It hadn't been in vain that he had played both father and mother, personally creating wild Undead creatures to subdue.
Twenty-seven subordinates who feared no death, ignored vital points, and obeyed absolutely were enough to give him the means to protect himself in the East Blue.
Undead creatures were natural-born warriors. They had no vital points, and their dead bodies were free from any cerebral shackles that limited their potential.
Even a weak rabbit could unleash strength comparable to an adult man. Not to mention that these fellows had once been well-trained Marines.
What was more, an ordinary pirate crew could not even scrape together twenty-seven combatants across the entire ship!
The food alone that an old sailor needed every day was no small expense. With the vast sea ahead and supplies uncertain, having too many made them unaffordable.
But every single Undead creature could be thrown into battle.
They worked tirelessly around the clock—and did not even need to eat!
"They're just a little slow to react. Against someone with solid nerves, they'll ultimately be at a disadvantage."
Setting aside his delight, Lowett began carefully observing his first batch of subordinates in this world.
Reaction speed was an unavoidable issue for Zombie Puppets.
They were Undead based on rotting flesh. They still controlled their bodies through muscles rather than their souls. Though powerful, their reaction speeds were appallingly slow!
Skeleton soldiers, also low-level Undead, controlled their bodies through the soul fire burning inside their skulls after their blood had dissolved and their bones been forged. Their signal delay could be reduced to nearly zero.
They were not much slower than ordinary people, but compared with other high-level Undead, the difference was like heaven and earth...
In Mage World warfare, Zombie Puppets held roughly the same status as rifle bullets in modern warfare—perhaps even less important. They were lower-grade cannon fodder.
But they were simply too easy to acquire. Even Lowett, who had been weaker than a Spell Apprentice ten days ago, could easily create twenty-seven of them. Leaving them unused would be a waste.
Thus, Zombie Puppets had a means of further evolution. Through Flesh Magic, their bodies could be reconstructed and evolved into... the familiar Ghouls, making up for their lack of reaction speed.
Why did Ghouls eat?
Because their bodies had not actually died and required nutrients.
Simple logic, wasn't it?
It had to be said that only by being "alive" could one possess limitless possibilities. Among Necromancers, that was an indisputable conclusion.
"Some spots need stitching up. They're not only letting in wind; they're also inconvenient for movement."
Lowett frowned at an Undead whose abdomen had been sliced open and made up his mind.
"Let's go. Deeper into the forest."
"The sleeping medicine should have taken effect by now..."
He had indeed visited the pharmacy during the day. The old gravekeeper sleeping soundly was proof enough.
"Roar!"
Preserving the self-awareness they had possessed in life was a technical task for reanimated Undead. Zombie Puppets, which retained only simple logic, naturally could not speak.
But they understood how to show obedience. Their hierarchical bond at the soul level made them let out a synchronized howl as they followed closely behind Lowett.
Compared to the entire forest, their group of twenty-eight was incomparably tiny. They quickly vanished without a trace, but Lowett firmly believed this was only the beginning.
Whether for his own dream or for that seemingly forever-unsolvable mystery, he would not stop moving forward.
One day, neither forest nor ocean, sun nor moon, would be able to conceal his figure!
For the next three days, Lowett remained busy with matters concerning his Undead forces.
The soil around the newly dug graves was still fresh. After a simple covering, no one could discover that the coffins inside had long since been emptied.
Simple wounds were easy enough to handle, but missing arms and legs became extremely troublesome.
Thus, in the eyes of those who knew him, Ensign Francis Lowett—the newly appointed ensign who had supposedly "defected" from the pirates—always seemed absentminded. Even on his way to the mess hall, he was deep in thought.
Still, everyone was able to ignore it. Some hot-blooded young soldiers even took the initiative to greet him.
But...
If they knew what Lowett was considering, they would definitely, absolutely, without question beat him to death!
Grave robbing was hardly honorable even among Necromancers, but he had no choice. He had no materials on hand; even the cleverest housewife could not cook without rice.
A Marine branch did not encounter life-and-death battles every moment of every day, either.
Under normal circumstances, when Necromancers needed materials, aside from hunting for them personally, they usually chose to purchase them from human kingdoms.
After all, this was Mage World. Everything existed to serve the mage community, and Necromancers were also "noble mages." If they had demands, someone would naturally be willing to fulfill them.
At present, neither Lowett's wealth, strength, nor connections supported obtaining experimental materials through normal means. He could only take the crooked path.
"Besides, Undead magic is accepted rather poorly in any world..."
Lowett ate absentmindedly as he thought.
"Before I have enough ability to protect myself, I can't provoke public outrage."
"So..."
Monka, who was also eating in the mess hall, suddenly shuddered. He raised his head and looked strangely at Lowett.
Smiling, Lowett nodded in greeting and selected his target.
"Colonel Skinner, former commander of Branch 153!"
Speaking of which, this man had a grudge against him. More precisely, he had a grudge against Lowett's predecessor, Lowett the Triangle Spellbreaker.
The severed arm Lowett had woken up with had been cut off by Colonel Skinner.
