Grand Arcanum Academy –
The Abyssal Lecture Hall was unlike any other classroom in the academy.
The moment the students stepped inside, the temperature plummeted. A biting chill swept through the vast chamber, making the air feel heavy—not with mana, but with something older.
Dark stone walls lined with eldritch runes stretched high into an unseen ceiling, their faint glow pulsing like a dying heartbeat. Enchanted torches flickered with eerie blue fire, casting distorted shadows that seemed to move on their own.
At the center of the hall stood a massive obsidian altar, surrounded by strange skeletal remains—some human, some… not.
It was a place that defied the laws of the living.
And for many of the students—this was their first true brush with the unknown.
Victor Graves strode to the front of the room, his black robe flowing behind him like an extension of the shadows themselves.
With a single wave of his hand, the doors slammed shut, sealing them inside.
"Welcome," he murmured, his violet eyes gleaming with amusement.
"To the art of Necromancy."
Victor let the silence stretch, watching as the students shuffled uneasily.
Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised a single pale hand—and snapped his fingers.
Black mist erupted from his palm, swirling through the room. The shadows twisted, and suddenly—
A skeletal hand burst from the ground before him.
A second.
A third.
And then, from the depths of the abyss, a fully reanimated corpse dragged itself upright. Its empty sockets burned with a faint purple glow, its movements unnatural yet precise.
A few students gasped, stepping back instinctively.
Victor merely smiled.
"Necromancy," he began, "is not merely the art of raising the dead."
His cold gaze swept across the class.
"It is the rejection of the very laws that govern life itself."
He extended his hand, and the undead knight before him knelt.
"To understand Necromancy, you must first understand these three truths."
Victor's voice was calm, almost gentle.
"The world teaches you that life is good, and death is evil."
"That is a lie."
He gestured to the undead before him.
"Life and death are merely two sides of the same coin—one cannot exist without the other."
He stepped closer to the reanimated corpse.
"The ignorant fear the dead, believing them to be unnatural." He scoffed. "Yet those same fools will cut down a tree to build a home—disrupting nature's balance without a second thought."
He turned back to the class.
"Tell me—why is it acceptable to consume the flesh of beasts, to slaughter men in war, yet it is taboo to wield death itself?"
Silence.
No one answered.
Victor's smirk widened.
"I thought so."
Victor snapped his fingers again.
The undead knight collapsed into dust, returning to nothingness.
Then, without hesitation, Victor slashed his palm open with a flick of his fingers.
Blood dripped onto the stone floor.
Before anyone could react, black energy coiled around his wound.
In mere seconds, the cut closed completely, as if it had never existed.
The students stared.
Victor tilted his head.
"Healing magic," he murmured, "is a direct rejection of death. It is the same principle as necromancy—and yet the world worships one while condemning the other."
His gaze darkened.
"Do not be deceived—all magic defies nature. Some are merely more acceptable than others."
Victor waved his hand, and a massive illusion formed in the air, displaying three distinct images.
"These are the three paths of Necromancy," he explained.
The first image showed a necromancer clad in bone armor, surrounded by an army of skeletons and ghouls.
"This is the most common form of Necromancy," Victor said.
"Those who follow this path wield death as a tool—raising and commanding the dead as soldiers, laborers, and spies."
His violet eyes gleamed.
"The greatest Undead Masters can command entire legions, turning battlefields into their personal graveyards of war."
Some students swallowed hard.
The second image was disturbing.
It showed a figure cloaked in shadows, holding a struggling soul in its hands, twisting and reshaping it like clay.
"This," Victor said, "is a far rarer and more… forbidden path."
"The Soul Manipulator does not simply raise the dead. They enslave souls, bend them to their will, and reshape them into weapons."
His voice was almost amused as he glanced at the class.
"This path is… unpopular, even among necromancers."
He chuckled.
"And for good reason."
Some students visibly shuddered.
The final image was of a warrior cloaked in pure black energy, wielding a scythe forged of condensed death itself.
Victor's smirk vanished.
"The rarest path of all."
His voice dropped lower, more serious.
"The Deathbringer not only summon undead, not only enslave souls."
"They wield the very essence of death itself as a weapon."
"This path is the most feared—because a true Deathbringer can kill with a mere touch."
The students stiffened.
Victor's gaze flicked toward Morganna Draven, whose violet eyes burned with interest.
"Only those deeply connected to the abyss can master this art."
His voice softened.
"But those who do… are nearly unstoppable."
****
Victor snapped his fingers once more, and from the altar—
A black crystal rose into the air.
It pulsed, as if it were alive.
The very presence of the crystal made some students feel uneasy—as if it was watching them.
Victor let the silence stretch before speaking.
"This is the Abyssal Crystal."
"By touching it, you will see which path—if any—your mana resonates with."
He paused.
"Many of you will find nothing."
His lips curled slightly.
"But some of you… will hear it call."
He stepped aside.
"Now—come forward."
And So It Began…
One by one, students stepped forward.
Some touched the crystal… and nothing happened.
Others felt a faint tingle, but nothing more.
Then—
Morganna Draven placed her hand on the crystal.
The moment she did—
The entire room darkened.
The torches flickered violently.
A low, eerie whisper filled the air—like the murmurs of the dead.
The crystal turned deep violet, pulsing in sync with Morganna's own heartbeat.
Victor's eyes gleamed.
"Well, well."
He chuckled.
"It seems we have a natural-born Deathbringer."
The other students stared.
Morganna only smiled—a slow, knowing smile.
One that sent a chill down everyone's spine.
(To Be Continued...)