I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 43: Ten Basic-Grade Undead

Inside was the private chamber of the brothel’s most famous courtesan, the one only high-ranking figures could reserve. The room was spacious and elegant, scented with incense, candlelight reflecting softly off silk drapes and polished wood.

The man exhaled slowly as the door closed behind him, his expression finally loosening. In this place, away from the eyes of the city, he allowed himself a rare moment of indulgence, completely unaware that somewhere in the shadows, he had already become someone else’s target.

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Aiden sat alone by the window of a small restaurant across the street from Moonveil Pavilion. The place was nothing special, wooden tables worn smooth by years of use, the smell of fried meat and cheap wine lingering in the air, but it gave him a clear view of the brothel’s front entrance.

He ate slowly, chewing with care, his eyes drifting now and then toward the lantern-lit building outside.

’No wonder that woman was so generous,’ he thought. ’Killing someone of this status will definitely stir trouble.’

The man he was about to eliminate wasn’t just any client walking into a brothel for pleasure. He was the head chief of the city guard, a high-ranking figure, well-connected, and protected by reputation alone. If this went wrong, there would be a lot of trouble.

Aiden calmly picked up his cup and took a sip.

’But that’s fine,’ he continued inwardly. ’As long as I do it cleanly, there won’t be any traces leading back to me.’

He lowered the cup and leaned back slightly, his mind already working through possibilities, escape routes, timing, distractions. After a brief pause, he decided to check his current condition.

With a thought, he opened his status.

A translucent screen flickered into existence in front of him, floating just above the table. Its pale glow reflected faintly in his eyes, though to everyone else, there was nothing there at all.

[Name: Aiden (Level: 9)]

Class: Necromancer (Death God — Locked)

Basic-Grade Summon: 2

Bronze-Grade Summon: 2

Iron-Grade Summon: 0

Silver-Grade Summon: 0

Gold-Grade Summon: 0

Legendary-Grade Summon: 0

Mythical-Grade Summon: 0

Summon Slot Available: 4 / 15

Skill Points: 1

Active Skills: Lord of the Dead, Bone Shield, Bone Spear, Undead Reinforcement, Undead Sight

Passive Skills: Mana Channeling, Necrotic Sustain

He had leveled up again after dealing with the last target.

His mana pool felt a little deeper, a little steadier. More importantly, he now had one skill point to spend.

With a thought, he opened the skill section.

The translucent screen shifted, lines of text rearranging themselves as available necromancer skills unfolded before his eyes. He scanned through them carefully, eyes moving from top to bottom.

No new tier yet.

"That figures," he muttered under his breath.

From what he can remember, level 10 was the first threshold. If he reached it, new skills would unlock, stronger than the basic ones, but still far from the truly terrifying abilities of high-level necromancers. After that, new skills would only appear every ten levels, all the way up to level fifty.

For now, he was still confined to basic necromancy.

He continued browsing, reading descriptions he had skipped before, comparing mana costs, cooldowns, and practical use. Minutes passed. Then his eyes stopped.

"...This one," he said quietly.

It wasn’t flashy. No explosions. No overwhelming aura. But it was exactly what he needed.

A skill that allowed him to directly control an undead’s body for a short time.

Aiden smiled faintly.

[Possession Command

Allows the necromancer to directly control the body of a single undead for thirty seconds. During this time, the undead moves according to the necromancer’s will, using its full physical capabilities and combat instincts.

Cannot cast skills while controlling the undead, High mental strain after use, Cooldown increases with undead grade]

Aiden confirmed the selection.

The skill icon pulsed once, then settled into place.

He closed the skill screen and looked back toward the brothel across the street, his expression calm but focused.

"Thirty seconds is more than enough," he murmured.

Aiden leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting from the floating screen to the street outside.

"...I guess it’s time to actually use my summon slots."

Right now, he had fifteen slots available, yet only four undead bound to him. It was inefficient. Worse, it limited his options. For what he was planning, subtlety alone wouldn’t be enough, he needed noise, confusion, and pressure. Something expendable. Something numerous.

He needed fodder.

Aiden finished the last bite of his meal, placed a few coins on the table, and stood. His hood went back up as he stepped out of the restaurant, blending into the night crowd without a second glance.

His destination was clear.

The cemetery.

The city cemetery lay at the edge of the district, half-forgotten and poorly maintained. Cracked stone paths wound between crooked headstones, many of them leaning at odd angles as if trying to escape the earth that held them. The air here was colder, heavier. Even ordinary people avoided this place after sunset.

For Aiden, it felt... comfortable.

He slipped through the rusted iron gate and moved deeper inside, boots crunching softly on gravel and dried leaves. The faint smell of damp soil and decay filled the air.

He stopped near a cluster of old graves.

"Basic-grade is enough," he muttered. "I don’t need quality. I need numbers."

What he needed were fighters who could swing a weapon, rush forward, and die without hesitation.

There was just one problem.

He had no way of knowing who among the buried had been a warrior in life.

Aiden exhaled slowly.

"No helping it."

He raised his hand.

"Lord of the Dead."

Dark energy seeped from his palm, sinking into the ground like ink soaking into cloth. The graves trembled.

The soil burst open.

A skeleton clawed its way out, bones scraping against stone as it dragged itself free. It rose unsteadily at first, then straightened, its hollow eye sockets fixing on Aiden as the contract finalized.

One.

Aiden moved to the next orb, repeating the process. Each time, the same sequence followed, the orb collapsing, the grave rupturing, another undead emerging to stand before him. Some came out holding rusted weapons, others with bare hands, their bodies marked by time and neglect.