The Little Necromancer [LITRPG]

The world fell away once more.

The endless white returned, blemishing everything that had stood before it.

Shadow Enya had disappeared, leaving Enya alone again. Alone, with whatever the thing in front of her was.

Her chest tightened. It didn't feel like it belonged to this space—more like an intruder that had arrived uninvited.

The figure was cloaked in black, its frame slightly hunched, the fabric of its robes long and sprawled across the ground-that-wasn't-ground. Long sleeves swallowed its hands entirely. A hood masked its face; inside was only empty darkness, too deep for Enya's eyes to pierce.

Immediately, Enya summoned her Bonecarver's Quill. It appeared in her hand; she gripped it tightly, her body tensing.

"Who are you?" Her voice came out quiet, but with an edge sharper than she intended.

The figure's head tilted, as if considering her. When it finally spoke, the sound drifted through the air like a projection. Echoing, deep and ethereal.

"We finally meet, little one."

Enya's grip tightened. She held the Bonecarver's Quill before her. "Meet? Do you know me?" she said, lips pressed thin.

The figure chuckled.

"Of course I know you. Enya Empyria. My daughter."

Enya's eyes went wide.

"D—daughter?" she stammered, her grip loosening on the quill.

She couldn't see the smile, but she felt it widen in his voice.

"Ah… I am your father, in a way. But for now, you can just call me—Ve'al Nekron-phonesis."

"V-Ve'al Nek… cron…p—"

"Nekron is fine," he chimed, deadpan, cutting her off.

Enya held the quill higher. "What do you mean I'm your daughter? I'm not—" Her voice faltered. This person wasn't her father. No—she remembered her father. Or… did she? Fragmented images rose and fell in her mind. There wasn't a clear picture, but she knew this man was not the same as the one in those shards. Still, there was something else: a pull, a familiarity not unlike the bond she shared with her minions.

She tried to keep her voice firm. "You're not my dad. Stop lying."

Nekron didn't flinch at her words; his hood dipped, as if amused by the statement.

"Father, not by flesh. But by soul. By dominion. It was I who give you the life you have now. It is I who placed you here."

Enya's lips parted, a protest half-formed.

She thought better of it. There was simply too much confusion.

"You… put me here?" he asked. Her eyes briefly darted around the white space, but her gaze never left Nekron.

The darkness underneath Nekron's hood seemed to expand, smoky tendrils beginning to flare out just slightly.

"Not here," he said. He raised one of his sleeves, and the space instantly changed. No longer the white, but the grey stone bricks of a dungeon. A familiar dungeon. "—here."

Enya straighted and looked around.

"Sable's dungeon?" She asked with disbelief. Her eyes locked back onto Nekron. "You—you put me in Sable's dungeon?"

"A dungeon filled with death, yes," he replied. "You, Enya Empyria, are my chosen apostle. To prevent more meaningless deaths that'll rupture the balance, I managed to grab you before Velkyr could. Now, you serve me, dear daughter."

Daughter didn't sound right, and the word itself caused Enya to tense reflexively.

"Apostle? Velkyr? What are you talking about?"

He pointed a sleeve at her. "You are not Lia Empyria. Your name is Enya. An implanted soul that has take over the original body of Lia Empyria. Your soul was given to you by me, making you my apostle. The girl known to this world as Lia, has been overwritten by me."

"You… overwrote her?" There was no venom in Enya's question, only blunt curiosity. "I don't know what any of this means."

"Very well. I suppose the mind of an eight-year-old mortal girl cannot catch onto such things so quickly."

The dungeon walls dissolved; the world shifted back to white in an instant.

"My name is Ve'al Nekron-phonesis. I am a god. One who rules over the dominion of death, of inevitability. I am one of the Great Gods who oversee this world."

"God?" Enya echoed. She knew the word, vaguely. Powerful beings tied to creation and rule. Some people believed in one, others in many.

"Velkyr," Nekron continued, "is the name of the God of Magic. The originator of any and all magic used in this world you call the Layers."

