In Klata City, the guards were on patrol.

There was unrest among them. Although they trusted in their capacity to defend their city, they had heard the news: monsters had attacked an important city nearby, Buri City.

Goblins had tried to breach the walls and failed, repelled by the efforts of the Watch, Adventurers, and a Magus from the famous Lei Clan.

But the Goblins hadn’t been eliminated, they had killed a bunch of people right outside the walls and then retreated when Artorius Lei had come hurling lightning down on them like an angry god.

That Goblin tribe was still out there. Preparing, growing, probably moving somewhere else. They might even try Klata City and move on to attack the more vulnerable towns and villages.

The Capital probably knew about it too. The Kingdom’s troops would need to move soon and hunt down the Goblins, such a big and strong tribe was a huge threat to the populace that could not be left alone, assistance from the Adventurer’s Guild was a given, other Guilds and maybe even the nobles would move to provide support in eliminating the threat and receive merit for the deed.

Together, these powerful groups would get rid of those monsters. However, it would take resources for troops to assemble and move, it would also take time for them to arrive and fight the Goblins and the Kingdom’s Army could not let the borders unprotected.

And until other forces handled the threat, the duty of protecting the cities of the Kingdom rested on the Watch of each city.

Klata was a fortified city, built as a stronghold against the threat of monsters and as a resting point for explorers of the Dungeons. The walls were sturdy, tall, and wide, with multiple wards and provisioned with large quantities of armament.

Even the first few streets after entering the city were filled with choke points and killing zones, it had been built with the thought of resisting invasion.

Built with the intention of killing any invaders.

Standing on the ample southern walls, Klata’s Watch Captain, Selveor Goreas, closed his eyes for a moment and ordered his thoughts.

He hadn’t gotten any sleep despite the late hour. News about the attack to Buri City by hundreds of Goblins had arrived via Message Spell many hours ago, he had gathered the guards and doubled the number of people on duty tonight.

It had been impossible for him to just stay at his office in the Watch's Barracks, he had read all reports and was expecting more news for tomorrow. Staying inside his office might be more comfortable, but he needed to be here, with his companions, protecting their city.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to be at home asleep if there was an attack tonight.

It was unlikely that Klata would be attacked by the same Goblins that attempted to break into Buri, but it never hurt to be prepared. Experience had thought him that a wave of monsters meant that another wave was coming, possibly something completely unrelated.

Troubles never came alone, not in his line of work.

Selveor was a Half-elf, his skin was ochre and his hair was dark brown. He was tall and muscular, over 90 years old, still in his prime by the standards of his race. He had a stern face but his heritage made it unlikely he would get any wrinkles until he passed 160.

His pointy ears caught a slight sound from behind him, his senses already telling him that the person sneaking on him didn’t have any ill intent. His hand moved to the sword on his belt anyway.

“You know, Sarai? Sneaking on a guardsman is illegal.”

There was a very slight thump on the floor next to him. Selveor didn’t turn his head, still looking ahead. Staring into the darkness of the forest at night was inviting one’s mind to play tricks, but there was no way the guardsmen wouldn’t keep a vigilant eye in that direction.

“No, it’s not. I checked. It’s only illegal if I attack you.”

Sarai Montmer stood next to the Watch Captain. Her bow was on her hand and she was also staring at the forest ahead, there were small torches spread around the city and next to the road in order to provide illumination for nearby night travelers and to help the City Watch detect any suspicious form approaching.

But the forest was a different thing, a few hundred meters south from the city gates the threes were already so dense that putting any torch or mage light there was a waste of resources.

Besides, some of the members of the Watch had [Night Vision] and other similar Skills.

“It’s still not a good idea. If a guardsman attacks you it’d be your fault for approaching them stealthily.”

Selveor replied with his arms crossed. The other guardsmen noticed the Wolfkin girl on the wall, but since she was talking to their Captain there was no need to reprimand her.

“I know to whom I can approach, I’m good at judging people.”

Sarai smiled and nocked an arrow but kept the bow lowered. Her eyes were keenly focused on some point south-east from them.

Selveor noticed her movement and looked in that direction. Too far and too dark for him to discern anything.

But the eyes of a Beastkin archer were quite impressive.

“What brings you here at this hour, Sarai?”

The Watch Captain was less relaxed now. Sarai’s eyes narrowed, her gaze still locked onto the distance.

“I woke up with a bad feeling, there’s a scent of death in the air, so I figured it was best if I came here to warn you.”

“I see, thanks.”

