Necromancer: A New Era

In the vast land of Apocalypse, there once lived an 8th-level peak mage with outstanding strength. He mastered the essence of wind magic and had one foot in the threshold of the Holy Land. This mage loved unknown adventures, and his life was full of exploration and desire for mysterious things.

Once, he set out from the eastern coast and flew westward. The wind blew through his robe, and he was like a roc soaring in the sky, free and unfettered. Five years passed quickly, and he finally reached the westernmost sea. During this long journey, he flew over countless mountains and rivers, and witnessed countless wonders on the Apocalypse Continent.

In his travel log, there is a record of a special mountain. This mountain range is like a backbone, spanning the entire Apocalypse Continent, extending from the prosperous Kasmore Empire to the distant Western Demon Abyss. In the center of the mountain range, there is a peak that reaches straight into the sky, as if it is about to touch the sky. It is said that it is a mountain that no one can conquer, and its peak has never been set foot on by anyone.

According to legend, that peak is the mysterious place where the 10th-level God Realm warriors broke through the void and entered a higher realm. Therefore, this mountain range is also awe-inspiringly called the "God Forbidden Mountains". Whenever night falls and the stars twinkle, the God Forbidden Mountains seem to be connected to the heavens, making people yearn for and feel awe.

The wizard often gazed at the peak during the flight, his heart filled with curiosity and desire for the unknown world. He knew that the deepest secrets of the Apocalypse Continent were hidden there, and maybe one day, he would be the first person to climb that mysterious peak.

At the far eastern end of the Forbidden Mountains, where it meets the Caspian Sea, there is a vast grassland. This land is forgotten by the cold north wind. The wind dances here wantonly, but few trees can stand in this wild melody. In this way, this grassland has its unique scenery.

This is the border where the beastmen and the Kasmoor Empire are fighting. A towering wall, like an insurmountable natural barrier, stretches across the grassland, protecting the Kasmoor Empire from the invasion of the beastmen. However, every time the severe winter in the north comes, the land is frozen, food becomes scarce, and countless beastmen struggle on the brink of life and death due to hunger. In order to survive, they wage war against humans, hunting and plundering, just for that glimmer of hope.

In this harsh environment, only the strong orcs can survive the long winter. There was once a legendary lion warrior who entered the hall of the Holy Land by himself and unified the orcs in the northern wilderness with his shocking force. He formed a huge alliance army and led millions of orcs to attack the Kasmoor Empire. Just when they were about to break through the imperial capital and establish the supreme glory of the orcs, a mysterious human wizard appeared. He defeated the arrogant lion warrior by himself and shattered the orcs' dream of establishing glory.

Since then, twenty years have passed quickly, and no beastman dared to organize a large-scale attack to invade human territory. They could only occasionally organize small groups of looting troops to carry out harassing attacks.

The once powerful orc king was unwilling to accept such a failure. So he left the important task of managing the orcs behind and set out on a journey to the west alone. Because there was an ancient legend circulating there: the mysterious abyss contained endless power. He firmly believed that only by finding that power could he revive the orcs and realize the glorious dream in his heart.

In November of the year 1291 of the Apocalypse, winter arrived as expected, and the north wind howled like a wolf and a tiger. The Forbidden Mountains seemed like a natural barrier, locking the severe cold firmly on this land. Under the thick snow, the grass and trees had difficulty poking their heads out, and life was ruthlessly strangled.

At the edge of the werewolf tribe, a young werewolf child was searching for something in the snow. His tender little hands dug through the hard frozen soil, and a trace of joy flashed in his eyes. He carefully dug out a grass root. However, just as he was about to put this insignificant harvest into his mouth, a black shadow passed by quickly. Before the child could even react, he felt a sharp pain in his neck and then lost consciousness. His body was lightly lifted by the black shadow and disappeared into the vast snowfield.

Soon after, the child's parents came out anxiously to look for him, but they could only face the empty snow, silently calling out for the lost life. Such tragedies seem to have become commonplace in the tribe in this winter. The lack of food forced many orc tribes with strong fertility to make a cruel choice - to eat their children. The fate of those little orcs who had just come into this world was determined at the moment of birth. The strong ones would be left behind, while the weak ones would be traded away by their parents in exchange for a chance of survival.

In a large tent of the werewolf tribe, an old priest was telling a group of young werewolves about the glorious history of the tribe. His voice seemed to have a magical power, bringing those young werewolves back to the era when the wolf riders were invincible. Their eyes were shining with desire and longing, as if they had seen the scenes of those warriors charging into battle and being invincible.

However, the cruel reality mercilessly brought them back to the present. The once huge number of winter wolves are now few and far between. Most of them have become food for the werewolves to survive. In this winter, survival has become more important than anything else.

In the royal court of the orc tribe, the atmosphere in the priest's tent was solemn. An orc high priest sat high on a throne made of tusks and skulls. His hunched body and the priest's staff in his hands revealed a kind of majesty and mystery. More than a dozen tribal leaders gathered in the tent, and their faces were full of sorrow.

"Please report the current situation of each tribe." The high priest's voice echoed in the tent.

The strong man of the Bear People tribe stood up first. His voice was heavy and helpless. "There are now 200,000 people in our tribe, 50,000 fewer than last year, and less than one-tenth of the peak period. Food is scarce in our tribe, and most of the strong men have gone to the Far North Sea to look for food. We are just barely making ends meet."

The leader of the dog-headed men stepped forward, his face full of pain and pleading: "High Priest, please save our tribe! This year our tribe has no food to eat, and the current population is only 30,000. We have sent strong men from our tribe to look for food several times, but they never came back. We were forced to send the two remaining eighth-level strong men and more than a dozen tribesmen to the Forbidden Mountains to try their luck, but there has been no news so far. High Priest, I beg you, for the sake of our tribe's dedication, please give us some food!"

The high priest's eyes showed no emotion. He glanced at the leaders present, but found that no one could offer a solution. Most of the weaker races had fallen into the same desperate situation as the Gnolls. They were struggling hard and trying to maintain a glimmer of hope. Except for the powerful royal families, almost all races were already living in dire straits.