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‘An army of dead bodies, raising the undead, controlling their bodies.’ The idea felt somewhat appetizing; though outlawed and shunned by most. The use of necromancy wasn’t rare for many small cults practiced and experimented with. The prospect of experimenting with magic he knew not had entranced him. The search for knowledge, the addiction; he wanted to test out what Sten had researched for many years. The notes he read were still fresh in his mind, Staxius only needed to do a little effort. The effort to channel his mana into a magical circle and connect all the dead bodies to one another. ‘I’ve got it, time isn’t of the essence at the moment.’ He took a deep breath, the eyes focused on a goal. ‘With the papers provided by Sten, I can manipulate any dead body for miles on end. However, it will be a conscious effort and I don’t want that. The preferable goal is to raise them into being with their own conscience. Not enough to question their existence or think to that matter, but conscious enough to fight, outthink, and defeat their foe.’ He clapped and smiled, a brilliant idea came to him, a spark that triggered his imagination.

Thus, for the entire night, with rain pouring outside. He made sure to put all the bodies into one pile. First, he experimented with Sten’s long-distance manipulation using their empty mana circuit. They worked fine, Staxius managed to control one of them easily. He named said method the Puppetry, for puppets were controlled by strings, and here the strings were his own mana. Puppetry could only get him so far, he needed them to have their own thoughts. To that end, he thought long and hard, nothing came. However, hope wasn’t lost just yet – subconsciously while he brainstormed the endless possibilities to which he could use mana to influence their behavior. Staxius stepped into a familiar dimension, Clarity. Incredibly, he entered the fabled realm where the impossible turned possible.

There it was, the further he walked, the clearer everything got. The answer to the question about putting conscience into dead bodies became obvious. It was simple but immoral; the solution was to give each body a soul. An entire soul for one body basically meant resurrection; that idea to turn the dead into the living became a possibility. Sadly, it wasn’t what he looked for, the criteria for it to work was physically impossible to acquire. Qhildir’s Heart, the god of philosophy’s ring, an item heard in myth only. Myth could not be turned into reality with will only, thus that idea faded into the abyss. The answer laid before him; a soul was necessary – for it’s the vessel that carried knowledge acquired in previous lives. ‘Eureka,’ it dawned on him, that was the solution. A soul, not an entire portion, but a part of a soul. It would not affect anyone or anything that way, it was if taking a cup of water in a river. The result would not be consequential.

He continued down the path into Clarity, all the quandary sorted themselves. A few hours went by, Staxius changed from leaning to sitting. ‘I found it,’ his eyes opened, the trance broke. ‘-the knowledge I sought after have been laid naked before mine own eyes.’ The facial expression remained emotionless, *slash,* blood dripped from his hand.

*Heed my call, oh great worrier, I, the god of death demand thee to appear before mine own eyes. I call forth thy soul from the depth of hell, son of Peleus, Achilles.* The incantation didn’t stop, Staxius poured all his mana; everything he had, *Thou who was slain from an arrow by Paris, guided by God Apollo, come forth for I’m thy master, and thou shall obey the strongest.* a burning dark flame lit the spilled blood. In a matter of seconds, it grew into an inferno. The pentagram on his arm began to glow as well, all the markings on his body bled, the repercussion of waking an ancient hero, one who none had heard. A hero he knew the existence only thanks to lord’s death’s library.

The house rumbled, the air changed, the mild showers of rain turned into a full-blown storm. Lightning and thunder followed behind; it came close to hitting the house itself. The air felt electric, Staxius stood, eyes focused and stance unfaltering. The hand rested inches from the sword’s handle; a figure began to materialize. “WHO DARES AWAKEN ME FROM MINE OWN SLUMBER,” a voice as loud as thunder, yelled. A spirit stood behind Staxius, the face not distinguishable, the body naked and unarmed, the spirit’s aura rivaled anything he had ever sensed.

.....

It took some time, but the spirit eyed Staxius with deep curiosity. “Art thee the one whomst dared summoned me?” he asked with frustration in his tone. Staxius did nothing but stare back with all his might. He didn’t falter, the confidence he showed made the spirit cautious. “I’m Staxius Haggard, heir to the god of death. I’ve summoned thee from thy slumber to help I in mine conquest.” Nothing needed to be said, spirits didn’t need to know backstories about the ones they came in contact with. They could speak telepathically and read minds if the summoner allowed it to. Staxius did the same, wasting breath proved to be less useful. Rather than words, he showed Achilles what the motive of his summoning was. “Heir to the god of death, I humbly give mine greetings. However powerful thou might be, I’m but a soul whomst was awakened without mine consent. Prices art to be paid in full,” he spoke true, awakening a resting soul was sacrilege. Achilles in his lifetime was revered as the strongest hero who ever walked his realm. Invincible and invulnerable to damage, that was who Staxius stared. “Prices are meant to be paid in full, but art thee ready to face I, one who knows thy weakness?” the sword unsheathed inches by inches. The hero watched Staxius, the resolve to fight showed clearly. The man who Achilles saw before him was worthy to be called king.

