Book of The Dead

So far, Tyron had selected six of the ten abilities he would be able to take as an Imperator of the Endless Horde, which meant there were six options he’d seen but passed over still on the list. In addition, there would be eight more for him to choose from that he’d never seen before, a veritable smorgasbord of choices, including the level eighty selections, which should be potent, considering most that came at the Class threshold were.

He was glad to reach this point with a full four choices up his sleeve, something most Golds could only dream of.

Turning his eye to the list, he eagerly read through, considering each as he went. There were a number of Skills offered that would be useful, including ones he had passed over before.

Spectral Forming would, according to the description, Form Temporary Minions of Spectral Bone.

He was no stranger to the material, almost all of his bone magick conjured spectral bone, forming spears, lances and pillars from it. Created of magick, it had no real grip on the tangible world and soon dissipated back into energy, meaning it couldn’t be kept to create weapons or minions from. However, this skill promised the potential did in fact exist, though it was far in the future.

Any such minions would be very temporary, especially at first. Created during a battle, almost like a summoning, rather than carefully crafting them beforehand. It had potential, certainly.

The next option, Spirit Hold, also had promise. Maintain a retinue of maddened spirits was an interesting description, but not one large on detail. It likely involved holding a certain number of spirits around him that could be used for defence, or perhaps even in magick. If he were to guess, the crowned ghost he’d battled had a highly advanced version of this Skill, enabling him to keep hundreds, if not thousands of ghosts bound to him.

All of Tyron’s magick revolved around Death Magick in some way, which made Master Death Magick a very tempting selection, to put it mildly. Upgrading from expert and raising the cap by another twenty, it would empower literally everything he did. This was something he could only afford to pass over for a very good reason.

Spirit Flesh Crafting - Replaces Spirit Flesh Formation and Raises the max level by twenty.

Another choice that felt almost mandatory. Improving his ability to create wights and perhaps other forms of advanced undead. The creation of spirit flesh was taxing, along with its maintenance. If he could gain efficiency here, along with power, then his wights would get stronger and more numerous.When he saw the next option, Tyron paused for a brief moment, then reread it, unsure if it made much sense.

Impart Spirit – Grant a minion a portion of your ability.

Now why would he want to do this? Was it permanent, was he literally giving away skill levels? Or was he copying them to the minion, granting insight? The more he thought about it, the more he considered the possibilities. In Granin, the newly Awakened had taken over large chunks of the minion creation process, forging bones, preparing corpses and remains. Even if they hadn’t matched his own Skill, they had the Classes and abilities that would push them much higher, given time.

But those people wouldn’t always be available for him. If he used this ability, he could impart that knowledge and those skills to his demi-liches, having them prepare the corpses and bones just as well as he could.

Truth be told, Tyron would be quite pleased if he never had to form another finger or toe into an arrow. He couldn’t count the thousands upon thousands of times he’d done it.

Arcane Hand promised to improve the spellcasting capacity of his undead, whatever that meant. His skeletal mages and demi-liches had proven to be a powerful edge during his battles in the Realm of the Dead. Empowering them wouldn’t be a bad thing, but could he find another way to achieve the same result?

Tomb Script - The True Language of the Dead, was the exact sort of description that caught Tyron’s eye. The possibility of it was luring, even if he had no way of knowing exactly what he would get if he chose it. What he hoped it would do is provide him with clues to sigils related to Death Magick that he didn’t know, unlocking vast possibilities and hastening his research.

For all he knew, it would give him some skill in an actual language used by ancient ghosts.

As it was the final skill option provided, that meant it came from the level seventy eight or eighty selections, which meant it should be powerful. Still, he was hesitant. Not having any surety at a time like this was infuriating. He couldn’t afford to waste even a single selection!

To prove that point, the new spells were even more appealing than the skills!

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Bone Fall - Conure a rain of spectral bone shards was an option he had passed over several times, and he didn’t hesitate to do so again now. It didn’t sound nearly powerful enough to warrant selection.

Tide of Darkness - Blanket a wide area in curse miasma. He could produce a cloud of miasma, centered on himself, but this spell suggested it would roll that miasma forward and over the opposition. As useful as it sounded, he had the cauldron constructs for that.

Pool of Nightmares - Shake the souls of your foes with this battlefield magick. Instilling fear in his opponents was obviously good, but it wouldn’t help against the undead, and he knew he’d be fighting them again before the work was done.

