Chapter 160: Flames, Shadows, and Threads of Fate
The cave where Velma's body had once rested was now barren—eerily silent, like the calm after a storm. Inside stood Kael, flanked by Mirra and Elira… and an unwelcome guest.
"Well, well. The boss was right to have me tail you. Seems like you really do know something valuable about this place," said the man who had crept in unnoticed, lips curling into a smug grin.
Kael's expression soured instantly. "You're one of Sylen's lapdogs, aren't you? Hah, I should've known. That snake wouldn't miss a chance to crawl where I stir."
Black flames erupted from Kael's palm without hesitation, streaking toward the stranger like a vengeful ghost.
The man barely dodged in time, sweat forming as the Eternal Flames scorched the cavern walls. "Tch—You really don't believe in talking first, huh?"
"Shut up and die."
Kael hurled a torrent of flames, engulfing the whole front of the cave in blistering heat. The assassin could only brace for impact—until the impossible happened.
A single clean slash cut through the wall of fire like paper, parting the blaze down the middle.
Standing there, blade drawn and smile unshaken, was the leader of the Twilight Party—Sylen.
Long, silvery-white hair danced in the smoke. His pale eyes gleamed with both mockery and calculation. "Kael… Attacking someone else's team member unprovoked? Tsk. That's not like you."
"You think stalking me isn't a provocation?" Kael spat. "You showing up only proves you're behind this. And don't pretend your mutts aren't hiding in the shadows nearby."
Sylen chuckled. "You always act like I'm the villain. I've never done anything to you, Kael."
"Yet your face is always where the blood spills."
Another voice chimed in—a woman, stepping beside Sylen with sword on her back and features that could've been carved by gods. Her icy tone matched her sapphire-streaked hair. "Captain, you shouldn't waste words on trash. We came to grind levels, not entertain fools."
"Come on, Elya," Sylen said playfully. "We shouldn't insult people to their face, right?"
He turned to Kael again. "So… what are you doing here? My perception tells me there's nothing left but ashes—thanks to you."
"That's none of your damn business." Kael leaned in, voice sharp. "But let me be clear—if I find out you or your dogs took anything from here… I will burn the Twilight Party to the ground. Even if it kills me."
Sylen backed away with a theatrical raise of his hands, though the glint in his eyes betrayed something else. "Wow, wow—easy, brother. I didn't even know what was here. I just followed my man. That's all."
Around them, the Twilight Party stirred with veiled rage—many of them glaring daggers at Kael for threatening their captain.
Kael ignored them and turned to his companions. "Come on, girls. We're going deeper."
As they moved away, Sylen subtly gave his own signal. His elite scouts—silent as ghosts—began tailing Kael from the shadows.
Kael felt it. He didn't look back.
'Vela… you said no one should be able to touch Velma's body with those chains on her, right?'
The small spirit flame flickered to life beside him, her expression troubled.
"Yes. You know I never lied to you, Kael. Those chains were pure death. Even I, as a Tier 4, couldn't fully suppress them. No Tier 0 could just waltz in and steal her."
'Then either someone stronger than they appear did it… or something even worse happened,' Kael thought grimly.
His heart tightened.
He remembered the day he first met Velma—when fire, death, and fate collided to change everything. That day wasn't just a turning point.
It was the day his destiny ignited.
—Memory Flickers—
In the ruthless world of the Zeroth Expanse, Kael's name was barely a whisper. An orphan, nameless and forgotten, he drifted through life like a shadow no one cared to chase.
Power in the Expanse came through talent, training, or sheer dumb luck.
Kael had none.
Labelled "Pathless Trash," he wasn't even granted the dignity of a fighting chance. To survive, he scraped by—accepting odd jobs, hauling cargo, washing blood-soaked armour—anything to last another day. That was his life… until one offer changed everything.
A childhood friend, now an official adventurer, invited Kael to join his team—as a porter.
The pay was surprisingly high. The workload? Light. There was even a second porter to share the burden. For the first time in ages, Kael felt like maybe—just maybe—his fate was turning.
He celebrated that night, treating himself to a hot meal at a cheap inn.
That's when he overheard the truth.
"…He's perfect. A no-name orphan. Even if he dies, who cares? We can replace him with another piece of trash for half the price."
They hadn't picked him for trust or ability. Just for convenience… and disposal.
Kael didn't confront them. He didn't scream or cry. He just left—silently, shamefully.
The next morning, with his heart heavy and body weak, he followed the team to the outskirts of the Undead Forbidden Zone.
With a skilled High-Class Priest among them, the team plowed through the middle zone effortlessly, holy light carving through waves of undead. Kael, always far behind the battle lines, remained safe—forgotten even on the battlefield.
But greed knows no brakes.
