Strongest Necromancer System Chapter 702: Making The First Move

In the second domain governed by Angel Rak’hael, Queen of Eden, a young man with tousled hair clad in a soiled lab coat lifted his gaze in astonishment upon catching his colleague discuss 'Jason Marc, the Undying King'. This young individual operated within a research facility at the Holy Light Magic Academy. He had topped his class upon graduation years prior, and since then, the Academy had offered him full backing to persist as a premier researcher! His investigations centered on techniques to amplify the mana drawable from diverse mana stones, thereby boosting the devastation potential of artifacts or armaments utilizing those stones. Yet, over his concise tenure in research, he had significantly contributed to crafting multiple advanced artifacts and runes across this realm, rendering him a vital asset esteemed by both the regime and his institute. Despite being more isolated than his siblings, observers could discern his parentage through his defined features alongside his ebony hair and eyes.

Named Harold Marc, though pals dubbed him Harry, he ranked as the third son of Richard Marc's sixth spouse and stood among the rare progeny of Richard who deigned to complete high school and advanced learning! Harold had labored in this laboratory across twenty-five years, emerging into the outer world scarcely once or twice in that span, yet a web of agents and sources beyond the barriers kept him perpetually informed of global happenings! Yet presently, Harold absorbed tidings his contacts hadn't relayed as of yet. A burgeoning legend swept the Primordial Expanse, and the instant Harold caught the figure's name within it, he recognized it as his half-brother.

'So, his name is Jason. How many children do you really have, Dad? I feel like I find out about a new child every other month.'

Harold scowled at the enormous TITAN Rank Mana Stone he'd been examining, exhaling a faint sigh! Via his intelligence web, Harold tracked every sibling and stepmother, and upon uncovering his fiftieth kin, he directed his network to omit further progeny notifications barring grave occurrences. Still, Harold found it hard to blame his sire for spawning so many offspring, particularly knowing their realm's ancient ruin and the massacre of countless folk. Furthermore, polygamy conformed to Avaran customs, absolving his father of fault. But Harold's devotion to his studies left him unable to fathom juggling hordes of wives and heirs! Emulating Richard's path would assuredly unhinge him! Harold banished those musings with a head shake, his genius intellect racing through potential fallout from Jason's surging renown. Jason's talents proved atypical for Avarans, and though the masses couldn't unravel their true nature, Harold's acumen revealed them precisely, including the weight of their father endowing such gifts. Richard lacked folly, so he'd anoint Jason solely for unique promise, yet foes lurked who wouldn't abide it! Jason's acclaim now etched a massive bullseye upon him. Harold eyed his project anew, sighing softly as awareness dawned that he'd shelve his pursuits temporarily. To forestall familial rupture, Harold must strike first.

Rising from his workbench stool, Harold peeled off his gloves while instructing assistants to manage the remaining experiments till his comeback. The aides gaped at their principal researcher quitting the lab after months confined, but none risked probing Harold, complying without delay. Harold possessed a visage most would label attractive, yet neglectful locks he ignored and swollen under-eye shadows from chronic insomnia spoiled it. Prolonged hunching at his bench had stooped his bearing mildly, his flesh greasy and ashen from sun deprivation over months and baths skipped for days, eyes crimson and veined from quaffing Divine Grass Wine to endure wakefulness across weeks. Absent his Avaran Gene preserving vitality, Harold's abysmal habits would've slain him long since!

A different chief researcher—a lovely crimson-hued lady called Grala, who regarded herself as Harold's scholarly adversary—was startled to glance up and behold Harold departing the lab! Grala queried Harold's whereabouts, but he dismissed her inquiry with poise and affirmed his return. Grala itched to press further, alarmed by Harold's countenance, yet she clamped her lip and acquiesced with a nod.

'Make sure you take care of yourself. And write me often so I know how you’re doing.'

Grala's words prompted a smile from Harold, who pivoted toward her with a playful glint in his expression.

'Will you miss me?'

Grala's eyes bulged, and she growled at Harold while her face flushed crimson!

'Who misses you? I just want to know how much of a lead I’ll gain in my research while you’re gone! Just get out of here!'

Harold emitted a serene laugh as he strode onward, waving farewell to Grala and vowing a future missive. Grala tracked Harold's exit, a peculiar unease blooming in her core as he melted into the teleportation circle. Though clueless to his intentions, Grala intuited hazard therein, unable to shake the notion this encounter might be their last. Yet she dispelled it with a head toss, refocusing on her studies, aware her fretting bred mere paranoia.

'I hope he comes back soon. The lab gets really boring without him.'

In a distant sector of the Primordial Expanse, beyond the ten domains overseen by the Council of Nine and One, amid the expanse dubbed the Primordial Zone, a woman perused assorted data metrics in a dossier beneath the subdued radiance of a magic stone. This tall, alluring female bore a seasoned visage that positioned her as a big-sister archetype for numerous males, featuring the identical raven tresses and orbs shared by all Marc kin. She donned an unadorned black robe that draped plainly over her silhouette, indifferent to her mien as she concentrated on verifying her file's data integrity.