Selveor knew Sarai since she was a little child, he was aware of her sharp senses and her uncanny ability to judge people and situations.

And she said she smelled death in the air. That was a bad omen.

Sarai put the arrow back into her quiver, but the Captain didn’t relax. She pulled out a different arrow this time, enchanted, with a white and slightly luminous arrowhead.

The Beastkin archer raised her bow and aimed high. The arrow pierced the air fast, flying into the dark night.

And exploded.

High above the forest, a flash of white light illuminated the area. The enchantment made the arrow turn into an orb of light that would decrease in size with every passing second, lasting 30 seconds in total.

Enough time for Selveor to get a good look at the area illuminated.

Enough time for Sarai to immediately spot the crawling zombies and skeletons among the trees, and for Selveor to find them barely two seconds later.

The adventurer cursed under her breath as the Watch Captain raised his voice to shout at his subordinates.

“Undead!! Sound the alarm!!”

Sitting on a throne of bones held up by eight zombies amidst the waves of undead, the Necromancer heard an explosion and looked at the bright orb of light in the distance ahead of him, right over the foremost line of soldiers of his new army.

Immediately the sound of alarm bells echoed in the night. The undead had been spotted by the Watch.

“Uh, I guess there’s no need for subtlety now. Charge, my minions. Breach the walls and kill them all.”

He gave the order to his slaves and grinned.

His horde had reached the city less than an hour after leaving the Dungeon. They did not tire and did not rest, undead were the perfect labor force, a tireless army at his disposal to conquer and destroy anything on his path.

The result of tonight’s attack was unimportant, it was only a test for his new minions, the beginning of his reign of terror over this land.

The undead creatures started to run in a mad charge to the city, parting the wave around Eric’s throne. Hundreds of undead were running, and more were still coming out of the Crypt.

The runes covering his body shone and magic coursed through his body, making him shiver. He felt the raw magic that made him capable of ruling over death and laughed. This was his magic, this was his power, the foundations of his reign.

He would rise up to the peak of this world, cover it in death and bloodshed, reap the lives of mortals and ascend as a deity, crowned in glory and terror.

“Now, isn’t that quite a happy thought?”

A voice sounded right beside Eric.

Eric almost jumped from his throne. He turned and saw a man of light brown hair standing right next to Eric’s throne.

Standing in the air.

The newcomer was looking down on Eric.

Something inside Eric stirred up and he struck out with his palm open. A huge amount of mana condensed and shot out as a bolt of death to the insolent stranger.

The spell disappeared upon touching the stranger’s clothes.

With an order, some of the undead nearest to the man moved to attack him, but all undead that approached him turned into dust. The rest of the tide of zombies and skeletons was still running madly towards the city. They would obey their orders until ordered to stop.

Eric jumped off his throne, taking distance from this mysterious individual before throwing a Fireball that was smothered out of existence almost immediately.

Was the man covered in a magic barrier? Eric couldn’t feel even the tiniest bit of Mana in this strange individual, but he could be using some artifact to dispel magic attacks.

Suddenly, every undead in a ten-meter radius around the man turned towards the man; spears and arrows of bone were shot at him from all sides. Each projectile broke into bits before reaching their target, the attackers were all turned into dust too, even Eric’s throne crumbled along with the carriers.

The Necromancer took more distance, gathering his Mana as his mind raced, thinking of ways to deal with this strange individual.

“I wonder, however, how much of that megalomania is actually yours and how much comes from the thing whispering in your ears?”

The man continued speaking while looking straight at Eric’s eyes, those shining blue eyes seemed to stare through him at something behind Eric’s head.

An alarm went off inside Eric’s mind.

What is he talking about? There is nothing–

Eric felt his body tremble as if a hammer had blown him directly in the guts, his heart had burst into flames, and an axe had split his skull in half all at the same time.

His Mana stirred under his skin and coiled around him, then he felt as if a pair of hands seized him by the throat from the inside.

The runes on his body blazed painfully as Eric felt darkness try to drag him down and devour his mind. A scream that didn’t belong to him was drowning any thoughts he could have, overwhelming him as if a cold sea had fallen over him.

The mysterious man’s mouth stretched into a cold grin.

“Heh.”

The sound broke whatever spell was in process.

It shattered the hands holding Eric’s soul and evaporated the tide of darkness. Whatever had been trying to possess Eric was thrown off him by a non-opposable force.

