The Genesis Of A Necromancer

Zomaza's furious roar reverberated through the dark chamber, shaking its very foundations. The flickering purple flames that illuminated the room cast long, wavering shadows, each seeming to mock the six-horned demon lord's rage. His skeletal throne groaned under the force of his clenched fists pounding the armrests, sending echoes of crackling bone through the air.

"What do you mean you can't fulfill a simple task?!" Zomaza bellowed, his crimson eyes glowing like twin suns of fury. The air grew heavy, suffocating, as a dark aura oozed from his body, corrupting the surrounding space.

Naon, one of Zomaza's trusted servants, lay prostrate before him, his forehead pressed against the icy floor. Blood seeped from a gaping wound that marred half his body, the flesh on his corrupted side rotting like a decayed fruit. Yet even the agony of his injury was nothing compared to the fear tightening his throat.

"I... I am sorry, my lord," Naon stammered, his voice trembling. "It was unexpected. I didn't anticipate that he would unlock the Lord's powers so soon, let alone ally with a divine incarnate."

Zomaza's sharp intake of breath was the only sound that followed, but it was enough to make Naon's remaining skin crawl. The demon lord rose from his throne, his towering form cloaked in shadow. His gaze bore into Naon with the intensity of a predator eyeing prey.

'A divine incarnate,' Zomaza murmured, his tone eerily calm. But the calm was an illusion, like the silence before a storm. His aura flared suddenly, suffusing the chamber with a malevolent purple glow. "Do you have any idea what your failure has cost us? The angels—those sanctimonious light-dwellers—could descend upon this realm at any moment! Do you think I can achieve my immortality while fending off their holy onslaught?"

Naon didn't dare raise his head. His thoughts raced, torn between guilt and resentment. 'Curse that divine incarnate for interfering... and that boy.' The image of Jack flashed through his mind—defiant, his voice steady as he declared, 'I am the Lord of the Dead... your Lord.' Naon shivered. It was a proclamation that had disrupted all their plans, and his failure had earned Zomaza's wrath.

The memory made Naon's blood boil. 'If it weren't for those two fools, none of this would have happened.'

"My lord," Naon began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have dispatched a search team to the nearest city. They will not escape. The Lord's soul will be yours."

For a moment, silence reigned. Zomaza stood still, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Naon's quivering form. The air grew colder, the oppressive atmosphere gnawing at Naon's nerves. Then, with a speed that defied comprehension, Zomaza's skeletal scythe materialized in his hand.

Naon didn't even register the attack until it was over.

The blade slashed through him, severing his body cleanly in half. Blood sprayed across the chamber, the coppery scent mixing with the acrid stench of corruption. Naon's upper half toppled to the ground, his expression frozen in shock. Despite the pain, he didn't scream—he dared not.

"Divine magic," Zomaza spat, his voice dripping with disdain. He extended a hand toward Naon's corrupted half, and flames erupted, consuming the flesh in a burst of purple fire. "Do not underestimate it. Even the simplest spell can rot us from within."

Naon's severed body began to regenerate, new flesh sprouting where it had been destroyed. The process was excruciating, but he clenched his teeth, enduring it silently. Within moments, he was whole again, though his strength was severely drained.

"Thank you, Lord Zomaza," Naon said, bowing deeply despite his weakened state. His voice was thick with reverence and fear.

"Enough groveling," Zomaza snapped. "I cannot afford another mistake. Bring me the vessel of that boy, and I will extract the Lord's soul myself. Fail me again, and not even death will save you."

"Understood, sire." Naon's voice was hoarse as he scrambled to his feet, staggering out of the chamber.

---

Meanwhile, in the demon village, Jack suppressed a groan as he watched Gurat lick the last remnants of soup from his bowl. The small, pig-snouted demon let out a satisfied belch, steam puffing from his nostrils. "Ah, thank you very much, strangers!" Gurat exclaimed, his voice loud enough to draw glances from nearby tables.

Jack clutched his stomach, his face pale from the single spoonful he had managed to swallow. 'How did he eat the whole thing?'

"So," Jack asked, his voice strained, "what race of demons are you?"

Gurat puffed out his chest, flexing his stubby arms. "We Zhuraks are mighty and strong!" he proclaimed proudly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Right."

Before he could press further, the waitress returned, her golden eyes narrowing at the sight of Gurat. The demon immediately scurried behind Jack, using him as a shield. "They said they'd pay for me!" he declared, his voice laced with mockery.

The waitress shot a questioning glance at Alisha, who nodded silently, handing over a few more moonlight stones. With a curt nod, the waitress pocketed the payment and walked away.

As they left the restaurant, Gurat continued to chatter, oblivious to Jack's irritation. "We Zhuraks can tell ourselves apart from any demon. In fact, I can tell what kind of demon *you* are!" he said, pointing a stubby finger at Alisha.

"Wait—" Jack started, but Gurat was already leaping at Alisha. His long, slimy tongue darted out, licking her arm in one swift motion.

Alisha froze, her calm demeanor faltering for a split second. Jack gaped in horror, barely resisting the urge to slap the little demon.

Gurat smacked his lips thoughtfully, his expression growing puzzled. "Hmm, you taste... different. Not like any demon I've ever met. Wait a minute... you're not a—"

Jack lunged, clamping a hand over Gurat's mouth. "Shut up," he hissed, glancing around nervously. Several villagers had turned to look in their direction.

Alisha raised a hand, her serene smile disarming the onlookers. "Apologies for the disturbance," she said, her voice melodic and soothing. The tension eased as the villagers returned to their business, some murmuring compliments about the "handsome couple."

Jack's jaw tightened at the comment, but he focused on Gurat, who was still squirming in his grip. 'Listen, you little—'

A loud crash interrupted him. The village gates burst open, and two familiar guards were tossed to the ground like broken toys. Dust filled the air as a trio of horned demons entered, riding massive, snarling boars. The leader's voice rang out, deep and commanding.

"We come under the orders of Lord Zomaza! Surrender the intruders, or face annihilation!"

The murmurs of the crowd turned to hushed panic. Jack felt his pulse quicken as the leader's gaze swept over the gathering.

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