"Velkyr…" Enya repeated softly. The name stirred nothing in her.

"Long ago, Velkyr introduced magic to mortals. We gods spread our dominions, our influence. In his case, he spread the truth of magic, a constant in the universe. Soon mortals carried that power in their hands." Nekron's tone sank lower. "But mortals are creatures of desire; they grew greedy."

The white void melted away again. Now they stood above the sky itself, looking down. The world stretched beneath them—ruined. Cities burned, mountains lay split and collapsed, forests smoldered in ash. Fires dotted craters where nations once stood.

"Mortals grew drunk on magic. They waged war endlessly. Desire for more power burned the world again and again."

The vision dissolved back to white. A radiant figure appeared beside Nekron. It was a towering silhouette of brilliant light, its features hidden, but its presence undeniable.

"Archons," Nekron said. "Mortals who reached a mastery of magic so complete that they rivaled even Velkyr himself. They saw the devastation magic brought. Velkyr cared nothing for the ruin; he cared only that magic was spread, for suffering breeds desire, and desire breeds magic. But the Archons… they refused to let that continue."

The light faded. In its place, a vast sphere hung in the air between them. Green and blue swirled faintly across its surface; seven transparent layers rotated atop one another like sheets of glass.

"The Archons feared mortals would destroy themselves. With unfettered access to magic, all life would end. Wars would never cease. And so—"

Chains burst across the sphere, coiling around and around until the world was encased in iron.

"—the Archons sealed the world away from the gods who oversaw it. The layers, as you call them, became cut off. No god could descend. And with that, the Archons wove restrictions over magic itself."

"Restricted?" Enya asked.

Her System Menu flashed into being before her eyes; only a single word appeared across the screen: Yes.

"The System was created as a limiter," Nekron explained. "Velkyr had already spread magic through every fiber of your world. The best the Archons could do was bind and regulate it. Levels, experience, classes; these are chains. Without them, even an infant could tear open space. Though, they'd most likely die from the stress the magic would place on their bodies before doing so."

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He rose one sleeve and pressed it to his chest. "The Archons did not only seal away Velkyr," Nekron said. "They sealed all of us: Death, Life, Flame, Storm. Every god, every dominion. None could descend. None could lay a hand upon the world again."

The sphere spun slowly between them, its chains tightening like a vice. Nekron's voice dropped. "And so came our anger. You must understand, little one; a god does not starve, but when barred from the world we cannot spread our dominion. We cannot plant roots in mortal soil. We can only watch."

Enya stared at the chained globe, her small hand curled around the quill. "So… you were trapped? All of you?"

"Yes." His hood tilted toward her. "For Velkyr, it meant the halt of magic's endless flood. For others it meant something sharper: the God of Flame was cut from new fires; the Goddess of Life was cut from wombs yet unborn; and even I"—the air trembled faintly as he spoke—"from the natural passing of souls."

Enya blinked; she tried to fit the idea into her head. "But… people still die. I've seen it."

A dry sound like laughter slid out from the hood. "Yes. Death remains inevitable; it still comes. Other dominions still exist—you see life, you see magic—but the gods prefer influence. Velkyr desires magic unbound, not limited. Iaxis, God of Life, would have mortals breed until life overflows, nothing but endless birth. Yet without a tether to your world, we cannot act."

Enya frowned; she had trouble holding it all at once. She noticed her grip on the Bonecarver's Quill had gone slack. "Why are you telling me this?"

He pointed a sleeve toward her. "You were meant to be Velkyr's beacon; a future Archon, but under his control. As you grew, you would have learned a spell strong enough to call him into the mortal realm. That is what they wanted."

He lowered his arm. "There are mortals who worship us; Godsworn they are called. They hunger for favor. Some among them seek you, Enya Empyria—specifically the soul of Lia, who sleeps within you. Her home was attacked; her parents sent her away through a dimensional rift. That rift was a doorway the gods could smell. Many reached for her. I was simply the first to take hold; I redirected her path to the nearest place filled with death and I implanted a soul inside the vessel."

