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

Damien stood tall beneath the vast expanse of a sky smeared with the colors of dusk, the horizon ablaze with brilliant strokes of deep crimson and molten gold, colors that seemed to echo the tumultuous emotions swirling within him, the chaos, grief, and power now tempered by new clarity, yet never entirely stilled.

Behind him loomed Vel'kharn, the beast whose presence had become more than just his weapon, more than his protector, having evolved into a living symbol of Damien's growing mastery and the bitter cost he had paid along the arduous path he had tread.

Around Vel'kharn, arrayed like silent sentinels of fate, knelt the four prodigious souls Damien had bound beneath its dominion: Wu Jinhai, Jin Tu, Lu Shenyi, and Yan Qinglan.

Each of their expressions was blank yet fiercely resolute, etched with a newfound purpose, tied now irrevocably to Vel'kharn, souls who once shone brighter than stars now subdued, serving as a testament to Damien's unquestionable dominion over death and darkness itself.

Damien breathed deeply, the rush of air bringing with it the scent of earth and shadow, mingled with ancient power that still lingered heavily within the ruins they had conquered.

The remnants of JerAxle's legacy lay all around him, a powerful resonance vibrating through the very stones, the earth itself humming softly in solemn acknowledgment of Damien's unparalleled triumph.

The ancient luck of JerAxle's inheritance had fallen completely to them, their victory absolute and undisputed, and Damien could feel the intoxicating flow of fortune resonating through every fiber of his being.

At that moment, from the swirling shadows before him, a form coalesced, a figure sculpted from twilight itself, his presence immense and ancient.

The figure's eyes opened slowly, luminous pools of silver brilliance that seemed to penetrate Damien's soul, gazing not merely upon his form but through the very essence of his being.

"I see the path you have walked, child," the figure spoke, his voice deep and resonant, each word reverberating with profound wisdom and undeniable power. "You have forged your destiny amidst grief and sacrifice, binding souls and shadows alike. You have earned the right to inherit my legacy."

Damien's pulse quickened as realization swept through him, this was none other than the lingering will of JerAxle himself, the ancient master whose strength and insight had shaped generations of warriors.

He who had left behind his inheritance not simply as a boon to future generations but as a crucible of selection, a trial meant to sift out those worthy to bear the mantle of his legacy. JerAxle's eyes locked unerringly upon Damien, the weight of centuries contained within his gaze.

"You stand now on a precipice between shadow and light," JerAxle continued, his spectral form shimmering softly in the twilight. "You have mastered death, and yet it is not enough; the Seed of Darkness you now hold is an artifact of incomparable potential, yet equally dangerous. It has chosen you, but the burden it will place upon your soul is immense… Perhaps too great for any mortal to bear."

Damien's heart hammered with anticipation and dread as he reached out slowly, reverently, towards the Seed of Darkness that had emerged from the lingering shadows.

His necromantic core pulsed hungrily within him, resonating with desperate yearning so profound it sent ripples of fire and ice through his veins.

He held his breath, feeling every hair on his arms rise in response to the sheer gravity of the power hovering before him, and finally, gently, his fingers closed around the seed.

Instantly, an explosion of icy darkness surged through his core, exhilarating yet terrifying in its intensity.

Shadows twisted and writhed, threading through his veins like serpents forged from midnight itself. Damien gasped as the seed's power pressed into his necromantic core, intertwining with it, pulsing rhythmically to his heartbeat, synchronizing with his very life force.

He could feel the dark tendrils extending deeper, seeking every corner of his being, probing, reshaping, and preparing for assimilation.

But then a wave of resistance surged back from within him, powerful enough to stagger him where he stood. Damien's eyes widened as a series of urgent messages flashed vividly within his consciousness:

[Seed of Darkness accepted by Necromantic Core.]

[Preparing assimilation protocol.]

[Please find a secure location immediately.]

[Assimilating the Seed of Darkness will require three hundred and twenty-five days.]

[Warning: Necromantic Core will begin assimilation process within twenty-four hours.]

[Please remain safe during this period.]

"Three hundred and twenty-five days?" Damien murmured incredulously, the enormity of the duration echoing relentlessly within him. So long… yet he knew instinctively that the process was irreversible.

