The Genesis Of A Necromancer

This was where the annual tournament of the demons was going to take place.

Missy, standing beside Jack, immediately noticed the striking resemblance of the arena to something eerily familiar. Her eyes widened, and she turned toward Jack with an expression of shock.

Jack couldn't help but chuckle at the little girl's reaction. The resemblance truly was uncanny.

Daemon, still leading the group, continued forward, guiding them toward a female receptionist who was stationed at the registration desk. She was in charge of signing up the participants for the tournament.

As they approached, the receptionist gave them a welcoming smile, her eyes sweeping over the group.

"Are you here to participate in the annual tournament?" she asked, her tone polite yet professional.

Daemon quickly waved his hands, a sheepish expression crossing his face. "Oh, no, no. I'm not the one participating," he said with a chuckle, realizing she had mistaken him for a contestant.

The receptionist tilted her head slightly. "Then who is?" Find more to read on My Virtual Library Empire

Daemon turned slightly, motioning toward Jack. "Him."

He was about to place his hand on Jack's shoulder to emphasize his point, but the moment his hand moved forward, he felt it—a calm, yet incredibly dense wave of aura washing past him.

His entire body tensed, a cold shiver crawling up his spine. Without realizing it, he jolted back, instinctively putting some distance between himself and Jack. His heart pounded slightly, though he masked it well.

"He is the one participating," Daemon continued, forcing a nervous smile onto his face.

The receptionist's gaze shifted to Jack, scanning him from head to toe. Her expression darkened.

"No horns?" she muttered, her earlier warmth replaced by skepticism. "I hope you aren't joking with me."

Daemon quickly stepped in. "Well, I believe my friend here has great combat skills. He won't disappoint," he said confidently.

The receptionist let out a short scoff. "Yeah... they always say that," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

Her sharp eyes flickered toward Jack once more. "A blood capsule can be tempting, but it's definitely not wise to harm yourself just to get one… This tournament has no rules. You shouldn't—"

"I'm aware. I want to sign up," Jack cut her off mid-sentence.

Time was already against them. He took a quick glance around the arena. From what he could tell, the queen had yet to arrive, and the other participants were already preparing themselves. That meant there was still time.

The receptionist's face twisted into something ugly after being rudely interrupted.

She sneered. "You seem to be quite arrogant. Let's see if you'll remain this way after getting a good beating."

Daemon could only smile wryly at her words.

She didn't bother warning Jack again. Instead, she slid the sign-up slip across the counter toward him, her fingers tapping impatiently.

Jack didn't waste any time. He grabbed the slip and quickly filled it out before handing it back to her.

"You can go over there and join the other participants," she said with a harsh, dismissive tone, as though simply looking at Jack annoyed her.

Jack was about to walk away when he noticed something—Alisha, Missy, and Jane weren't following him.

"We're not participating, so don't expect us to join you there," Alisha said, arms crossed over her chest.

Jack sighed. "Alright. I guess this is where we part ways."

Daemon smirked, winking mischievously. "I'll be watching you." Without another word, he turned and left.

With Daemon gone, the air felt noticeably lighter.

"Big brother, good luck! Go get them!" Missy's face lit up with a bright smile as she waved him off.

"Hmph… more like go get beaten," Alisha muttered under her breath.

Jane simply waved casually before turning away.

As Jack moved to join the participants, the receptionist lingered behind, still holding his sign-up slip in her hands.

A tall demon approached her from the side, his presence commanding. "I hope you arranged the slips according to their horns," he said, glancing at the stack of papers. "Let's give the no-horns some hope in the first round… If any of them manage to survive, they might be worth adding to the queen's army."

The receptionist's eyes flickered toward Jack's slip—the only one she hadn't placed yet.

She had been instructed to sort the participants based on their number of horns. The first round would pair them accordingly, ensuring fair matchups.

But as she thought back to Jack's behavior, a wicked smirk formed on her lips.

'Let's see how arrogant you'll be after this.'

Without hesitation, she slipped Jack's paper into the pile meant for the triple-horned demons.

