The Genesis Of A Necromancer-Chapter 170: Who are you?
Luther raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone. "And what might that be?"
Aldermond exhaled sharply before speaking, his voice carrying a weight that only a father could understand. "Protect my son. Let nothing happen to him while I am gone."
Luther’s expression softened as he gave a small nod. "Ah, if that is all, then you need not worry. The young prince will be safe under my watch."
Aldermond nodded in return, yet his gaze lingered on the boy standing at the edge of the chamber. Asriel’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with the fire of ambition. A desperate need to prove himself. A longing to carve his name into history and be acknowledged. Aldermond recognized that look all too well; once upon a time, he had held that same gaze before fate had forced him onto the throne.
But Asriel was not the heir he had hoped for.
The boy had been a disgrace from the day of his birth. Instead of awakening the noble, revered powers of their bloodline, he had been tainted—cursed with an ability that should never have belonged to him. He had tried to ignore the whispers in the kingdom, but they followed Asriel wherever he went, lurking in the corners of every conversation.
’A monster.’
’A mistake.’
’A child who should never have been born.’
For years, Aldermond had convinced himself that Asriel could change. That his son could rise above the shame he had brought upon their family. That he could somehow prove the kingdom wrong. But Asriel had only confirmed their fears, failing time and time again.
’If only Arin had been born first…’
That thought clenched at his heart like an iron grip. His daughter had been everything a royal heir should be—powerful, disciplined, respected. She should have been the firstborn, the one to inherit his legacy. Instead, fate had given him Asriel.
’That boy should have never existed.’
The bitterness in Aldermond’s heart festered as he turned away. His feet lifted from the ground, his body ascending effortlessly into the air. He did not look back. With a burst of power, he shot into the sky, streaking toward the battlefield like a falcon descending upon its prey.
This was the first time Jack had unleashed his full strength since his battle with Zamazo.
Even he was shocked by how much he had improved over the past few days. His power had leaped forward at an astonishing pace. He could feel it, pulsing beneath his skin, an untamed force waiting to be unleashed. And yet, he knew this was not his limit.
The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.
Not yet.
He still needed the Eye of Divinity. Only with it could he ascend beyond his current strength and reach true supremacy. But that was a concern for later. Right now, he had a different matter to handle.
A chance to test his new skill.
{Eye of the Abyss.}
The demon mage locked eyes with him, and in that instant, Jack saw it. The golden ring forming within his own pupils. The abyss opened, and the mage’s consciousness was swallowed whole.
The demon’s body froze, his breath hitching as his mind unraveled into the endless void of Jack’s abyssal gaze. Whatever thoughts he had—whatever spells he was preparing—they ceased to exist. He stood, motionless, his will consumed.
Jack moved. Silent as a ghost, he darted past the three towering blood mummies. They did not react. They couldn’t. Their master was already lost to the abyss.
His blade gleamed under the eerie lights of the stadium as he swung it.
A clean cut. A single slash.
The demon mage’s head fell from his shoulders before his body even realized it had been severed. Blood sprayed into the air, and a hush fell over the stadium.
The battle was over.
But no one cheered.
No one moved.
The silence was suffocating. It was as though the very air itself was afraid to acknowledge what had just happened. Thousands of eyes bore witness to the execution, yet not a single voice rose in triumph.
{soul essence: +10,030} [30 per mummy] [10,000 double-horned demon]
Slowly, a figure stirred.
Naya.
The queen of demons rose from her seat, her mere movement enough to command the attention of every soul present. A wave of quiet tension rippled through the crowd. The fear that had gripped them moments ago loosened slightly. Their queen was here. She would handle this. There was no need to fear.
Was there?
The announcer, who had clutched his magical amplifier with trembling fingers, finally found his voice. It came out weak, cracked with disbelief.
"We… we have our winner."
Still, no cheers erupted. No celebration followed. The demons could not shake the terror that had wrapped itself around their very souls. They had just witnessed something beyond reason. Something unnatural.
Even Jack’s allies—Alisha, Missy, and Daemon—stood dumbstruck. Their expressions were unreadable, but the unease in their eyes betrayed their thoughts.
Jack’s aura was suffocating.
Every demon in the arena whispered in hushed voices, though their fear made even their murmurs barely audible.
"Where is that demon from? There’s no way he’s a Zhurak. His power… it was terrifying."
"A hornless demon shouldn’t be that strong…"
"What race is he?"
Questions flooded the stadium, but no answers came. Even the most powerful among them—the generals and the queen herself—had no explanation.
Naya’s golden eyes narrowed as she assessed the young-looking demon before her. All her life, she had only encountered one person who carried such an overwhelming aura. A being feared across the heavens and the earth. A being whose name was spoken in hushed reverence.
But...
’Is this truly him? No... it can’t be.’
Her eyes burned with disbelief. The presence, the power, the fear he commanded—it all pointed to one answer. But the figure before her was too weak, too incomplete.
And yet...
She couldn’t ignore the dreadful familiarity of it.
Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Young demon," she spoke, her words laced with unshakable authority. "Who are you? And what race do you belong to?"
Her question was not one of curiosity. It was a demand.
