Michael cringed a little at his words but found no fault in them.
With his talent, all his undead were indeed special.
Calling them privileged was no exaggeration.
He also didn’t see anything wrong with naming his undead.
The stronger an undead became, the more developed its consciousness would be.
Though the extent depended on its innate talent or the necromancer’s efforts.
Thanks to his talent, Michael was certain his undead would eventually surpass normal limits, awakening full consciousness sooner or later.
In fact, it might not take long at all since his undead weren’t going to be ordinary.
Prince, still a newly created undead, hadn’t shown signs yet, but Lucky was already exhibiting early traces of awareness.
Michael had caught the Verdant Wolf chewing moss off a wall, only to spit it out and tilt its head in clear confusion.
It likely couldn’t taste anything.
As for why a wolf would eat something plant-related…
Perhaps it was a lingering habit from its previous consciousness.
Lucky, like all undead creatures, would retain faint traces of its former self despite the transformation.
While its memories and personality were erased, certain instincts and habits could persist.
Or maybe Lucky might be innately stupid.
Michael hoped not.
Then again, perhaps it had something to do with the nature of Verdant Wolves themselves.
Perhaps Verdant Wolves were omnivores.
Either way, the behavior confirmed that Lucky’s consciousness had begun to awaken, and it was stronger than Michael had expected.
If this was due to its rank, then all his undead would gain awareness eventually, making naming them more meaningful.
However, Michael knew naming every undead wasn’t practical. By level 10, he’d have at least 20 undead, and by level 100, potentially 200 or more.
He wasn’t good with names and would likely resort to numbering if he tried naming them all.
So, Michael decided.
Only the first two undead from each race would receive names. Any others would be exceptions, named only if they were special in some way.
Of course, his undead still needed to be identified in some way, but that was a problem for another time.
For now…
“Once I’m done here, I should figure out how to access the dimensional cracks in Woodstone City. That shouldn’t be an issue,” Michael muttered to himself.
Despite his eagerness to leave the Land of Origin, there was still one thing left to do.
Using his second class skill, {Undead Summoning}.
Unless Michael wanted to carry his undead everywhere in the cramped space of his Mark of Origin, {Undead Summoning} was essential.
The skill functioned similarly to {Undead Revival}, with its success rate tied to {Mastery} level except it had no attempt limits.
However, it consumed far more mana.
The cost reduced only after the skill succeeded.
At its current {Intermediate Mastery}, Michael had a 50% success rate.
But what exactly did success mean?
{Undead Summoning} allowed Michael to summon contracted undead anywhere and dismiss them at will.
This required forming a contract between the undead and a subspace known as the Netherworld—the home of the dead.
By channeling his mana, Michael attempted to take his undead to the Netherworld, enabling them to inhabit it when not summoned.
The Netherworld was an excellent environment for undead, but it came with an annoying drawback: its resistance.
Every failed attempt to send an undead to the Netherworld increased the retry cost by 50%.
This compounding penalty reflected the Netherworld’s growing rejection of non-native creatures.
The situation was even worse for stronger undead, as they required more mana to be contracted initially—and exponentially more if retries were necessary.
This was why the Necromancer class relied heavily on intelligence: mana was truly their lifeline.
Currently, Michael still has an abundant mana pool, bolstered by his recent stat increases.
Without delay, he activated {Undead Summoning} and began the process.
Prince stood before him, ready to be the first test subject for {Undead Summoning}.
The casting process felt similar to {Undead Revival}, but with a crucial difference: two additional magic circles formed during the spell.
Instead of shrinking and merging into the undead’s body as with revival, these circles expanded outward, pulling more mana from Michael as they enveloped Prince.
They emitted a greenish-black light as they slid beneath him, causing Prince’s body to glow faintly.
Michael’s mana rapidly drained.
Unfortunately, despite consuming 15% of his total mana, the spell failed.
A frown appeared on Michael’s face.
“The mana consumption is a bit too much.”.
The implications dawned on him quickly.
At Rank 1, Prince’s strength likely demanded significantly more mana to form the contract with the Netherworld.
If 15% of his mana failed on the first attempt, the second attempt would cost roughly 22%, and subsequent retries would only worsen the situation.
“This is too much!”
Michael’s expression further darkened.
In his rush to evolve his undead, he had overlooked a crucial detail.
The stronger an undead was, the higher the initial mana cost to contract it with the Netherworld.
He didn’t know this initially but he should have thought of it after evolving Lucky.
By evolving Prince to Rare Grade before attempting the summoning ritual, Michael had unintentionally made the process much harder for himself.
If he’d prioritized sending his undead into the Netherworld while they were still Common Grade, it would have been far more efficient.
Now, his undead’s strength—an extension of his strength—had temporarily become a frustrating obstacle.
“I’ll have to be more careful about how I evolve my undead in the future,” Michael muttered.
This realization brought another insight.
Perhaps the reason powerful necromancers didn’t always fill their contract slots wasn’t just because they sought undead with better potential.
It might also be because they couldn’t find weak ones with enough potential.
Sure, a necromancer could forego {Undead Summoning} and keep powerful undead roaming in the real world, but Michael doubted that was practical in most situations.
The Netherworld provided a far more efficient solution for housing his undead.
“I really didn’t think this through,” he admitted, frustrated.
Fortunately, his current undead weren’t too large to fit in his Mark of Origin storage space.
While the storage couldn’t accommodate living beings, undead were technically not alive, making it a temporary workaround.
However, this wasn’t a permanent solution.
For now, Michael decided to leave that problem for his future self to handle.
To be safe, Michael dismissed Prince outside the room and called Lucky back in.
Between the two, Lucky seemed the stronger choice to gamble on for {Undead Summoning} success.
Michael resolved to bet everything on Lucky.
Determined, he used all his accumulated attribute points on Intelligence, pushing the stat to 30.
“Lucky, you better hope your name brings you actual luck!” Michael muttered nervously.
With no time to waste, he began casting {Undead Summoning} on Lucky.
For now, he could still use his storage space to transport his undead to the real world, but what would happen if they grew bigger as they became stronger?
Or as their numbers grew?
The way things were looking now, it seems his overall power was going to be divided in both worlds making him significantly weaker as he grew stronger.
“It seems that, for now, I need monsters weaker than Level 5 if I want to avoid shooting myself in the foot with the disgusting Netherworld system and that scam of a {Undead Summoning} skill,” Michael grumbled.
Unfortunately, weaker monsters didn’t guarantee success either.
Once again, the worries of the future piled higher.
Of course, this didn’t mean Michael wouldn’t try to fill his contract slots and evolve his undead.
The process could be delayed but never compromised.
At worst, he would keep most of his undead situated in the Land of Origin, focusing more on those he could summon and dismiss at will.
These select undead would become his main ones, and he would prioritize their growth and evolution.
Also, he didn’t believe other Necromancers hasn’t thought about the disgusting nature of the Netherworld and {Undead Summoning} to not think of something.