As Darion was about to unsummon his status screen, he noted more obviously that his intelligence was at 100.

The number stared back at him, a milestone he hadn’t consciously been aiming for but had somehow reached anyway. He didn’t know for sure what it meant in practical terms, the system didn’t provide explanations, just numbers, but yeah, it could show actually. He was more smarter than he had been since his time in this world. The difference was subtle but real. He noticed things faster now. He made connections more quickly. He remembered details that would have slipped past him before.

When he first arrived in this world at the Emperor’s palace, he had been scared and naive and all that. He had no idea how anything worked, no understanding of the politics, no sense of how to navigate the dangerous waters of noble life. He had stumbled through those early days, making mistakes, saying the wrong things, trying to survive on instinct alone. And when he had been sent to Percvale as Baron, a punishment in everything but name, he had been utterly unprepared for what awaited him. A dying Barony. Starving knights. Empty coffers. No allies and no hope.

But he had pulled it off. Against all odds, he had pulled it off. And now he was very close to turning Percvale into a functioning Barony. The farmland was being restored. The livestock pens were under construction. The knights were fed and trained. The debts were being paid off one by one. The barony was no longer dying, it was growing instead.

Even great leaders like King Michul had said that if placed in a place like this, they wouldn’t be sure they could pull off good leadership like Darion. That had meant something. Coming from a king, from someone who had ruled a functioning territory for years, that acknowledgment carried weight. And Darion had earned it. Not through luck or coincidence, but through hard work, through difficult decisions, through the kind of relentless effort that had worn him down and built him up at the same time.

And now his intelligence had surely increased since his first time as Baron. Even Darion knew that he was now more smarter than before. The old Darion, the one who had first arrived in Percvale, wouldn’t have known how to negotiate with Vera. Wouldn’t have known how to handle Aldric. Wouldn’t have known how to manage Garren or earn the loyalty of the knights. He had learned. He had grown. And his intelligence stat reflected that growth.

The intelligence he had gotten and was currently doing so was more invaluable than intelligence gotten anywhere. You could read all the books in the world, memorize all the facts, but that wouldn’t make you a leader. It wouldn’t teach you how to read people, how to make decisions under so much pressure and how to balance competing priorities and still keep moving forward.

That kind of intelligence came from experience. From failure. From getting up after you fell and trying again. And Darion had plenty of that.

He then looked further to the ability section and saw that it was still Death Perception and Distant Command. Nothing new. No additional skills had appeared since the last time he checked. That intrigued Darion. It made him wonder that it was surely possible for him to get another ability or more abilities. The system had to have more to offer.

He didn’t know if it was merited but surely with the way it’s being given to him, it isn’t. The system just gave him the two. Death Perception and Distant Command had appeared early on, when he was still a novice necromancer, and they had been useful ever since. But he hadn’t done anything specific to earn them. They had simply appeared when the system decided he needed them. So maybe the same thing would happen again. Maybe, when he reached a certain milestone, when he was ready, another ability would appear.

He wasn’t sure how soon or how not soon he would get one again. Could be tomorrow. Could be never. There was no pattern to it, no schedule he could predict. He just had to keep going, keep doing what he was doing, and trust that the system would reward him when the time was right.

Darion unsummoned the screen now. He had probably stared too long, and Seren might start to worry if he kept standing there with a blank look on his face. The Animal Undead Inventory was at fifteen, a decent increase, but not enough. Fifty-five more slots to fill. That was a lot of animals. A lot of hunting. A lot of time in this forest.

He looked deeper into the forest. The trees were thicker ahead, their branches intertwining to form a canopy that blocked out most of the remaining light. The shadows were longer, darker, the kind of darkness that seemed to swallow sound. Time to keep going.

If it was any normal human being, this would definitely be the moment where they retreat. You would look at that darkness, feel the weight of it pressing against you, and decide that you had pushed far enough. You would turn back, tell yourself you had done enough, and head home with what you had. And even heading back was a problem of its own, you had to be as cautious as ever, watching for anything that might have followed you, anything that might be waiting in the shadows you hadn’t noticed before.

But Darion wasn’t a normal human being. He was a Necromancer. He had an army of undead at his command. He had already faced worse than whatever this forest could throw at him.

The forest ahead was darker, but that was the point. The deeper sections were where the more dangerous creatures lived. The ones that hadn’t been hunted by the knights, the ones that had grown large and powerful because no one had ever been foolish enough to challenge them. Hopefully they would encounter something more tougher and aggressive. Something worth raising.

They continued moving inside the forest now. They kept going, steady and deliberate, their footsteps careful on the uneven ground. The trees grew closer together. The underbrush became thicker. The light dimmed further, until it felt like they were walking through a tunnel of leaves and shadows.

Seren was starting to grow weary. Even with Darion and his powerful undead creatures beside her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them. She had grown up hunting, had spent a lot of time in forests, but there was something different about this place that made her scared a bit.

It was normal. This was a type of place that spooked a lot of people. The kind of forest that hunters told stories about, the kind where travelers vanished and... probably never returned. Darion understood her fear, even if he didn’t share it.

Darion summoned two more wolves now, his undead appearing silently from the shadows. The creatures padded alongside them, their green eyes scanning the darkness. For more protection. For the feeling of safety that came from having more eyes watching.

They kept going. The forest grew quieter. The sounds of birds and insects faded until there was nothing but the soft crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

And then, some fast moves from the ground underneath them.

Before Darion and Seren knew what was happening, well, they knew, but before they could react, his undead wolves were on it. They moved faster than anything living could have, their bodies surging forward, their jaws snapping at whatever had emerged from the earth.

The creature, whatever it was, had been burrowed in the soil, waiting.

It was a snake, or at least something like that. Its body was long and thick, covered in overlapping armored plates that gleamed faintly in the dim light.

But unlike a normal snake, it had legs: short, powerful limbs with clawed feet that had been buried in the earth, ready to spring.

Its head was large, wider than its body, with a mouth full of sharp teeth and eyes that glowed with a dull yellow light. The armor extended from its snout to the tip of its tail, making it look like something that had crawled out of an ancient nightmare. A creature designed to ambush prey, to rise from the ground and strike before its victim even knew it was there.

But the undead wolves had already intercepted it. One of them clamped its jaws onto the creature’s back, holding it in place. The other went for the neck, its teeth scraping against the armored plates, trying to find a gap in the protection. The Rops were there too, their four eyes fixed on the target, their wide mouths snapping at exposed joints.

The creature thrashed and fought, trying to dislodge its attackers. It was strong. But it was outnumbered. And the undeads didn’t tire. They didn’t feel pain and they didn’t stop.

Darion watched, his hand on his weapon, ready to step in if needed. Seren had her bow raised, an arrow nocked, her eyes tracking the fight. But she didn’t shoot.