Their leader wanted more—fame, levels, and ranking. The team charged into the Core Zone, believing their Priest's powers would carry them. For a while, it worked. Until they reached a secluded mountain, guarded by Nine elite undead.
They thought it was guarding treasure.
They were right.
But it cost them everything.
The elite squad of 26 adventurers was wiped out in mere minutes. The battlefield became a slaughterhouse. Chaos broke loose. Kael, along with another porter, tried to flee—but betrayal came swiftly.
The other porter pushed him down, using him as bait. "Sorry, better you than me."
Kael hit the dirt hard, stunned by betrayal. Behind him, the screech of a Reptile Undead echoed closer. With nowhere to go, blood flowing from fresh wounds, and the mountain before him sealing all escape...
…Fate intervened.
The ground beneath him crumbled.
Kael fell—into darkness.
When he woke, hours had passed. He was alive. Trapped in an underground cavern deep beneath the mountain, surrounded by eerie silence. But something was off—he hadn't seen a single undead since falling.
Driven by curiosity, Kael ventured deeper… and stumbled upon a myth.
A Phoenix.
Its body, charred yet regal, radiated an aura of death and slumber. A legend whispered across the Expanse—the Eternal Deathfire Phoenix, bringer of judgment.
But… it was dead.
Kael, armed only with a Tier 2 holy spell scroll he'd looted from the Priest's kit, stepped closer. He barely touched the Phoenix when—boom—a violent wave of black flame burst out. It would've incinerated him…
…if not for the scroll activating in the nick of time.
Saved by a miracle, Kael stumbled back—shaking, breath ragged. That's when he heard a voice.
A woman's voice.
And then… she appeared.
Velma—the Phoenix's soul. Ethereal and powerful. She offered him a choice.
A legacy that could elevate him to the top of the Expanse… in exchange for a promise.
Revive her. One day. With the right resources.
In return, he'd receive her flames—Deathfire, capable of purifying the soul and refining power like nothing else.
Kael agreed without hesitation.
Thus, Vela, a fragment of Velma's soul, fused with him. The flames etched themselves into his body, unlocking the path of Soul Refinement—an arcane levelling route that refined Kael's soul with every kill, boosting stats and experience in ways few could understand.
From trash… to contender.
Along the way, two girls became constants in his life.
Elira, his once-soft childhood friend, turned cold after her parents and grandmother passed. Left alone, Kael stood beside her—and slowly, feelings bloomed between them. When he decided to journey to the next Expanse, she followed without hesitation.
Mirra, a former slave whom Kael once saved by buying her freedom, chose to remain with him out of gratitude. Loyal to a fault, she dedicated herself as his servant—but an unspoken tension simmered between the two girls, a tension Kael remained oblivious to.
After returning from the Undead Zone, Kael had risen to become the second strongest in the entire Expanse—rivalling even the enigmatic Sylen.
But every time Kael sought opportunity, Sylen appeared—always one step ahead, always managing to steal his moment.
—
Now, Kael and Sylen searched the caves for different reasons. One seeking legacy, the other hungry for secrets. But far away, the true cause of Velma's disappearance was celebrating his victory.
Evan, riding atop his majestic black-feathered eagle—an elite beast he'd raised during a dungeon raid—grinned like a madman.
He had gained much. Far too much.
And now, the system echoed that truth.
[You have achieved a remarkable feat on the Path of Death. The world stirs in awe.]
[Due to your repeated actions, you have gained a new Title:
Evan chuckled, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Let's see what else I can turn into mine."
[Title: Death Scholar]
[Description: A title bestowed upon those who have unravelled the deeper theories of necromancy—not just in practice, but in mastery. Through countless resurrections, rituals, and soul manipulations, you've crossed the boundary between a mere summoner and a scholar of death itself.]
[Effects:
Necromancy Mana Cost Reduction: –20%
Higher-Rank Undead Summoning Chance: +15%
Increased Experience Gained via Undead Kills: +10%]
"Hmm… with this title, my mana consumption should drop a bit. Not bad."
Evan smiled faintly as he opened up his map interface. After the chaos in the Undead Zone and his successful encounter with the Phoenix's remains, he needed a new opportunity ground—somewhere ripe with mana, monsters, and minimal attention.
With the Necrotic energy in the zone drastically lowered, the Undead had lost most of their usual buffs. Adventurer parties were clearing through them like weeds—fast and loud.
Too loud.
Which made it perfect.
Evan wasn't one for showboating. He preferred efficiency—and silence.
Thanks to the current distractions in the zone, he calculated that surrounding areas would be less populated. That meant fewer prying eyes. Fewer interruptions.
His next target location was only about 50 or 60 kilometers from the town. But even flying would take time. He glanced at the eagle beneath him—its dark feathers rustled against the wind as they sliced through the air.
