Necromancer, but in the Pre-Collapse Civilization
Author: Beneath the Quiet Night
Synopsis:
Good news: he had transmigrated.
Bad news: it was the Pre-Collapse Civilization, fated for destruction.
Fortunately, Moros still had a Golden Finger.
Since he had already transmigrated, he might as well show what he was capable of.
"First, let's set a small goal: survive the End and the destruction of the world!"
Standing before the gates of Graveyard City and looking at the utterly dilapidated territory, Moros felt that it could still be saved.
A somewhat dark story.
The author has already completed one novel, so there is no need to worry about it being abandoned.
The Birth of a Transmigrator
On the Mu Continent, in the only hospital of an unremarkable town.
"Mr. Frakt, according to our hospital's examination, your child is a boy. Congratulations."
The doctor in a white coat smiled as he informed the man known as Mr. Frakt of the examination results.
At those words, an irrepressible delight appeared on Mr. Frakt's face.
He felt his heartbeat quicken as an indescribable excitement surged through his chest.
"Emma, did you hear that? Our child is a boy!"
He turned and called excitedly to his wife lying in the hospital bed, his voice filled with joy.
"Yes, Frakt, I heard."
With a blissful smile on her face, the young mother gently stroked her still barely noticeable belly, her eyes full of love and anticipation.
"Our child will definitely be healthy and happy."
She spoke softly, as though making a promise to the baby in her womb.
"Yes, Emma. Our child will be the happiest."
Mr. Frakt walked to the bedside and gently took his wife's hand.
"I'll do everything I can to give him a warm home and a happy childhood."
His words were filled with resolve and determination, the promise of a man about to become a father to his future self.
The doctor stood nearby, smiling as he watched the happy couple.
Where am I...?
His muddled consciousness gradually cleared, and the transmigrator became aware of his own existence.
Curled up completely, the transmigrator felt his entire body immersed in water, connected to the space around him by a fleshy cord.
I... haven't been born yet...?
He stretched his limbs and, unsurprisingly, touched flesh. The transmigrator gained his first understanding of his situation.
A fetus's brain could not support prolonged thought. After that brief awareness, the transmigrator once again sank into a muddled sleep.
He did not know how much time had passed, but when the transmigrator's consciousness awakened again, he could clearly feel that his body had grown quite a bit.
How long has it been?
Struggling to open his eyes, he saw that his surroundings were still a warm liquid environment and began attempting larger movements.
He could feel that his body was stronger than before. Every swing of his limbs stirred a slight current.
"Ah, the baby kicked me!"
A gentle female voice rang out. In his fetal state, the transmigrator could feel the space he was in deform slightly.
"Did you feel that, Frakt?"
Emma excitedly spoke to Mr. Frakt, who had pressed his ear against her belly. Her face glowed with the joy of becoming a mother for the first time.
"Yes, I can feel it. Our baby is a lively little fellow."
Mr. Frakt raised his head with a blissful smile, gently stroking his wife's belly, his gaze full of doting affection.
Listening to the words of this body's parents, a faint ripple stirred in the transmigrator's heart.
Though he was not native to this world, the deep expectations and love from his parents still made him feel warm.
He began trying to interact with the man and woman who were about to become his parents in his own way.
He gently kicked his legs. The movement was insignificant, but it was enough to surprise his mother again.
"Look, he's moving again!"
Emma said with a smile, her eyes shining with maternal love.
Mr. Frakt smiled as well. He lowered his head again and pressed his ear to his wife's belly, trying to feel his son's movements more clearly.
Father... Mother...?
An irresistible drowsiness swept over him again. Holding dreams of the future in his heart, the transmigrator's consciousness sank back into silence.
"Dear, shall we give the baby a name?"
Faintly, the transmigrator heard a gentle voice.
It was his mother, Emma.
"Hmm, let me think."
Another familiar voice rang out. It was his father, Mr. Frakt.
"Let's call him Moros."
Mr. Frakt's voice was full of pride and conviction.
"Moros, the gift fate has given me!"
Unlike the current era, people in this era had only given names, with no family names.
