A middle-aged man leaned against a tree while taking deep breaths.

“Ugh, my mana reserves… I can’t hold on much longer…”

His name was Alan, his master had ordered him to gather zombies and attack this location. He sourced the zombies from a farming village nearby. He killed all the annoying little kids, since they made weak zombies and would only drain his mana reserves.

Killing an entire village was surprisingly easy. He just released a low-level curse into the water well and waited a few days, everyone started dying and he just walked around and finished them off with a simple stab of his dagger. He felt no remorse, it was their fault for being weak.

He then disguised them all in cheap black cloaks and marched the horde towards this location. It was difficult getting well-paid jobs as a necromancer, so this was a once-in-a-year opportunity. If he managed to eliminate the noble that was being escorted, he would be paid 1 platinum! That's a thousand gold coins. How could he turn down such a sweet deal?

Due to necromancy being so illegal across the continent. Alan has found it incredibly difficult to train up his skills, because of this he has been stuck at the B grade for a long time despite his efforts. All he can do is summon zombies, control them from a distance, and do some basic curses and debuff spells.

Despite his low mana reserves, he grinned as he watched the noble finally leave the safety of that weird carriage. He had never seen one so robust before and was worried the noble would let all his knights perish and just sit inside. If the noble had done that then his mana reserves would have run dry and he would have lost control over all the undead.

He would then have to retreat as the zombies became ownerless and attack every living being, including him as well! Luckily, the dumb noble finally left his little safety box to challenge his zombies!

By sharing his vision with his zombies, he can watch the noble up close. He had to admit the noble was quite frightening to look at, he even had a creepy grin and blood dripping from his mouth. Is that some peculiar fetish he has?

His connection to the zombies weakened due to the noble's aura and his own lack of mana but managed to send one last order to his zombies, “Kill that man!”.

A hundred zombies all converged upon the dumb noble's location, and he just stood there with his stupid grin. He then turned to look, in his direction.

Alan shivered, he could feel the gaze of a predator from this far away? The noble began to move and quickly closed the gap. Alan had no idea how he figured out his location but quickly began to retreat further into the woods.

His zombies eventually formed a circle around the noble and stopped his advance. Alan hid behind a fallen log and observed from afar. His mana had run out, so he could no longer look through his zombie's eyes. All he could see was the mob of zombies all in one location.

“Hahah die you stupid bastard,” Alan muttered with contempt. If the man had just a little more IQ, he would have stayed inside his little carriage. Alan despised people who tried to save others. He was a selfish man at heart and couldn't understand why the noble would step out to save some weak knights.

Suddenly an immense aura shot out from the mob of zombies, and Alan watched in both terror and happiness as Damien rose into the air.

Terror because the mage escapes his zombie's encirclement and happiness it's a Psychic mage. Only Psychic mages could fly like that.

“HAHAHA COME TO DADDY” Alan exclaimed, waving his dagger around. Even without mana, killing a lone Psychic mage was basic shit. Just run at them and stab them in the face. What could they do? Talk him to death? Maybe pick him up and drop him from high up? Hah! Just waving a dagger in their face is enough to scare a Psychic mage.

The only people that become Psychic mages are weak mages that are scared of real combat and would rather be employed by nobles and sit safely inside their houses. They were nothing but a glorious form of communication. Fucking pansies the lot of them.

Alan loved the thrill of fighting and the screams of despair from his enemies! How could he possibly accept that Psychic mages are even called mages? They are fucking weaklings.

Alan watched on with a large grin as the Psychic noble mage stood in the sky, looking all pompous. Alan was tempted to wave at him but held back. He hid his dagger in his sleeve and waited.

The noble looked down on the world and then locked eyes with him. The gaze was still a bit intense. Alan had to admit, he had never met such an intimidating Psychic mage before, but he was excited.

The noble finally began to descend towards him and landed a few meters away. He had a playful and relaxed smirk on his face.

“Alan, B grade Necromancer in service to the black council.”

Alan’s confidence was shaken a little, not even the other executives of the black council knew his name. How did this random noble he had never met before know his true name?

“I don’t go by Alan, I threw that name away long ago! I'm going by Shade now.”

The noble just nodded, “Greetings, Alan, my name is Damien.”

“I said…” Alan muttered through gritted teeth, “my name is Shade, not Alan.”

Damien seemed amused and that irked him, “Shade, Alan, who cares, you are a dead man anyway.”

Alan just grinned, “A duel to the death, is it? Well, what’s your surname, pretty boy? I will remember it after I turn you into my pet zombie.”

“Nightshade.”

“Eh?” Alan was completely bewildered.

“Nightshade? I feel like I have heard that name before…” Alan thought deeply yet nothing came to mind.

Damien's eyes shone blood red as his black nails elongated into small daggers.

“Oh… Ah… fuck… what the fuck…” Alan just muttered crazily. “A real Vampire? Why?”

He looked down at this standard iron dagger. “I’m dead, aren't I?”

Alan turned to run, and he ran and ran, never stopping to look back.

After a few minutes, he crashed onto his face while deeply gasping for air. Both his mana and stamina reserves were bottomed out, he felt like death.

With great effort, he turned his head around and saw Damien casually floating behind him with a bored expression.

“Are you done running, this was rather boring.” He said, with disappointment oozing from every syllable.

“But… I have a daughter, I need the money for her… please.” Alan pleaded.

“Oh yes, I know you do.”

“You believe me?” Alan was bewildered, he did indeed have a daughter that had an illness that he was trying to treat with the money he got from necromancy, but he never listened to any of his targets that said these same words.

“I just don’t care. I'm a villain after all…” Damien said with indifference as if discussing the weather instead of his life or death.

Alan saw he was backed into a corner and burned his own life force to forcibly cast a final spell. His body burned as the mana was shoved through his mana circuit. Black mist shot out his palm and wrapped the area in a dense fog. Alan knew his dagger was unlikely to break through the vampire's skin, but maybe his eyes were a weak point?

He picked himself up with his last bit of willpower and circled around Damien. Moving carefully to not give his position away. Damien just stood still and looked forward.

‘He’s not making a move?’ Alan wondered. He had hoped he would fly away and give Alan time to escape, but instead, he just stood there and looked into the empty void. Almost as if he was bored.

Alan gathered his last bit of stamina and lunged through the fog, with his dagger en route towards Damien's eye. Yet Damien didn’t even blink and just gazed at him with disappointment.

‘Huh?’ Alan screamed in his mind as he was suspended in midair a meter away from Damien. He was still in his lunge posture, just staying there.

Damien walked over with calm steps, his hands took a ghost-like form as he plunged his claw through his chest. Suddenly, he felt… fingers… around his heart?

Damien grinned as he rematerialized his hand and ripped out Alan’s heart in one swift motion. He then placed the heart inside of Alan’s opened mouth and left it in there.

“I wonder if this would classify as some twisted form of modern art?” Damien said while rubbing his chin.

He then turned around and left without further comment. Ignoring the sound of the dead man falling onto the cold forest floor below.