Elara Voss arranged three corpses on wooden slabs in her workroom. Her skeletal fingers moved with precision, checking each body for signs of useful decay. She wanted to build an army of the dead—soldiers that would make other necromancers step back in fear. The first corpse had strong bones. Good for a warrior. The second showed muscle tissue still flexible enough to take commands. The third was fresh, eyes still clear. She pulled a bronze knife from her belt and made the first cut along the sternum. Green light flickered at her fingertips as she whispered the binding words. The corpse's chest rose once, then fell still. Not yet, but soon. Her army would start here, in this nameless city, one body at a time. She needed a better tool. Something that would let her control multiple corpses at once. The bronze knife worked fine for single subjects, but an army required more focused necrotic energy. Elara walked to her workbench and examined the materials scattered across it. Vertebrae from various specimens. A skull that still held traces of magical residue. She picked up each piece, testing its weight and energy signature. Over the next hour, she fused the bones together with green flame. The result was a staff—a twisted spine crowned with the glowing skull. She gripped it and felt power pulse through her skeletal hand. With this, she could command dozens. Maybe hundreds. The other necromancers would see her army and know they had been surpassed.

Elara studied the three corpses laid out before her, then glanced at her new bone staff. The weapon hummed with power, but she needed to test it properly. She raised the staff and spoke the words of binding, channeling green energy through the twisted spine. The first corpse jerked upright, then the second. Both stood waiting for commands. Her skeletal hand tightened on the staff as excitement built in her chest. This was the beginning—the first real step toward an army that would tower over every rival necromancer in the nameless city. But three soldiers weren't enough. She needed workspace to prepare more bodies faster. Elara commanded her two undead to follow her outside, then stopped at a long wooden table someone had abandoned in the alley. The surface was carved with strange symbols, worn smooth by time. Perfect for organizing components. She dragged it against the wall and began laying out supplies—bone fragments, preserved organs, vials of dark fluid. The third corpse would need specific bindings. She arranged six more vertebrae in a circle, then placed the skull of a child at the center. Her fingers moved without hesitation, sorting each piece by energy signature. With this table, she could process dozens of bodies. The work would go faster now. Her army would grow, and the other necromancers would finally understand what real power looked like.

The crypt district held what she needed. Elara walked through narrow streets where stone vaults lined both sides like teeth. Most necromancers in the nameless city kept quiet workshops, hiding their craft from ordinary people. But here, death was business. Families paid good money to store their dead in proper tombs. Fresh bodies arrived every day. She stopped at an iron gate marked with a crescent moon. Inside, stone shelves held dozens of wrapped corpses. Her green eyes swept across them, counting. Fifty, maybe sixty. Enough to triple her army in a single night. The gatekeeper was gone—probably drinking somewhere. She gripped her bone staff and whispered a command. The lock clicked open. This place would give her everything she needed. The other necromancers would hear about her army soon enough, and they would know to fear it. She worked through the night, unwrapping bodies and raising them one by one. Green light pulsed from her staff with each binding spell. By dawn, sixty skeletons stood in the crypt's central chamber, each wrapped in dark green energy that crackled and hissed. Their hollow eyes glowed with the same light. She commanded them to march, and they moved as one—a wall of bone and necromantic power. Elara led them out into the street as the sun rose. People screamed and ran. She ignored them. This display wasn't for ordinary citizens. She positioned her skeleton army in the open square outside the crypt, arranging them in perfect rows. Let every necromancer in this district see what she had built. Let them understand that her power had grown beyond their petty experiments. Her army stood waiting, a clear message written in bone and green fire: fear her, or challenge her and fail.