The puma stopped and looked in the direction where the dragon had flown away. Looking around, she fixed her gaze on a tree at its roots. As she prepared to approach it, she heard the roar again. Growling, the puma ran after the dragon.

After sitting in silence for over five minutes, he saw something black crawl out of the hole. Sticking his head out of his burrow, he looked around and noticed pieces of meat, bones, and spoiled blood being thrown out by necro-energy.

His tattoo on his right arm began to burn, and he felt an intense desire to gather all of this harvest, if you could call it that. He was ready to come out, but then he stopped and sat down again. He fought against the desire that was obviously not his but from the book. Then he began to look at his severed hand, sadness and regret evident in his eyes. He would no longer be able to use both hands. He became disabled. Besides, it was too dangerous to go outside at the moment.

The desire to gather all this energy did not stop whispering to him. But after some time, he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to hit his tattoo with his hand... but why, it was unclear, he had definitely lost his hand. Not that he had lost it, but he surely wouldn't be able to use it anymore if it was gone.

The desire to gather began to scream in his heart. He could no longer contain his anger. Someone wanted to control him.

Growling softly, he said, "You monsters, do you want me dead? Do you think that if I can do something when I'm incapacitated, I can protect myself from all these creatures?"

Having said everything that was on his mind, he calmed down. Just like the desire to gather energy, seeing that it had a shred of consciousness and could understand what he was saying. After a few seconds, he started again.

"Are you kidding me?... Hmm, that's not that damn feeling... You can connect my hand back. But for that, I have to become a full-fledged necromancer. Do I understand everything correctly?"

The tattoo blinked once, confirming that he understood everything correctly. That's why he wanted so badly to gather all this energy... But it's too dangerous. If I'm not mistaken, it's been more than three minutes since those creatures left. And as far as I know, after some time, when the main hunter hunts, scavengers come. They're weak, but there are a lot of them.

"I have to run... No, I'm good at running. I just run and run. And only when I have no chance to run, I fight. If in the beginning I couldn't do anything, then now..."

Looking at his right hand where a weakly pulsating triangle tattooed, with a book inside, he said, "With it, I can become what I dreamed of since childhood. Yes, it disappeared after those scenes from that illusion. But I cannot refuse. Refusing means death in this world... Mm."

He felt the book sending difficult but understandable thoughts into his brain again.

"So, you mean you're on my side? And if I want to survive in this... I didn't understand the last part?"

But no matter how much he asked, nothing else answered him in return. It seemed to say, "Stop beating around the bush and get to work."

With great effort, he managed to connect the stick and horn again, making a copy. Taking it in his hand, he tried to strike a few times. However, he realized that he could only deliver light blows.

"Ugh, I can't get used to it," he began to touch his left shoulder. "Well, goodbye Anime."

As he walked out, he saw the same familiar scene. Gathering his thoughts, he began to gather energy in his right hand. Slowly, in pieces, necro-energy began to gather. The book greedily absorbed every drop.

Slowly but surely, he walked across the battlefield. With each passing minute, the energy gathered faster. His previous experience and current skills helped a lot. If at the beginning he gathered all the energy in one place for 30 seconds, now he did it in 18 seconds - almost twice as fast.

When he was almost done, he heard barking. Turning to the source, he saw creatures walking between the trees, resembling wolves. They had cat paws, a tail a meter long, and a needle at the end like a bee's. Teeth came out of their mouths. They were slowly approaching.

Quickly realizing that they were scavengers, he turned around and ran as fast as he could.

Fortunately, they were moving slowly, as if they lacked the determination to approach the field. Maybe the cause of the battle was still there.

Entering the hole, he quickly started moving the rat corpses towards the entrance with one hand. Not the most brilliant idea, as they could notice and approach us. But I needed time.

Not long ago, the book warned him that he had gathered enough for the first time. And now it was more important to light his way. Finishing up, he took five somewhat undamaged rats.

Taking one in hand and leg, he extracted the guts from the corpses, managing to extract not only guts but also eyes, brains, and everything else. Then, following the book's instructions, he created a circle. A demonic circle, and inside it, he created a complex symbol, or otherwise known as a rune. Next to the circle, he made another one out of rat eyes. Nodding, he said, "Done."

Crossing his legs, he sat in the center of the circle. The book's tattoo on his right hand disappeared and appeared next to his feet. Opening itself, it began to flip pages on its own until it reached the desired page.

The book was called "Acceptance of the Gift of Death." It had everything written on how to know and create a ritual circle. All of this had already been done, completing the first stage, and the next stage was the spell itself.

"Calm down, calm down!" - he began to get nervous, and he began to calm himself.

Closing his eyes, full of anxiety and nervousness, he opened them a few moments later, full of determination. Clearing his mind of extraneous thoughts, he began to recite the spell aloud.

"Life and death. Beginning and end. Everything has its own path. Life grants beings the opportunity to start their journey, to rejoice, to think, to live. And death takes away, closing the path ahead. It takes away and purifies them of sins. But I am ready to reject the path given by life and accept the path where they are both intertwined. Where death dominates and life is only a servant, a slave. I am ready to give my life and accept you, DEATH. I am ready to embody you physically. I am ready to become the embodiment of death. I am ready to become a NECROMANCER..." After that, he began to recite ancient words that he could not understand. It was the language of death, which only death itself could understand.

***

At the same time, the scavengers began sniffing around the battlefield. Toppled stone trees, corpses of thousands of rats. It scared them, the fallen trees scared them the most, even if they were small. Only the most fearsome creatures could have done this.

But by the looks of it, he had already left this place for some time. Meaning they could feast, unfortunately this creature left nothing but this rotten meat...

One of them started barking, and all the others stopped and looked at the culprit. And he, in turn, barked next to a huge pile of rat corpses that were sitting right next to a giant tree. The tree was almost completely destroyed. It was a strong one...that tree. Looking at the pile of corpses, many of them looked at the one who was still barking, as if he was an idiot, and their expressions read "What does this moron find interesting in this pile of rats with no food?"

But as they got closer, they felt what they were all looking for...food. But the country seemed to emit a dangerous aura that only grew stronger every second.

Looking at each other, they began to drool. They only needed a few minutes and they would be inside. If this creature was either wounded or weak. Which was good for both of them. Emboldened, one began to bark loudly, and then the others began to bark loudly as well. The alpha looked at them as if they were retarded and began to growl to get them to shut up faster.

A bird's cry could be heard from afar. "Oh no," thought the leader, looking at the source of the sound. Then he looked at the culprits. If they had just worked, they would have something to eat now. And now they began to whimper like dogs, feeling their guilt.

From afar, a flock of gray and white birds could be seen. As they approached, they all descended onto the trees and began to stare intently at the herd of idiots.

These birds did not have a single feather. They were rough, full of pimples, and where there should have been feathers, there was gray ash that helped them fly along with the feathers on their wings. They had a smooth head without a beak, and instead, an illusory beak.

The birds began to survey the ground. They didn't see anything interesting except for the corpses of rats. But the fact that these competitors were sitting near a tree with cracks in it intrigued them the most. The leader of the bird flock was larger than the others. He flapped his wings a few times, catching the attention of the rest who were playing peek-a-boo.

Making sure that everyone was ready, he began to emit his strong voice, sounding like a dying tractor. As he shouted a few times, the alpha of the flock looked angrily at these bastards and began to emit a strong howl. The whole flock gathered behind the leader, making several circles. When everyone had gathered, the leader barked loudly at the main bird several times. She looked at the alpha with surprise a few times, but his surprised gaze turned to anger. Then he shouted and flew away, as did all the others. They flew in a circle, with the flock in the center, preparing for battle.