Chapter Thirty-Seven
Crow logged back into the game.
The familiar dark skies of the starting continent greeted him.
Without hesitation, he summoned a shadow gate through his Endless Dominion and stepped into the wilderness.
His destination was already burned into his memory — a goblin camp teeming with 600 goblins just a few kilometers from the starter village.
Within minutes, he stood on a rocky cliff, overlooking the camp.
600 goblins.
Crude weapons.
Tattered armor.
Primitive defenses — wooden spikes and rotting tents.
They were nothing.
Crow raised his hand lazily.
A black rune ignited in the air above him — the sign of his SSS Rank Necromancer and SS Rank Divine Controller.
Without a single chant, he activated Undead Arise.
A deep rumble shook the ground.
Shadowy tendrils snaked across the goblin camp, seizing the unaware goblins by their ankles, throats, and hearts.
Screams barely had time to escape their lungs.
In less than two minutes,
every last goblin was slaughtered.
Crow calmly walked through the silent camp.
Blood still dripped from ruined tents and shattered huts, but he didn't slow down.
He activated Undead Arise again.
The dead goblins twitched—then rose.
600 new undead goblins stood at attention, their soulless eyes awaiting orders.
Crow smiled faintly.
[You have successfully created 600 Undead Goblin Units.]
[Current Undead Army: 1,000 Units]
With a wave of his hand, he opened a portal and transferred them into his Pocket Dimension.
Inside, they joined the other undead already patrolling his endless lands — 400 goblins and the Level 80 Ice-Thunder Dragon.
Crow looked around once more.
No witnesses.
No survivors.
No mercy.
Exactly as planned.
He turned his gaze eastward.
There were still dozens of other camps nearby —
orc tribes, kobold colonies, beast dens —
each filled with future soldiers for his growing dominion.
And he intended to harvest them all.