The Genesis Of A Necromancer-Chapter 168: Death’s arrival.

Asriel Digmun—the loose thread in the royal tapestry. The flaw in an otherwise perfect lineage. The kingdom had done its best to hide the truth, to bury it beneath layers of deception. But they had spies. They had ears in every corner of the castle. And they had learned the truth.

The firstborn prince was a failure. Powerless. Unworthy of the throne.

That was the key. The weakness they had been waiting for. The chance to tear the Digmun family apart from the inside.

'And during the next Hubris…' Henry thought, his smirk deepening. 'Let's see if the Digmun family will have anything left to convince those four-winged bastards to pass the throne to them again.'

The thought alone filled him with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

They had waited. Bided their time. And now, everything was coming together. The rage in Arin's eyes, the frustration etched into his clenched jaw—they would use it all.

'The hatred you bear for your brother… the resentment that festers in your heart…'

Henry's gaze darkened.

'We will weave it into your downfall.'

The plan was already in motion. Arin, blind with jealousy, was nothing more than a pawn now. A piece to be maneuvered until the Digmun family crumbled beneath the weight of their own mistakes.

Meanwhile, far from the whispers of treachery and political schemes, the clash of battle still raged on.

Jack stood amidst the carnage, his breath coming in sharp, measured exhales. The blood mummies surrounded him, their grotesque forms shifting, their elongated limbs morphing into deadly weapons. The scent of iron and decay was suffocating, clinging to his skin like a curse.

He had fought countless foes before. But these… these were different.

The moment their blades met his, he felt it.

The hunger. The thirst. The insatiable desire to consume and evolve.

Each slash, each clash, each drop of blood that fell only served to make them stronger. They adapted. Learned. Became deadlier with every second that passed.

Jack's mind raced.

'They're too coordinated. Too in sync.'

There was no hesitation in their movements, no wasted motion. It was as if they operated under a single consciousness. A hive mind. Each one covering the other's weaknesses, each one pressing forward with relentless precision.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

'Damn it…'

Dodging was becoming harder. Avoiding their strikes had gone from difficult to nearly impossible. Every move he made was met with immediate retaliation. Every gap he tried to exploit was sealed before he could even take advantage of it.

And then—

A blade came dangerously close. Too close.

Jack twisted at the last second, but the cold edge of the dagger sliced through his sleeve. His heart lurched in his chest as he yanked himself backward, eyes wide.

No pain.

No wound.

No blood.

Relief flooded through him, but it was fleeting.

'That was too close.'

Jack widened the gap between himself and the relentless attackers, standing on the other end of the battlefield. He needed time to analyze, to find a way to deal with them all.

The consequences of even a single scratch were too great. Erebus had warned him. If his blood so much as touched them, if even a single drop fell into their cursed forms, they would transform into something far worse.

A Blood General.

And that… was not a battle he could afford to fight.

Jack's grip on his blade tightened.

He had to end this. Quickly.

As his anxiety built, movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A contorted soul, seething with malice, hurtled toward him at a terrifying speed.

'And this idiot is joining in as well.'

Frustration simmered beneath his calm exterior as he dodged the exploding ball of souls, narrowly escaping its destructive force. The blood mummies, unfazed, pressed forward.

Another deadly fact about them—they didn't consume much energy from their caster. They only required energy at the moment of their creation. Once formed, they could sustain themselves indefinitely, growing stronger with every wound they inflicted.

If they landed even a single strike, their strength would grow. Their time in this world would be prolonged. And Jack's chances of survival would plummet.

'Fuck this. I can't avoid all these monsters without using my powers.'

A pause. An eerie silence within his mind.

Even Erebus had no immediate response. As much as the god wanted to deny it, he knew Jack was right.

Restricting himself to the Zhurak's abilities wouldn't be enough.

But—

Jack's gaze flickered upward toward the skybox.

'Revealing myself so soon?'