Leaning back against its thick fur, Evan grimaced slightly. Cold. Rough. Not ideal for rest—but after what he'd gone through, even this discomfort couldn't keep his eyes open for long.
He closed them, his body finally relaxing.
—
Hours later, his eyes snapped open the moment his mount descended sharply.
"Enemies?" he muttered, shifting into battle stance.
"No. We've arrived," Arven said calmly within his mind. "You're just half a kilometer from the city wall."
Evan nodded, dismissing the eagle back into his summoning storage. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention by flying over the walls like some arrogant noble.
He walked the rest of the way.
By the time he reached the town gates, the Adventurer's Barrier flickered as he passed through. For the first time, he felt… something. A pulse. Like the system was scanning him.
He ignored it.
First stop: the Adventurer's Guild.
But before that—he had loot to sell.
His inventory was packed with monster corpses from the Forbidden Zone. Wolves, bears, boars, flying beasts, oversized insects… a bloody zoo of defeated prey. Most of the creatures lacked cores, but their hides, claws, and meat were still valuable.
And Evan needed funds. His armour was trashed. His weapons are barely holding up. New gear and enchantments would cost a fortune.
Inside the guild, the lines were long. Dozens of parties queued up to sell their kills. Mountains of bones, rusted gear, dented armour—it was a battlefield turned marketplace.
Evan waited patiently.
Eventually, it was his turn.
The receptionist looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, mechanical movements, likely after hours of logging undead remains.
"Welcome, sir. Please place your monster materials on the counter. Also, pass your Guild ID—we'll check for leaderboard changes."
Without a word, Evan began unloading.
But what she expected to be bones turned out to be a full-bodied beast—with skin.
She blinked. "Wait... this is a normal creature...?"
Her surprise quickly shifted to delight. Seeing something other than rotten bones made her expression light up like a festival lamp.
Evan smirked. 'She must've been sick of skeletons.'
"Yes, please process all of these," he said, taking out more bodies.
One after another, the corpses piled higher. The receptionist's eyes widened with each beast he summoned. The surrounding adventurers began whispering, curious.
Still, none of them overreacted. After all, such massive hauls were common... for teams ranked in the Top 100.
But Evan wasn't in a team.
The moment she scanned his Guild ID, the receptionist froze.
Solo.
No team affiliation. No records of cooperative hunts.
The pencil in her hand trembled.
Each of the beasts Evan submitted was between Level 60 to 75—a range considered elite even for mid-tier adventuring squads.
Yet here he was, alone, dropping corpses like it was pocket change.
To avoid drawing a crowd, she quickly called for assistance and had the bodies carried to the back for appraisal. "Sir, the guild's butcher will assess your haul and finalise your reward shortly."
Evan nodded, waiting silently as murmurs spread.
Moments later, a heavyset man approached—broad-shouldered, blood-splattered apron, a belt full of knives. The butcher.
His expression was cold. Unimpressed.
"So… you're the kid who brought in all that meat?"
Evan raised a brow. "Yeah. Problem?"
The butcher grunted. "Only that I doubt a brat like you could hunt that alone. Where's your team? Or did you steal this haul from a real party?"
He casually gripped the hilt of one of his knives.
'This meat cleaver clown…'
Evan held back a sigh. "I'm a Necromancer. My summons did the hunting."
To prove it, he summoned a basic skeleton soldier—nothing fancy. The butcher eyed it with mild interest.
"Hmph. Not bad. But one skeleton's not enough to take down a Lv 75 Nightfang Boar."
Snap.
Evan snapped his fingers—and the shadows behind him twisted.
From them, an entire platoon of skeletal warriors emerged, standing tall, armed and armoured.
Some had tattered banners. Others carried blades stolen from elite undead.
The guild hall went silent.
Even the butcher's hand froze on his blade.
"Is this… enough?"
Evan's smile didn't reach his eyes.
The butcher stared, then slowly exhaled. "...Yeah. That's enough."
"Now… is this enough?" Evan asked with a faint smirk, gesturing toward the line of fifteen skeletal warriors standing like a battalion behind him. "Or should I summon more?"
The butcher stiffened. He hadn't expected this many. Not with this kind of aura coming off of them.
"D-Do you… have more of these?" he asked hesitantly.
"Hmm… maybe fifty more. Give or take," Evan replied casually.
Silence. The entire guild lobby froze.
A Tier 0 Necromancer claiming to control over sixty high-grade undead? That was beyond rare—it was practically unheard of.
The butcher's confident facade cracked. "Oh—no, no! I was just curious, that's all! Hahaha…" he laughed awkwardly, sheathing his blade and wiping the sweat from his brow.
