Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Watching the ash drift down, Pelan withdrew his gaze with a hint of regret.

But it was merely a tinge of regret. In the next moment, his full attention was completely captured by the man on the ground.

Compared to vultures, those common carrion-eating magical beasts, the rare soul and intact body before him were the top-tier alchemical materials a great mage should pursue.

Gripping his black staff, Pelan cast a levitation spell on the man by the lake and, with great care, moved him back to his own hut.

Unlike some dark mages who preferred to design their mage towers to be eerie and terrifying, Pelan's "mage tower" wasn't a "tower" at all. It was just a simple wooden hut with a vegetable garden.

Anyone passing by from the outside would only think an ordinary villager lived there, never associating it with a mage's home, let alone guessing that a great necromancer resided within.

It was around noon when they arrived home. Sunlight, like molten gold, filtered through the layers of leaves and branches, casting dappled, shimmering spots of light on the roof. A large oak tree seemed to have grown right out of the hut, embracing it in its arms, creating a scene of remarkable warmth and tranquility.

Pelan stepped onto the soft grass, glancing sideways at the vegetable garden enclosed by a fence.

This patch was specially cultivated by him. Besides growing some vegetables, most of it was filled with herbs he casually gathered from the forest.

The iris he had brought back was thriving, blooming with small blue flowers under the sun.

Pelan withdrew his gaze. Just as he stepped onto the first stair, the wooden door creaked open gently from the inside.

Looking down, Pelan saw three skeletal squirrels shaking their heads at him, the small red flames in their eye sockets flickering.

He crouched down, stroking the heads of the three skeletal squirrels in turn. "Thank you for watching the house."

The flames seemed to burn a little brighter. The squirrels brushed against his fingers, then scampered to the window. With a few leaps, they climbed along the overhanging branches back onto the large oak tree.

Pelan stood up and entered the house, maintaining the spell to place the man on the workbench in his laboratory.

The man was very tall and large. The cluttered, crowded workbench couldn't accommodate him. Unwilling to just leave him on the floor, Pelan had to first lay him on his own small rest bed.

Just as he was about to fetch a basin of water to clean the man up, a deep, aged voice suddenly sounded in his ear: "Oh! My dear magic apprentice, look what you've brought back! An evil and powerful soul! I could smell it all the way from the study!"

Pelan looked up. A magic book, floating in mid-air, drifted leisurely from the doorway into the laboratory.

Pelan blinked slowly. "Yi Lao?"

The magic book *thwacked* him on the forehead, saying angrily, "How many times have I told you to call me Teacher! Teacher!"

In Yakalanst, most mages had only one magic teacher in their lifetime.

The magic book fumed, "Is that half-baked magic apprentice worthy of you calling him teacher?! Which of the spells you've learned over the years wasn't taught by me! Is it so hard to call me teacher once?!"

Pelan didn't speak, just placed his hands on his knees, listening obediently to the scolding.

A magic book was far more than just a "book with spells written in it." It was the magical notes left behind by a mage during their lifetime, recording not only profound incantations and magical theories but also the mage's daily insights and reflections. It could be said to be the most precious legacy a mage left for the world.

Of course, depending on the original owner's magical power, the content recorded and the magic contained within a magic book varied.

The magic book in Pelan's hands was written by a necromancer hailed as the greatest in Yakalanst's history—Ixuhuels.

Even though all impressions and the life story of Ixuhuels were narrated orally by the magic book itself, it didn't stop Pelan from sincerely believing in and admiring this necromancer.

Fortunately, Yi Lao wasn't learning about Pelan's temperament for the first time. After grumbling at him for a bit, he steered the conversation back on track.

Yi Lao circled the man on the bed a few times, offering rare praise: "Magic apprentice, not bad this time! Finally brought back a decent soul and body."

Hearing this, Pelan knew the other was about to offer guidance. He asked humbly, "Yi Lao, should I refine this body first?"

Yi Lao pondered for a moment before slowly saying, "Although his flesh is corrupted and has lost its vitality, it would be a pity to only turn him into a lich. For undead beings, necrotic flesh isn't a major issue. The key is having a powerful skeleton as a vessel, and the body from life is the best choice."

Pelan stared at the man who looked as if he were asleep with his eyes closed for a long while, deciding to use a necromantic resurrection ritual to directly transform him into a high-level undead knight.

Someone this formidable in life must have been at least a Martial Saint. After being refined into an undead knight, he would surely be exceptionally valiant.

However, before the ritual could begin, he had to repair this body first, otherwise it would greatly affect the undead creature's strength.

Thinking this, Pelan brought a huge cauldron from the potion-making room, stripped all the clothes from the man's body, carefully placed him into the pot, and washed his body with a specially prepared potion.

