The Genesis Of A Necromancer

Ivan's head snapped up, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he processed the command. For a moment, he thought he must have misheard.

"Seriously?" The word burst from him, a rare crack in his otherwise disciplined demeanor. His voice carried a note of disbelief that even he couldn't suppress. "You can't be serious!"

The figure before him didn't so much as flinch. Its piercing gaze bore into Ivan's soul, its tone dropping to a chilling octave. "Do you question my decree?"

The air in the chamber seemed to shift, growing heavy and cold. The crystalline light that bathed the sanctum flickered as though in warning.

Ivan exhaled sharply, forcing himself to rein in his emotions. "No," he replied, his voice steadier now, though tension still laced his words.

"But the lady isn't with us at the moment," he continued, choosing his words carefully. "And the others… they're not ready. This all came too suddenly."

A thought flickered in his mind, unbidden: Have the angels discovered our plans? His heart quickened, though outwardly he maintained his composure.

The figure's expression remained unchanged, its voice a cold blade. "It is not for you to decide who is ready."

It stepped closer, its aura pressing against him like an oppressive weight. "And inform the bishops: the Lady of the Church has become a threat to our cause—and to Lord Olion."

Ivan's sharp eyes widened in disbelief. "How so?" he asked, his voice measured, though inwardly he felt a flicker of dark satisfaction.

If that little wretch got herself corrupted in the planes, she's made our job far easier. The thought brought a cruel smile to his mind, though he was careful to keep his expression neutral.

"The Lady is consorting with demons," the figure intoned, each word heavy with finality. "The moment you find her, eliminate her. A direct order from Haraus."

The angel's command was delivered without hesitation. Its piercing gaze locked onto Ivan as if daring him to falter.

"My time is limited," the figure continued, the cold authority in its voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Summon the bishops. It is time for the blessing. Gather the seven patrons and the remaining saints. I have come to sanctify you all."

Ivan clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white beneath his gloves. His jaw tightened, but he dared not argue further. Lowering his head, he masked the flicker of turmoil that threatened to break through his façade.

"As you wish," he said, his tone clipped and emotionless. Rising to his feet, he turned sharply, the edges of his black cape flaring behind him as he strode toward the chamber doors. The towering double doors closed with a resounding boom, sealing the altar in its sanctified stillness.

Behind him, the angelic hologram flickered briefly before fading into nothingness.

"A blessing, indeed," The angel muttered coldly on the other side, his lips curling into a bitter sneer.

Ivan walked out.

The grand corridors of the sanctum stretched out before him, their ornate arches and gilded murals an ostentatious display of devotion. The faint echo of his boots against the polished marble filled the silence, a sound that usually brought him comfort. Today, it felt oppressive.

His thoughts churned as he navigated the winding halls. The celestial's sudden decree had thrown everything into disarray. The command to summon the bishops was expected, but the accusation against the Lady of the Church? That was something else entirely.

Why now? he thought, his brows furrowing deeply. What could be so urgent that they've called for such drastic action?

He passed several knights and acolytes along the way, each bowing deeply as he approached. Ivan barely acknowledged them, his mind too preoccupied with the implications of the angel's words.

The weight of his duty pressed down on him, heavier than ever. The sanctum's grandeur, which usually filled him with a sense of pride and purpose, now seemed suffocating.

At last, he arrived at a smaller, dimly lit chamber. The heavy oak doors creaked as he pushed them open, revealing a modest room dominated by a simple altar. A single candle burned on its surface, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls.

Kneeling before the altar was Carlos, his head bowed in deep prayer. The bishop's hands were clasped tightly, his lips moving in silent supplication.

"Lord Carlos," Ivan said, his voice slicing through the quiet like a blade.

The bishop's head lifted, his tired eyes meeting Ivan's. Despite the weariness in his gaze, there was a fire of determination that had not been extinguished.

"Saint Ivan," Carlos greeted, rising to his feet with practiced grace. "What brings you here?"

Ivan wasted no time. "The celestial has issued a command," he said bluntly. "You and the other bishops are to assemble at the main altar immediately."

Carlos's brow furrowed in surprise. "A command from the celestial?"

Ivan gave a curt nod. "And more," he added. "The Lady of the Church has been branded a threat. The moment she is found, we are to execute her."

Carlos's eyes widened at the revelation, a mixture of shock and unease crossing his features.

"Execute her?" he repeated, his voice a whisper. "As though they knew our plan" He smiled.

"That is the decree," Ivan said firmly.

