Chapter One: The Deceased, Forced Back to Life

Half-awake, half-asleep, he once again dreamed of those terrifying scenes of catastrophe.

Countless abominations, concealed by the night, emerged in swarms from the dense forest. Their scales were slick with mucus, their bodies bloated and decaying, and their mouths spewed blasphemies in endless roars—these monsters, corrupted by the power of the Old Gods, sought to assimilate every sentient, intelligent creature into soulless puppets enslaved by ancient deities.

The stars shall never fall; the Old Gods shall awaken!

Ren the wizard jolted awake from his nightmare.

He opened his eyes from his shallow slumber and realized his back was drenched in cold sweat, soaking through his clothing.

He could not sleep any longer.

Draping his robe over his shoulders, he rose and stepped outside. Under the moonlight, he gazed at the ruins of the castle, calming the turbulent emotions within.

A thousand years ago, the ancestral Elven Empire, united with all the intelligent races of the continent, fought together against the abominations. Through the relentless battles and sacrifices of countless heroes, the monsters were finally eradicated.

Now, a millennium later, the world has forgotten their existence. The kingdoms war against one another, the unity of old lost to the ages.

None suspect that, deep beneath the earth, the ancient and evil corruption is poised to return, threatening to drag the entire world into the decaying embrace of the Old Gods.

Ren lit a torch and descended the castle’s stone steps.

This castle was called “Andatilasha,” which, in ancient elven tongue, means “Dawn Outpost.” It was the ancestral Elven Empire’s final bastion against the abominations.

After the Elven Empire fell to the uprising of human slaves, this fortress was abandoned, its existence preserved only in the vague, scattered records of a few historians.

Ren arrived at the castle chapel.

The central wooden pews had long rotted away. On either side were dusty stained glass windows, depicting a round-table council held on the eve of the great battle between the heroes of many races and the abomination hordes, thousands of years ago.

Though there were no inscriptions, Ren’s exceptional knowledge of history allowed him to recognize the ancient heroes illustrated: the Northern Maiden, the Twin Towers, the Rose Queen, the General of Sands, the Hand of Nature, and the Emperor of the ancestral Elven Empire.

These ancient heroes led the armies of seven kingdoms, fighting with unyielding courage. Their valor won the final victory for the forces of civilization—at a dreadful cost. The population of the continent was decimated, leaving empty homes everywhere; the ancient tombs scattered across the land are testament enough.

In the chapel’s rear courtyard, Ren found the entrance to the underground tomb.

At the entrance stood a stone stele, its inscription nearly erased by time, though he could just make out a few blurred phrases:

{... Flower of the Empire ... Ael ... buried here ... Dawn Outpost ... to prevent return ...}

Piecing this together with the background lore shared by “insider” posters on the gaming forum before he crossed over, Ren could fill in the stele’s content, etched in grief by the Emperor of the ancestral Elven Empire:

{My eldest daughter, Princess Aelina, Flower of the Empire, led the Spell-Knight Order in the final battle, perishing alongside the Abomination Lord. Bereft of my beloved, surrounded by ruin, I gathered her remains and buried them here, swearing by this stone: henceforth, every Elven Emperor must do all in their power to sustain the Dawn Outpost, to prevent the abominations’ return. From this generation onward, without end.}

Yet the abominations had not returned, and the Elven Empire was already gone. The bastion of the Dawn Outpost faded into oblivion.

Ren lifted the front of his robe and stepped down into the eerie, chilling crypt.

The air was thick with dust and decay, and zombies shuffled through the gloom, but Ren felt no fear whatsoever.

For Ren was a necromancer.

The outer crypt contained the remains of common warriors, all of whom fell in the battle against the abominations. To reach the tombs of nobles and lords, one had to pass through their coffins.

Without the vigilance and upkeep of priests, these corpses might become undead, crawling from their coffins sword in hand, forming the last line of defense for the monarchs’ remains.

Yet, to a seasoned necromancer, they were nothing more than an appetizer before the main course.

Ren dispatched them all with effortless spells.