His eyes moved to the next option, the first of the new selections, and he read it with great interest.

Soul Leech promised to be very useful. Draw Soul Energy from your foes. Tyron didn’t know what it felt like to have the vitality of one’s Soul drained from their body, but he imagined it wasn’t pleasant. Again, this spell tantalised with access to a branch of magick he knew so little about, yet he was hesitant.

If his experiments continued to go well, then it was possible he would have access to enough soul energy for his purposes, at least for now, that tearing it out of his enemies wouldn’t be necessary.

Spirit Shields - Grant your minions stronger defences.

A spell to boost the defensive power of his minions during a battle. Tyron knew his skeletons needed all the help they could get, and this would do the trick quite nicely. It would be difficult to pass over.

Grave Moon - Cast the light of the Dead Realm over the field.

Tyron read this description twice, frowning. He didn’t remember seeing any light while in the Realm of the Dead, so just what was this referring to? Perhaps he hadn’t been there long enough to witness this phenomenon? Or was he in the wrong area? The possibilities intrigued him, and this was also a late option, which implied it was powerful. Still, he was reluctant to take a selection when he had no idea what it would do.

His final choice, Mantle of the Imperator, was another Class exclusive. A cloak worthy of the Imperator wasn’t exactly an enlightening description, and Tyron was once again frustrated. Though, if he were honest, even if Class guides existed for Necromancers in the Empire, they wouldn’t help him at this point. Not even Arihnan had been forthcoming about the Platinum rank, though Tyron agreed with the historical consensus the ancient menace had made it to level eighty and beyond.

He had four choices to make.

With the looming confrontation with the Golden Legion not far away, Tyron didn’t have the luxury of taking something that wouldn’t help him in the near future. He needed power and he needed it now.

Some options could be ruled out. Bone Fall and Tide of Darkness weren’t needed. Spectral Forming had great potential, but it would take time for him to realise it, time he didn’t have.

Spirit Shields seemed an obvious choice. His minions needed more help enduring in battle, and this would provide it. Against gold ranked warriors and soldiers, they would need this and a hell of a lot more. For now, this would have to do.

Soul Leech was tempting, but how would he apply it? Even if he was able to extract a quantity of Soul Magick, he didn’t have anything he could do with it, not yet.

Mantle of the Imperator felt like something else Tyron would have to choose. Against an army of gold ranked troops, even as a platinum, he had no confidence he could survive. At gold rank, a swordsman could cut a tree in half from a dozen metres away. This spell felt defensive in nature, and was surely powerful. He would be a fool to turn it down.

Two choices left.

There were too many things he wanted! Master Death Magick, obviously, but also Impart Spirit, Tomb Script, even Spirit Hold! Grave Moon could prove to be a powerful battlefield magick as well, exactly what he needed.

Spirit Flesh Crafting? How could he overlook it? Or the possibilities behind Arcane Hand?

The decision was torturous.

Almost despite himself, Tyron felt himself pulled to Grave Moon. He didn’t know what it would do, but he wouldn’t survive without potent battlefield magicks, and this was one of the final selections his current Class had to offer. Although it pained him, he knew he had to gamble on it.

Which left him only one selection left for the handful of skills he desperately wanted.

Of all of them, Tomb Script held the most promise, with the least guarantees. It could prove to be valuable in the short term. If the Unseen gave him insight into powerful and complex sigils, he could weave them into his existing spells to make them stronger, giving an immediate boost. If it didn’t… then it would be a wholly wasted selection.

Master Death Magick. He craved it. As a skill, it empowered every single thing he did. And yet…

Spirit Flesh Crafting. More powerful wights? Perhaps other types of minions in the future?

Gritting his teeth, Tyron made his choice.

Master Death Magick. It had to be. He had been faithful to the fundamentals, as his mother and father had preached, and he wasn’t going to stop now. Since it touched everything he did, it would be useful in the upcoming fight, and into the future as well, proving it was a good choice.

With those selections made, Tyron moved onto the next stage of the ritual. He placed his thumb back on the page, and the blood began to flow once again.

Now, what secrets did Platinum hold? What new Classes would he be offered? Just how much power lay on the other side of the wall the Empire forbade its citizens to cross?

With rising anticipation, he watched as letters formed on the page, mind spinning with the possibilities.

There was surprisingly little, and he leaned forward to read.

You have reached level eighty.

Prepare for Ascension.

Prepare for what? Tyron frowned, confused. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as his consciousness was stolen away.