Necromancer: I Am A Disaster

Level 85 was a minor trial—a test of will, patience, and faith.

With leveling requirements suddenly increasing four- to fivefold, the time needed to level up could stretch to six, seven, or even ten times longer than before.

What once took half a year might now require several years.

This abrupt change would catch many off guard, leaving them struggling to accept reality.

Yet for those who endured, the rewards were immense.

One gained subtle but profound improvements across all aspects—soul, willpower, and more—laying a solid foundation for the path ahead.

Lin Moyu understood this well.

The doubling of his soul’s strength and the surge in soul force were clearly preparations for what lay beyond.

Antares had instructed him to abandon his current leveling method after reaching level 86; there was undoubtedly a reason.

From the records he had studied, Lin Moyu noticed that peak-level class users nearing the God-level no longer spent their days grinding in dungeons.

While they didn’t stop fighting entirely, it became far less frequent.

This suggested that beyond level 86, a different method of leveling existed, one more suitable for that stage.

For now, however, he needed to cross the threshold from level 85 to level 86.

For most, this was a daunting challenge. For Lin Moyu, it simply required more effort.

Skill: Raise Dead!

Silver-white undeath flames burst like fireworks.

Countless fallen Dragonkind rose again as resurrected, charging in all directions to hunt down those that had fled.

Lin Moyu’s gaze remained calm as still water. Whether those escaping Dragonkind survived would depend on their own luck.

The battle within the emperor city was nearing its end.

Hundreds of thousands of Dragonkind were still trapped inside, clustered together and making a desperate last stand within the city’s castles.

The Undead Eye swept across the city again and again, like a plow turning soil, scouring every inch within its walls.

Half a day later, all movement within the emperor city ceased. The battle had finally come to a close.

More than 2 million Dragonkind had been slaughtered.

Lin Moyu had risen from level 83 to level 85, though level 86 still lay some distance away.

The battle in the emperor city was over, but the war in the Dragonkind World was not.

Lin Moyu continued casting his skill, raising more resurrected to pursue the fleeing Dragonkind. The undead army spread out as well, joining the pursuit.

He patrolled the skies above the ruined emperor city. Wherever he passed, brilliant fireworks erupted, and waves of resurrected scattered in all directions.

Notifications flooded in, steadily increasing his EXP.

At the same time, he felt a continuous stream of soul force flowing through an intangible space into his soul world, stabilizing it and bolstering his spirit force.

Another half day passed. Not a single corpse remained in or around the emperor city.

Every fallen Dragonkind had been transformed into a resurrected, turning their blades against their former kin.

“Sometimes, I really do act like a devil.” Lin Moyu murmured.

When he finally stopped, even he felt he had been a bit too cold and ruthless in his actions.

But such was the nature of war between races. There was no victory or defeat, only survival or extinction.

When the chance arose to eliminate the enemy, mercy could not be afforded.

Antares had once said that in wars between races of the greater world, even an insect in the enemy’s world would be crushed.

It was common for not a single blade of grass to remain.

World destruction was not just a metaphor but reality.

Like in the skill demonstration, where the necromancer extinguished a star with a single finger. A world could be destroyed just as easily.

Battles between the powerful were that cruel.

Entire races could vanish from mere aftershocks or from the experiments of some unfathomable powerhouse.

Such events frequently occurred in the greater world.

To avoid annihilation, one had to grow strong, strong enough to seize fate in their own hands.

Lin Moyu understood this well. On the path to power, cold resolve was necessary.

His EXP continued to climb. The army of over 2 million resurrected and 300,000 undead troops surged forward, hunting down the fleeing Dragonkind.

Millions more would likely fall in the pursuit; whether any survived would depend on luck alone.

Lin Moyu walked through the ruined emperor city.

Undeath flames raged across the wreckage—strange fires that gave off no heat, yet consumed everything. They devoured not only life but brick and stone alike.

Buildings collapsed one after another, decayed to dust within the flames. When the wind rose, dust spiraled into the air.

Decay itself seemed woven into the nature of the law of undeath.

This was the Dragonkind’s emperor city, home to an imperial palace, not the Dragon Emperor’s primary residence.

Within the city stood a massive warehouse filled with materials and products of the Dragonkind.

Most materials were of modest quality: platinum- and quasi-legendary-grade, with only a few legendary-grade.

There were also weapons, equipment, and Magic Crystals.

The Dragonkind excelled in formations and the crafting of Magic Crystals.

Using intricate formations, they could extract energy from materials to forge crystals of varying sizes, which in turn powered their formations—much like human Alchemists.

Though Lin Moyu had little use for such items, they held considerable value for humanity.

After locating the warehouse, he entered and activated the Demon Extermination Tower, sweeping everything inside away and leaving nothing behind.

He then departed the emperor city, flying toward the Dragon Emperor’s Palace.

Another treasury lay there, housing the Dragon Emperor’s personal collection.

It was impossible he had taken everything; some treasures were bound to remain.

The Dragon Race shared the instinct to hoard wealth. Antares was no exception, nor were Divine Dragons, Sacred Dragons, Dragons, or even mongrel Dragons.

The Dragon Emperor’s Palace, however, was already empty.

The teleportation formation had ceased operating not long ago. The Dragon Emperor had fled into the deep layer. Most valuables had been taken, leaving behind only lesser items.

Lin Moyu did not hesitate. He took everything that remained.

The fragment world was rather barren, and most of these resources had come from the Immemorial Battlefield.

After all, the Dragonkind had been sealed away for a thousand years and had limited access to valuable resources.

Still, as Lin Moyu examined the Dragon Emperor’s Palace, he noted its strange contrast—rugged in structure, yet marked by touches of delicate craftsmanship.

What caught his eye most was the throne: forged entirely from pure gold. It gleamed brilliantly but felt gaudy.

Compared to the Demon Emperor’s Palace, the gap was immense.

That Demon Emperor’s Place had been a masterpiece. This, by contrast, felt like the residence of a vulgar nouveau riche.

Through the scale, Lin Moyu asked, “What was your palace like in the Dragon Race?”

Antares replied, “It’s been too long. I don’t remember.”

Lin Moyu didn’t believe him, but he didn’t press, “You didn’t build your throne out of gold too, did you?”

“Piss off! As if I’d have such terrible taste. Mine was made of Stargold. Do you even know what that is? A God King-level material…” Antares snapped, then cut himself off abruptly, realizing he had let something slip.