Eric felt as if he was staring at the midday Sun and the Sun had decided to stare back; a blinding blaze was covering every part of his soul as the pain receded and was replaced by an overpowering sense of awe. Every woe, horror, ambition, and wild dream that Eric could imagine was a pale drop of water in front of the vast blazing magnificence in front of him.

Eric fell to the ground, out of breath and feeling as if he was burned clean of everything he was. He felt empty, disoriented, and small.

He heard a howl from somewhere behind him, but couldn’t even move a finger. Eric's eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath, the feeling of weakness threatened to make him lose consciousness, but he tried to hold on and stay awake.

He tried.

The undead kept running, obeying their last command to attack the city and kill everyone they found.

Navin briefly glanced at them but let them run to their objective for now.

He stood next to the collapsed Necromancer and then looked at the shadow figure floating over him.

It was a skeleton of black bones covered by swirling smoke and crimson flames inside its eyes; this Revenant was the true artificer of the attack to Klata City, feeding this young Necromancer’s ambition to use him and take possession of his body.

The Revenant screamed and tried to fly away, but no matter how it struggled there was no way for it to escape from Navin.

“Let’s see what information you have here.”

Navin pointed a finger at it and the specter trembled like having a seizure. Soul Search techniques were extremely painful for those on the receiving end, whether they were corporeal or disembodied.

Ancient civilizations thriving with treasures, building Dungeons for a variety of reasons.

Ambition, zealotry, hatred, greed.

Tests for the worthy among those in the future.

Traps for the greedy wanting to steal the riches of the past.

Deities descending. Gifting wonders to some, bringing damnation to others.

A young man struggling to advance his craft as a Mage, desiring to unveil the secrets of Life and Death.

Blood and pain, sleepless nights practicing rituals and mastering spells. Years spent deciphering grimoires, studying bodies of different species. A lifetime of being an outcast, rejected by all for following his call.

Matured and stronger, the Sorcerer worked as an advisor and as one of the Warlocks serving the ambitions of the King of the land.

The smile of a woman, Princess of these domains. A secret affair.

Nights of passion, Sorcerer and Princess embracing each other. He found peace and affection in her arms, she found liberation and excitement with him.

Their love bore fruit. the Princess told the news to the future grandfather.

The wrath of the King, relentless and unforgiving.

The sorcerer was bound to the depths of the Crypt by his King. Mother and child put to the knife.

Cursed, betrayed, and damned. Millennia spent in agony twisting his soul until there was only pain and hatred.

The kingdom fell, forgotten by the world. Only the Dungeon remains.

The undead abound. Newcomers fell to the traps and monsters, becoming additions to the horde.

Adventurers came, adventurers went. They tried to take the relics, they failed and died.

The Dungeon claimed more lives. The tide of undead grew.

Time passed.

Another young man struggling to advance his craft, desiring to unveil the secrets of Life and Death.

Outcast, rejected, despised, and hated.

A kindred spirit.

Months spend exploring the Dungeon, months spent training in the Art of Necromancy, experimenting with the undead in the Crypt.

The young Necromancer discovered array in the Crypt.

Years passed. Minor successes, repeated failures.

Still, he persevered.

The Sorcerer watched, the Revenant whispered. The Necromancer listened.

Minor successes, but fewer failures.

Something happened. Parts of array shattered.

Boundaries set by the Gods of old disappeared.

Dungeon trembled, restraints weakened.

A Chance.

The ritual of the Necromancer succeeded, the Revenant slipped in.

Two ambitions turned into one. Dark souls sharing a body, kindred spirits searching for revenge.

The horde of undead marched out of the Crypt. The future King of Death carried high on a throne of bones.

Something appeared from out of nowhere. Power incarnated in the shape of a man. Blue eyes gazed at them.

A being vaster than the world proclaimed a word. All ambitions were turned to dust.

The living fell to the ground, stripped from the marks of the ritual.

The dead lingered, now a prisoner of an inescapable hand.

A finger pointed directly at the withered soul.

Pain.

Navin finished the Soul Search technique.

“Rest in peace.”

The Revenant’s flaming eyes extinguished, its frame collapsed and gathered into a black sphere. The soul was finally freed from torment, but the energy remained.

He stood there for a moment, looking at the unconscious Necromancer and the sphere of energy while the undead passed by his sides.

Navin stared at the threads of Karma again, causes and effects made apparent to him. He looked at the many possible futures and saw many scenarios dissipating into nothingness.

His actions had changed the future, as did the actions of everyone else. The future was not a fixed scenario, it fluctuated with every decision made.

Free will was forever the artificer of Fate.

