The Death Market

The smell of old paper clung to the library air, but Norris couldn't smell it and he wasn't reading anymore. He'd come to this library for answers to the soul. Now he was going to end it with untangling and sorting the world's wiring, to figure out this world. Chaos and Order. Gods and Eldrich creatures and Aeons. Corporate flowcharts with teeth. He tapped his pen. "Let's sort this out."

His gaze drifted to a crack in the ceiling, spiderwebbing like fate's flowchart. "World's just a corporation", he mused, tapping his pen. "Material world or the mortal realm is like a Department's where we clock in, buy our little lives like office supplies. Gods? Shareholders. Boardroom schemers sipping ambrosia, betting on us mortals like stock options."

A shadow streaked the window. Not rain—something thicker. Beyond the glasses, beyond the boundary that defined Erebo the abomination tide churned, pulsing with colors that shouldn't exist. Shambling figures with too many limbs and tentacles folded into themselves like corporate flowcharts gone feral, their edges blurring as they skirted the city's invisible perimeter.

Magic ward and arrays hummed in the walls keeping the abomination at bay, deceiving their perception making them avoid Erebo. A low-grade corporate firewall, "Even monsters hate HR meetings", Norris thought. They avoided the city the way interns avoid eye contact, unconsciously repelled by some hex-glow in the municipal fine print.

Order's voice flickered in my head: "Structure. Goals. Compliance, with all these leading to rigidity." But then there was chaos, his college roommate, who'd tattooed "chaos is life, randomness, unpredictability" on his ribs before stiring up disasters. Both extremes left scars. Outside, the tide seethed—a result of chaos in the death realm

"Gods aren't stupid, though." He doodled a scales-of-justice… but with a whiskey bottle on one side, a spreadsheet on the other. "They tiptoe. Too much chaos? Boom, you're Cthulhu's intern. Too much order? Congrats, you're a spreadsheet with a halo, Aeons are such a mess."

The ghost librarian shushed someone or something, a Shade. Norris's thoughts frayed. "Balance. Like Gran's garden—wild roses choking the trellis, but she'd prune just enough. Let things breathe. Except the world wasn't a garden. It was a boardroom, a battlefield, a quarantined spreadsheet with tentacles writhing at the margins. "

"When you 'find yourself' but still hate the map." He tried to smirk. "Maybe that's the point. No maps. Just… tightroping between the tide and the TPS reports."

Outside, the abominations blurred into a living watercolor—flesh-tones leaching into vantablack, claws dissolving like bad pen ink. Norris shut his eyes.

He pocketed his pen. The thought felt too big, too raw. "Maybe that's the secret. Not choosing a side, but… dancing in the firewall's flicker. Until the next memo from Corporate. I might not be right but that's the world in my eyes."

He shut his notebook. Chaos destabilizes systems to force adaptation. Order preserves systems until they stagnate.

Survival requires manipulating both, never fully turning to either. Norris wasn't so sure about this due to his limited worldview. But it'll hold for now..

Norris closed the worn leather cover of the Liber Animus, his mind reeling from the revelations within. The musty air of the library seemed to fade into the background as he pondered the intricate web of concepts and forces that governed the world.

Norris realized with a start that he'd been studying for days without rest. His undead body felt no fatigue, no hunger, mana sustaining him like a cursed IV drip. But his mind strained against the text's labyrinthine prose.

"The undead are truly meant for burden," he sighed, shaking his head. His fingers brushed the page's edge, a reflexive gesture left over from when papercuts still mattered. Outside, the abomination tide hissed against the city's wards. Since coming to the death realm, Norris had wasted hours mimicking sleep, brewing phantom tea.

He shut Liber Animus with a snap. No more pantomiming life. If his body was a ledger with no balance due, he'd drain it dry.

The library's stacks yielded grim allies: The Dead and the Living, Death and Arcane Necrotic Mana Channels. He stacked these tomes like siege weapons against his ignorance. No rest. No breath. Just the scrape of his pen, carving notes into vellum.

"Undead perk: no sick days," he muttered tonelessly. The joke died in the air. His face stayed slack, a puppet with its strings cut.

By the time the abominations beyond the window dissolved into predawn static, Norris stood. Liber Animus was a primer for novices. What he needed now festered in Erebo's Deathmarket—spells that evolved from theory, rituals that bit back.

