No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

At first, he didn't notice. The sensation was subtle. A faint vibration, deep in his core. Like the turning of a great wheel just beginning to move after being still for far too long.

Then the system's voice echoed faintly in his mind.

[Congratulations]

[You have triggered the next phase of your awakening]

[Revolving Core: Activated]

His breath hitched.

He closed his eyes. Deep within his chest, his necromantic core had begun to revolve.

It was not spinning wildly, but it was moving with immense, slow power, like the shifting gears of a forgotten engine waking from slumber.

It wasn't just storing death energy anymore.

It was refining it.

Drawing it inward, compressing it, condensing the chaotic fragments of souls and fading echoes into something structured. Something purer. The revolving motion separated will from memory, essence from noise. It didn't destroy anything.

It reorganized.

[Revolving Core]

[Your necromantic core has begun its first revolution]

[Energy absorption efficiency increased by 120%]

[All death-type spells are now refined upon casting, increasing power and control]

[Death Authority Progress - 0.01%]

Damien's eyes opened slowly, his expression unreadable.

He understood now.

Power wasn't just about wielding death.

It was about understanding it.

And shaping it, not as a weapon, but as a law.

Damien breathed deeply and smiled.

His two generals were actually very useful.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a long while, they finally crested a low ridge, where the land dipped into a sunken basin of cracked stone and pale earth. At the center stood a small temple, barely the size of a manor. Its walls were dark stone, weathered but whole. There was no mana. No light. No hum of enchantment.

It looked... forgotten.

Damien stepped toward it.

He felt nothing.

No resistance. No welcome. Not even the subtle pressure of old magic. It was like standing in front of a photograph of a building, not the real thing.

"This is it?" he asked.

Blackie nodded. "The Temple of Shadow. The core inheritance was claimed long ago. But side inheritances remain."

"So this is why you're hanging around my lair." Rage Monkey smiled bitterly at his mom.

"Yes. Of course. Why else would I be here if not for the rewards of the side inheritances? He crafted them intentionally." Blackie replied wryly. "But be careful of the rewards. Some are powerful. Some are meaningless. All are dangerous."

Rage Monkey sighed and then rubbed his hands together. He had long accepted the fact that his parents were cold blooded beasts, so he didn't really mind Blackie's coldness.

In fact, he was rather excited about the rewards. "So, a grab bag of cosmic blessings and possible existential disintegration. Excellent."

Damien stepped closer to the door, his fingers brushing against the cold stone. Still nothing.

"It's asleep." he said.

Blackie nodded. "And it will only open for those it deems worth the effort."

Rage Monkey cracked his neck. "Well then. Let's knock politely, and hope we don't get turned inside out."

Damien exhaled, the faintest flicker of death energy dancing at his fingertips.

"Let's see if it answers."

As Damien's fingers brushed the cold, matte surface of the temple's weathered stone, nothing happened at first. No shift in pressure. No tremor beneath the earth. The air remained stagnant, dead. Not even his mana stirred.

Until he let a small flicker of death energy slip through his fingers.

A single thread of power, barely visible, drifted from his palm and touched the door.

The change was instant.

A dull hum pulsed through the stone. Low, ancient and almost reluctant.

Cracks along the surface glowed faintly, veins of faint white light threading outward from where Damien stood. The sound was more felt than heard, like a massive drum being struck in the depths of the world.

Rage Monkey took a cautious step back. "Okay, I felt that. That was new."

Blackie narrowed her eyes, watching the light swirl along the cracks. "Don't worry. That's normal. The temple always reacts to energy. It's how it tests alignment."

But even as she said it, the glow shifted.

The white light along the stone suddenly bled into red. Deep, vivid crimson, like hot iron drawn across silk. It spread outward in pulses, sharp and angry.

Blackie blinked. "Wait. No. That's… that's not right."

Damien frowned. "What do you mean?"

She stepped forward, her voice low. "Red means core inheritance activation. But that's not possible. It was claimed thousands of years ago. The core doesn't react again. It can't."

Rage Monkey held up his hands. "Okay. So maybe it's just a false alarm. A glitch. Ancient cosmic temple hiccup. Happens to the best of us."

But the red lines thickened, flaring brighter and more aggressive.

Blackie's eyes widened. "No. No, it's getting stronger. It's…"

Suddenly, the red began to collapse inward, coiling like serpents toward the center. The glow twisted, deepened until it darkened into a color none of them had ever seen from the temple.

Black.

Not matte stone black. Not the absence of light.

But living black.

A shade that seemed to eat sound, to pull at the edges of perception. It wasn't just dark.

It was wrong.

Blackie stumbled back. "That… No. That's not possible. There are only ever two responses. White for side inheritance… red for core inheritance. There is no black."

Rage Monkey muttered, "Great. We unlocked the forbidden color. That's never a good thing."

Blackie turned sharply to Damien. "Be careful. I don't know what this means. It's…"

The ground beneath them pulsed once. Then again.

Then it opened.

There was no time to react. The earth split silently, like a curtain being drawn. One moment they stood before the temple, the next the world vanished into shadow.

They fell.

And when the light returned, they were no longer in the basin.

The world around them shimmered with an eerie stillness.

A field of perfect green stretched in every direction, grass so vividly alive it looked painted into existence. The sky above glowed with soft twilight, no sun, no stars, no moon. Just a ceiling of endless dusk.

It was beautiful. And wrong.

Blackie rose first, her stance low, cautious. Rage Monkey followed, brushing dirt from his shoulders as he scanned the horizon. Neither of them said a word.

Then, from nowhere and everywhere at once, a deep and thunderous voice rang out.

It was so deep it settled into the marrow of the bones and refused to leave.

"Welcome, Death Necromancer."