From her perch above, Naya's sharp eyes observed the battle, her brows furrowed. He knew she had already sensed something… different about him. The distinctive traits of his soul. But even she could not pierce through the divinity of a god.

At best, she would assume he was a half-demon.

But if he unleashed his true power now—

She would know.

Jack exhaled, looking back at the encroaching blood mummies. A thought took root in his mind, an idea that twisted his lips into a smirk.

He was no longer just Jack.

He was no longer the useless Asriel from the story he had read.

He was the reincarnation of the strongest god.

No.

He was the strongest god.

"Why should I care about what mere mortals will do?"

A small, hysterical chuckle escaped his lips. The feeling… it was strange. This wasn't like him. He had always been cautious, always calculating every step forward.

But now—

Now, he had embraced something deeper. A personality that belonged to Erebus. A personality he loved.

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The blood mummies surged forward once more, their soulless eyes fixed on their prey.

Jack didn't move.

He clenched his blade tightly.

The first blood mummy lunged, its twisted form a blur of dark energy. And then—

It stopped.

An immense force crashed down upon it. Its grotesque shape buckled beneath an invisible weight, its limbs contorting, its body flattening as though the very air had solidified around it.

A massive aura burst from Jack, thick and suffocating. It was oppressive. Overwhelming. A presence so powerful it sent shivers down the spines of those who watched.

Even the crazed demon mage flinched, his glee momentarily replaced with fear.

The aura carried something more than power.

It carried the energy of death itself.

And it was different.

Unfamiliar. Yet terrifyingly absolute.

It was as though death itself had descended upon them.

As though it had paid them all a visit.

And it had come to make sure this would be their last.

The three blood mummies charging toward Jack halted in their tracks. A chilling silence fell over the battlefield as an unseen force crushed down upon them, suffocating, absolute. The very souls that had been harvested to create them trembled within their cursed forms, as if recoiling from the presence of something far greater than themselves.

It was instinctual, ingrained into the very essence of their being.

A primal warning.

Attack, and it would mean annihilation.

Jack stood motionless, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He had expected resistance, yet here they were, frozen, their grotesque bodies twitching in fear. Was this truly the weight of his aura? Was this the power that Erebus had wielded without hesitation?

A slow smile curled at the edges of Jack's lips.

From the skybox, Naya, Layla, and the demon generals bore witness to the scene unfolding below. The sensation creeping through their veins was undeniable—raw and ancient, stirring something long buried in the depths of their souls. It was more than power. It was a command, an unspoken decree that resonated with every fiber of their existence.

The realization struck them all at once.

This being standing before them was not some mere demon.

He was their creator.

The entity responsible for the very birth of their race.

A low murmur rippled through the gathered demons as their instincts urged them into submission. Layla, usually unreadable, felt her throat go dry. Naya clenched her fists, eyes narrowing as she fought against the involuntary pull to bow.

Jack took a single step forward, and the air grew thick with an overwhelming presence. The blood mummies recoiled, their twisted bodies losing cohesion under the sheer force of it. The pressure in the atmosphere became suffocating, pressing down on every living creature in the vicinity.

'Death does not fear… It is the living who fear death.'

Jack finally understood the foundation of Erebus's unwavering confidence, the source of his strength.

He did not wield death.

He was death.

Meanwhile, far from the battlefield, deep within human territory, another conflict had already reached its end.

A city, once teeming with demonic presence, now lay eerily silent. The scent of charred bodies and blood lingered in the air as warriors in silver and crimson armor stood amidst the destruction. The battle had been won, but for Aldermond, the victory felt… unnatural.

"Lord Aldermond," Luther called out, stepping forward. "We have eradicated all demons within the city."

Aldermond nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping over the bloodied ruins. The human forces had done well—too well. They had expected a prolonged battle, an intense struggle for control. Instead, it had been a slaughter. The demons had fallen with surprising ease, their resistance feeble at best.

Something was wrong.