Chapter 161 – Advancement and Mutation
Under the violent trembling of the earth, a sharp sound like glass twisting and shattering suddenly pierced the air.
The noise was unbearably shrill—enough to make one's ears ache just hearing it.
But in the next moment, a powerful suction rose from beneath Charles's feet.
His vision blurred.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a cold, silent world.
The sky above was dark and oppressive.
The ground beneath his feet was blackened and damp.
A road paved with bones stretched endlessly into the distance from where he stood. Beyond it lay a barren plain as far as the eye could see.
Gray mist drifted across the wasteland.
From time to time, half-buried corpses could be seen sinking into the soil of the plain—some only partially exposed, their hollow eye sockets staring silently into nothingness.
The entire landscape felt eerie and desolate.
"So this is the Land of Death?" Charles murmured.
The tension in his heart slowly eased.
He had succeeded.
His risky plan—to set up the advancement ritual beyond the Traversal Gate and sacrifice the mysterious meteorite—had worked.
The "Land of Death" was only one of many names used by necromancers.
It was also known as the Sanctuary of the Dead, the Paradise of Death, the Domain of Finality, and many others.
No one truly knew what this place was actually called.
But ever since necromancers first appeared in history, this mysterious realm—capable of assisting their advancement—had always existed.
Thinking this, Charles stepped forward.
Suddenly, he felt something strange beneath his foot.
He moved his foot aside and looked down.
A withered skeletal hand was wriggling on the bone road beneath him.
Once it realized the foot pressing on it was gone, the hand scrambled away on its four finger bones, scurrying off like a startled insect.
Charles watched it disappear into the distance before reluctantly pulling his gaze away.
This place was filled with secrets.
That was a fact believed by countless necromancers.
Yet throughout the ages, no one had ever truly discovered any great benefit hidden here.
On the contrary, many had died attempting to do so.
After briefly observing his surroundings, Charles began walking forward without hesitation.
Arriving here meant his ritual had succeeded.
And now it was time to claim the fruits of that victory.
"I wonder what it will grant me," he murmured.
He felt a surge of anticipation.
The ritual he had performed contained the mark of a summoner, meaning his advancement would not branch into other paths.
In other words, his future direction was already predetermined.
However, if the stepping stone used during a necromancer's advancement is special enough, there is a chance that the necromancer will gain additional abilities beyond their original path.
That was why Charles felt a strong sense of anticipation.
The scorched wasteland stretched endlessly beneath the dim sky.
He walked quickly along the bone-strewn road. On both sides, countless remains—some dry gray skeletons, others still clinging to scraps of flesh—lay half-buried in the burnt earth.
The world was silent.
Occasionally, dismembered limbs crawled or twitched across the ground as if alive, but beyond that there was no other sign of life.
Far off on the horizon, however, enormous shapes sometimes appeared—towering silhouettes that seemed to stretch from earth to sky.
A giant skeleton.
A bone dragon.
A fallen angel.
Various monstrous figures moved or drifted at the edge of vision, wrapped in gray mist, exuding a vast and ancient aura.
They were mysterious.
And terrifying.
Yet the road beneath Charles's feet led directly toward them.
A normal novice would likely panic in such circumstances—perhaps even hesitate to move forward.
But Charles possessed the memories of both the Bandaged Man and his aunt.
Because of that, this place felt strangely familiar to him.
He did not hesitate for even a moment.
The rule was simple:
Never turn back.
If he took even a single step backward, his advancement would fail instantly—and he would never again be able to enter this place.
Without guidance from experienced necromancers, countless beginners had likely been ruined by this very rule.
Charles couldn't help but feel grateful that two "kindhearted" people had once tried to possess his body.
Otherwise, encountering this place alone would have left him completely lost.
What he was seeing now was actually considered normal.
As necromancers climbed higher and higher in rank, the visions they encountered here became increasingly horrifying.
"Maybe that's why high-level necromancers are always so… strange," Charles mused.
"Perhaps there's a connection."
Lost in thought, he continued forward without slowing.
Walking.
Walking.
And walking.
Everything around him looked the same.
The silent world offered no scenery worth stopping for.
