The room was quiet—moonlight streaming through the open window, casting soft patterns across the stone floor. The stillness of the academy beyond seemed like a distant hum, as if the world had forgotten to move just for a moment.
Malrik sat at the edge of his bed, his eyes locked onto the translucent System interface floating before him, as if reading it for the hundredth time. His breathing was steady, his pulse slowing as though the weight of the class granted to him—the one no one had expected, not even himself—was sinking into his bones.
He read the lines again.
---
Class: Necromancer
Traits: Gravebinding. Veil-Evolved Minions. Soulvault Storage.
Minions Stored: 0/6
---
But as he stared at the words, his mind wasn’t on the text.
It was on what came next.
Slowly, his fingers moved beneath his tunic, pulling the vault ring free. The metal pulsed faintly against his skin, like it recognized him, knew him. With a thought, he willed the interface to open.
---
[Vault Inventory Accessed]
---
Inside, there were dozens of artifacts. Strange trinkets, books bound in dark leather, ritual implements, coins marked with forgotten symbols. But it was one entry that caught his eye.
---
[Veilbound Remains – Status: Preserved, Marked for Ritual Use]
---
Malrik’s heartbeat quickened as the image formed before him. A pile of bones—clean, immaculate, carved with runes older than Arkwatch Academy itself. His breath caught.
He didn’t know who she was. Not yet. But something in the air whispered that this was not just another summon.
This was the beginning.
He stood and extended his hand over the remains. His fingers hovered above the bones, a moment of pure stillness between him and the power he was about to command.
“Alright,” he murmured, voice steady, despite the rapid drum of his heart. “Let’s see what you can become.”
---
[Activating Trait: Gravebinding]
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[Trait Engaged: Veil-Evolved Minions]
---
The bones shimmered. Runes on the skull, ribs, and fingers ignited in blue light, swirling like veins of lightning. Magic surged through Malrik’s chest—something pure and powerful, but also chilling, as if his soul were exhaling a part of itself into the air.
Then—
A pulse of cold, sharp as a blade, swept through the room.
---
Warning: Subject’s original power exceeds current summoner capacity.
Adjustments required. Scaling minion to match host’s level.
Evolution locked until summoner levels increase.
Result: Soulbound Variant – Skeleton Mage (Veil-Touched)
Minor Spellcasting: Necrotic Bolt, Soulfire, Bone Shield
Telepathic Communication
Personality Memory Fragments: Partial
---
A wind swept through the room—cold and alive—as the bones lifted into the air. They twisted, reformed, held together by threads of spectral sinew, held together by his will.
When the magic settled, a skeletal figure hovered inches above the floor. It wore tattered remnants of a black ceremonial robe, adorned with glowing arcane script across its collar.
The skull was crowned with a faint silver circlet of energy, and pale violet flames flickered in its empty eye sockets.
It hovered, still as death itself. Then—
It spoke.
Not aloud. Not with a sound—but directly into his mind.
“...A new soul. A new master. Yet the scent of the old world clings to you…”
Malrik stepped forward, eyes wide but calm, his voice steady despite the tremor that ran through his limbs. “You can speak?”
“Some pieces of me remain. Not whole. Not yet. But I remember the grave... and the crown.”
Malrik crouched slightly, studying her face, or what was left of it—a skull, yes, but there was something in the bearing of the creature, something graceful. Something almost beautiful in the way she stood, in the way the magic twisted around her.
She had once been someone—powerful. Respected. Feared, maybe. And now, she was his.
He met her gaze, silent for a moment, feeling the weight of the world shift just beneath his skin.
“What was your name?” he asked, his voice soft.
There was a pause. Then, a flicker of recognition, a whisper in the air.
“I do not remember… not fully. Only fragments. Fire. Frost. A tower drowned in shadow. A name, spoken once by those who feared me… and whispered by those who followed.”
Malrik’s chest tightened. There was more. He felt it. A history wrapped in shadows, in secrets buried too deep for even her to recall.
She didn’t speak of the past.
But she had to remember it. Somewhere.
“But I will take whatever name you give. A new name… for a new age.”
Malrik stood still for a moment, the weight of that statement settling heavily in his heart. A new name. A new beginning. This wasn’t just a summon. This wasn’t just a servant.
This was his first piece. His first soldier in a war yet unseen.
“Veyna,” he said softly.
“Veyna… I like it.”
The flames in her eyes flared with life, as if her very essence had stirred at the sound of her new name.
“Then let this be the first of many bindings, master.”
Malrik smiled faintly, his fingers curling into a fist, the vault ring still hanging from his neck. “You’ll be more than a summon, Veyna. You’ll be my first—my foundation.”
“Then I shall grow with you. In power. In memory. In purpose.”
He raised his hand again, and the interface shimmered before him. With a thought, he activated the next step.
---
[Soulvault Storage] – Active
[Store Minion: Veyna – Skeleton Mage (Veil-Touched)]
Confirm?
---
Malrik didn’t hesitate.
He focused, and Veyna’s body shimmered. Her form dissolved into ethereal light, drawn into the Soulvault bound to his soul.
---
Minions Stored: 1/6
---
The room was quiet again.
Malrik exhaled slowly, his breath steadying. His eyes lingered on the empty space where Veyna had stood. She was there—somewhere, just beyond the veil. But she was with him now. Bound by his will. A piece of the army that would be his to command.
The weight of what he had just done settled into his chest.
This was just the beginning.
He had made his first summon. Named her. Bound her.
And Veyna… she would not be the last.
This was his army now.
The first piece had been placed.
And Malrik Valtor, Necromancer, was ready.