Marvel's Necromancer

For several weeks, Ivan stayed day and night, visiting major cemeteries in Brooklyn and Queens. Unfortunately, except for the two skills that were lit up for the first time, Ivan did not gain any more skills.

The only change is that his manipulation of the breath of death has become more refined.

In the early morning, there was no one around on the streets. Occasionally, the sound of drunken people vomiting in pain could be heard from the deep alleys.

Ivan wore a black robe without any decoration and walked quietly in the shadows that could not be illuminated by the street lights, gliding silently like a poisonous snake.

He stretched out a finger in front of himself, and a wisp of black mist spread out from his fingertips, condensing into ferocious and twisted skulls that roared silently.

This is the echo of the aura of death mixed with the reluctance and despair left behind by the living after death, and the occasional fragments of will left in it have long been obliterated by Ivan.

He flicked his fingers, dispersed the phantom of the skull, and took back the aura of death. He was quite satisfied with his recent progress. He became more and more comfortable in controlling the original magic power and the aura of death. The only regret was that he had not yet summoned one. Come with a skeleton.

After the two brothers who dug the grave checked out the next day, they went to the cemetery again to check the situation. The traces of digging left on the grass were very obvious and would not be eliminated even in the next month or two. Exhuming a corpse to summon the undead is too risky for him now.

A few days ago, he had wandered around the black market more than once, and found many suspected Jin Bin's men following him to prevent him from buying weapons or selling gold.

"I wonder what the situation is like over there?" Ivan thought of how yesterday he sent out news about scientific research and acquisition of corpses through several contacts he met when he was in the orphanage, hoping to gain something.

But this path is not without risks. In the memory of his predecessor, the orphanage was a mixed bag, and it was impossible to save all the people he was looking for. Now he is working for Kingpin. As soon as I get the body, I will change the place where I live. If you can’t afford to offend me, I will still Can't afford to hide?

"After all, Kingpin is the underground emperor of darkness in New York," Ivan smiled bitterly, "I hope I won't be so unlucky."

Ivan turned a corner. It was extremely quiet inside the motel, and the surroundings were dark. Ivan was now familiar with the road. He quickly found his room without the help of lights. He took out the key and just inserted it into the door lock. The wooden door It made a "crunching" sound and opened by itself.

"Oops! Someone has been here! Is there an ambush?" Whose person is it? police? Kingpin's men? A superhero looking for trouble? There are many superheroes who directly punish criminals without looking at the evidence. The thoughts in Ivan's mind turned over and over again, and then settled down instantly.

"With my current ability, I still have no problem dealing with ordinary people." If it doesn't work, I can still run with 25 points of initial agility. Ivan stood at the door, stretched out his hand and pressed it, and the lights in the room flickered on.

The bright lights allowed Ivan to see the situation clearly. He nervously observed the current situation of the "02021" room. It looked like it had been ravaged by a storm. Things were scattered all over the floor. The quilt and pillows were cut open with a knife. , the cotton inside was balled up and scattered beside the bed.

Ivan saw at a glance that the strange skeleton from the Horadrim cube that he had carelessly left in the hotel was thrown to the foot of the table, with a broken wine glass lying next to it.

"Fortunately, nothing happened to the skeleton." Ivan breathed a sigh of relief. If something went wrong with the skeleton, he really didn't know what to use to replace it.

After confirming that there was nothing wrong with the skeleton, Ivan began to look at the three people standing in the room. These three people were dressed in cheap street clothes, with fat clothes and various decorations. They were dressed like street hippies. The only thing that was different from hippies was not that they were holding pistols, but that they all wore black headgear.

"You're finally back. We've been waiting for you all night. Hand over your things quickly!" The tall man in the lead walked out over his younger brother, raising his hand and pointing the gun at Ivan.

Ivan raised his hand as if unintentionally, and secretly moved his fingers, activating the original magic power in the two people behind the tall man. The two people immediately stiffened, feeling as if they had fallen into an ice cellar, trembling all over, and unable to move.

This method of inducing the original magic power in others is the most basic and superficial application of the Curse School. Ivan has already become proficient in learning during this period. Unfortunately, Ivan has not illuminated any curse skills so far.

"I'm sorry, why did you break into my room in the middle of the night?" Ivan glanced at the scabbard exposed on the tall man's waist. He did not touch the leader. He wanted to know how exposed he was.

"Don't think we won't recognize you because you dyed your hair. Hurry up and hand over the gold you stole."

Dye your hair? What hair dye? Ivan had doubts in his heart.

"What are you two idiots waiting for? Go and tie him up." The tall man gave orders arrogantly, but did not hear any movement behind him. He turned around angrily, only to see the expressions on his two men. Blue and white, the two of them were trembling like chaff.

"It happened..." Before he could say anything, Ivan rushed toward him like a ghost. Ivan dwarfed, grabbed his gun-holding wrist with one hand, raised it, and pulled it out with the other hand. The dagger on his waist swiped across his throat cleanly, and then stabbed into his chest with a backhand.

The tall man stared with his eyes wide open, holding his throat and making a bubble sound, and slid softly to the ground.

Didn't stop at once. Ivan glanced at the corpse on the ground with some regret. He now had a clear understanding of his own skills. It was not difficult to dodge bullets, but he was very easy to deal with ordinary people, even ordinary people who had been trained.

But what did he mean by dyeing his hair before? With doubts in mind, Ivan pulled out the dagger from the corpse on the ground and killed the remaining two people with fear in their eyes.

Ivan wrapped the dagger in a sheet and wiped it, then walked into the bathroom and threw it into the toilet. He stood in front of the sink and looked at himself carefully in the mirror.

After practicing the breath of death for several weeks, he experienced amazing changes.

Ivan in the mirror, his current body is originally a Caucasian of Germanic descent, but his skin that was still bloody before is now paler, his originally brilliant half-length blond hair is now gray, and his blue eyes are covered with a halo. Iron gray layer. Ivan could only be said to be good-looking in the eyes of Europeans and Americans, but after slight changes, his appearance has been greatly improved, revealing a dangerous sense of beauty.

"Is this a sequelae of practicing the aura of death?" Ivan frowned, and he in the mirror also frowned, his eyes filled with gray-black mist.

"It's not a bad thing." Ivan immediately soothed his eyebrows. But in his previous life, he had never heard that the dark necromancer's hair color, skin, etc. were acquired?

Don't think about it anymore, there are still a few materials waiting for him to deal with outside.

He couldn't help but get excited when he thought that he would soon get a glimpse of the true appearance of one of the Necromancer's signature skills in the darkness.

Ivan drew the curtains, closed the doors and windows, and stood in front of the corpse. The blood of the deceased was used to outline deformed and twisted symbols on the ground. As he recited strangely low, murmur-like spells, the chandelier on the ceiling flickered. The symbols outlined in blood on the floor twisted like insects.

The dead on the ground seemed to be resurrected, their limbs trembling slightly, their flesh and blood separated like butter, the white bones stood up, and the smelly organs slipped from them.

Finally, the ceremony was over. Three skeleton warriors stood amidst the flesh and blood, their mandibles making a "click, click, click" sound as they looked at their master with lifeless eyes.