The Genesis Of A Necromancer

The grand hall stood as a testament to the power and majesty of the five great kingdoms. Its arched ceilings stretched so high they seemed to pierce the heavens, with intricate carvings that depicted ancient battles and celestial beings locked in eternal struggle. The chamber itself was divided into vast sections, ensuring a respectful distance between the dignitaries of each realm. Each kingdom's emissaries sat behind their ruler, cloaked in their unique traditions and symbols of power.

At the head of one section sat Aldermond, his imposing frame reclined in a throne carved from obsidian and veined with streaks of gold. Beside him sat Arwen, the ever-composed tactician, and Hera, her sharp gaze flitting across the hall like a hawk sizing up prey. Luther, the loyal guardian and silent specter, stood behind Aldermond, his massive frame like a living fortress. His presence alone was enough to deter any would-be threats.

Across the hall, on an equally grand throne adorned with silver and fur, sat Baguk, a behemoth of a man whose sheer physicality demanded attention. His massive frame was draped in a cloak of thick, dark fur, the kind taken from beasts hunted in the harshest winters. His deep black eyes burned with an unyielding intensity, and his full beard only added to the savage authority he exuded. A fierce aura radiated from him, wrapping around the room like a coiled serpent.

At his side sat a figure of extraordinary beauty—a woman clad in a translucent blue gown that shimmered like moonlight on water. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, and her face bore markings that glimmered like molten gold, resembling flames dancing across her porcelain skin. Her ethereal presence balanced Baguk's fiery intensity, but her piercing gaze warned that she, too, was not to be trifled with.

The other dignitaries present were no less remarkable. Each was a figure of immense power and influence, representing their respective kingdoms with pride and quiet menace.

The tense silence was broken by the booming voice of a herald stationed at the grand double doors.

"High Priest Carlos has arrived!"

The words reverberated through the hall, and the massive doors groaned open to reveal the figure in question. Clad in resplendent robes of crimson and white, Carlos entered with an air of authority that silenced the murmurs of the gathered elite. His sharp eyes swept the room, lingering for a moment on Baguk, the only one who remained seated—a deliberate slight that Carlos noted but chose not to address.

Trailing behind Carlos was Ivan, his usual stoic demeanor marred by a bandage wrapped tightly around one hand. The wound, a reminder of the horrors he had faced, was a stark contrast to the unyielding aura he tried to maintain.

Carlos paused before his throne, raising his hands in a gesture of blessing. "May the grace of Lord Olion shine upon you all," he declared, his voice resonating with practiced authority.

"Lumen!" came the unified response from the assembly—except for Baguk, whose silence was as deliberate as his refusal to stand.

Carlos's lips tightened, but he pushed his annoyance aside, stepping into the role of mediator. "We have gathered here to address the grave events that have shaken our world," he began, his tone heavy with gravity. "As you all know, the convention at the academy, intended to unite our kingdoms in peace, was marred by catastrophe. A rift between planes has opened, allowing the Howlers to pour into our lands. Worse still, a lesser demon emerged, claiming three of our successors and wounding one of our saints." His gaze flicked briefly to Ivan, who stood stiffly by his side.

Baguk's sharp laugh cut through the air like a blade. "We've already heard this litany of woes, Carlos. Spare us the dramatics and get to the point. I didn't come here to listen to a child's whining."

The hall fell deathly silent, the tension crackling like a storm about to break. Carlos's eyes flashed with fury as he locked gazes with Baguk. "You tread dangerous ground, Baguk," he said coldly. "Do not mistake my restraint for weakness."

Baguk leaned forward, his voice a low growl. "And do not mistake my patience for submission. I've endured enough of your church's schemes. Tell me where my son is, or I'll take matters into my own hands."

"Baguk, please," interjected the beast man seated near him, whose features bore markings similar to the woman's. His voice was calm but firm, a soothing balm against the rising tempers. "Let us hear what Carlos has to say."

Baguk's sneer deepened, but he leaned back, his wife placing a calming hand on his arm.

Carlos took a moment to collect himself before continuing. "As I was saying, this is no time for division. The rift has destabilized the balance of our world. The Howlers are merely the beginning. If we do not act swiftly, the next wave could bring far worse horrors."

"And your solution?" Aldermond's calm voice carried over the room, commanding attention.

Carlos turned to him, grateful for the intervention. "We must take the fight to the planes themselves," he declared. "If we allow them to gather strength, we'll face an invasion unlike any we've seen before. Our only hope is to strike first, to destroy the rift and the creatures it has unleashed."

A murmur rippled through the hall. The idea of invading the planes was both audacious and terrifying.

"And how do you propose we do that?" asked the beast man, his expression thoughtful.

Carlos straightened, his voice unwavering. "By uniting our forces. This is not a battle any one kingdom can win alone. We must set aside our differences and act as one."

Baguk scoffed. "Unity? From you? Spare me your hypocrisy."

Carlos's eyes narrowed. "And what would you suggest, Baguk? Sitting idly by while the Howlers ravage our lands? Or perhaps you'd prefer to blame the church for every misfortune, as you always do."

"Enough!" Aldermond's voice rang out, silencing the room. His gaze swept over the gathered leaders, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the heated exchanges. "Carlos is right about one thing: we cannot afford to be divided. The rift threatens us all. If we do not act, we may not have a world left to fight over." Your next journey awaits at My Virtual Library Empire

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of his words sinking in.

Carlos seized the moment. "This is war," he said, his voice firm. "And like all wars, it will require sacrifice. But if we stand together, we can end this threat before it consumes us."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, one by one, the rulers nodded, their reluctant agreement a testament to the gravity of the situation.

Baguk was the last to respond, his gaze hard as steel. "Fine," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But mark my words, Carlos—if this is another one of your church's games, I'll see to it that you're the first to fall."

Carlos met his gaze without flinching. "Then let us hope, for all our sakes, that this war ends quickly."

As the leaders prepared to discuss strategy, the ominous reality of the coming conflict hung over the hall like a storm cloud. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but there was no turning back now.

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