The Seed of Darkness was a supreme inheritance, a power unlike any he had ever known, one that would reshape him completely, if he survived the year-long assimilation.

JerAxle observed Damien with a gaze of profound understanding, a ghostly smile forming upon his ethereal visage. "This path was always yours, Damien, though the burdens you must bear are heavy indeed. Mastery of death, of darkness, requires not only strength but sacrifice.

Remember that shadows are not merely absence of light, but are shaped by the very light they oppose. Tread carefully, for the darkness you now embrace may devour all you hold dear if you falter."

Damien inclined his head respectfully, absorbing JerAxle's words with solemn reverence. The figure of JerAxle slowly began to fade, dispersing into countless fragments of silver starlight that mingled with the twilight sky, leaving behind a lingering resonance of his presence.

Suddenly, before Damien could gather his thoughts further, reality twisted abruptly, the scene shifting violently without warning as the inheritance trial expelled them at last.

The towering, shadowy ruins dissolved instantly, replaced instead by the familiar yet unsettling vista of the minor battlefield stretching beneath a sky heavy with lingering conflict and desperation.

Damien quickly assessed the situation, realizing grimly that only three had emerged alive from their contingent: himself, Lyrisa, and Nyxara.

For an instant, silence lingered thickly between them, emotions unspoken yet deeply understood. Damien turned swiftly to Lyrisa, eyes gleaming with urgency and determination. "I need to go," he said softly, voice strained yet resolute.

Lyrisa nodded instantly, recognizing the gravity in his tone and the fierce undercurrents swirling within his gaze. "Let's go," she agreed without hesitation, her voice steady and comforting in its quiet strength. "My place, follow me."

Damien turned briefly toward Nyxara, the woman whose presence had both challenged and supported him, whose loyalty had been tested yet never shattered.

He met her eyes and gave a slight nod, a gesture heavy with mutual respect, gratitude, and a shared understanding of their separate paths ahead.

For a moment, it seemed as though they would part right there and then without saying anything. But at the last possible moment, Nyxara raised her hand.

"Wait." She called out and tossed out a strange token. "Take this. This will shield you from Umbra's powers of detection."

Damien nodded in acknowledgement.

There was no need to say thanks to her. Nyxara owed him too much. Saying thanks would just lower the appreciation he had for her help.

Then, without another word, he turned away, following closely as Lyrisa summoned a strange-looking sphere into her hand.

In a swift, fluid motion, she crushed the sphere, and the world around them distorted violently in a whirlpool of space energy, pulling them swiftly from the chaotic battlefield.

The landscape blurred, twisted, and reformed anew, depositing them amidst rugged mountain terrain, isolated beneath the looming shadow of sheer, windswept cliffs and the oppressive silence of the untouched wilderness.

Lyrisa's expression was hard and cold.

"I've crushed my alternate escape sphere instead of my usual home sphere." she whispered urgently, glancing sharply around the foreign landscape, alert for any potential danger that might follow them here.

"Damien, you've received the main inheritance of JerAxle. You need to lie low—"

Damien raised a hand gently, silencing her with quiet reassurance. "It's alright," he said calmly, eyes fixed on the surrounding peaks and forests. "We will make do here. I have no choice now; assimilation of my reward will begin within a day."

Lyrisa stepped closer, her expression softening slightly with concern, her gaze holding a fierce protectiveness born from the trials they had faced together. "Then we will make this place our sanctuary," she declared softly yet fiercely, conviction burning within her eyes. "No matter the length of the journey ahead, you will not walk it alone."

Damien felt the warmth and sincerity of her promise sinking deeply into his being, a balm to the uncertainty and weight of responsibility he now carried.

It was a long shot from the cold and calculating drow he had met all those days ago.

Had it only been less than a month?

He felt as though he had known her for much longer.

The experiences they had went through together had truly bound them much closer than they both expected.

He turned slowly, facing the encroaching darkness of nightfall with newfound steadiness, his resolve hardening, strengthened by the bonds forged through hardship and sacrifice.

"Together, then," he echoed softly as he pulled Lyrisa into his embrace for a deep, much deserved kiss.