"No worries, sir. Happens all the time," Evan said lightly. His calm tone only made the room more tense.
"So... about the negotiation?" he added.
"Yes! Of course! Please, right this way." The butcher nodded quickly, gesturing for Evan to follow him through a side corridor that led toward the guild's butchery hall.
As they walked, Evan made a mental note. Dragging corpses into the lobby probably isn't the best idea. I should ask if I can deliver them here directly next time.
The butchery hall was large, clean, and filled with every tool imaginable—from bone saws to skinning hooks. The air smelled of blood and salt.
The butcher turned toward him, offering a brief smile now that they were alone.
"Name's Bram," he said, tying on a fresh apron. "Been doing this for twelve years. You can trust me to get you a fair price."
Evan nodded, then paused.
"Actually... could I ask you for a favour?"
Bram tilted his head. "Sure, what is it?"
"I've got a skill—Basic Butchery. Thought I'd learn a thing or two, maybe cut the beasts myself next time."
Bram's eyes widened like saucers. "...Wait. You have the Butchery skill?"
"Yeah. Is that weird?"
"Weird? It's damn near miraculous! There are only seventeen licensed butchers in this entire town, and only nine of them actually have the Butchery skill. And now a Necromancer tells me he's got one too?!"
Evan blinked. "Sooo… is that a yes or a no?"
"Oh, it's a yes. Just… tell me you're not trying to take my job." Bram squinted at him.
"Nah. I won't be around long. Just passing through. Few more levels, then I'm heading to the next Expanse."
"Then we're good!" Bram beamed. "Come on, kid—grab those gloves. Let's get to work."
For the next few hours, Evan became Bram's assistant. He followed every instruction carefully, mimicking every cut, every slice. Where to skin. Where to disjoint. How to avoid wasting materials.
To most, it would seem like a waste of time. But not for Evan.
For him, it was a goldmine of combat knowledge—understanding beast anatomy, learning weak points, and discovering how much muscle or bone each creature type had. In a real battle, this meant quicker kills and less wasted energy.
And thanks to his hidden trump card, Evan progressed rapidly.
His passive
While Bram marvelled at his "talent," Evan noticed something odd.
His Butchery skill—which he originally thought had been devoured by his evolution system—was back… but in a strange way. It didn't appear in his skill window, but it was clearly functioning.
Its level?
Lv.68.
A skill that didn't exist—but did.
He shrugged it off. If it worked, it worked.
Eventually, Evan decided it was time to leave. He wiped his hands, but just as he was approaching the exit, he paused.
Kael.
The Phoenix-bonded youth had just entered the hall—chatting with Bram like they were old brothers-in-arms. Bram's tone changed completely—like he was speaking to someone he owed everything to.
'Figures. Destined ones always have their web of "fateful meetings."'
Evan narrowed his eyes and vanished, activating Camouflage for a few minutes to stay hidden.
Kael and Bram chatted for a while, likely catching up. Bram was even glancing around the hall—as if trying to find someone.
'Yup. He's looking for me,' Evan thought with a sigh.
Only when Kael left did Evan deactivate his stealth and appear.
"There you are!" Bram exclaimed. "I wanted to introduce you to someone—he saved my family's life once. Thought you two might hit it off."
'Bingo.' Evan internally rolled his eyes.
"Oh, sorry, sir. I stepped out to clean up a bit. I'm heading to the blacksmith next—need some gear forged."
"Ah, I understand. Another time, then! But here," Bram said, handing over a heavy coin pouch. "Your share—82 silver and 13 bronze. That's the best price the guild could offer."
Evan whistled. "Didn't expect that much…"
"Well, you did bring over a hundred beasts," Bram chuckled. "Could've been more, but the guild deducts a bit for management fees."
What Evan didn't know was that Bram had secretly paid out of his own commission—over 20 silver coins—to boost the final payout. He wanted to build rapport with this mysterious Necromancer.
But Evan?
He already had plans far beyond this place.
The Eternal System had automatically registered the coins, showing 86 silver and 71 bronze in total. He tossed the pouch into his inventory without counting it—too used to the system's real-time updates.
"Thanks again for the lesson, Bram," Evan said. "I'll put it to good use."
"Of course, kid! And if you ever decide to stick around, come back. We make a hell of a team."
Evan waved as he left.
Next up: Blacksmithing.
He had already asked Bram for recommendations. Of the top three in town, two were overcrowded due to the new Undead hunting grounds.
But the third?
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Evan raised a brow.
Did Bram just prank me? Is this really the right place…?
He stared at the sign above the run-down smithy and narrowed his eyes.
—To be continued…
Hello everyone! I hope you're enjoying the chapters and the novel so far. I'm doing my best to make the plot entertaining and exciting for you, and I hope you'll stick with me until the end of this book.