This time, Michael was actually a little scared.
What kind of luck was this?
A 20% chance to copy a random skill—and he’d succeeded on the first try.
A 10% chance to teach a skill—and again, first try.
Was he still the same person who, even after getting stronger, once needed more than ten attempts just to place a single undead in the Netherworld?
Michael blinked, then slowly sat back.
Then a grin broke out across his face.
He didn’t even try to suppress it.
Because this changed everything.
Undead Revival had been successfully taught. That meant the [Teach] function truly worked.
And more importantly, it answered a question that had haunted him for a long time.
How could he get his undead to learn more skills?
Up until now, it had been a limitation he could only accept. Sure, Spartan and a few others were growing smarter with time, but when it came to actual skills—especially magic—it always felt like there was a wall.
He’d figured eventually, as they evolved, their intelligence would catch up, and they’d naturally start picking up more complex abilities.
But now? That limitation had been shattered.
With Taming, all he had to do was learn a skill himself... and then teach it.
Michael thoughts flashed to the skill he’d copied from Wisdom.
If his undead could learn it...
The strength of his undead legion would skyrocket.
He could tailor units. Customize roles. Build actual synergy between the undead like a true army instead of just a horde.
Once again, Taming revealed its terrifying potential.
But then, as the excitement buzzed through his veins, reality hit him square in the chest.
Michael’s grin faded slightly, replaced by a grimace.
Learning the skills himself.
That was the bottleneck.
If he wanted his undead to grow, he had to grow.
And that meant actually learning.
Not just unlocking skills through the system.
Spell theory. Elemental control. Magic fundamentals.
Things he had conveniently ignored, trusting the system to guide him.
Michael groaned, dragging both hands down his face.
"Of course," he muttered. "There’s always a catch."
A more sobering thought followed.
Michael pulled up the skill’s description and stared at a line.
[Tamed Creatures: 2/5]
That was his current cap.
And it wasn’t because of his mana or stats
It was simply... the skill’s mastery.
Taming was still at Basic Mastery.
Which meant, unless it improved, five was the absolute maximum number of creatures he could tame.
If he wanted to give more of his undead the ability to learn under the [Taming] bond... he’d have to choose carefully.
And this was only one of the surface problems.
He glanced back at the panel.
[Taming – Basic Mastery – Proficiency: 5%]
Just earlier, it had been two.
Michael squinted, a slow sigh escaping his lips.
There had to be more ways to raise Proficiency.
He just didn’t know any yet.
But one thing was obvious.
He needed to be patient.
He couldn’t go around recklessly taming everything in his legion just because the option existed.
The unnamed undead, sure, maybe he could risk it with them.
Those ones weren’t just pieces on a board.
They were pillars of his army.
If [Taming] rewrote their bonds the way it had with Spartan, he couldn’t risk them slipping from his grasp. Not unless he was sure.
Michael tapped his fingers against his knee, the thoughts piling higher in his mind.
He needed to do things differently now.
And above all, not repeat the mistake of rushing forward without knowing what lay ahead.
Michael then shifted his thoughts to the skill he’d just taught Spartan.
It was one of the two core skills of the Necromancer class.
The first raised the dead.
The second—Undead Summoning—gave the dead a place to stay.
Revival brought them back.
Summoning gave them a home.
Michael tilted his head slightly, mulling it over.
"Does this mean I’ve... made a necromancer?" he murmured to himself. Then shook his head. "No... Not really. Not without Undead Summoning. Without that, Spartan would have to drag his walking corpse around everywhere."
The thought made him pause.
Could Spartan even return to the Netherworld?
Technically, he should be able to.
After all, while both skills—Revival and Summoning—seemed like two halves of the same coin, they served different purposes.
Undead Revival brought a corpse to life.
Undead Summoning linked that undead to the Netherworld, allowing it to be dismissed and recalled freely.
The dismissal part was easy. That just meant putting them away.
That required a connection.
The catch was... it didn’t necessarily have to be the same connection formed through his Revival skill.
Which meant, in theory... Spartan could still be dismissed.
Michael exhaled, gaze flickering toward his undead mage.
There was only one way to know for sure.
"Return," he commanded softly.
A faint shimmer pulsed around Spartan’s body.
Then, in the next breath, he vanished, quietly and cleanly, into the Netherworld, like slipping into a pocket between worlds.
Michael’s heart eased.
He stared at the space Spartan had just occupied, waiting, testing for any strange residue, any backlash from the Taming contract that might interfere with dismissal.
Now for the real test.
He extended his hand slightly.
There was a beat of silence.
Then the familiar flicker of dark light spiraled upward as a magic circle unfolded on the floor.
Spartan stepped forth from the circle, hooded head bowed slightly as if in greeting.
Michael’s shoulders relaxed.
Spartan could still be dismissed and summoned.
He still had this ability.
Now the main conflict Michael had felt about Taming, that haunting loss of dominance, felt a bit more manageable now.
Michael let out a slow breath.
"Alright... that’s one fire put out."
He had worried that Taming would sever the ability to dismiss and recall his undead like before. But it hadn’t.
There were still risks—still consequences—but this one, at least, wasn’t as bad as he feared.