The Necromancers notebook

"Damn, necromancy is not for the weak," Norris muttered to himself, pen scratching against paper. "They call it the study of life and death, but honestly? It's more like a study for people with boundary issues. No wonder it's so unpopular—it's the kind of thing you tiptoe around, hoping it doesn't tiptoe back."

After writing for a while, he put down his pen and leaned back. His empty gaze moved to the glowing walls around him. They gave off a soft, steady light, almost like they were breathing. Norris let out a breath and used his mana scent. He caught the smell of lingering energy—sharp and calming, like sage and incense. It was as if the mana had soaked into the room from all the spells and magic worked there. The familiar scent made him feel grounded, like the lab itself was a quiet companion.

He glanced back at his notes, carefully sorting through the types of necromancy he'd been studying. Necromancy, Norris had learned, was the magic of controlling life and death. Some called it a dance between the two, though he doubted the dead were much into dancing.

Is the death realm the only patron for necromancy? Not really. In this world without reincarnation, the official route for souls should be: birth in the material world, transport to the death realm after death, and dispersal to other realms of the multiverse. But in this world, with great power belonging to individuals, the system is like a sieve. Some believers' souls are taken by their gods without ever going to the death realm. The death realm itself selects the best souls through a survival-of-the-fittest process before dispersing the rest. Powerful mages arrange their deaths and reincarnate in chosen realms, warlocks go to their patrons, and demons, devils, and other creatures partake in this grand feast.

In all realms, life and death are recurring themes. This means necromancy can grow anywhere, though it may glorify itself in different ways. Angels, a race created by a necromancer who became a god and whitewashed himself, are a perfect example. Who can blame him, though? Norris, if he had the strength, would surely do the same. Necromancy is such a stinky profession—too useful to be stopped and too taboo to be legal.

"Mortomancy! What an easy way to attract disgust. Death energy manipulation. If I go by Arcane standards, it should belong to the evocation school. But this is sad, because elemental mages spit out the well-known fireball with fire energy shaping or ice spike with ice energy shaping. But what about Mortomancy? Curse, weakness, illness—what sad thing does it not do?" Norris lamented in awkward dramatism. Alone of his undead body briefly broken, he took off his mask, enjoying his emotions to the fullest.

"Shadow manipulation techniques. Till it comes and swallows your shadow, leaving a soulless husk. How frightening would that be? Honestly, I'd be horrified. Tenebromancy, the study of shadows, is just as diabolical as Mortomancy. Using a subjective truth that the soul and shadow are mystically connected and using it to develop a whole school of magic—magic in this world is wild," Norris noted, shaking his head.

"Necrokinesis is almost absurd. You're hated by the living, and you feel like that's not enough. You also want to make the dead your enemy? Why are necromancers of old experts at seeking death? It's so tragic, really." Norris tried to smirk, but his skeletal face made it come off as strange, though he didn't care—mostly because he couldn't see himself. "Necrokinesis is the study of control over the dead. Having domination is sweet and all until you're not careful, and the ones you dominate find a way to end you. Death to tyrants."

"Jokes aside, though, Reanimomancy is impractical. Except for studying behind closed doors and trying to uncover some secret to the concept of life and death, no normal mage will gather corpses to reanimate them—except for maybe war necromancers. Imagine a soldier seeing his younger brother-in-law and his father-in-law turned into zombies while fighting. Morale plummets, despair rises, and whoops—I guess there's going to be a new widow in town," Norris murmured, rubbing his skull with finger bones, feeling chilly. "Damn, that's too dark a joke. Seeing familiar faces of fellow soldiers, who could be townsmen, family, or friends, is truly traumatizing. Of course, special heritages like Mortevault, who also engage in Reanimomancy, aren't useless, but to me, Reanimomancy isn't very useful."

"Ancestor worship. Amazing! Love this whitewashing. The way it sounds makes it look decent until you realize it's just another way of saying you bargain with great-grandma's ghost for rare information, protection, and every method you can think of to enslave the poor old lady in the name of protecting descendants."

