The Genesis Of A Necromancer - Chapter 133

Chapter 133: Diligent follower
The battle had finally ended, but the devastation it left behind spoke volumes about its ferocity.

The once-majestic canyon was no more—its towering sides now leveled to barren ground. The earth itself seemed irreparable, cracked and broken in ways that made it look as if a god had struck it in anger.

Zamazo’s attacks had been fierce, each one carving out destruction meant for a single target but scarring the surroundings beyond recognition.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and ash. What was most unnerving, however, was not the destruction or the countless lives lost bystanders caught in the collateral damage.

It was the suffocating aura of death that lingered—a palpable force that made even the bravest warriors tremble.

Jack was oblivious to it as he approached Zamazo. His once-familiar dark azure aura had transformed into an ominous black, flickering wildly around him like hellfire.

Something had snapped inside him the moment Naon had dared to threaten Missy and Alisha. It was not just rage—it was something deeper, something primal. Though Jack had brusquely dismissed them moments earlier, shoving them aside without a second glance, it wasn’t because he didn’t care. On the contrary, they were the closest thing to family he had known since stepping into this world.

‘No one touches what belongs to me,’ Jack thought, his killing intent radiating in waves. Yet, as quickly as the fury consumed him, he forced it down, wresting control of himself before it could spiral out of hand.

His steps were slow, deliberate, and mocking as he walked toward Zamazo. The overlord—known far and wide as a ruler of the third plane—had been reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. Jack’s measured approach was an unspoken declaration of dominance, a silent proclamation that the tide had turned.

Erebus’s memories surged within Jack’s mind, offering clarity and a strategy to deal with Zamazo.

‘If this had been a few minutes ago, you might’ve been lucky enough to face the naive version of me,’ Jack mused, his cold grin widening. ‘But now, you’ve met me.’

Sliding Gau’s blade back into the Book of Death, Jack paused a few feet from the kneeling figure. His voice carried the weight of authority, like a monarch addressing a wayward servant.

“Do you know who I am now, Zamazo? Or must I make it clearer?”

Zamazo, his monstrous form receding to reveal his humanoid figure, looked up. His long hair, silver and matted with blood, fell over his shoulders. Crystal-like eyes burned with anger, but beneath the fury lay a flicker of fear.

“And you think I’ll bow to you just because you wielded a flashy sword?” Zamazo retorted, his voice laced with venom.

‘So, he suspects but won’t yield,’ Jack observed, catching the flicker of uncertainty in Zamazo’s gaze. The overlord wasn’t entirely sure who—or what—he was facing, and that uncertainty kept him defiant.

Internally, Zamazo cursed himself. ‘I should have known… That power… That aura… There’s no mistaking it. But still… I won’t submit to a mere human!’

The overlord’s pride wouldn’t allow it, not with the eyes of his remaining subordinates on him. But Jack could sense the cracks forming in Zamazo’s resolve, and he intended to widen them.

‘If he’s hesitant to assume I’m Erebus, I’ll give him the push he needs,’ Jack thought, letting the faintest of smirks curve his lips.

Few knew the full truth about the title “Lord of the Dead.” Erebus’s memories had revealed secrets that would shake the planes themselves. While humans and younger demons revered Martias Gregory as the only Lord of the Dead, they were blind to the truth. Martias, a dark mage turned tyrant, had been an incarnate of Erebus—a thousandth reincarnation, to be exact.

But unlike Jack, Martias had been a mere fragment of Erebus’s soul, weakened by centuries of relentless persecution. The gods had hunted each reincarnation, fearing Erebus’s return, and by the time Martias was born, their efforts had left Erebus’s essence too fractured to awaken fully.

Yet even with diminished power, Martias had risen to infamy, creating cults to defy the gods and carving a legacy of fear across the planes. He had fled to escape the gods’ wrath, growing stronger until he became a tyrant even demon lords feared to challenge.

Jack was different. He wasn’t just another fragment—he was the true rebirth of Erebus, fully merged with the god’s essence. That was why the treasures within the Book of Death responded to him without hesitation, though the price for wielding them was steep.

[-1,000 Soul Essence]

The notification burned in Jack’s mind. Every minute spent using the book drained a staggering amount of his soul essence.

‘I won’t last long at this rate,’ Jack thought, glancing at Naon’s decapitated corpse. The demon general’s death had granted him a massive influx of energy.

[+10,000,000 Soul Essence]

Even so, Jack knew he couldn’t afford to waste time. His reserves were dwindling fast.

‘Zamazo needs to break now,’ Jack decided, his grin turning cold. “So, what makes you think I’m not your lord, Hagen?”

The name struck Zamazo like a physical blow. His eyes widened, his composure slipping.

“H-how do you know that name?”

Jack’s smile widened. The bait had worked.

“Why wouldn’t I? Wasn’t I the one who gave it to you?” Jack leaned closer, his voice dripping with mockery.

