Necromancer: I Am A Disaster

Amidst countless specks of light, that familiar sensation returned—though much weaker than before.

Lin Moyu quickly realized that 10 Intermediate Skill Scrolls were no longer sufficient.

As he awakened more skills, the consumption of Skill Scrolls only increased.

At level 10, a mere one or two Elementary Skill Scrolls were enough to awaken a new skill.

But now, it took a staggering 65 Intermediate Skill Scrolls just to achieve the same effect.

Given that an Intermediate Skill Scroll was over ten times more powerful than an Elementary Skill Scroll, this meant the current requirement was equivalent to 650 Elementary Skill Scrolls.

Of course, Lin Moyu knew this wasn’t a perfect conversion—just a rough estimate.

This time, the demand was even greater.

The sensation appeared only briefly, fading as the scrolls’ effects dissipated.

Without hesitation, he activated another 15 Skill Scrolls, trying to hold onto that elusive feeling.

Yet, 15 weren’t enough.

The sensation barely intensified before slipping away again.

Determined, Lin Moyu doubled the amount, activating 30 Intermediate Skill Scrolls.

This time, the sensation grew noticeably clearer.

Following Meng Anwen’s advice, he focused, trying to trace the source of the feeling.

It was easy to describe but nearly impossible to execute.

The sensation was too elusive, too abstract.

At first, it seemed to have a distinct origin. But when he concentrated, it felt as if it came from every part of his body.

Still, Lin Moyu refused to give up. He relentlessly activated Skill Scrolls—30 at a time, fueling his body with their mysterious power.

The feeling sharpened, growing clearer with each surge of energy. Then, at last, a faint trace appeared—as if he had seen something.

Subsequently, a massive surge of power erupted—rushing through Lin Moyu’s entire body, flooding into his spirit world, and finally merging with his soul.

Above him, the countless specks of light from the Skill Scrolls soared skyward, forming a blazing pillar that pierced through the clouds.

Meng Anwen and Bai Yiyuan knew instantly—Lin Moyu had awakened a new skill. And not just any skill. This one was on an entirely different level.

The previous skill hadn’t triggered such a spectacle.

Suddenly, a vision unfolded before Lin Moyu’s eyes.

The same robed Necromancer. The same pitch-black battlefield. The same overwhelming undead horde locked in seemingly endless war.

The Necromancer lifted a finger, summoning a creature shrouded in searing flame.

The moment it appeared, fire erupted toward the sky, too intense for Lin Moyu to see the summon’s full form.

But he saw the aftermath.

Wherever the summon moved, enemies were incinerated, reduced to ash in an instant.

Even the mighty Dragons screamed as they were swallowed by the flames, crashing from the sky in a blaze of agony.

Then—the vision shattered.

[Acquired skill: Summon Elemental Lich]

[Summon Elemental Lich (level 1): uses elemental items to summon Liches of matching types. The higher the item’s level, the stronger the Lich. Only one Lich of each type can exist at a time. Increasing the skill’s level allows for more Liches to be exist simultaneously.]

As the skill fully formed, Lin Moyu discovered a new attribute: Lich space.

At level 1, the space showed 0/1, indicating that only one Lich could exist at a time.

This was a completely new and unfamiliar skill.

But from the vision alone, Lin Moyu could tell—it was powerful. Incredibly powerful.

When he opened his eyes, he found Bai Yiyuan watching him with eager anticipation.

“How is it, Moyu?” Bai Yiyuan asked, his voice as hopeful as his gaze.

Lin Moyu shook his head, “Not yet. I haven’t grasped it. I’ll try again.”

Without hesitation, he activated another batch of Skill Scrolls.

He had already used 65 during the first attempt, then 175 in the second—240 scrolls in total. That was nearly a quarter of his entire stockpile.

This time, he activated 50 from the get go.

Once again, countless specks of light enveloped him.

And once again, that mysterious feeling returned—clearer than ever, likely due to the sheer number of scrolls he had consumed.

