Afterward, Lynch tugged at the oversized, stain-covered black robe draped over the corpse. It reeked of putrid decay. The fabric felt coarse; aside from being slightly tougher than ordinary cloth, it carried no magical fluctuations.
"Ugh. Smelly, filthy, and entirely useless. Absolute trash."
He curled his lips in disgust and tossed it aside.
Before long, Lynch had stripped the wide-eyed Necromancer entirely bare. However, to his absolute shock, this guy was broke as hell! He searched the body from head to toe. Between the Gold Coins, silver bits, copper plates, and other random trinkets, the total haul amounted to a few dozen gold—barely enough to buy a few Basic Potions.
"Damn it. All those skills and you were living worse than me. What a waste."
Lynch shot the corpse a look of deep contempt. Aside from the Banshee's Kiss, the only other decent piece of loot was the dead man's Magic Staff.
It was a Bone Staff topped with a fist-sized miniature skull. It was far more exquisite than Lynch's old, grimy Magic Staff, carrying a satisfying heft. When he probed it with his Spiritual Power, he sensed that it could slightly amplify the effects of Undead Magic. Moreover, the shaft seemed to house an empty spell slot. It could store a Tier One Undead System Magic in advance, allowing for instantaneous casting when needed.
"Well, at least it wasn't a total waste of time."
Lynch weighed the new Magic Staff in his hand. Despite his disdain for the Necromancer's poverty, he was quite satisfied with this weapon. He tucked his old Magic Staff behind his waist, deciding to use the new one as his primary weapon.
Of course, Lynch didn't forget the bone dagger. After picking it up for a quick inspection, he found that while it wasn't Magic Equipment, it was exceptionally well-crafted. The material was hard and razor-sharp; selling it for a dozen Gold Coins wouldn't be a problem. Daggers were practical tools. It would be useful for self-defense or processing "materials" in a pinch. He found its sheath, slid the blade in, and tucked it into his jacket.
With the Necromancer's external possessions sorted, it was time to handle his "internal" assets.
Make no mistake—to a Necromancer, what was the most valuable treasure? Naturally, it was the soul and the flesh. Given Lynch's current, shallow mastery of the Path of Death, extracting and utilizing souls was completely out of the question. He simply didn't have the skill. However, this corpse—which had reached Tier One Peak in life—was a far greater fortune to him right now than any Gold Coins or Magic Staffs.
Lynch ordered Bone Jade to drag the naked corpse to a relatively clean clearing. He then had it sweep away the scattered bone fragments nearby, ensuring nothing would taint the quality of the final Skeleton. He personally conducted a thorough inspection of the area as well.
Once certain there were no obvious contaminants, he solemnly raised his newly acquired skull-topped Bone Staff, aimed it at the Necromancer's corpse, and cast the Skeleton Resurrection Skill once more. In a way, this was the ultimate form of recycling.
Obscure incantations echoed through the night woods, sounding exceptionally eerie and terrifying. A concentrated beam of pale light surged from the skull at the top of the Magic Staff.
Death Energy shrouded the corpse. It began to convulse violently, struggling to climb to its feet like a zombie straight out of legend.
Suddenly...
THUD.
With a muffled bang, the corpse exploded. A mist of blood and chunks of meat splattered in every direction.
A moment later, a Skeleton Servant slowly pushed itself up from the blood-soaked earth. Its frame was somewhat gaunt, and the color of its bones differed from ordinary Skeleton Servants, gleaming with a dull, jade-like texture. Only the shattered cranium remained, standing as a silent testament to its cause of death.
Lynch ignored that detail. What mattered was the pair of tiny, eerie green flames flickering like will-o'-the-wisps deep within its eye sockets.
Could this be... Soul Fire?!
Lynch's eyes immediately lit up with pleasant surprise. Soul Fire was the fundamental marker distinguishing Undead Life from mere undead constructs. The former was a unique lifeform possessing faint intelligence, capable of learning, growing, and even evolving. The latter were nothing but mindless tools and cannon fodder.
Typically, only Undead Creatures summoned directly from the Netherworld inherently possessed Soul Fire. But there were exceptions. Powerful beings with willpower far exceeding ordinary mortals had a slight chance of retaining a trace of spirituality when converted into an Undead Unit, thereby birthing their own Soul Fire. The stronger the creature, the higher the probability of generating Soul Fire after conversion.
Lynch had read about this in the academy's archives. He just hadn't had the strength, resources, or opportunity to test it before. He never expected that this broke-ass colleague of his would deliver such a massive surprise in death.
Of course, after being transformed into an undead, both its former intellect and power had severely degraded. It would have to start from scratch. But regardless, this was a "mage unit" with Soul Fire, born from a Necromancer! This was a proper Caster, leagues ahead of trash like that Fishman Priest Skeleton that struggled just to shoot off a Water Arrow Skill.
At that thought, Lynch cast a disdainful glance over his shoulder. The cowardly Fishman Priest Skeleton was standing at the very back of the skeletal guard, staring blankly up at the sky like an idiot.
But his attention quickly snapped back. He eagerly tried communicating with this newly forged Skeleton Mage, testing its capabilities. To his dismay, he found the creature equally dim-witted and sluggish, nowhere near capable of normal communication.
Lynch exhausted a great deal of Spiritual Power and patience. Between wild hand gestures and mental commands, it took a herculean effort just to make it grasp his intent. The skeleton shakily raised its bony claws, eventually condensing a weakened orb of the Weakness Curse.
"Alright, no rush. We'll take it slow."
Lynch wasn't disappointed; if anything, he was more excited. It was a newly "born" baby, after all. The fact that it could cast Magic at all was impressive enough. Once it survived a few more battles, absorbed more Death Energy, and nurtured its Soul Fire, it would naturally grow stronger. It might even surpass the achievements of its past life.
"From this day forth, your name is Bone Mage Calder."
Lynch bestowed the title upon it with grave solemnity. This was a surname as noble as that of the great Legendary Necromancer—Sandru Kolt.
"Don't you go letting your ancestor's glory down now."
Then, feeling that merely bestowing a name wasn't enough to show his appreciation for this skeletal prodigy, Lynch unclipped the grim, battered old Magic Staff from his waist. He personally pressed it into Bone Mage Calder's bony claws.
"Here, use this. Work hard, and you'll definitely have a prime spot among my core enforcers in the future."
Afterward, he went and retrieved the filthy black robe he had discarded earlier. After double-checking to ensure there were no identifying marks on it, he personally draped the cloak over Calder's shoulders.
"It's getting chilly out, Calder. Put on a coat," he thought.
This scene deeply illustrated Lynch's boundless expectations for his newly appointed Magic System backbone.