Alisha and Missy watched the exchange in stunned silence. Jack’s words made no sense to them, yet they carried an authority that left no room for doubt.

Missy’s sharp intuition caught something the others couldn’t. Her glowing eyes peered deep into Jack’s soul.

‘Big brother… Is that soul… changing him?’

Her thoughts were cut off as Jack turned his full attention back to Zamazo.

“Do you remember now?” Jack asked, his tone softer but no less commanding. “Or must I remind you who truly owns your loyalty?”

Zamazo’s knees buckled, and for the first time, the proud overlord hesitated. The name “Hagen” was one he had long buried, a name tied to a past he could never forget.

Jack stepped closer, his aura flaring. The suffocating presence of death grew thicker, forcing the remaining demons to their knees.

The battle had ended, but for Zamazo, the war had just begun.

Jack appeared to be telling the truth, but convincing Zamazo of that was an entirely different matter.

The overlord’s sharp gaze bore into Jack, unwavering, skeptical. Questions swirled in the demon’s mind, each one demanding answers that Jack seemed unwilling—or perhaps unable—to provide. Despite the power Jack displayed, Zamazo’s pride as an overlord and his instincts warned him to tread cautiously. He would not simply accept Jack’s words at face value.

“So, you know my name,” Zamazo said, his voice as cold as the grave. “But that’s not enough for me to believe you’re the true lord of the dead.”

Jack let out an exasperated breath, sucking his teeth in frustration. ‘This is getting ridiculous,’ he thought, but he knew better than to act rashly. One wrong move could unravel the delicate web he was spinning.

“Martias Gregory,” Jack said suddenly, his tone calm but laden with intent. “Does that name ring a bell?”

Zamazo’s expression flickered, the faintest glimmer of recognition crossing his face.

Jack’s lips curled into a knowing smile. ‘If he wants proof, then I have no choice but to give it to him,’ he mused, though his fists clenched momentarily in irritation. This wasn’t just a test of words; it was a test of composure, of strategy.

“Martias was a reincarnation of me,” Jack began, his voice steady, though a tinge of disappointment crept into his tone. “But due to the fragmentation of my soul, he could never recover my memories. All he inherited was my power.”

Zamazo arched an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.

Jack continued, his steps slow and deliberate as he began to circle the overlord. “Now, I’ve awakened my memories, but the reverse is true this time. My memories have returned, but my divine energy is all but extinguished. I am far weaker than I once was.” He paused, fixing Zamazo with a piercing stare. “Surely, you’ve noticed that already.”

The overlord’s jaw tightened, though he said nothing.

Jack pressed on. “The Erebus you remember, the one who commanded the void and struck fear into the hearts of gods, could obliterate the third planes with a mere gesture. My current state is… a shadow of that power.” His voice dropped, the weight of the truth settling heavily in the air. “This is why I must tread carefully.”

Zamazo’s sharp mind worked through the information. He could sense the kernel of truth in Jack’s words. The way he wielded the Book of Death, summoning its power with such precision—it was far beyond what Martias had ever achieved. Martias had been a tyrant, reckless and ambitious, but he had lacked control. Jack, on the other hand, seemed to have an innate connection to the relic, as if it were an extension of himself.

‘That explains why he can draw more from the book than Martias ever could,’ Zamazo thought, though the memory of Martias still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Finally, the overlord spoke, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “I… believe your words.”

Jack’s tension eased slightly, though Zamazo’s next words brought it surging back.

“However,” Zamazo continued, his steel-gray eyes locking onto Jack, “with how weak you are now, I doubt you’ll be of much use to us in the current crisis.” His tone was respectful, yet firm, acknowledging Jack’s authority but challenging his capability.

Jack met Zamazo’s gaze, his expression unreadable. The words stung, but he could not deny their truth. The power gap between them was vast. Though Jack had proven his identity, it was clear that Zamazo still saw him as inferior—for now.

“I can sense it,” Zamazo added, his voice dropping to a near growl. “Your soul is fragmented, diluted. The reincarnation has left its mark on you. You carry remnants of another life—another personality—but you are not yet whole. Until you regain your full strength, you cannot hope to command me or anyone else.”

Jack’s fingers twitched, the urge to lash out rising within him, but he quelled it quickly. He had come too far to let his temper ruin everything.

Hearing Zamazo’s doubts, Jack took a deep breath and spoke, his voice calm but laced with authority. “What problem are you referring to? Is it a god threatening to destroy the planes?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with tension. Jack’s pulse quickened as he awaited the answer. If it was truly a god, he knew he was in no position to fight. Using the Book of Death had been a calculated risk, exploiting Zamazo’s blind spot, but against a god? He wouldn’t even survive the first blow.

Zamazo’s lips curled into a grim smile, but there was no amusement in it. “No,” he said, his voice low and foreboding.

“It’s something far worse.”

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