Predictions were not prophecies, and prophecies were not absolute either. Knowing the future meant having the ability to alter it to a certain degree; with more power, the degree of possible change was greater.

No one could know everything, and trying to explore all possibilities was a fool’s errand. It would be like trying to count from One to Infinite.

A powerful practitioner could look at the fate of a mortal and see their whole life or even stare at a location and see what would happen there in future centuries, but even for those specialized in the Way of Karma and Future-related abilities like Divination it would be impossible to look at the futures of all the people living in a city, since there were too many branches and variables. Unless there was a huge event that involved them collectively, especially one that killed them, because by terminating their lives in the future the paths were shorter, so the prediction was easier and clearer.

Likewise, it was easy for Navin to look at the possible consequences of an action, like the attack of the undead to Klata, although that was by no means an unavoidable future.

There would have been many casualties; monsters moving out of the area due to the undead; Adventurers arriving from other regions to handle the monster threat; troops of the Kingdom fighting against the army of another country; Eric Rauda becoming a Lich, waging war against the living as a monster full of resentment and agony.

But Navin didn’t like that scenario, so he took actions to change it. War was unavoidable, and the undead would still attack Klata City, but this Necromancer would not be leading them and the number of casualties would decrease considerably.

Navin looked beyond, at more long-term consequences of tonight's events.

“Hmm, this is more interesting. Yeah, much better."

Navin nodded and stopped looking at the threads of Karma. He looked down at the unconscious Necromancer.

"You know, kid, there were a hundred ways this night could have ended. Actions have consequences, repercussions that you can’t even imagine.”

The undead kept pouring out from the Crypt like water from a broken dike. Thousands were out already, howling and screaming like hungry mad dogs, eager to devour the living.

“I saw the futures, not just one, but many different possible outcomes from tonight’s events. What would happen if I intervened in a certain way, what would happen if I just ignored this? What if I sent my Disciple to fix this situation? Well, there were a lot of nasty possibilities, but ultimately this ambition of yours ended in failure unless I supported you, which was stupid, so I won’t.”

Navin pointed at Eric's body. The sphere of energy that was the Revenant entered Eric’s back.

“Even now, there are many undead trying to break into the city, hundreds and even thousands of fighters from Watch members, adventurers, and even civilians are going to get wounded. A lot of bad things, but strife isn’t that much of a problem, and if one looks at things from the scale and vantage point that I do, even the original mess you were going to make is nothing; but you see, there’s also this thing called ‘responsibility’; if I see you messing things up, I should do something and stop you. It’s also my right to simply ignore you and let the world deal with the mess, but... well, let's just say I have never been one to just 'let Fate take its course', I'm more of the 'create your own Fate' type of person.”

Eric’s body trembled from the insertion of the black sphere, but stopped in a matter of seconds.

“Anyways, the point is, you were going to make a mess, and I stopped it because I’m not an asshole like those dudes that liked to entertain themselves with the struggles of lower worlds, but I also understand that this world needs events to help it move forward, and you were just one of those. So, I saw that you were on a stupid path that led you to make a fool of yourself and decided to give you a push in the right direction. You are probably not gonna like it too much, but it’s better than being a rotting puppet corpse, and if you are going to be a bastard then you better be a useful bastard, so there you go. Who knows? You might even find happiness and fulfillment, good stuff can still happen to you, not that I'd tell you any spoilers about your future, that would change things again.”

Navin turned his head in the direction of the Dungeon, the undead had stopped coming out, the Crypt was empty. A hard battle was raging in the opposite direction. Navin looked back at Eric.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to me and I’m not expecting gratitude from ruining your plan, even if at least half of that plan was the influence of that ghost in you. Seriously, don't make another foolish attempt at building a kingdom of the undead, those never end well, ask that old man in Katabria if you don’t believe me. If you want to pursue your ambitions and improve yourself then attacking innocent people is not the way to do it, stop that delusion of revenge, the people living here don’t have to take the blame for those who have hurt you. I’m not going to ask you to follow a plan or become a better person, but I want you to know that you can achieve your goal as a researcher of magic, and being a jerk is a detriment to that dream. Just focus on your art, keep practicing and you’ll advance. Whatever else you do from now on is up to you, bye.”

Navin disappeared, leaving the unconscious Necromancer in the forest close to the Dungeon, in the middle of the road that the horde of undead had taken to assault Klata.

When Eric woke up the next day, he was bound in chains.

And the words of the mysterious blue-eyed man were sounding in his mind, forever engraved in his memory.