Only Wolf?!

The sun slanted westward, dusk settling with the fading light.

The warship bearing the Navy's seagull-and-scales flag swayed with the waves. The lingering warmth of the sun felt pleasantly warm against the skin. Silence reigned all around, broken only by the soft rustling of seawater against the hull. Combined with the sea breeze carrying a faint briny stench, it was enough to make anyone drowsy.

But...

Another strange, rust-like stench, so thick it rushed straight into the nostrils, made the scalp tingle and the skull turn cold. Adrenaline surged wildly. No one could possibly fall asleep in an environment like this.

Anyone who had fallen asleep would never wake up again...

Probably.

"Mm... it hurts!"

In the dim cabin, a young man with black hair and a gaunt face sat up, clutching his forehead. He wore ragged clothes caked with greasy black grime. His uneven hair was clumped together with scalp oil, making him look like a spoiled bun fished out of a filthy gutter... one that had already been bitten.

"Hiss...!!"

A slight unconscious movement sent piercing pain shooting through him. The young man abruptly opened his eyes. Within the dim prison, those eyes shone with a startling brightness.

"This is...?!"

Using the faint light from the ventilation window, the young man's pupils suddenly contracted as he looked at his left arm.

More precisely, at the latter half of the humerus in his left arm. The entire arm had been severed cleanly at the elbow, wrapped in a scrap of gauze in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

But it clearly wasn't working.

The white gauze had been soaked through with blood plasma, which dripped steadily onto the floor.

"I remember I should have been conducting an experiment in the laboratory... using a Great Lich's phylactery as an energy source to forcibly open the gates of the Underworld... Then what? What happened?"

The young man did not rush to stop the bleeding. Instead, he frowned in thought.

An image unfolded in his mind.

Within the brightly lit laboratory of an undead castle, the unlucky lich's curses were vicious beyond measure. The torn gap in time and space was also incomparably clear. Such exceptional memory was an instinct every mage had to master.

Then white specks flickered at the center of the image, rapidly spreading outward in all directions. In an instant, everything was swallowed by an empty "light."

"Hngh!"

With a muffled groan, the young man clutched his head again, his face twisted in pain.

But this time, he did not close his eyes. Though he was in agony, his gaze held undisguised delight.

"So the experiment failed?"

The experiment to open the gates of the Underworld through illegal means had indeed failed, but everything before him proved that his line of thinking had been correct!

If he had used an unclaimed land rather than the Underworld as his target, he would have become an unprecedented pioneer!

For example, right now...

"Such dense elemental aura, yet all of it is unclaimed, untouched by any mana..."

Peering through the prison bars, the young man's eyes gleamed. Black particles swirled inward around his pupils in reverse spirals, allowing him to see everything around him in the darkness.

Basic Spell: Night Vision!

Light was utilized to the utmost, allowing him to see the insects in the cracks of the opposite wall, the mottled iron gate, the heavy shackles, and the rusted torture tools.

Hiss...

Hoo...

Taking a deep breath, he grinned.

"This is... a brand-new world!!"

A world full of the unknown, devoid of any high-ranking mages or Star Spirits—barbaric, remote, awaiting his discovery... or even his plunder!

"Though this start is a little less than ideal..."

Lowering his head, the young man looked at his still-bleeding severed arm, his brows tightly furrowed.

As the genius Necromancer hailed as the "Closest to the Ten Saints under the Stars," [Black Count] Lowett Francis could naturally tell that this body was about to die.

No, more accurately, it had already died once.

The hollow feeling of having had his soul leave his body was being fed back to his soul through the body's lingering instincts. He could not possibly mistake that sensation.

"My physical body was likely destroyed in the time-space turbulence, but my soul was preserved. I did not turn into a void beast, which means this body is highly compatible with me..."

He thought through the headache.

Only a body with extremely high Soul Compatibility could "pull" him out of the time-space turbulence when he stood at death's door.

"I need to think of something. I can't let this body die!"

In the past, an injury of this degree would not have concerned Lowett. As a Necromancer, a body? It was merely a rather valuable experimental material with high compatibility with his soul.

Just the soul strength of the Number One Under the Ten Saints could survive for centuries after leaving the body without any burden.

But that confidence had come from the advanced magical knowledge and spellcasting ability he possessed at the time. He had hundreds of ways to preserve his soul. Yet now, having just escaped from time-space turbulence...

Closing his eyes to ease the dry, swollen ache in them, Lowett gave a bitter smile.

"Even a worthless apprentice spell is this burdensome? My mana is too weak."

"Mana" was not a simple noun, but a term summarizing the process of casting spells.

