The Necromancer Who Wanted to Stay Human

Chapter 5: First Level Up

The North Gate loomed ahead, a jagged tear in the perimeter wall of the garrison. Ramon leaned against a rusted support beam, his lungs burning with every inhalation of the metallic, thin air.

"You look like you’re about to fold in half, kid," Beatriz remarked, her voice softer than it had been hours ago. She was leaning against the same beam, keeping her weight off her healing legs. "We’re close to the transit zone. There’s a bunker there. Old, but shielded."

"I’m fine," Ramon wheezed, though his knees gave a treacherous wobble. "Just... the system is acting up again. It’s like it’s trying to d******d a library into my brain."

Beatriz glanced at the faint, flickering violet light dancing in his eyes. "Does it hurt? The d******d?"

"It’s like a migraine caused by a lightning strike," Ramon said, rubbing his temples. "But at least it’s not screaming at me to eat you anymore. That’s a win in my book."

"High standards," she chuckled, a dry sound that barely cracked the silence of the ruins. "Come on. The transit zone is just past this courtyard. If we can reach the bunker, you can get some sleep."

They moved forward, stepping through a field of calcified debris. The further they went, the more the air began to hum with a low-frequency vibration. Suddenly, the silence shattered. A sound like wet leather slapping against stone echoed from the shadows of a nearby warehouse.

"Beatriz, wait," Ramon hissed, grabbing her arm. "Do you hear that?"

Beatriz froze, her hand flying to her blade. "Scavengers. Low-level infected, probably drawn by the sound of our movement. They aren't Grave-Wards, but they’re vicious if they pack up."

"How many?"

"Too many to fight head-on," she said, her eyes scanning the darkness. "We need to keep moving. If we stay, we’re just offering ourselves up as a buffet."

Ramon looked at the HUD. His mana pool—or whatever the violet-glowing energy in his veins was—was hovering at a dangerous 15 percent. He thought back to the ghost sergeant. He had a connection now. A bridge.

"I can create a distraction," Ramon said, his jaw tightening.

"You’re already drained! You saw what happened at the barracks. If you push too hard, you’ll just pass out, and I can’t carry you, Ramon."

"I’m not going to be a martyr," he insisted, stepping into the middle of the courtyard. "I just need to level up. If I’m a vessel, I need to start filling it, right?"

"Ramon, don't—"

He didn't wait. He focused on the necrotic thread he had pulled during the grave encounter. It was thinner now, a fine filament of shadow. He didn't want to harvest life; he wanted to harvest the echo of it. He reached out with his mind, sensing the stagnant, hungry souls of the incoming swarm.

“I am the bridge,” he whispered, the words echoing with that same cold, ancient resonance.

The air turned freezing. A silhouette manifested beside him—a spectral flicker of a soldier, not the sergeant this time, but a grunt. It stood with a raised bayonet, its form composed of shifting, violet static.

"You’re going to use a summon?" Beatriz’s voice was laced with awe and alarm. "That’s suicide. That’ll drain the rest of your core in seconds."

"I just need to clear the path," Ramon said, his vision blurring at the edges. "Go. Get to the bunker. I’ll be right behind you."

"I’m not leaving you!"

"Beatriz, move!" he barked, his voice cracking with the strain of holding the spirit in place. "If we’re both exhausted, we’re dead. If one of us is standing, we have a chance. Go!"

She hesitated for a split second, then scrambled toward the bunker entrance. Ramon turned to the warehouse. A dozen hunched, pale figures poured out, their movements jerky and mindless.

"Alright," Ramon grunted, pointing his hand at the lead creature. "Show them why the cycle is broken."

The spectral grunt lunged, moving with a speed the living couldn't match. It didn't strike with steel; it struck with raw, entropic energy. As it passed through the first three creatures, they didn't bleed. They simply disintegrated, their essence pulled into the shimmering violet glow of the spirit’s form.

[ ALERT: SOUL HARVESTED. ]

[ ENERGY RECOVERED: +5% ]

[ XP GAINED: 150 ]

Ramon felt a rush of adrenaline—a cold, sharp sensation that cut through his fatigue. He directed the ghost again, weaving it through the pack like a needle through fabric. Each kill sent a jolt of energy back to his core.

[ XP THRESHOLD REACHED. ]

[ LEVEL UP: LEVEL 2. ]

[ NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: SOUL VISION (ACTIVE) ]

The screen turned translucent, and for a heartbeat, the world changed. The gray, desolate ruins became a tapestry of light and dark. He could see the soul-residue clinging to the walls, the faint, flickering life-force of the distant, hiding Beatriz, and the glowing, rotten knots of the remaining infected.

"Gotcha," Ramon hissed. He didn't need to fight them. He could see their anchors—the small, dark spots of necrotic energy that kept them tethered to the material world.

He lunged forward, not with his hand, but with his focus. He slashed at the air, cutting through the tether of the last three creatures. They collapsed into harmless piles of gray dust.

Ramon fell to his knees, his breath ragged. The ghost beside him dissolved into a fine mist of violet sparks that swirled into his chest. He felt stronger—no, more dense. Like his presence in the world had finally started to take root.

He looked up. The courtyard was silent.

He hauled himself to his feet, his legs shaking, and sprinted the last few yards to the bunker. He slammed the heavy door open and tumbled inside, gasping for air.

"Ramon!" Beatriz was there, her hand on her hilt. She looked him over, her eyes widening. "You... you’re glowing."

"Just... just a level up," he panted, leaning against the cold, damp wall of the bunker. "It’s a bit of a rush."

"You look like you’ve been through a meat grinder," she said, though she looked immensely relieved. She moved closer, checking his pupils. "You didn't collapse?"

"I’m here," he said, trying to smile. "And I think I can see things better now. The Soul Vision. It’s... a lot to take in."

"Save it for later," she said, her voice dropping. "We’re in the bunker. It’s clear, for now."

Ramon sat down, letting his back slide against the concrete. "We’re doing it, Beatriz. We’re actually making progress."

Beatriz nodded, but she didn't look back at him. She was looking at her own hands. The crystalline growth on her fingers seemed to have darkened, shifting from a light, translucent shimmer to a deep, jagged obsidian.

"Beatriz?" Ramon asked, his tone shifting from triumph to concern. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer. She slumped over, a short, sharp gasp escaping her lips.

"Beatriz!" Ramon scrambled to her side, his hand reaching out. "What’s happening? I thought the heat—"

As he touched her shoulder, he triggered his new Soul Vision. His eyes went wide. Where there had been a flicker of life, there was now a sprawling, black fracture. The crystalline plague wasn't just on her skin; it was consuming her internal tether. It was spreading faster than it had ever been before, turning her core into something brittle and hollow.

"Ramon," she whispered, her voice sounding like glass rubbing against glass. "It... it hurts."

The system suddenly flared to life, casting an urgent, flashing red light across the bunker.

[ WARNING: SUBJECT BEATRIZ CRITICAL. ]

[ PLAGUE ADVANCEMENT: PHASE 3. ]

[ TIME TO CRYSTALLIZATION: 1 HOUR. ]

Ramon looked from the text to the girl whose life was literally turning to stone. The path ahead was no longer just a walk to the Spire. It was a race against time, and for the first time, he realized the cost of his victory might be the only friend he had left.

"Not on my watch," Ramon growled, the violet light in his veins pulsing with a desperate, hungry heat. "Not today."