The Lord of Bones

Necrosia, the Kingdom of Eternal Bones, was a domain of death and oppressive silence, where gray plains stretched like infinite graveyards, covered in bones that creaked underfoot as if holding restless souls. Interwoven bone towers rose like macabre sentinels, shrouded in black mist that whispered malign secrets. The air was cold and damp, laden with the stench of decay and corrupted magic, while bubbling ectoplasm swamps exuded vapors that distorted vision. The sky was a perpetual veil of darkness, without sun, only lit by purple lightning revealing open tombs and statues of long-dead kings. Necrosia’s inhabitants—human necromancers, elven specters, and half-orc warriors—lived in a culture of reverence for death, with rituals to summon the dead and spectral duels to resolve disputes, but the First Great War had awakened chaos, with rogue undead and soul-devouring specters threatening crypts and villages.Draven, the Hero of Necrosia, walked a path of polished bones, his black armor etched with red runes glowing in the gloom. His dark hair fell over gray eyes cold as death, and his dual scythe, the Shadow Reaper, pulsed with necromantic energy, making the surrounding bones tremble. In ATHOMIS, Draven was a summoner DPS, evoking legions of dead to dominate battles. Here, his strength was legendary, and he resolved the kingdom’s issues with a grim efficiency, but his mind was fixed on the guardian: a bone dragon controlling darkness, whose power he desired to become invincible. “In the game, I controlled the dead,” he muttered. “Here, I’ll master even the guardians.”In the central village, Draven faced a crisis: rogue undead, awakened by corruption in the crypts, attacked the inhabitants. With Necrotic Call, he summoned a loyal legion of skeletons that crushed the rebels in minutes, their scythes slicing enemies like reaping wheat. A human necromancer, Valthor, with empty eyes and a bone cloak, exclaimed, “Draven, you command death like a god!” Sylra, an elven specter with smoke-like hair, laughed darkly, “He makes the rebels seem like dust.” Korven, a half-orc warrior in bone armor, grunted, “You’re our salvation, but the crypts are worsening.” Draven nodded. “I’m going to the root of the problem.”As he crossed the plains, Draven resolved other conflicts with ease. A group of soul-devouring specters blocked his path, but he used Devouring Shadow, a cloud of darkness that absorbed and dissipated the specters, leaving only ash. His precision and dark power were overwhelming, every move calculated to maximize domination. “Pathetic,” he said, wiping his scythe. My power is immense, but the bone dragon will make me invincible— to face the Corruptor... and Athos.His desire for a pact with the guardian, Ossarath, the bone dragon controlling darkness, consumed him. Draven believed that by subjugating Ossarath, he could absorb its essence, becoming the absolute lord of death. He crossed an ectoplasm swamp, facing more undead. With Annihilation Scythe, he cleaved an entire horde, the blade leaving trails of darkness that consumed the enemies. My DPS is unmatched, but Ossarath will be the supreme test.Reaching the Shadow Mausoleum, a colossal crypt where bones formed an infinite labyrinth, Draven felt Ossarath’s presence. The ground trembled, and the dragon’s roar echoed, promising an epic battle.