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

Tables arranged outside restaurants flipped. A barrel of wine exploded. One dragon was sent flying through the inn's upper balcony. Patrons scattered, shouting in panic.

Another dragon tried to flee only to be tripped by a chair hurled with supernatural strength. Fluffy bellowed challenges like an ancient war god, while Rage Monkey performed what could only be described as a flying double spin-kick... while laughing maniacally.

Blackie simply watched the chaos unfold, her violet eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. She folded her arms, smiled sweetly, and whispered, "How protective."

Damien sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Damien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Fluffy and Rage Monkey continued to wreak havoc like rampaging storm gods. But even as chaos bloomed around him, his eyes narrowed slightly. Something about the dragons' armor, the disciplined way they had stood, even their formation, it didn't fit with the usual street scum.

"Trained soldiers." Damien instantly recognized the danger that they exuded.

But they had made a fatal mistake.

They saw Damien and assumed he was weak.

They looked at Rage Monkey and Fluffy and assumed the loudest ones were the real threat.

And so, while all attention locked on the monkey's wild howling and the guardian beast's absurd dramatics, Damien's figure flashed and appeared behind them.

He unleashed a pulse of death energy and swept through the dragons like a whisper, curling invisibly through their defenses and severing their life threads before their battle instincts could even react.

Their eyes widened in the final instant, just enough to register confusion.

And then they dropped.

Six bodies crumpled, their limbs falling limp mid-swing, expressions frozen in shock. Before they even fully collapsed, Damien flicked his wrist. Threads of shadow pulled taut, catching the bodies, reanimating them mid-fall.

They rose again, unnatural and rigid, faces blank, eyes glowing faintly.

Fluffy turned and blinked. "Oh wow, that's some rapid fire spellcasting, master!"

Rage Monkey clapped his hands, beaming. "Boss, that was amazing! Their faces when they dropped, it was like huhhgh!" He mimicked one of the death spasms with comedic glee.

Damien ignored the commentary and stepped closer to the freshly risen corpses.

He had cast the lower ranked [Undead Summon] spell on them instead of the more powerful [Temporal Revive] he had used on Rage Monkey and Blackie.

They were powerful dragons, but Damien had no wish to walk around the Black Dragon Territory with such a big group, especially if the six dragons were part of an organization which they definitely were.

Thus, the [Undead Summon] was much more appropriate. He would be able to quickly release the spell and turn them to ash.

"Speak," he said, his voice cool, flat. "Who were you?"

One of the reanimated dragons turned toward him, compelled by his command. His voice emerged monotone, but low and steady, disciplined even in death. "We are Black Talon Vanguard. Special reconnaissance and security detachment under direct command of the Matriarch."

Blackie's eyes sharpened. "The Black Talons?"

Fluffy actually paused mid-preen, brows rising. "That's a pretty cool sounding name. An elite organization?"

Blackie nodded slowly. "Elite warriors handpicked by the Matriarch herself. Used for suppression missions, royal escort, high-level intelligence work. They're rarely seen in public."

Rage Monkey blinked. "So they weren't random bullies?"

"No," Blackie said. "They're killers. And extremely strong."

Damien looked down at the silent corpses, now standing like statues under his control. They were strong. Had they been focused on him instead of Fluffy and Rage Monkey, they might've even been a problem.

He spoke again. "Why were you stationed here?"

"The temple," one of them answered. "We were instructed to remain in the lower districts and monitor any outsiders in the vicinity. The Matriarch is preparing for the opening."

Damien's voice was calm. "Opening of what?"

"The temple trial," the corpse replied. "A portal into the hidden battlefield. Scheduled to open in twenty-four hours."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "A hidden battlefield?"

The corpse nodded slowly, eyes glazed. "Every hundred years, the dimensional gate reactivates. It leads into an ancient battleground, sealed in a separate plane. It holds relics, weapons, soulforged beasts, and remnants of war between ancient species. Dragons, demons, fallen gods. The Matriarch desires control of the spoils.

The five dragon clans have prepared for this opening months in advance."

Fluffy leaned in. "Wait, wait. Spoils?"

"Yes," the corpse said flatly. "Anything recovered belongs to the entrant. However, by Matriarch's law, all who return must surrender fifteen percent of their loot to the Black Dragon treasury."

Rage Monkey scratched his head. "That's… actually fair. Sort of."

Damien folded his arms. "Why deploy all Twelve Apostles just to hunt the prince's killer, then?"

The corpse's head turned slightly. "Because the portal only remains open for seventy-two hours. It must be cleared and secured quickly. The Matriarch cannot afford internal chaos during the window."

Blackie nodded, connecting the pieces. "She needs to sweep the realm, contain all instability, and maintain the illusion of control. That's why she's throwing every elite unit she has on the field."

Damien looked from the motionless corpses to the now-quiet inn entrance. A few guests were staring at them, wide-eyed and frozen in place. No one had dared move since the dragons dropped.

"I think we've attracted enough attention," Damien muttered.

He waved his hand. The reanimated Black Talons collapsed instantly, their corpses falling once more into perfect silence. Damien reached out with death energy, burning the remains cleanly to ash before anyone could inspect them further.

Blackie stepped beside Damien, her tone quiet but precise. "You killed Black Talons. The Matriarch will find out. That will put even more heat on us."

Damien nodded. "All the more reason to move quickly."

They exited the street quietly, slipping into the alleys beyond. Behind them, patrons whispered frantically, rumors already mutating and spreading.

Within minutes, the legend of a shadowy outsider killing six Black Talon elites in an instant was being whispered through the district and within the hour, word would reach the ears of much higher dragons.

As the group regrouped in a quiet corner of the city, Damien finally allowed himself a breath. "We have twenty-four hours."