Chapter 1: The Awakening

Darkness. It was the first thing Ishar felt—an endless void pressing down on him, drowning him in its cold embrace. For a moment, he thought he had died. But then, a voice echoed in his mind, calm and mechanical.

"System Initializing..."

A surge of sensation followed, pulling him from the void. Pain coursed through his being, but when Ishar gasped, no air filled his lungs. His heartbeat was absent. Panic gripped him as he realized the truth: he wasn't alive.

"System Activation Complete. Welcome, Host. You have been resurrected as an Undead Mage."

The voice resonated, dragging Ishar from his thoughts. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Moonlight poured through the cracks of a dilapidated temple—its walls worn and weathered, the air thick with the stench of decay. He sat up on a stone altar, his body pale, his veins black like spreading roots of death. His touch to his face confirmed what he feared. His flesh was cold and lifeless.

"Host Status: Undead Mage

Mortal Realm: Initial Stage

Abilities Unlocked: Summon Skeletons (Basic), Dark Grasp (Basic)."

Ishar gritted his teeth. Transmigrated, undead, and bound to a strange system. It was absurd—yet painfully real.

The temple bore signs of a long-forgotten ritual. Broken statues of unknown deities lined its walls. An altar at the center pulsed faintly with dark energy. He stood and flexed his fingers, testing his movements, before noticing a faint glow beneath the cracked stone floor.

"Task: Test your abilities. Summon a skeleton."

The system's monotone command interrupted his thoughts. He hesitated but knew he had little choice. Raising his hand, he instinctively channeled the dark energy swirling within him. A rune appeared on the ground, glowing with an ominous purple light. A skeletal hand burst forth, followed by a humanoid skeleton clutching a rusted sword. It stood motionless, awaiting orders.

"Summon Complete. Skeleton Warrior Level 1 Summoned."

Ishar stared at the creature, unease washing over him. Yet, deep within, a cold satisfaction brewed. This power was his now. He clenched his fist. "Move."

The skeleton obeyed, taking jerky steps forward.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped him to attention. Through the cracked walls of the temple, he spotted torchlight and heard voices.

"This is the place. They say it's cursed."

Bandits.

Ishar's lips curled into a grim line. He wasn't prepared for a fight, but he had no choice. He motioned to the skeleton. "Defend me."

The bandits entered, three in total. Their leader, a scar-faced man wielding a crude axe, sneered at Ishar.

"What's this? A corpse pretending to live?"

Ishar raised his hand, summoning a second skeleton. The bandits froze in their tracks, their expressions twisting from mockery to fear.

"Kill him!" the leader barked, charging forward.

The skeletons intercepted, their rusted weapons clashing against the bandits' crude blades. Ishar observed the fight, his cold, calculating mind analyzing every movement. His undead minions fought relentlessly, their brittle bones cracking under heavy blows but still pressing on. One bandit fell, his throat slashed by a skeletal blade. The leader turned, wide-eyed, but a shadowy tendril erupted from the ground, wrapping around his legs.

"Dark Grasp Activated."

The man screamed as the tendrils dragged him to the ground. The second skeleton swung its axe, cleaving through his chest. Blood pooled around the altar as the last bandit fled, his screams echoing into the night.

"Task Complete. Rewards: 10 System Points."

Ishar looked down at the corpses, the dark energy within him settling. This was his reality now. Mercy was a luxury he couldn't afford.

The system interface appeared in his mind, displaying his status:

Name: Ishar

Race: Undead Mage

Realm: Mortal Realm (Initial Stage)

Abilities:

Summon Skeletons (Basic)

Dark Grasp (Basic)

System Points: 10

A new option appeared: Upgrade Skeletons. Curious, Ishar selected it. A list of upgrades materialized, ranging from increased durability to memory retention. He spent all 10 points on reinforcing their bones. The change was immediate. His surviving skeleton's cracked bones darkened and mended, exuding a faint black aura.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the temple's exit. He needed more information—about this world, its power structure, and his place in it.

The faint glow of a village in the distance caught his eye. Pulling his hood over his head, he began his journey, the skeletons trailing behind. The Mortal Realm was vast and treacherous, but Ishar had been given a second chance. He would seize it. No matter the cost.