The tall demon nodded and took the stack, heading off to deliver it to the announcers so they could begin the pairings.

Meanwhile, across the arena, a pair of demons stood in the shadows, watching Jack closely.

"Ciiver, look," one of them nudged the other, whispering. "It's that Zhurak demon from the restaurant."

The second demon, covered in a black cloak, turned his head. His eyes narrowed as they landed on Jack, and a cruel smile stretched across his face.

"That Zhurak demon has some guts joining this tournament," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "It's time we teach him a lesson."

A dark, heavy killing intent radiated from his body, directed straight at Jack.

Jack felt it immediately, but he wasn't bothered. He simply trailed his eyes across the arena, following Alisha, Missy, and Jane until he found them seated among the crowd.

'It's unlikely the queen would bring such an item to an open tournament, but it's still worth checking… especially since it might not even be her,' Jack thought to himself, his mind already running through different possibilities.

Around him, several demon participants had taken notice of his presence.

There were four other no-horn demons among the contestants, and out of all of them, Jack was the only one who remained completely calm.

Whispers spread among the warriors. Some demons frowned, unable to understand why he was so composed. Others, especially the more battle-hardened demons, smirked in amusement.

A few decided to test him.

Without warning, several warrior-type demons directed their auras toward him, attempting to gauge his strength.

To their surprise, Jack didn't flinch. He remained lost in his own thoughts, entirely unaffected by their oppressive presence.

'Will these demons stop trying to cause trouble?' Jack sighed internally. 'Why do they always like picking fights? Why did you create such a stupid race?'

A deep voice echoed in his mind.

'I didn't create them to be stupid,' Erebus sighed.

Jack arched a brow. 'Then who did?'

Erebus remained silent.

Jack exhaled sharply, suppressing his irritation. Though the auras pressing against him weren't a problem, he was growing increasingly annoyed by the sheer amount of energy he was wasting before the tournament even began.

The tournament hadn't started yet, and already, the stage was set for chaos.

And if there was one thing Jack was certain of…

This was only the beginning.

'One thing you should know... gods always make a way for their own downfall. Even I am not an exception. It was a god who tampered with my creation...'

Erebus's voice resonated in Jack's mind, carrying an unmistakable weight of bitterness and an unshakable truth.

Jack absorbed the words, his expression unreadable, though his mind churned with newfound understanding.

'I see...' he murmured, his thoughts aligning with what Erebus meant.

Being one with Erebus granted Jack knowledge far beyond what any mortal could comprehend.

He knew why the demons had been created, the role they were meant to play, and how that purpose had been twisted by divine intervention.

If the gods had tampered with Erebus's creations, then it was no wonder they had become such an unpredictable force.

Jack didn't press further. He could sense Erebus's lingering resentment, a deep-rooted grudge against the gods that simmered beneath his every word.

Prodding at old wounds would only stir unnecessary emotions.

Instead, he turned his focus back to the immediate concern—the upcoming tournament.

With little time left, Jack accessed his system screen, scrolling through the list of available spells. Every choice had to be deliberate, calculated. Since he had chosen the Zhurak race as his alias, his options were limited to darkness spells. His true powers remained mostly inaccessible under this disguise. Even so, his abilities far surpassed the average demon.

'I still have the upper hand of using both magic and combat,' Jack mused, his fingers swiftly navigating the interface as he selected his arsenal.

Demons in this world were categorized into three main classes: warrior class, magic class, and work class.

Warrior-class demons relied on physical prowess, their bodies honed into weapons of destruction. They wielded immense strength, relying on raw combat skills and sheer brute force to dominate their enemies.

Magic-class demons were attuned to the arcane, their abilities woven into the very fabric of their existence. They could channel powerful spells, shaping reality itself with their abilities.

Then there was the work class—demons born without any significant combat ability. They were the backbone of demon settlements, laboring under the rule of their stronger counterparts, maintaining the functionality of their society through menial tasks and support roles.

Jack, however, was unique.

A double-class.