Chapter 107
With his small body, he quickly reached the eyes of the statue. Gazing into the gleaming obsidian orbs, he let out a sigh.
“Will this really work?”
A black haze formed in the air, solidifying into a sword that he gripped tightly before casually slashing forward.
The statue’s eyes were instantly severed, revealing a pearl embedded within, gleaming with a dark light.
“Hmm?”
Just by looking at it, he could sense the pearl’s details, its presence whispering to him like a ghost.
For a moment, his gaze turned hollow, devoid of life.
Only after two minutes did he regain consciousness. He hurriedly shook his head and bit into his flesh to regain clarity.
“It still puts me in that trance-like state.”
The first time he looked at the statue, he had also fallen into a trance, though it lasted much longer than now.
That was why Eryke the Third hadn’t been able to stop the tragedy. And from the looks of it, this was a daily occurrence. The only thing different this time was that the eldest disciple had died.
“Forget it. Let’s see if I can do it.”
He removed the obsidian pearl from one eye of the statue, then did the same with the other.
Holding both pearls in his hands, he sat cross-legged and closed his eyes, focusing his mind.
Then, slowly, he released the death energy within his body, allowing it to merge with the pearl.
It was something he did instinctively.
Faintly, he could sense a shift in his surroundings.
The next moment, Eryke the Third snapped open his eyes—only to find himself staring into an endless abyss.
There was nothing.
An absolute void.
No air.
No energy.
He looked around, but his vision remained pitch-black. Whether his eyes were open or closed made no difference, it was all the same.
And yet…
“This world feels so familiar,” he murmured, moving his hand through the emptiness. Though he had never seen this place before, it felt inexplicably known to him.
Suddenly, he sensed a black mass, a shadow, moving through the void, heading straight toward him.
“Hmm?”
He raised an eyebrow as a blue prompt appeared in front of him:
[You have entered the Abyss of Death in the Martial World]
[The souls you have killed will hold resentment toward you]
“The only person I’ve killed in this world is that senior disciple…” he muttered, a flicker of uncertainty in his heart. Does Chun Ma’s kill count too?
But as he sensed only a single soul drifting rapidly toward him, his doubts were dispelled.
“Hmph.” Eryke the Third sneered and extended his hand, yanking the resentful soul straight toward him.
The soul tried to resist, but in the face of his outstretched palm, it was utterly helpless.
In mere seconds, it was completely trapped.
Beneath his hand, the soul was like a bug—insignificant and powerless.
Eryke the Third was a ghoul, a devourer of souls—a predator to all spirits in existence.
How could he possibly lose?
To him, the soul was nothing.
“But what can I even do with it?”
He shook his head, a trace of pity in his expression.
For now, even though he had captured the soul, he had no way to make use of it.
But as he stared at it for a moment, a flicker of inspiration lit up in his mind.
“Hmm… maybe that could work.”
It began with just a fleeting spark of inspiration as Eryke channeled some of his death energy into the soul.
Shh!
Before his eyes, the soul began to change.
What was once a spirit brimming with resentment steadily transformed, growing more and more subservient with each passing second.
By the end, Eryke the Second held complete control over it, as though the soul were no longer an enemy, but a loyal soldier bound to his will.
[You have tamed the dead with unmatched malice toward you]
[You have gained the title:
…
You can call upon the dead to the living world.
…
“Oh?”
Gazing at the glowing blue panel before him, Eryke the Second felt a surge of excitement welling up inside.
A necromancer.
A being capable of raising an army in the blink of an eye.
A one-man army.
He clenched his fist, stopping the flow of death energy.
In the next moment, his eyes snapped open, he had returned to the real world.
“These two pearls… they’re the key to entering the Abyss of Death.”
Glancing down at the orbs, he secured them to his body, hidden from plain sight. Then, with a leap, he soared through the air and landed softly on the ground.
As his feet touched down, he turned his gaze to the children.
“Have you made your decision?”
Silence followed his question.
Then, a small, scrawny child stepped forward, about the same age as him, and gave a firm nod.
“Yes. We are ready to follow you.”
“Good.”
“Umm… but would it be okay to request something?”
Eryke the Third furrowed his brows. “What is it?”
“What should we call you?”
He paused.
Calling himself Eryke the Third in this world would feel… out of place. It would be strange, awkward, even.
So, casually, he came up with a name. Given his title as a necromancer and the Korean setting, it felt fitting that they should call him:
“Gang Ryeong.”
“Gang Ryeong,” the child repeated, immediately bowing: “I, Pan Ji, humbly ask you to accept us.”
Gang Ryeong shook his head.
“I don’t need disciples, nor do I need servants. If you want to follow me, that’s fine. but that’s all.”
With that, he turned away, heading in the direction the hunched master had gone.
“Follow me.”
He didn’t look back.
Those who chose to follow him would live under his protection.
But the choice was theirs to make.
Just then, a blue prompt appeared before his eyes:
[Choose a word to call upon the dead]
“Hmm, a word?” Eryke the Third stroked his chin thoughtfully, then spoke in a calm, steady tone:
“Arise.”
[Word accepted. You can now summon the dead with this word.]