He arrived at the door to the lord’s tomb, where another stone stele stood. The ancient elven script was just barely legible:

{Here rests Aelina Francesca, eldest daughter of Emperor Talhero, and her thirty-two loyal Spell-Knights. They endured countless battles, their bodies scarred and bloodied, swearing to give their lives to safeguard the world.}

{In slaying the Abomination Lord, they fulfilled this glorious oath without regret.}

Ren stared at the inscription for a long while, thinking to himself, I never meant to disturb your rest, Princess Aelina. But with the abominations poised to return a millennium later, I have no faith whatsoever in the current kings and nobles.

Anyone who has played the main storyline knows what sort of greedy creatures today’s feudal lords are—so unlike their ancestors, who braved dangers to defend the world, it’s as if they are not of the same blood.

To annihilate the abominations, I will use any means necessary.

Ren made a cold, resolute decision and stepped into the lord’s tomb.

Darkness enveloped him.

All the coffins lay open. Aelina’s bones and those of her thirty-two Spell-Knights had been shattered and mixed together, impossible to distinguish.

Clearly, in the long millennium, Ren was not the first stranger to visit these ruins.

Some damned tomb robbers had been here first, dragging all the skeletons from their coffins, stripping off their armor, breaking their bones, and meticulously looting every possible burial item.

Aelina’s bone fragments were mingled with those of her Spell-Knights, never to be separated again.

Ren spent a long time sorting through the pelvic bones of all thirty-three corpses.

Even for a necromancer, osteology is a complex and obscure discipline: the bone features of different races are markedly distinct.

But by rare coincidence, Ren had deep expertise in bone identification.

Among ancestral elves, females have a pelvis with a long oval-shaped inlet, greater anterior-posterior distance, and a wide, shallow cavity.

Thus, he could rule out twenty-nine male elven Spell-Knights, leaving four female elven pelves.

It was also known that Princess Aelina died young, unmarried, and a virgin.

Ren carefully examined the four female elven pelves.

The first had too narrow a pubic gap, identifying her as a young elven girl, likely the youngest apprentice squire, Thalasia.

The second showed porous sacrum, marking her as an elderly elven matron, probably the order’s senior advisor, Grenada.

The third had a noticeably enlarged pelvic outlet and worn sacrococcygeal joint, suggesting childbirth; this was likely the order’s vice-captain, Lady Einfiel.

The fourth, and final:

Its bone age indicated early adulthood, perfectly fused, confirming virginity at death. The left auricular surface of the ilium bore a cut mark, surrounded by corrosion.

Images surfaced in Ren’s mind: silver-haired, golden-eyed Aelina charging forward as the Abomination Lord’s icy sword pierced her thigh, using thunder magic to shatter its skull in a final blow.

She died of heart failure as the poison took hold.

After clearing a space, Ren drew a complex, arcane ritual circle and lit six hundred sixty-six ceremonial candles. He then produced a small crimson vial from his sleeve.

High elven flesh essence.

Most necromancers nowadays crudely reanimate corpses, relying on sheer numbers and the undying nature of their servants to create seemingly terrifying, yet ultimately laughable undead armies—easily dispatched by heroes with basic decapitation tactics.

But Ren was not like those mediocrities.

He mastered both [Flesh Reconstruction] and [Soul Binding], forbidden arts capable of molding a new body in the likeness of the deceased and dragging their soul from the River of the Dead to bind it permanently within.

This was the true [Grand Resurrection], able to transcend the taboo between life and death!

The three materials needed to resurrect Princess Aelina were now all assembled.

“Bone of the dead,” Ren solemnly placed Aelina’s pelvic relic at the center of the ritual circle. “To remold your skeleton.”

“Flesh of kin,” he poured the flesh essence onto the relic, which soon formed a writhing mass of flesh. “To restore your body.”

“Blood of the master,” he drew a ritual dagger and sliced his palm, letting blood drip into the mass. “To renew your crimson life.”

“Princess Aelina Francesca, eldest daughter of Emperor Talhero, leader of the Spell-Knight Order, born of the Tower of Heaven, Light of the Elves, Flower of the Empire—I command your soul to return from the River of the Dead! Obey my summons, submit to my will, yield to my spirit!”

Ren chanted the obscure, sinister incantation. Dark, evil magic flowed from his fingers, weaving through the ritual circle encircled by candles, converging into the writhing mass of flesh.

Gradually, it took the form of a tall, noble elven woman with silver hair and golden eyes, her features radiant and pure.