"…and that's… me?" Enya asked.

"Yes. You are the soul placed within Lia's body, meant to override her potential connection to Velkyr. You are no longer his beacon; you are mine."

Enya straightened and let the Bonecarver's Quill dissolve back into nothing. "So, are you trying to descend by using me? Are you going to kill everything?"

Nekron chuckled. "No, not like that. I do not desire conquest; death is inevitable. Nothing escapes it. I do not need to expand my dominion. If all life ended, then death itself would have no meaning. I am content with the cycle continuing as it has always been." She thought she could sense a smirk beneath his hood. "Though I do not mind the occasional slaughter of souls."

"Then what do you want from me?" Enya asked.

"Desire?" he echoed.

The space between them closed; Death was suddenly mere inches away. Enya flinched for the barest moment, then froze.

Nekron laid a sleeved hand on her head and patted it. "I require nothing from you, my daughter."

His voice dropped softer; the gesture felt oddly warming—not skin, but somewhere deeper. "Live as you will, Enya." He drew her in, folding her into a slow embrace.

Enya froze, surprised, then lifted her arms and returned the hug. She did not know why she reached; the movement felt right.

His grip tightened for a second. "I apologize for dragging you into this with the gods. It was the best solution I could find." He released her, both sleeves resting lightly on her shoulders. "Forgive me if this is awkward; your soul is, in a manner of speaking, like a daughter to me. You are brimful with the dominion of death."

Enya peered into the void beneath his hood; she could see nothing there. "I—it's okay."

His hands left her shoulders. "The one thing that remains is this: Lia must be disposed of."

"Disposed?"

"Yes. As long as her soul lies dormant within you, the Godsworn can still draw her out, raise her, and shape her into the beacon Velkyr desires. For now, your soul merely rests on top of hers."

"What should I do then?" Enya asked.

Nekron straightened; his form began to falter. The black robes that sprawled across the floor withered and peeled away, trailing backward like smoke following a burning fuse.

"My time here is ending. I could reach you only because another rift opened somewhere in your layers; it is stabilizing now." He lifted a sleeve, and Enya's System screen flickered into view.

"I will leave you with two gifts." His voice had grown low, the hooded shadow thinning at the edges as if the white space itself refused to hold him.

From the sleeve he produced two things; one had weight, the other did not, yet both pressed against Enya's palm like cold iron. The first was a black sigil carved onto a sliver of bone. The second was invisible, felt only as a pressure that made her skin prickle.

"The first will bind itself to your hand in a way the System can read. A spell, called simply: Revival. With it you may draw a remnant of essence back into full life; any being with a lingering strand of soul may be returned from the dead." He paused, letting the words sink in. "But it demands a price. One soul for one. A mortal soul for a mortal revived. No tree, no stone, nothing that never lived a life of its own. I am not benevolent; I am only fair. And for the first casting, the sacrifice must be the soul inside you now. If you would bring another back, you must give Lia first."

Enya's fingers closed around the sliver. "So if I want to bring someone back… I have to give Lia?" Her voice was small, curiosity laced with something sharper, almost expectant.

"Yes." Nekron's tone was steady. "Do not let the Godsworn or the other apostles reach you. To sever Velkyr's tether, you must erase Lia. This restriction on the skill I placed will serve to motivate you. If you ever wish to bring someone back from the dead, this skill is the strongest their is. But it will only fully unlock once you sacrifice Lia."

Enya's mind leapt immediately to Pell. She had only known him as a skeleton, yet he had once lived, once fought, once chosen to give his life for her. If the price to repay that wasn't even her own—but Lia's—it seemed almost too good to be true.

And yet the image of Lia lingered. The girl laughing in the griffon stables, sneaking past her tutor, running through bright marble halls.

A child who had her own room

Her own family.

One—that wasn't Enya's.