The blood and grime on the man's body were quickly washed away by the potion. Pelan brought over a wooden stool and sat by the pot's opening, meticulously cleaning the filth from his head.

He held the soft strands of hair in his hand, but the black mud on them just wouldn't wash off... Wait... Huh?

Pelan lifted the hair in his hand in surprise, looking at it again and again. It wasn't that he couldn't wash off the dirt; it was originally black.

Not golden, not flaxen, but black, just like his own.

Pelan felt his heart give a powerful thump.

He brushed the hair away from the man's face and tried to lift his eyelids with his fingers, wanting to see if his eyes were also red like his own.

After trying for a while, he sighed, temporarily giving up on that idea.

Were this man's eyelids glued together or something?

Still, this face was quite handsome, more so than three elves combined.

Pelan thought.

After staring at him intently for a long time, Pelan reached out and poked his eyelashes. His mood suddenly, inexplicably, brightened. An undead being with black hair and this good-looking would be his from now on.

"Playing around for so long, hurry up and get to work!"

The cold voice of Yi Lao sounded from behind.

"Oh." Pelan stood up, picking up the long-prepared magical materials from the worktable.

After drawing the soul magic circle on the ground, Pelan took out five enchanted black crystals from his dimensional pocket, placing them around the magic circle.

The magic book flew out of the circle, stopping behind Pelan. "His soul is already very weak due to trauma. Now is the best time for you to form a contract with him."

Pelan nodded, raised his staff, and began to chant. The magic circle beneath his feet activated, flashing with an eerie light in the darkness. The tiny runes drawn on the man's heart, brain, and joints also glowed faintly.

Closing his eyes, Pelan saw his soul.

It was very quiet.

In a vast, desolate plain stood a black cocoon. That was his soul.

Pelan's spiritual force landed before the giant cocoon. He tentatively touched the slumbering soul. It was calm, without hysteria or resistance attacking him. He could feel that inside the cocoon were full of painful, terrifying negative emotions.

Yet, even upon spiritual contact, those sharp emotions remained wary of the outsider, not recklessly entangling with him.

The thread of spiritual force paused for a moment but did not attempt to penetrate the cocoon to erase his consciousness. Instead, it gently imprinted his own soul mark on the outside of the cocoon.

This proud, solitary soul would not accept having his fate controlled by another while unaware and unconscious.

With that thought, Pelan ultimately halted the ritual.

"Decided?"

"Yeah." Pelan nodded wearily, silently agreeing.

The magic book swayed from side to side, its tone dripping with disapproval.

"Tsk, don't say I didn't warn you. Trying to revive someone whose life force has been severed is no different from resurrecting the dead. Even the most powerful priests of the Church of Light can't do it. Unless the God of Light himself appears to perform the legendary Great Healing, it's hopeless."

Pelan glanced at the man still leaning in the cauldron, mused absently, then I'll wait until he breathes his last.

It wouldn't be too late to make a contract with him then.

He silently recited the magic incantation, moving both the cauldron and the man back to the alchemy workshop.

Immediately after, Pelan seriously took out herbs for treating external injuries, lighting a fire beneath the magic cauldron while tossing various ingredients inside.

Once the dark green potion had brewed, he immersed the man in the medicinal bath within the cauldron, which emitted an eerie green glow.

If it weren't for the money, Pelan wouldn't have touched this cauldron. In fact, for most alchemists, potion-making was just one part of their work.

After all, both studying alchemy and concocting potions were a huge money sink. More often than not, Pelan preferred delving into new necromantic spells rather than figuring out the various components and ratios needed to create new potions.

After soaking for a full day and night, the man's external injuries had completely healed. Pelan reached out and touched his chest—the wound that had once been the size of a bowl had closed up. The skin beneath his fingers felt smooth, and the resilient muscles were full of strength.

Pelan withdrew his hand, satisfied. His ears twitched as he seemed to hear someone outside calling his name.

"Pelan! Pelan! Are you home? I came to play! Come out!"

There was no need to carefully identify the voice's owner. The only one who liked to visit unannounced was his neighbor—the Dark Elf Sipo.

Unlike Pelan, Sipo was an enthusiastic elf who loved socializing.

He had left the Elven Forest to live alone here, purely because Dark Elves were unwelcome among their own kind.

He always seemed to have a lot on his mind, and every time he visited Pelan, he would talk at length before finally leaving.

Most of the time, he arrived excitedly and left in a huff.

Pelan was certain that if there were another intelligent, speaking being nearby, Sipo definitely wouldn't come looking for him without reason.

The elf's voice outside grew louder. Pelan tossed a few more herbs into the cauldron before quickly heading toward the front door.

He left in such a hurry that he didn't notice the faint trembling of the man's eyelids behind him.

Author's Note:

----------------------