸥
⸢Dexterity: 700⸥
⸢Luck: 450⸥
⸢Perception: 750⸥
⸢Charisma: 1090⸥
Percival was confused again.
His Attack stat had been a ager 50, and his Defense? Even smaller.
Yet, he retained all his Attribute Points from the forr tiline when he was only a Swordsman, at least before evolving into Sword Saint.
Earlier, he’d realized that both Classes drew power from separate wells of mana. Extending this insight, he quickly ca to terms with why his Attributes remained.
They belonged to him, not to his Class.
As a Swordsman, his power ca from strength and speed.
As a Necromancer, he would rely more on dexterity and intelligence.
All of those attributes had been cultivated by him, using the powers given to him by the Swordsman Class.
So his Attack was low, not because he was weak, but because the Necromancer Class hadn’t yet learned to use his Attributes.
His Attributes defined his ntal and physical growth, not Class-based bonuses.
They were the harvest of a forr life, the ntal and physical grist he forged in the crucible of battle.
The Swordsman Class was the chisel, but the stone was always his own.
To increase the combat stats of his Necromancer Class, he rely needed to level up; to use his Attributes to complete quests, slay beasts, clear Gate Worlds and unlock new Skills.
The shining light was that with such high Attributes, leveling would be a bloodydamn slaughter. A formality.
Having that much Intelligence and Dexterity at Lvl. 1 Necromancer ant rapid Skill comprehension and flawless execution.
He could level up even faster than he did with the Swordsman Class.
However, in the topic of Skills, Percival had only three available to him, just like he had when he first awakened Swordsman.
⸢Skill Path⸥
⸢Summon: Customizable Skill na. Awaken undead soldier⸥
- ⸢Summon Skeleton Soldier: Awaken Skeleton Soldier⸥
- ⸢Soul Draught: Sustain Skeleton Soldiers with the lifeforce of corpse. Can not awaken corpse after using this Skill⸥ (Locked)
- ⸢Summon Soul Soldier: Awaken a Soul Soldier⸥ (Locked)
- ⸢Soul Bind: Borrow the power of a corpse for 14 seconds. Can not awaken corpse after using this Skill⸥ (Locked)
⸢Soulfire: Bluish fla of dark soul energy that ignores armor and attacks the soul directly, causing minor damage⸥
- ⸢Soulscorch: Stronger form of Soulfire that causes 20% more damage⸥ (Locked)
⸢Grave Sense: Detects lingering souls, corpses, or death mana sources nearby⸥
The locked ones were higher tier Skills derived from the ones he presently possessed:
⸢Summon Skeleton Soldier, Soulfire and Grave Sense⸥
They weren’t too bad of Skills to start with, still they were E-Ranked, as is the lot of every Lvl.1 Awakener.
They had mightier forms, but they were locked away for higher levels with the price of Skill Points.
Curious, Percival rose from the creaky wooden chair, extended his hand and activated ⸢Soulfire⸥.
With a sound like a roar, the bluish fla ford in Percival’s palm.
It didn’t burn like normal fire. It was rather cold, crackling and whispering, yes, but not burning.
Not destructive.
Percival studied the fla. It was his first ti wielding elental magic in such a manner.
Sword magic rarely manifested in tangible form. And when he beca Sword Saint, even light magic was more abstract than physical.
He looked at the cracked wall at the far shadowed end, aid for it, then hurled the fla.
The blue fire sped like a baby cot through the air and struck the wall.
Swoosh was the sound it made.
Then the house was silent again.
As Percival expected, there was no damage. Not even a sar.
⸢Soulfire⸥ never caused physical damage; it hard only the soul. And the wall, Percival imagined, had no soul.
Satisfied, he stood straight and returned to the status screen.
His mana now read ⸢9.8/10⸥.
Percival scoffed.
He could already imagine how annoying it would be to run on such a small mana pool.
He needed to level up.
He knew too much to be held back by such infantile chains.
Thankfully, he had so help.
The Summon Skill was already available for him, allowing him to call forth at least one Soldier.
Percival extended his hand again and activated the Skill.
...
Nothing happened.
Except silence of course. And the mockery of the dark.
He paused, perplexed, then looked down at the status screen.
⸢Skill: Summon Skeleton Soldier failed to activate⸥
⸢There are no corpses nearby⸥
Corpses?
Percival furrowed his brows in thought. It seed this world still relied on so realism after all.
He recalled gas where necromancers conjured skeleton minions from thin air. Percival had always disliked that.
But now, ironically so, it was greatly preferred.
Sighing, he glanced back at his ho, considering if summons might help clean and repair.
But to get summons, he needed to find corpses.
Cleaning was postponed again, and so was hunting that rat.
Percival opened his door and stepped out of his quiet ho back into the chill outside.
Even at midday, Withercrook remained a cold dark world.
One would expect many corpses in a place as haunting as this.
Yet, to Percival’s surprise, there were none.
He couldn’t sense any using the ⸢Grave Sense⸥ Skill.
At least, not here in Withercrook.
Farther north in this forgotten hamlet, he could sense a place where hundreds of corpses were laying in wait.
A supermarket of dead bodies.
Most people would call it a graveyard.
Potayto Potahto.
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