As he spoke, the Magic Staff shifted slightly. A ghastly white glow surfaced at its tip, pointing directly at the trembling adventurers. A freezing killing intent, mingled with the aura of death, permeated the air.
"No! My lord, spare us!" Paralyzed with terror, the adventurers dropped to their knees with a collective THUD.
"My lord, just give us a little more time! Three days—no, two days! We'll definitely get them all!"
"Yeah, my lord! Things are tense right now. The Holy Light Court is cracking down hard. It ain't easy to pull this off!"
"Please, just a few more days of grace. We'll figure somethin' out, I swear!"
Beneath his hood, the corners of Lynch's mouth curled up. These were the "fish" he had netted while slumming it in the lower district a few days ago, right after spending a fortune on potions.
Popular adventure novels always loved to depict adventurers as brave, kind-hearted heroes who slayed dragons, rescued beauties, and ultimately reached the pinnacle of life. The reality, however, was far uglier. The vast majority of bottom-tier adventurers were no different from street thugs running protection rackets—often, they were even worse. They were highly transient and lacked any moral scruples. Fraud, extortion, and backstabbing were just part of their daily grind. If they committed a crime, they simply fled to another town and resumed their old tricks.
Lynch felt absolutely no sympathy for such scum, nor did he feel any psychological burden in exploiting them.
"Excellent," his hoarse, gloomy voice echoed again. "Remember your promise. In two days, I expect to see my other seven pieces of 'cargo.' If you fail to gather them again..."
"Yes, yes, yes! Thank you for your mercy, my lord! We'll get it done!" The five adventurers, acting as if spared from the gallows, kowtowed even louder.
Having established his dominance, Lynch ignored them. He turned toward the eight neatly arranged corpses, making no effort to hide his actions from the onlookers. Raising his eerie Magic Staff, he cast the level one Skeleton Resurrection Skill.
A ghastly white wave of Death Energy washed over the eight bodies. Under the terrified gazes of the adventurers, a horrifying scene unfolded.
BANG BANG BANG!
CRACKLE!
Amidst a series of grotesque noises, the flesh and blood of the corpses seemed to be eroded and stripped away by an invisible force, bursting outward in all directions. One by one, bone-white Skeleton Servants staggered up from the muddy gore. They turned their vacant eye sockets toward Lynch.
GAG...
The adventurers' faces turned ashen. Unable to hold it in any longer, they began to retch violently, their eyes filled with endless dread.
Lynch, however, was highly satisfied. Compared to the "old bones" in the academy's Chaotic Burial Grounds, these skeletons—transformed from fresh corpses—possessed much sturdier frames. Their joints were lubricated and silent, and their structural stability was noticeably superior.
"As expected, the quality of the raw materials greatly impacts the Skeleton Servants," he thought.
His Spiritual Power linked with the Skeleton Servants, commanding them to pick up the Broken Swords and Sabers piled beside the gore. He then casually tossed a coin purse containing fifteen Gold Coins at the feet of the scar-faced leader.
"This is the agreed-upon payment."
Before the adventurers could react, he lightly tapped his eerie Magic Staff again. Several faint streaks of pale energy shot into their bodies, reinforcing the so-called Death Mark.
"Remember," Lynch said, walking to the door flanked by his Skeleton Servants. He glanced back, his glowing eyes sweeping over the group. "Only collect the corpses of gang members killed in turf wars. And keep your mouths shut. If any of you draw those hyenas from the Holy Light Court to me...
"You can look forward to joining my skeleton army."
With that, he led his newly born skeleton squad out the door. Stepping over rustling leaves, they vanished into the gloomy, dense forest outside the logging camp.
Only the five shell-shocked adventurers remained inside the wooden cabin.
"Boss, what're we gonna do?" a young adventurer asked, his face pale and tearful.
"What else can we do?" The scar-faced leader tremblingly picked up the heavy bag of Gold Coins, which felt as though it carried a Curse. He gritted his teeth. "We keep workin'. This might just be our ticket to striking it rich."
He comforted himself and his companions with those words.
***
After leaving the logging camp, Lynch led his skeleton army through the dense, eerie woods. It did not take long for them to reach their first mission objective: Reed Village, located on the edge of the Black Swamp.
The ground beneath his feet was muddy, and the air hung heavy with the distinct, fishy stench of a wetland. The village was quite small, consisting of only a few dozen households. Most of the villagers made their living by fishing and hunting on the outskirts of the Black Swamp, or by gathering native aquatic plants.
When Lynch and his macabre entourage appeared at the village entrance, they naturally caused quite a commotion. He paid it no mind. Maintaining the mysterious and ruthless facade of a Necromancer, he sought out the village chief and briefly inquired about the mission details. Then, under the villagers' awe-struck and terrified gazes, he marched his skeleton squad out of the settlement in force, heading straight for the fishing grounds occupied by the Fishmen.
Yes, Fishmen.
They were the very same creatures that, in the various games of Lynch's past life, boasted an early-game appearance rate second only to goblins. They had served as stepping stones for generations of adventurers.
Lynch's current operation served a dual purpose: to test and verify the combat capabilities of his Skeleton Servants, and to accumulate some academy credits along the way. He needed those credits to exchange for Undead Magic and exclusive cultivation resources.
He had not walked far along the muddy tidal flats when the reed beds in the shallow waters suddenly began to rustle.
SPLASH!
Amidst a violent spray of water, four or five short, stocky figures leaped out.
They were about half the height of a human. Their massive, hideous fish heads split open to reveal rows of fine, razor-sharp teeth. Their slimy skin was mottled with a mix of dark green and grayish-brown. A fierce yet dim-witted glint shone in their bulging fish eyes. Brandishing crude weapons, they stomped through the water and lunged forward aggressively, letting out guttural cries that sounded like the roars of giant frogs.
The first skirmish erupted in an instant.
"Bone Jade, engage," Lynch ordered.
With the Netherworld Skeleton, Bone Jade, leading the charge, Lynch did not need to divide his attention to control the Skeleton Servants. After issuing the command through his Spiritual Power, he let the rest of the skeletons follow Bone Jade into the fray while he quickly stepped back to put distance between himself and the frontline. A dark glow began to gather at the tip of his Magic Staff.
A moment later, the two small armies slammed into each other without any flashy maneuvers.
CRACK!
SQUELCH!
HOWL!
The clatter of colliding bones, the sickening sound of sharp weapons piercing flesh, and the shrill, agonizing screams of the Fishmen instantly intertwined.
From the very beginning, the battle was entirely one-sided. The leading Fishman—the thickest of the bunch, wielding a massive shell machete—was sent flying by a single strike from Bone Jade, who had charged at the forefront. The Netherworld Skeleton followed up like a shadow, its Bone Knife slashing down repeatedly in a relentless flurry.
CRACK! CRACK!
In a mere two or three seconds, the robust Fishman lay completely lifeless.