"Ghostly counseling? Well, it might have been created to help cursed ghosts relieve themselves of their obsessions and go reincarnate while taking any residue left by the ghost as material. But now most necromancers just go physical—beat the ghost, then banish it to the death realm. Faster and more efficient."

He smirked at Construct Creation. Artificial entities. Soulless servants—or were they? "Pouring tons of vitality into metal, a madman created metal life; the study of construct creation came from this. Now necromancy has created its own golem. All it needs is vitality from people you don't know, a little luck, a little ritual, and you get a servant that obeys you, its creator. Nice investment."

Restorative Necromancy was less ominous. Heal wounds, restore vitality. Life from death, death from life—a neat loophole. You steal from abundance and give to your needy self. Unless the loophole bites back.

His path was clear: He'd major in Construct Creation. They were like robots from his previous life, which resonates more with him. As for whether to give them life, that's a question for another day. Reanimating corpses is pointless. Why bother with rotting flesh when the Death Realm offers fresh recruits on demand? All you need is to sign a contract and summon them. But Necrokinesis—control—now that was practical. Efficient. Ethical? Well, ethics were a living man's luxury. Well just joking , he wouldn't want to make powerful undead his enemy. Construct Creation produces a type of undead, and Necrokinesis helps better control them. Restorative Necromancy—practical.

---

He glanced back at his notes, carefully sorting through the types of necromancy he'd been studying. Each spell seemed to fall into a distinct category, a different thread in the tapestry of life and death. Norris decided to break it down, analyzing the spells and their connections to the many faces of necromancy.

"Death Ward (4th tier)," Norris said, absently scratching his jaw where his flesh used to be. "It's like an invisible shield that keeps death's claws from sinking in. Boosts your life force, so even if something should take you out, it doesn't. Solid spell. No complaints there. It Combines Arcane protection spells and Restorative Necromancy"

He tapped his bony fingers against the desk as his gaze shifted to the next note. "Create Undead," he muttered, leaning back and tracing circles on the desk with one finger. "You pour death energy into a corpse to bring it back to life—or, well, half-life. But you've got to stay sharp. Lose control, and the thing won't just walk away—it'll come right for you. Not exactly my idea of a good time. It's the combination of Reanimomancy and Necrokinesis"

With a dry laugh, he started at the his book thoughtfully. "Inflict Wounds," he said. "Simple. Hit them with raw death energy, and their life force crumbles. Messy, brutal, but gets the job done. It's the kind of spell you use when subtlety's not on the menu. Mortomancy in its finest?"

He paused, fingers drumming on the desk as his sockets narrowed slightly. "Revivify," he murmured, tapping his chin. "You fix the body, then pull the soul back into it. It's like stitching together a torn rope while catching its frayed ends before they slip away. But you've got to be quick—if the soul's wandered too far, you're out of luck. Timing's everything. Involves soul knowledge which I don't really have but need."

Finally, Norris leaned forward, resting his bony elbows on the desk as he stared at the last note. "Scrying," he said, tilting his head as if listening to an invisible voice. "You use the traces of death left behind—like fingerprints no one else can see. Focus on them, amplify them, and you get a window into something or someone tied to them. It's useful, but messy to work with. Feels like trying to paint a picture in the rain—frustrating as hell, but worth it when it works. To be honest I don't even know which theory leads to this. Maybe the echo?"

He leaned back, the faint creak of his chair filling the silence, and let out a soft chuckle. "Spells like these really make you think. Necromancy may be messy, but it's never boring."

———-

Norris had always been the serious type, carrying a focused determination everywhere he went. But these six months in Erebo? They've been like a little vacation for his mind and soul. It's been a place where he could finally relax, soak up some new knowledge, and just breathe. It felt good—refreshing, even—but there's a touch of sadness, knowing this might be his last calm moment like this for a while. Erebo gave him a break he didn't know he needed, and now it's time to see how this newfound ease will shape what's next.