“Sheathed thy sword god of death, I haven’t come to fight. I but asked for a price to be paid. Not with sword and fight, but with a chance at revival. I ask but this, Staxius Haggard; if thou art willing, follow me to the underworld. Tis a place not for the living, but for a god tis but another matter. Follow me to mine realm, to the place where the object of my revival, Qhildir’s Heart; can be found.” Staxius nodded and followed, a portal opened; they vanished.

“Welcome to the underworld,” the portal reopened, Staxius stepped out. Achilles stood before a beast, a three-headed monster with a serpent’s tail. “Qhildir’s Heart is around Cerberus’s neck. None has ever defeated this beast, I can testify that even I, a hero revered by many hasn’t the slightest chance at victory. Prove to me that thou have the power and strength to be call mine master, Staxius Haggard; show me thy strength.”

Staxius walked, the beast slept. “Master Cerberus without shield or iron,” Achilles whispered. Without losing any time, the heir to the god of death approached. ‘Master Cerberus without shield or iron,’ this was a quote from mythology. Tis was the requirement instated by Hades when Hercules set off to capture said beast. Mythology and history fascinated him, he knew everything about it. This realm, one where many gods and heroes existed at one time, made him envious. Their tales, their adventures, the thrill of the beasts they fought. Staxius’s smile could not be constrained. First, he faced off against Fenrir, a wolf from another realm as opposed to one where the Hydra and Cerberus hailed from. ‘Knowledge is power; therefore, I’ll have to defeat the three-headed demon. I have the luxury of killing Cerberus for I haven’t the need to capture him alive.’

It sensed Staxius approached, it growled and swung its paws. The tails almost moved in tandem – the coordination impeccable. Dodging was inevitable, however, the one he faced wasn’t normal either. Effortlessly, Staxius jumped and stood on the beast’s tail. It’s size put Fenrir’s to shame. Along its back, Cerberus lashed out all the snakes that waited patiently. Seeing no way out, Staxius leaped and retreated. ‘Deadly,’ the attack didn’t stop, no breathing space was given. The moment his feet touched the ground, the demon pounced and tried to maul away his head. “Excuse me,” inches away from his face, Staxius managed to conjure a fireball and blast away the middle head. However, the right and left didn’t stand idly by, for they took turns trying to maul him. Left, right, Staxius stepped and dodged and cast magic where it needed to be done. The way he handled the demon, it impressed the hero who watched with eyes fully opened.

“Never have I seen such flexibility and agility,” he spoke unconsciously, Staxius fought beautifully. A smile shone, his hair moved from left to right, the sweat dripped off his face gently. The heir to the god of death truly was one to be seen in person. *Dark-Arts: UNLEASH AURA,* the smile broke as he yelled, beast’s body lowered massively. With the sheer force of his untamed strength, Staxius managed to make Cerberus falter a little. “I don’t want to slay you,” he whispered, it howled as if it acknowledged what he said. However, the attack didn’t stop, it continued, Staxius tried to keep the damage to a little. The respect he had for him wasn’t measurable, he was facing off against a demon renowned and who played a massive part in said realm’s history. ‘The ring is what I need,’ an attack came from the right, he lowered his body and saw the heart. *Death Element; Shadow-step,* he vanished, a cling followed and Cerberus fell. “Does this justify my worthiness to become thy master?” he held the ring in front of Achilles. The portal reopened, “thank you for not slaying my precious dog,” a voice echoed behind, Staxius left. “Great,” he reappeared into a puddle of blood.

‘Who would have known that the heart was in the underworld. This has worked out for the better.’ No words were left to say, Staxius began to draw a pentagram accompanied by symbols. *Thou who has been sealed to another realm, I command thee by mine authority to be bound to mine own soul and become mine guard for eternity, Achilles, son of Peleus, I order thy soul to walk this earth in my company: Soul Transmutation.*

The heaviness in the room increased massively, the bodies began to burn. A black-light engulfed whatever remains laid in the kitchen. All the blood began to turn to dust, it lit brightly, the pile of corpses rose. It grew in height as if a volcano being born -“FRESH AIR AT LAST,” the rain outside grew more in intensity. Something caught his attention, the tone wasn’t one of a man, but it felt feminine. “No need to look disconcerted, I’m Achilles, but as mistaken in mythology. I’m not man, my true self is one of a woman,” the sluggish black liquid began to shape into a humanoid shape. Lightning struck and the darkish face lit, “thanks for bestowing me with the boon of life, heir to the god of death. From today forth, I, Achilles pledge to be thy sworn sword and shield.” She knelt, her body naked. ‘I’ve seen this before,’ he thought but remained stern. “I humbly accept thy pledge.” The ring crumbled, having an object that powerful at his disposal would have been nice. However, its place was in the finger of its owner, thus Staxius smiled at what he accomplished.

From trying to raise an undead army; to acquiring a hero from another realm. The attempt at necromancy served a greater purpose than he ever imagined. He tried to use part of her soul, but instead managed to summon the hero herself in flesh and blood – another ally gained.