Amid his parents' affectionate conversation, the transmigrator's consciousness gradually cleared.
So, my name is Moros?
At the very moment the transmigrator gained a name, a shining orb appeared in his mind.
This is... a Golden Finger! I knew it! How could a transmigrator possibly not have a Golden Finger?!
Moros thought excitedly. He could feel that the orb was like the source of his soul, fused with him and impossible to distinguish from him.
Perhaps the appearance of the orb had consumed too much of his energy. Though Moros was still extremely excited, wave after wave of irresistible fatigue washed over him. Soon after, Moros fell asleep.
Time passed silently between his repeated moments of awareness and confusion.
When he could stretch his limbs and easily touch the walls of flesh, Moros realized that the moment he would leave his mother's body was close.
It was then that Moros suddenly felt a powerful push coming from behind, as though some force was driving him forward.
His heart jolted, and he instinctively began struggling, but the force only grew stronger, making it impossible to resist.
Immediately afterward, an immense pressure spread through his entire body. He felt as though he were being squeezed through a narrow passage.
This is...? I'm about to be born?!
Though he had already realized the truth, Moros still felt nervous at that moment.
However, a fetus's nervousness—even that of a fully developed fetus—could not resist the power of the mother's body.
Under that tremendous force, Moros's body was pushed out of the womb.
In an instant, blinding light shone into his eyes, and Moros reflexively shut them.
When he opened his eyes again, he found that he had left that warm, comfortable space and entered an entirely new world.
His lungs began breathing on their own. Fresh air filled them, making his consciousness increasingly clear.
Then, he let out the first cry of his life.
"Waa—"
At that moment, he was lifted up by a pair of hands and brought before a weak woman.
"Moros! My baby!"
Forcing herself to sit up despite her weakness, Emma ignored the vernix on the newborn's body and gently kissed Moros's forehead.
Is this my mother?
Moros tried hard to widen his eyes, imprinting the image of the smiling, gentle-faced woman before him into his mind.
Instinctively, he stretched out his tiny hand, trying to touch the beautiful woman.
A blissful smile appeared on Emma's face. She gently held Moros's little hand and tenderly stroked it.
At that moment, time seemed to stand still.
Outside the delivery room, Mr. Frakt, having heard the good news, was so moved that he shed tears of happiness.
"Welcome to this world, Moros."
Graveyard Lord
Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, it was the third day since Moros's birth.
A newborn's body was frail and its energy limited. Even as a transmigrator with a Golden Finger, he could not remain awake for long.
Thus, during those three days, Moros had been completely unable to study the Golden Finger he possessed.
Whenever he focused his consciousness on the shining orb, Moros felt utterly exhausted, after which he could only obediently follow his instincts and fall asleep.
As a result, he spent most of that time eating, sleeping, and pooping.
Obviously, the last of those was terribly embarrassing for Moros, who had once been an adult.
But there was nothing he could do. A mere baby could not possibly resist the nurses in the maternity ward.
Fortunately, he was a normally born newborn and only needed to stay in the maternity ward for three days.
Thus, when Moros awakened from sleep once more, he had already left the familiar setting of the hospital delivery room and arrived in a warmly furnished room.
Moros blinked and laboriously turned his head, examining this brand-new environment.
Hmm, the family I was born into seems pretty decent. I may not be some young master, but we can at least be considered comfortably well-off.
Just as Moros was observing everything in the room, that familiar gentle female voice rang out.
"Moros, what are you looking at?"
Hearing the voice, Moros laboriously turned his head toward its source.
Then, a beautiful woman appeared in his field of vision. She wore a light blue loungewear set and had a gentle smile on her face.
"Waa! Mother!"
This proved that Mobius was special.
Even though Moros was a transmigrator, he could not speak on the third day after his birth, much less recite his own name as soon as he was born.
"Baby, you're hungry, aren't you?"
As a mother, Emma seemed to have an instinctive talent for caring for infants.
In her view, there were only two reasons for a baby to cry: it was hungry, or it had pooped.
And since there was no strange smell in the air, there could only be one answer: he was hungry.
Sure enough, after nursing for a while, Moros fell asleep in her arms.
One month later.
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