The gates of the Crypt of Legion's Rise yawned open, swallowing the growing army whole. Iden stepped forward first, feeling the chill air of the underground temple settle over him like a cloak. Behind him, forty skeletal warriors followed in precise formation, their bones gleaming faintly with the dungeon's eerie light.
Rael and Nyra moved at his sides, eyes sharp, senses alert.
For seven days and seven nights, the Crypt's dark corridors echoed with the clash of bones and steel, the crackle of spells, and the whispered commands of a commander shaping an army.
Iden watched as his recently summoned skeletons, all thirty-six of them—the ones he had called forth after acquiring the massive summon capacity—faced challenge after challenge.
Each battle was a lesson. Each echo of ancient foes tested their endurance and tactics.
Slowly but surely, they grew.
And when the week passed, something extraordinary happened.
One by one, the skeletons shimmered in bursts of pale light.
Their hollow eye sockets flared with renewed intensity.
They had reached Level 11.
And more than that—the Crypt's magic granted them a rare gift: the power of choice.
No longer mindless soldiers, each skeleton was given the spark to evolve—guided by their own experiences, instincts, and the path they had fought.
The miner skeletons hardened, their picks turning into enchanted tools capable of cleaving through stone like butter. The warriors bulked up, their armor shifting to heavier, battle-worn forms, while the scouts sharpened into shadows, more agile than ever.
Some archers took to wielding twin crossbows. Mages developed elemental affinities—fire, ice, lightning—tailoring their spells with newfound precision.
Even the tanks evolved into towering juggernauts, living walls of bone and steel.
Watching his army grow more distinct, more powerful, filled Iden with a fierce pride. But his gaze soon shifted beyond the army.
While scouting the perimeter near the Crypt's outer boundary, Iden caught sight of movement.
A lone figure sat beside a dying campfire, the flickering flames revealing a gaunt man. He looked human—but unlike the desperate survivors Iden had heard of, there was a calmness about him, an ancient weight in his eyes.
"I am no threat," the man said quietly, hands raised in peace. "I seek only shelter and purpose."
Iden's system scanned the man swiftly.
Class: NecromancerSkills: Raise Dead, Dark Veil, Spirit Link
Though the Necromancer could summon the dead, Iden's skeletons would remain loyal to him alone. The survivor's army would be separate—an alliance born of necessity.
Rael stepped forward, sensing something deeper.
"Your power is dark but tempered. I feel a resonance—something I cannot explain."
The survivor met her gaze with a soft smile.
"Perhaps light and dark are two halves of the same soul."
With the Necromancer's aura subtly bolstering the skeleton army's strength and resilience, Iden's forces grew sharper, more focused.
His command now extended beyond mere numbers—it was a symphony of bone, magic, and will.
The Crypt of Legion's Rise was no longer just a training ground.
It was the birthplace of an empire.