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... ything. The next, it’s gone, vanished in the blink of an eye.

You grow up with rules. Go to school. Get good grades. Listen to your teachers. Read. Write. Study until your brain aches. And somehow, you pass the exams because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Expectations.

Love.

None of it was freely given. Because success wasn’t earned easily in my house, but like every other house, you have that one reason to prove yourself, either to please someone. Might be yo ...

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Welcome to NecroCorp – Where War is Always in Stock!“Now with 15% off main battle tanks, because peace is bad for business.”Hello, traveler!Looking for a bone-forged sword? A modular mana cannon? Perhaps... a discounted main battle tank for your next kingdom raid?Oh wait, you're not a customer, you're a reader.Right. This is probably where I give you my “tragic backstory.” Fine.I used to be human.Then I died.Now I'm a Lich with a factory in a dead dungeon, a skeleton workforce that doesn't need lunch breaks, salaries, and a magical system that rewards me for selling stuff. So, I did what any sane undead would do: I started an arms corporation.Now I sell weapons to orcs, goblins, elves, humans, anyone with a grudge and a pile of magic stones. Need siege engines? Got 'em. Crossbows that reload themselves? Yup. Flamethrower golems? In development.But here's the trick: you can’t sell weapons if there’s no war.So when the world started calming down... well, I may have encouraged a few border skirmishes. For marketing purposes. Nothing personal. War drives demand, after all.So, if you're here for drama, explosions, undead capitalism, and morally questionable business strategies wrapped in bone and steel, you’ve come to the right dungeon.Just don’t ask about the warranty.There isn’t one that lived to tell and ask about it.

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