It was not a quantifiable concept like Chakra. It did not exist in a mage's body or soul, but merely defined the process through which the effects derived from a mage's Mental Power evolved.

In other words, the strength of one's mana did not represent the strength of a mage.

The "process" by which a mage used Mental Power to control runes, communicate with natural elements, make sacrifices, and employ other methods to cast magic—the "work" done by the portion of Mental Power consumed for spellcasting—was what was known as "mana."

The greater the work done, the stronger the mana.

Magic was actually that sort of thing: something with principles to follow. Once its mysterious veil was lifted, it did not care in the slightest whether others could handle it.

Thus, the foundation of spellcasting was built upon the mage's own mental attributes, while soul strength determined the usual amount and upper limit of Mental Power.

Put simply, Lowett's soul had nearly been torn apart and dissolved by the time-space turbulence. The spells he could cast might not even compare to those of a Spell Apprentice working odd jobs at a roadside enchantment stall.

One had to know that Spell Apprentices and Mage Apprentices were two different concepts.

"Flesh Growth is necromancy that requires the mental capacity of an Official Mage. Its mana intensity reaches three stars. I don't have enough time to wait for my soul to recover..."

Rip!

Using both hands and teeth, Lowett tore open the ragged clothing on his body and tightly bound it above his severed arm. He forced himself to calm down and coldly surveyed his surroundings.

This was not the first time he had encountered a life-or-death predicament. Since he was not dead, he would fight desperately to stay alive.

A Necromancer who did not die while pursuing the ultimate mystery was the shame of all Necromancers!

"A ship? The ocean?"

Feeling the wooden planks sway beneath his feet, Lowett began to think. "Setting out on a long voyage without fresh water, vegetables, fruit, and medicine is no different from courting death. The presence of glass also proves this world's common level of knowledge is not backward."

"So... the infirmary!"

Having settled on his target, Lowett looked around. "I need to find a way out of this cage first."

He did not know who the original owner of this body had been, but judging by the clean surface where the arm had obviously been cut off with a blade, as well as his current surroundings, either a good person had been captured by bad people, or a bad person had been captured by good people.

In any case, this was not a place one could easily escape from.

As he pondered, a scream suddenly drew his attention.

"No... don't come any closer! I have children and parents at home! Please, don't kill me! Ah!!"

Thud!

The prison's location was not hidden, merely rather dim.

Following the direction of the sound, Lowett saw a middle-aged man in a white short-sleeved shirt and blue trousers fall backward at the end of the corridor. He held an ancient flintlock gun in his hand.

"That outfit... seems a little familiar."

Lowett froze for a moment.

"Hehehehe, you're making me want to pity you... but the captain's orders are for everyone to die. So who do you think I should listen to?"

Stab!

A cruel, insincere laugh rang out alongside the sound of a blade cutting through flesh. Blood foam spilled from the fallen middle-aged man's mouth, and he stopped breathing with hatred filling his eyes.

"What a fast movement!"

Lowett watched everything with an impassive expression. The one who had killed the man was not particularly large, but he was extremely fast, his movements clean and decisive. One strike through the heart.

Could I dodge that in my current condition?

Lowett did not expect much.

"Big brother, there's another one over there..."

At that moment, a chubby figure appeared at the other end of the corridor, dragging the head of a corpse dressed like the dead middle-aged extra. The newcomer wore no shirt, only a cape, and looked exceptionally wild at first glance.

But the black cat ears atop his head, the golden bell around his neck, and his fat, round body made his outfit seem extremely comical.

Ugly, yet oddly cute.

"Oh? A pirate just captured by the Navy?"

Hearing that, the lean cat-eared pirate rolled his eyes and looked over. "We may be in the same line of work, but since you've discovered this side of me, I'm sorry."

Lowett realized they were talking about him.

Though he sat against the wall with his hair covering his face, making it impossible to tell whether he was alive or dead, the fresh blood dripping from his severed arm had exposed him... a dead person would not have such clear, steaming-hot blood.

Clang!!

The cat-eared pirate walked over and swung the claws on his fingers, cutting through the chain on the prison door. Sparks flew everywhere.

Seeing Lowett raise his head, his dry, cracked lips moving as if to beg for mercy, he grinned cruelly.

"Blame your bad luck for appearing on this ship. So now... die!"

Big Tree forgot again. Books marked as "completed" could not even have their descriptions changed, much less post new chapters, so there was no way to use an old book to draw traffic again.

Today was the first day, with three updates at the bottom of the rankings. Before signing, one update a day would keep up the word count for just a few days. After signing, there would be a steady two updates without delay, followed by a burst upon release.

A trustworthy author—don't miss out if you pass by. Take a look; you can't lose out or be fooled. Four steamed buns for one yuan, hey!