Norris made his way through the city's winding streets, the silence enveloping him like a shroud. The buildings, crafted from a substance that seemed almost like bone, blended seamlessly into the desolate landscape.

As he walked, he caught glimpses of a few scattered figures.

Some figures seemed almost fully adapted to the slow rhythm of the city. They moved with a deliberate, ritualistic pace. Norris couldn't be sure if they were observing him, but he felt their presence as a constant, unchanging force.

Others, newly sentient undead infected by the city's atmosphere, tried to follow the slow rhythm but struggled. Their movements were hesitant and uneven, betraying their discomfort as the impact of their previous life still there.

There were also the long-timers, residents who had acclimated to the city's pace but still retained some of their former liveliness. They navigated the winding streets with practiced ease, moving with a confident, steady rhythm. Norris felt their calm presence, as if they had accepted their fate but still remembered their past lives., their movements slow and deliberate.

The air was heavy with the scent of decay and forgotten memories. The streets, though empty, seemed to whisper secrets to each other. The only sound was the soft crunch of gravel beneath Norris's feet, echoing through the stillness. Norris noticed that the portal station that receives and send off travellers was desolate.

He continued on, his footsteps leading him to the Death Market, a place where the city's inhabitants gathered to exchange goods and secrets in hushed tones. As Norris walked through the city's winding streets, he made his way to the Deathmarket.

The market itself was a collection of small, ornate stalls, each one specializing in rare and obscure spells. Despite being a hub of commerce, the Deathmarket was eerily quiet. The undead vendors and patrons moved with a slow, deliberate pace as if savouring every moment. The atmosphere was more akin to a dusty, forgotten library than a bustling marketplace. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath Norris's feet.

Norris approached a stall, its sign creaking in the faint breeze. The vendor, an undead ghoul eating flesh silently while reading, looked up from the scroll he was studying.

"Welcome, young necromancer," the ghoul vendor said, his voice low and gravelly and his eyes taking in a predatory glint filled with hunger but with eerie calm. "I see you're looking for something. Perhaps I can assist you?"

Norris rummaged through his space bag, producing a handful of gems that he had collected during his adventures in the material realm. "I'm looking for some 5 rare spells," he said. "I'm willing to trade these gems for them."

The vendor's eyes lit up as he accepted the gems, "Fantastic stuff. That's why I love necromancers who are visiting from the mortal realm. Always bringing rare and nostalgic goods", and after a brief examination, he handed Norris a small pile of crystalline bones.

"Payment in full," the vendor said. "These bones are the standard currency in our realm. I've deducted the price for spells"

Norris recognized the bones as the same material he had used to build his mage tower. As he held them in his hand, he sensed an ancient aura emanating from them. The mana scent was faint, but it was unmistakable.

He wondered if these bones served a similar purpose to the spirit stones in cultivation novels or the magic stones in wizarding tales - perhaps they were used as energy reserves or for magical rituals.

"Excuse me," Norris said, turning to the vendor. "What's the significance of these bones? Are they used for magical rituals or as energy reserves?"

The vendor's expression turned enigmatic, and he leaned in closer to Norris. "Let's just say that they have... many uses," he whispered. "But their true value lies in the secrets they hold."

"Cryptic? I see", Norris asked with amusement, "I love it". He sensed that there was more to the bones than met the eye, and he was determined to uncover their secrets soon enough.

Norris carefully selected the spells he wanted to purchase, his eyes scanning the various scrolls and tomes on offer. After some deliberation, he settled on five spells that he believed would be essential to his study of death magic.

The vendor handed him the scrolls, each one adorned with intricate symbols and markings that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the market. Norris recognized the spells as:

Death Ward, a protective spell that would grant him temporary resistance to death.

Create Undead, a spell that would allow him to create and control undead minions.

Inflict Wounds, a spell that would allow him to manipulate the life force of others.

Revivify, a spell that would grant him the power to restore life to the recently deceased.

Scrying, a divination spell that would allow him to gather information about a target by consulting with spirits or other entities.

With his new spells in hand, Norris felt a sense of excitement and anticipation which quickly died down. He couldn't wait to study and master these spells and to see what secrets they might reveal to him about the mysteries of death.

These spells, although not necessarily combat-oriented, showcased the fundamental aspects of necromancy, which is the manipulation and understanding of life and death. By mastering these spells, Norris will gain a deeper insight into the mysteries of mortality and the forces that govern the transition between life and death.