It was also the chain reaction caused by that severed arm that had forced him to temporarily take refuge in Branch 153.
Now, Lowett needed him to lend him "a hand"...
Every cause had its effect.
"Besides, after so much time has passed, that fellow... should know I'm not dead by now."
If you can't find it by searching the book title, try searching the author instead. It might simply have been renamed!
A cold gleam flashed in his eyes, concealed by the strands of hair hanging down.
Lowett picked up his tray, walked to the dish return area, and handed it to the kitchen worker responsible for washing the tableware.
The man froze after taking the tray. In its center lay a skull assembled from chicken bones, quiet and still, looking so... lifelike.
It even seemed strangely familiar!
If this world's technology were not so lopsided, they might have been able to regrow flesh from that skull and restore its original appearance... then discover that it bore a ninety percent resemblance to Kuro of Hundred Schemes!
East Blue, Syrup Village, a corner of the coast.
The villagers of Syrup Village, who rose at sunrise and rested at sunset, had long since fallen asleep. They had no idea that a band of terrifying, cruel pirates had gathered on a beach less than a kilometer away in a straight line.
The Black Cat Pirates had already announced a change of captain, further cementing Monka's achievement.
Yet the silent man sitting beside the bonfire was undoubtedly Kuro of Hundred Schemes!
Zango, who had long since become captain, trembled with fear as he said nervously, "C-Captain, you know me. I would absolutely, absolutely never betray you."
That damned Lowett had actually swaggered into becoming a Navy Ensign?!
Zango gritted his teeth in hatred at the thought.
As the most crucial link in their plan, the Black Cat Pirates had immediately sent people to Shells Town to gather information after the heat died down.
The good news was that the Marines had discovered nothing unusual, and Monka had successfully become a colonel through the credit of "capturing" their captain.
But the bad news...
Lowett was not dead!!!
At that moment, Zango was terrified. He feared that the Marines would uncover the truth, and he feared even more that Kuro would develop some unpleasant opinion of him.
If Lowett had merely survived, that might have been understandable. But what had they heard?
Lowett had originally been an ensign at Branch 153?!!
He had been Colonel Monka's classmate?!
Who were they trying to fool?!
(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻
Smart people were often suspicious. No saying suited Kuro better.
At that, Kuro did not speak.
With Kuro silent, Zango did not dare move either. The midnight sea breeze was bleak and piercing, making the thin Zango tremble all over.
After an unknown amount of time, perhaps having figured out Zango's loyalty—or perhaps... merely having determined that Zango posed little threat to him—Kuro finally raised his head.
"Your ability to hypnotize others was accidentally gained after you ate poisonous mushrooms, wasn't it?"
Zango had no idea why Kuro was asking about that. His mind had gone blank from terror, and he repeatedly nodded.
"Y-Yes."
"Then there is no proof that this ability is unique..."
The flames reflected off his lenses, making his eyes impossible to see.
Kuro clasped his hands and rested his chin on them. "As an evil Devil Fruit ability user who controls corpses, it makes sense for him to possess the same hypnotic ability."
"Y-Yes!"
Joy instantly flooded through him, and Zango swallowed.
"That man is no simple character..."
Kuro leaned back, resting his elbow on Sam, the "human bridge" behind him. Then he crossed his legs, making Buchi beneath him twitch.
A playful strand of hair fell over the forehead of his glossy, neatly combed pompadour, adding a hint of wicked charm to his appearance.
Kuro quietly watched the night sky and sighed.
"He absolutely discovered the truth, yet he didn't expose it directly. Instead, he used another hypnotic ability to weave himself an... impregnable warm bed."
As a result, both were pirates, yet one hid his head and cowered in concealment while the other openly stood in the light.
"It really is... unfair!"
Icy killing intent drifted through the air. Even the ocean seemed to fear that suppressed rage and stopped slapping against the shore with its irritating noise.
"I'm giving you one month, Zango..."
Staring down at Zango from the corner of his eye, Kuro issued his command coldly in a tone that allowed no argument.
"Kill him within one month!"
"If necessary..."
Kuro raised a hand to stop Zango from speaking, then closed his eyes.
"I'll act personally!"
No matter how Lowett had done it, he was now a Navy Ensign recognized by Branch 153. Kuro had no expectations for this bunch of... trash alone.
But they were still qualified to serve as cannon fodder, weren't they?
Zango stood beside the bonfire. The blazing wood gave him not the slightest warmth.
With a captain like Kuro, being punished on the spot was proof that you could survive.
His face remained full of reverence, but no one knew what Zango was thinking behind his heart-shaped floral sunglasses.
Necromancer-themed stories are a bit unpopular. My editor also reminded me that this genre can easily run into problems, so Big Tree will try to reduce certain Blood Plasma descriptions. I hope everyone can be mentally prepared.
Also, thank you all for your recommendation votes. Many thanks!
Barring any surprises, the contract should be settled in the next couple of days. If the delivery is fast, Friday; if slow, Monday. It is about time for Big Tree to... download the writer's assistant again.
I got a new phone, and it has no apps at all. The web version cannot make posts, which is really annoying.
Before you continue