This was his third attempt. By now, Lin Moyu was familiar with the process. As soon as the sensation surfaced, he seized it and began tracing it to its source.

The mysterious feeling spread rapidly throughout his body, just like before.

But now, he understood what it meant.

It was the birth of a skill.

Skills, he realized, lay dormant deep within, awaiting the right level and conditions to awaken.

And right now, his task was to find where the skills’ source was hidden.

He had failed before, but now, with two experiences behind him, he finally understood the method.

But understanding was one thing. Executing it was another.

To maintain the fragile connection and ensure the skill would awaken fully, Lin Moyu continued burning through batches of Intermediate Skill Scrolls, one after another.

From the side, Meng Anwen and Bai Yiyuan watched in amazement.

Bai Yiyuan muttered, “The stronger the class, the more difficult it is to awaken its skills.”

He paused, then added, “But Moyu’s scroll consumption is… excessive.”

Meng Anwen nodded, “Yes, far too high. Even a mid-tier legendary rank class user, at level 50, would typically need no more than 300 scrolls.”

Bai Yiyuan added, “Earth Knights might use a bit more—maybe up to 500 Skill Scrolls—but Moyu…”

Lin Moyu had already surpassed that.

He had awakened two powerful skills, but the third one was proving incredibly difficult.

Skill Scrolls continued to activate and vanish in bursts of light and energy—one batch after another.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, nearly 1,000 Skill Scrolls had been consumed.

And now, Lin Moyu stood at the critical threshold.

The sensation of skill awakening had reached a peak—intense, overwhelming, and right on the edge of release.

This time, the feeling lingered longer, finally giving Lin Moyu a clue.

He saw it: a pitch-black world. And within it, a single flickering point of light.

The feeling—the signal of an awakening skill—originated from that very point.

The moment he locked onto it, the point of light erupted with a sharp bang, sending a ripple through his entire being.

A strange feeling flooded his body, surged into his spirit world, and fused into his soul.

But this time, something else happened. Lin Moyu saw something unusual.

It was less like seeing and more like sensing.

Surrounding that glowing point were other points, and scattered throughout the darkness.

Each one felt unique—different in shape, size, and the aura it radiated.

Lin Moyu finally understood.

These were skills. Hidden. Waiting.

This... was the skills’ source.

But knowing was one thing. Harnessing it? He still didn’t know how.

Did he endure all this effort just for a glimpse?

At this moment, the newly awakened skill surged through him, imprinting into his soul.

[Acquired skill: Bone Prison]

[Bone Prison (level 1): binds one or multiple enemies, causing a paralysis effect. Bound targets cannot move or counterattack, and the damage they take is reduced by 50%. Binding duration is 1 second (duration varies based on enemy level and attributes and number of targets).]

It was a control-type skill, a bone-type control skill.

Lin Moyu was thrilled.

He had finally acquired a control-type skill.

Even though the base duration was only 1 second, with his talent’s bonus, that 1 second extended to 60.

And this was just level 1. As the skill leveled up, the duration would only grow longer.

He could feel it—his class was becoming more and more balanced.

Even without the talent’s boost, while his raw attack power might take a hit, the overall balance of his class wouldn’t shift.

His undead army’s damage output might drop, but the number of summons wouldn’t change.

Among his peers, Lin Moyu would still reign supreme.

His class now covered—summoning, offense, defense, curses, control, immunity.

What other class could rival such completeness?

His undead army didn’t require support. It could sustain itself.

His class was nearly flawless.

When Lin Moyu opened his eyes again, he found Bai Yiyuan’s gaze still fixed on him.

The older man spoke softly, “Moyu, even if you can’t find it this time, it’s alright. Your level is still low. You’ll have plenty of chances later on.”

Meng Anwen nodded in agreement, “Even if you don’t find it until level 80, that’s perfectly fine. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Lin Moyu could tell they were just trying to comfort him.

But he shook his head slightly and said, “Teachers… I think I found it.”

Bai Yiyuan was just about to continue reassuring him, but when he heard those words, his expression froze—the words of comfort stuck in his throat, replaced by a startled gasp.