Kael no longer remembered Earth.

  No dull gray mornings.

  No heartache.

  No weakness.

  No loneliness clawing at his throat like rusted chains.

  All of that had been left behind, buried in another life like a corpse that would never rise. In its place was only the now—this moment, this breath, this world of skies carved by dragons and cities suspended in fire.

  He wasn’t broken. He wasn’t afraid.

  He was Kael Vire, scion of Nightblood flame, bearer of Soulbrand.

  And today, he would become an adventurer.

  The interior of the Duskar Adventurer’s Guild felt more like a war cathedral than a reception hall. Vaulted ceilings held chandeliers made from wyvern ribs and soulglass. Along the blackstone walls hung battle-scarred weapons, mounted beast heads, and engraved plates listing the names of legendary Drakenborne fallen in dungeons or dragon hunts.

  A few grizzled veterans lounged in the hall, drinking from horned flasks, their armor stained with blood both old and fresh. They barely spared the boy a glance—but their eyes lingered when the Hollow Grimoire floated silently at his side.

  Kael approached the obsidian registration desk, behind which sat a robed scribe—an older drakenborne with pale horns and a long scroll half-filled with blood-marked names.

  “Name,” the scribe asked, not looking up.

  “Kael. Vire.”

  That did make the man look up.

  “…of the High House?”

  Kael nodded once.

  The scribe gave a slight grunt of approval and retrieved a blackened stone tablet, covered in spiraling draconic runes. At its center was a blood-glyph, dormant and pulsing faintly like a sleeping heart.

  “Standard initiation,” the scribe said. “Place your hand over the glyph. Offer a drop of blood. The device will read your mana density, soul imprint, and physical resonance. You’ll be given a rank—E to A, or provisional if you’re an unknown element.”

  Kael didn’t hesitate. He bit his thumb, letting a drop of dark violet blood fall onto the glyph.

  The runes ignited instantly.

  The stone glowed red-hot, then blackened, the air crackling with necrotic energy. Kael’s body shuddered as a cold shock ran up his spine—and then it happened.

  The System Window Appeared.

  The first time since the day of his rebirth.

  [SYSTEM WINDOW: STATUS]

  –   Name: Kael Vire

  –   Race: Drakenborne – Nightblood Lineage

  –   Class: Necromancer

  –   Level: 1

  –   Health: 120

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  –   Mana: 300

  –   Stamina: 100

  Attributes:

  –   – Strength: 8

  –   – Endurance: 10

  –   – Agility: 11

  –   – Intelligence: 16 (Summon Cap: 6 Undead)

  –   – Willpower: 18

  –   – Mana Affinity: 20

  –   – Charisma: 12

  –   – Luck: 7

  Unique Trait:

  –   – Soulbrand – Your undead bear the mark of your will. Each summon is stronger than standard and evolves faster. Possibility of elite undead through ritual or battle.

  Passive Skills:

  –   – Nightblood Resilience – Enhanced resistance to curses, poisons, and mind-altering effects.

  –   – Mana Regeneration (Dark) – Restores mana faster in shadow or moonlight.

  Active Skills:

  –   Raise Lesser Dead (Rank I) – Animates a basic corpse or skeletal remains until destroyed or willingly dismissed. Summon cap is determined by Intelligence. (5 INT = 2 undead)

  –   Soul Vault (Rank I) – Binds summoned undead to a pocket realm of shadow. Stored undead can be released at will in or out of combat. Maximum storage: 3.

  –   Necrotic Missile (Rank I) – Launches two weak projectiles of decaying energy. Each hit applies a stacking Damage-over-Time necrosis effect. Minor impact damage.

  Unique Item:

  –   – Hollow Grimoire – Sentient necromantic tome. Stores up to 3 souls

  (current: 0). Learns spells, rituals, and forbidden secrets. Evolves with user.

  Kael exhaled. The window flickered and faded into the ether, but the taste of its power lingered on his tongue like steel and smoke.

  The scribe looked mildly uncomfortable.

  “…You’re listed as Unranked.”

  Kael raised a brow. “Is that bad?”

  “No,” the man said slowly, setting down his quill. “It means the stone couldn’t determine your ceiling. You’ll need to prove yourself. But…” He scribbled something onto the scroll in runic shorthand, then handed Kael a black-on-violet Adventurer’s Card. “You’re cleared to take E- and D-rank contracts for now. Guildmaster may want to speak with you personally, later.”

  Kael tucked the card into his coat and turned without another word.

  Back at the Vire Estate, the air shimmered with heat as Kael entered the central hall—his father training in the garden yard with flamebound greatswords, his mother weaving bloodrunes into fabric with terrifying elegance.

  Kael stepped inside.

  “I’ve joined the Guild.”

  His father stopped mid-swing, his eyes flaring. His mother looked up from her runecloth, not surprised—but visibly pleased.

  “About time,” she said. “No warrior should grow soft inside castle walls.”

  His father approached, towering over him, a grin splitting his scarred face.

  “Then you’ll need a battlefield worthy of your blood. I suggest the Howling Cysts—a corrupted ravine on the edge of the lower mountains. Infested with plague beasts, crawling with rot and lesser wraiths. Dangerous… but nothing you can’t handle.”

  His mother added softly, “Or the Crimson Hollow. It’s deeper… older. More secrets buried there. Perfect for a boy with a talking book and a hunger for the dead.”

  Kael smirked.

  He had choices. He had power.

  And now—he had a path.