Chapter 11: First Champion

The runes engraved across the Summoning Gate’s surface flared brilliantly, casting a stark violet glow over the surrounding wasteland.

​A deep, ancient hum echoed through the air as the vortex within the archway began to churn violently.

Unlike before, the darkness did not merely swirl, it deepened, becoming so dense that even the moonlight seemed incapable of penetrating its depth.

​A sudden, inescapable pull descended upon the chosen sacrifice.

​The A-Grade Skeleton Soldier remained perfectly motionless, standing in solemn silence as if accepting its fate. Violet chains of light erupted from the gate and wrapped tightly around its skeletal frame.

​The skeleton’s bones began to dissolve into countless glowing particles, while its soul fire was extracted from its skull and dragged toward the churning vortex.

​Bone. Essence. Soul.

​Everything that comprised its existence was slowly consumed by the gate until, within seconds, nothing remained.

​The sacrifice had been accepted.

​The vortex erupted. Darkness poured from the archway like a living tide, washing an overwhelming, suffocating aura across the barren territory.

The remaining skeletons standing nearby instinctively bowed their heads, the soul fires within their eye sockets flickering uneasily in the presence of a superior existence.

​Something far beyond their station was crossing over.

​The shadows churned one final time before a slender figure stepped forward from the void.

​The moment her foot touched the dead earth, the surrounding darkness seemed to bend toward her.

She stood nearly as tall as Cassian, her skin an unnaturally pale ivory, flawless and smooth. Long, pointed ears emerged from beneath her hair, revealing her elven heritage.

​Cascading down her back was a river of light purple hair that darkened toward the ends into a rich violet, blending seamlessly with the shadows hanging around her.

​Her eyes slowly opened. Twin violet irises glowed faintly beneath the twin moons, strikingly beautiful, cold, and ancient, like a forgotten noble gazing upon the world from beyond the grave.

​She wore an elegant dress of armor forged from overlapping plates of violet metal that protected her vital areas while maintaining a regal silhouette. Dark runic patterns glimmered across its surface whenever struck by moonlight.

​Clutched in her hand was a massive scythe, its curved blade gleaming with a silver-violet sheen as wisps of dark mist drifted from the edge before dissolving into the air.

​Yet what drew Cassian’s attention most was her shadow.

​It was wrong.

​The shadow beneath her feet stretched far longer than it should have, darker, thicker, and denser than the surrounding night. It twisted subtly on the ground, moving as though it possessed a consciousness of its own.

​The moment she fully cleared the threshold, the vortex behind her settled, and absolute silence descended upon the domain once more.

​The undead elf lowered herself onto one knee, resting the haft of her massive scythe against the earth before bowing her head.

​"This one greets her Lord."

​Her voice was soft and melodic, yet beneath its sweetness lurked an unmistakable, bone-chilling cold, a quiet reminder that the beautiful figure kneeling before him was not truly alive, but an entity suspended between life and death.

​A champion born from the depths of the Nether World.

​Cassian stared at her as a sudden, powerful link established itself between their souls.

​He felt his own physical baseline surge. Summoning the ordinary undead soldiers and the four elites had granted him a noticeable increase in strength, but receiving this Champion was entirely different.

If the power granted by his soldiers was a mere cup of water, the strength flooding into him from the woman kneeling before him was a massive reservoir.

​Meeting the gaze of his new Champion, Cassian opened her status panel.

[Champion Panel]

[Name: Nyxara Nightshade]

[Classification: First-Order Champion]

[Race: Undead Elf]

[Grade: Common]

[Potential: A Grade]

​[Background]

Nyxara was born a slave within an Elven Kingdom. Fate took an unexpected turn when a childless noble family adopted her, raising her as their own daughter and heir. For a time, she enjoyed a life she had never thought possible.

​Unfortunately, that happiness proved temporary. Several years later, the family welcomed a child of their own. Though they did not abandon her, Nyxara’s position changed, no longer the heir, she was trained as the family’s shadow protector instead.

​She accepted the role without complaint. After all, the family had rescued her from a life in chains. She would repay that kindness with unwavering loyalty.

​Years passed, and Nyxara grew into a formidable warrior, faithfully serving the noble house.

​Then war came. The Elven Kingdom was defeated by a rival Orc nation—its armies shattered, its cities burned, and its nobility systematically hunted down. The family she had sworn to protect was executed alongside countless others.

​Nyxara fought until the very end, dying by their side. Her soul eventually drifted into the Nether World, where it remained in darkness until answering the call of an Undead Lord.

​[Authority]

​[Living Darkness]Nyxara possesses authority over shadows, allowing her to manipulate surrounding darkness into lethal weapons, binding restraints, defensive barriers, or extensions of her physical strikes. Areas engulfed in darkness naturally amplify her power—the deeper the shadows, the greater her control.

​[Traits]

​Absolute Loyalty

​Experienced Bodyguard

​Skilled Scythe User

​Shadow Affinity

​Calm Temperament

​[Status]

​Condition: Healthy

​Loyalty: 100%

​"Though death claimed my kingdom, my blade shall continue to serve." — Nyxara Nightshade

​Cassian read through the information as he stared down at his first Champion.

​Unlike ordinary soldiers, Champions possessed distinct identities, full memories of their former lives, and an Authority, the single greatest factor that separated them from standard troops.

​Satisfied, Cassian gave a firm nod. "Nyxara."

​The Champion looked up at the sound of her name. Her violet eyes met Cassian’s as she remained kneeling on the dark earth, one hand resting upon the shaft of her scythe.

​"Welcome to my territory, Nyxara."

​A flicker of surprise flashed across her pale face before she swiftly concealed it. "Thank you, my Lord."

​Cassian glanced over the barren, ash-covered wasteland surrounding them before returning his gaze to her.

​"I won’t make lofty promises. My territory is newly established, my army is small, and I am only at the beginning of my journey as a Lord." He paused, his tone shifting into absolute certainty. "But if you serve me well, I promise you this—no loyal subordinate of mine will ever be discarded."

​Nyxara’s eyes widened slightly.

​"Fight for me. Grow stronger with me. And one day, should you wish it, I will help you reclaim the honor that was stolen from you."

​Silence descended over the territory.

​The Champion lowered her head once more. This time, however, the gesture carried a far deeper weight than simple systemic obedience.

​"This servant understands," she said softly, her pale fingers tightening around the haft of her scythe. "As long as my Lord does not abandon me, my blade shall remain at your side."

​A faint smile touched Cassian’s lips. "Good."

​Looking at the kneeling Champion and the silent Elite soldiers standing behind her, a spark of true confidence ignited within him.

​This was only the beginning.