Dark Wizard: Rise! My undead army!

Soon, a sharp bone whistle rang out across the square.

A war deacon dressed in formal wizarding robes appeared on the high platform ahead and began his cold pronouncement:

"Apprentices, an allied force led by the 'Holy Flame Judgment Academy' and the 'Grip of Order' has invaded the territory of our Bone Spire Academy."

"They've gone too far, using their numerical advantage to constantly shrink our territory and encroach upon our domain. Our goal this time is to teach them a painful lesson!"

"The teleportation is about to begin. Our team's target plane is the seventh level of the 'Rotten Abyss'—the 'Pustules Swamp' front line."

"The Allied forces have established a forward base here. Your mission: to recapture 'Rotten Tooth Pass' in the eastern part of the swamp and establish a defensive line."

"Kill points and merits are recorded in real time. There are additional rewards for capturing important strongholds and killing enemy elite apprentices."

"Those who fear battle and flee in the face of the enemy will have their souls extracted and forever cast into a lamp of their souls."

"For the Spire of Bones, for... your own lives... set off!!"

After the mobilization ended, the square was deathly silent; there was no scene of passionate excitement.

After all, they were just a bunch of dark wizards; everything else was secondary, only their own interests and their own lives mattered.

Urged on by the "supervisory team," the apprentices put away their undead minions and entered the teleportation array one by one in sequence.

A massive dimensional teleportation array lit up with a towering gray light in the center of the plaza.

Lynn took a deep breath, put away his undead minions, and then took out his sword and shield from his bone ring. He followed the crowd toward the pillar of light.

Safety first...

Who knows what's going on on the other side? What if I get hit by a Pyroblast as soon as I teleport over? My small frame can't withstand that.

As the teleportation light completely dissipated, the pungent smell of sulfur, rotting flesh, and scorched earth filled my nostrils.

Lynn stepped onto the front line of the "Pustules Swamp," a temporary camp on the outskirts, guarded by a group of academy undead.

This place was once part of the seventh layer of the rotten abyss, and is now a scorched wasteland torn apart, polluted, and repeatedly fought over.

Toxic bubbles rose from the swamp, and the outlines of twisted and dilapidated defensive fortifications could be vaguely seen in the distance.

These hundreds of apprentices were quickly organized into a temporary squad, and Lynn's nameplate displayed his temporary number—9527.

Here, he was just one of countless third-class apprentices, his number replacing his name.

The order was issued quickly.

Unsurprisingly, the temporary commander of this mixed brigade fell to the powerful "Bone Prison" Ferdinand.

This taciturn, bald giant earned recognition for his calm and powerful command of the undead.

After all, his extensive experience in small-scale battles far surpasses that of many apprentices who can't even properly command undead guards.

Of course, it would be too risky for these apprentices to fight against the academy's allied forces.

The academy directly handed over temporary command of a batch of standard-issue, approximately two thousand level 3 heavily armored skeleton warriors and five hundred putrid abominations to him.

Greta and Savoy were appointed as vice-commanders to assist Ferdinand in managing the team.

Soon, Ferdinand's first order came through the magic array:

"Establish squads based on ten-person basic combat units, appoint the following fifty-six people as squad leaders, and immediately form and report the member list."

A series of names and soul imprints entered everyone's minds, among whom fifty-six of the most composed and serene old apprentices were called out.

Without exception, they were all individuals who had stagnated at the peak of the third-class apprenticeship for at least ten years.

Perhaps there is no hope for promotion, but his combat experience, survival skills, and ability to command undead to fight together are far superior to those of ordinary young apprentices.

Lynn felt a slight tremor in his Soul Gold Nameplate as a message assigned him to one of the squads.

Following the signs, he saw his direct superiors and teammates for the foreseeable future in the temporarily designated assembly area.

His squad leader was a man named "Homme".

He looked to be in his forties, with a rugged face, and his left eye was replaced by a slowly rotating, emerald-green crystal prosthetic eye.

The most noticeable feature was his right cheek, which was marked by an old claw mark that extended to his neck, while the lower half was covered by his collar.

With the wizard's skills, removing this claw mark would not be difficult; clearly, the captain regarded it as a man's "merit."

Several undead followed him.

A particularly tall skeleton, a level 3 skeleton warrior with bone spurs on its back, a level 3 shadow hound with three heads resembling a black hyena, and several second-tier undead.

Lynn nodded to him in greeting, then Holm...

She stood quietly behind him, waiting.

Soon, the team members arrived one after another.

Holm's prosthetic eye gleamed slightly as it swept over the nine team members, its gaze lingering briefly on Lynn's face without any further expression.

Clearly, his prosthetic eye could see through Lynn's disguise, but he didn't care.

"I am Holm, your captain," Holm said in a deep voice.

"For some time to come, we will fight the enemy together on the battlefield."

"Your task is to obey orders absolutely, not to hold the team back, and to use your witchcraft and the undead to nail your assigned positions to the spot."

"And I will be responsible for every team member, I will not abandon or give up on anyone, and I will not easily trample on your lives and achievements."

The team members made no comment after he said that.

Never give up, never abandon?

A good captain is one who doesn't use others as scapegoats or deliberately harm his teammates...

Some things you can just listen to and not take seriously.

Holm did not ask their names, but simply asked each person to briefly state their major and abilities.

Lynn claimed to be proficient in soul and skeletal witchcraft and skilled at controlling the undead, but made no mention of his powerful physical body.

Holm's eerie green prosthetic eye swept over Lynn, lingering for a moment on his Soul Gold Badge before finally settling on the unusually sturdy round shield at his waist and the one-handed sword in his hand.

Each wizard apprentice has different abilities and combat styles, and warrior attire is not uncommon here.

"Soul and bones?"

Holm's voice had the magnetic quality of a middle-aged man.

"Very orthodox, it aligns with our academy's reputation, but..."

He gestured with his chin, pointing to Lynn's sword and shield. "This thing, what do you mean? Don't tell me you're planning to wait until all the undead are dead before charging in and trying to reason with the enemy."

Several teammates around him cast curious or slightly teasing glances his way.

It's quite conspicuous that an apprentice who claims to specialize in "back row" witchcraft like souls and bones is dressed in melee gear.