"The second gift is not a System skill," Nekron continued. "It is an acolyte's rite; it will not register on your menu. It is raw, drawn directly from my dominion. Use it and you will embody the power of death for a time; your body becomes a bell of shadow that rings across the Layers. Others like you will hear that bell. The Godsworn will be wary; your location will become a light in the dark for those who worship the gods. Use it to strike another apostle and they will know what meets them. Use it for anything else and you may find the world coming for you."

"So it will tell them where I am," Enya said, weighing each syllable slowly.

"Precisely." Nekron's voice creaked; his lower legs were disappearing into the white as if swallowed by frost. "You will reveal yourself as a beacon, so use it—and finish what you intend quickly, then run. It will call enemies and allies alike. Consider it a double-edged tool. Some gods do not wish for wholesale ruin; they merely want their champions."

"And you said there are other apostles? People like me?" Enya asked, glancing down at the sigil in her palm as if it might answer.

"Many gods would do anything to walk the Layers again," Nekron replied. "Each seeks a champion; some steal them, some wait. Lia was meant to be Velkyr's apostle; now you are mine. Others will hunt for their beacons in the same way; the most direct path is through a mortal who becomes too close to a single dominion. That is why the Godsworn dig and worship; they listen for the smallest signal."

Enya stared at him a long moment; then the question tumbled out. "If I use this on Pell, will he come back? If I sacrifice Lia first, can I bring him back? And then someone else to bring Elara?" She spoke the names carefully; she had seen how Elara mattered to Pell.

"Pell?" Nekron said slowly, as if tasting the name. "That skeleton you keep—yes. Him, and this Elara—if her soul lingers, the Revival craft can return them as if they had never died."

"Will Velkyr know if I use the skill?" Enya asked.

"If you use Revival, the gods will not be alerted directly; perhaps Iaxis may notice, since life touches her domain. Some mortals might suspect a divine act, but not its source. As for the acolyte rite—yes. That one screams into the world; it will draw attention as long as you are using it. Those that have reached a high enough divinity will notice."

Enya frowned. "Why give me a power that gives life, if you are the ruler of death?" she asked.

Nekron made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "Because Velkyr's return would bring unbound magic and slaughter on a scale that would erase meaning itself. If every life were closed too quickly beneath the yoke of unchecked power, in the end there would be nothing left to die; that robs death of its purpose. Also," he added, softer, "I am not sentimental, but I am pragmatic. Reviving one beloved cannot ruin me; mortals still age and rot. A hundred years is a blink to one such as I. I can grant reprieves—one, ten, a hundred; they all meet me in the end regardless."

Enya folded those words into herself. So much had been revealed, and it would all begin with Lia.

"She had nicer things," Enya said quietly, more to herself than to him. "A castle, a father who let her feed griffons. Rooms that smelled like books." The words came halting, earnest. "I woke in a dirty dungeon, but she got parties and long tables of food?" She thought of the visions, of marble halls, a grand hall, the majestic beak of a griffon. Even the faces of a mother and father lingered like warm smoke in her mind; the attachment felt real, and the distance between it and her own memories felt impossible.

That memory was both warmth and pain.

Nekron's sleeve brushed her shoulder for a moment; it was colder than she expected. "Because the world is unfair, and gods are clumsy caretakers. Because fate was split and you were the shard." He did not soften it. "Do not mistake sorrow for weakness. You may take what she had; you may hold her memories and make them yours. That is not theft if you intend to be more than a shadow."

His hand wisped away; only a shrouded blur of his form remained, like a stain the light could not quite clear.

"It also seems you are trapped in a pocket of space," he said. "You may use the Apostle's skill I have given you; it will help you break out. Do not worry about revealing yourself. This pocket is detached from your Layers. No one here should be able to lock onto your signal."

Enya nodded. "Okay."

As his presence thinned toward nothing, he left her with one final instruction. "Live well, my daughter. Perhaps we will meet again. For now, do the opposite of me; live. Live as long and as fully as you can until you can embrace me once more. And remember: this all begins with Lia."

"It all begins with Lia," Enya repeated slowly. She clutched the two items he had given her.

His presence dissolved completely, leaving her alone in the endless white once more.