When Sigmar was duped into Atlas Necromancer Academy, his life took a complete change.

In here, Undead ran rampant. The wailing of the ghosts could be heard every night. The lessons were eccentric in all sorts of way.

Not only were there passionate instructors in human dissection and pe*verts from The Ring teaching you how to play with the living and the dead, there were also savage-looking instructors and a righteous-looking battle maniac teaching you how to use the 6th type Staff Fighting Technique and how to win the upper hand in an aerial battle between Mages. Every single Necromancer here was overly preoccupied with destroying the world and as such, they walked around with dull-witted and monotonous faces. They didn’t understand humor and they didn’t laugh. In fact, they didn’t even self-comfort.

Yet, Sigmar, who was blessed with talents that only appeared once in a thousand years, was extremely afraid of ghosts. In order to escape from this darned place, a battle lacking decency of any sort to play truant from school has begun.

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