"But there's more. The celestial has come to deliver a blessing."

At this, Carlos's expression shifted, his shock giving way to a flicker of hope.

"A blessing," he murmured, the words carrying a weight of reverence. "At last. Everything is falling into place!"

He straightened, his resolve hardening.

"I'll summon the others. We'll be ready."

As he turned to leave, Ivan's voice stopped him.

"Be cautious," Ivan said, his tone low and serious. "Something about this doesn't sit right."

Carlos paused, glancing back at Ivan with a faint smile.

"When has it ever?"

With that, the bishop departed to gather his peers, leaving Ivan alone in the chamber.

For a moment, the saint stood in silence, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. The polished surface of the altar reflected his conflicted expression, the flickering candlelight dancing in his cold blue eyes.

"This is only the beginning," he muttered under his breath.

Turning sharply, he strode from the room, his cape trailing behind him like a shadow

_______

Here's an enhanced, more immersive version of your chapter with expanded dialogue, deeper character emotions, and enriched descriptions. The length now exceeds 1,000 words:

Jack blinked, startled by the weight of Olion's declaration.

"Chosen? What are you even talking about?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration and disbelief.

"You are not here by chance," Olion replied, his deep, resonant voice commanding the space around them. His presence seemed to ripple through the void like an unyielding tide. "You should know this by now. There is a reason you were reborn into Asriel's body. A reason I granted you these powers."

Jack felt his stomach twist uneasily as Olion's words settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

"The threads of fate," Olion continued, his piercing gaze fixed on Jack, "have woven you into this role because—"@@novelbin@@

"Oh, spare us the theatrics," Erebus interrupted with a loud, exaggerated groan, his dark eyes glinting with irritation.

"We don't have time for your long-winded monologues, Olion. Just get to the point before this mortal starts asking more stupid questions."

Jack shot Erebus a glare, but Olion's expression didn't falter. He pressed on, undeterred.

"This is a loop in time," Olion stated, his voice even and deliberate. "A construct created by Ren, the god of time, before his disappearance."

"A loop?" Jack echoed, his brows furrowing as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept.

Olion nodded solemnly. "Yes. The balance of the world is unraveling, and the mortal plane teeters on the brink of annihilation. Jack—or Asriel, as you are now—must restore that balance. You are the only one who can."

Jack's chest tightened. The words felt heavy, their implications suffocating. He laughed bitterly, a hollow sound that echoed through the emptiness.

"So, I was right all along," he said, his voice tinged with cynicism. "This is some shitty hero's journey where I have to save the world. What a cliché. Why me? I didn't ask for this!"

Olion's expression softened—just barely—as he regarded Jack. "You may not have asked for this, but you were chosen for a reason. Ren saw something in you, something unique."

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. "Oh, great. Another cryptic answer. Care to actually explain, or do gods only speak in riddles?"

Olion's gaze didn't waver. "You are the one who has nothing to lose. That is why."

The words hit Jack harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to argue, but Erebus's sardonic laughter cut him off.

"It's not as grand as he makes it sound," Erebus drawled, his tone dripping with disdain. "Don't let Olion's poetic nonsense fool you. This isn't some noble quest. It's a war, plain and simple. And you? You're just the poor fool caught in the middle."

Olion's jaw tightened, and for a moment, a spark of divine fury flashed in his eyes. "This is not a war," he said, his voice cold and resolute. "It is a reckoning. And if Jack fails, it will mean the end of all things—both mortal and divine."

The void around them seemed to darken, the weight of Olion's words sinking into the silence like a stone into deep water. Jack's heart pounded in his chest, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him like an iron hand.

He had always known his new life as Asriel wouldn't be easy, but this? This was something else entirely.

"So, what now?" Jack asked finally, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mix of resignation and determination. "What am I supposed to do?"

Olion stepped closer, his towering form casting a shadow over Jack. His piercing blue eyes seemed to glow faintly, filled with an unyielding resolve.

"It is not about what you must do," Olion said, his voice low and deliberate, "but what I have prepared for you."

Jack arched a brow. "Prepared? That doesn't sound ominous at all," he muttered under his breath.

Olion ignored the remark. "The path ahead will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine," he continued. "You will tread the path of immortals, one fraught with peril and impossible choices. That is why I have decided to pair you with my brother."

Jack blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process Olion's words. "Wait. Your brother?"

"Olion!" Erebus roared suddenly, his voice like thunder as he stepped forward. For the first time, he looked genuinely furious.

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