Eventually—after who knew how long—a raised mound appeared on the horizon.
At first it was nothing more than a small black dot.
As Charles drew closer, the dot gradually grew larger.
Yet it was not particularly massive.
When he finally reached it, the mound was only about three stories tall.
The hill of black earth was shrouded in gray mist.
Piles of pale bones lay scattered at its base, as if they had slid down from the mound itself when it first rose from the ground.
The upper half of the mound was hidden within the fog.
A muddy path stained red like dried blood wound upward from the base.
It led to Charles's true destination.
From the summit above came faint metallic clashes—like iron striking iron.
Standing at the foot of the hill, Charles couldn't see what was happening above.
But relying on past experience, he did not hesitate.
He stepped onto the crimson path and began climbing.
There was nothing remarkable about the narrow trail.
Aside from coating his boots in sticky blood-mud, it offered no surprises.
On one side stood the dark slope of the hill.
On the other was open air swallowed by gray fog.
Climbing steadily upward, he eventually reached the summit.
The barren hilltop was uneven.
Sparse patches of unknown black grass grew from the cracked soil.
At the edge of the summit, within the mist, a black stone floated quietly in midair.
Above it, another stone of the same kind extended into the fog—forming what looked like a staircase leading upward into some hidden realm.
"A stepping stone…"
Though the stone seemed unfamiliar, Charles recognized it immediately thanks to the Eye of Reality.
It wasn't actually black.
It was deep ice-blue, so dark that it appeared black.
"Hello there, ancient god of ice," he murmured.
Without hesitation, he stepped onto the stone and climbed upward.
The stepping stone was not just a single stone.
Originally, when Charles had dragged it into this realm, there had only been one.
But now—
it had multiplied.
Stone after stone rose upward in an endless progression, forming a staircase that led deep into the unknown mist.
"So in one world you once dominated everything," Charles muttered. "Yet here you've been torn apart without so much as a sound."
Step by step, he climbed higher.
The plain beneath him grew smaller.
The black mound below began to look less like a hill…
and more like a grave rising from the earth.
"What does that symbolize?" he wondered.
"Climbing out of the grave… to gain a new life?"
Lost in speculation, he continued upward.
As he climbed, a strange power seemed to seep gradually into his body.
But the Eye of Reality gave no notification, so he couldn't tell whether it was real or merely his imagination.
At last he reached the end of the staircase.
Before him stood a throne—one that looked as though it had been forged from black iron.
The throne floated high above the plains, surrounded by gray clouds.
Below stretched the vast burnt wasteland.
Above, thick fog concealed whatever lay beyond.
The staircase of stones ended directly before the throne.
It silently told him what he must do.
Taking a deep breath, Charles stepped forward and sat down.
The throne was freezing.
The instant he sat, it felt like sitting on a block of solid ice.
The cold pierced deep into his bones.
Yet the chill quickly spread throughout his entire body—and even into the depths of his spirit.
His thoughts seemed to freeze.
Then messages began appearing before his eyes.
[You have successfully advanced to the Black Iron Throne rank of Necromancer. Your spiritual power has increased.]
[Your spiritual body has undergone a permanent transformation.]
[You have successfully obtained the profession: Spirit Medium.]
[You have gained the Spirit Medium talent — Language of Spirits.]
[Due to the stepping stone used, you have gained the special talent — Catastrophic Star of Annihilation.]
…
The messages continued to appear one after another.
Each one filled him with satisfaction.
The special talent in particular made him excited.
"I knew it," he muttered with a faint smile.
But before he could celebrate for long—
a new series of notifications suddenly appeared.
And his mind froze.
[Unknown energy detected. Your advancement is being altered.]
[Your spiritual body is undergoing a second transformation.]
[Your talent: Catastrophic Star of Annihilation has been modified.]
[Your Spirit Medium talent has been devoured.]
[You are being expelled from the advancement space.]
…
"What the—!?"
Charles was stunned.
He tried to stand up from the throne—
but his body had become weak and limp.
He couldn't move at all.
At the same time, his thoughts grew hazy.
The world around him blurred.
Finally, darkness swallowed his vision.
And Charles collapsed into unconsciousness.