Recycling is a core tenant of modern sustainability. In the corporate world, when an asset becomes obsolete, you strip it for parts. In my dungeon, when an employee gets vaporized by a holy death ray, you bring them back as an unpaid intern.
"Rise and shine, Gub," I projected. "Bereavement leave is over."
I dumped 500 Mana into the pile of ash that used to be my Head of Operations. The ash swirled, caught in a vortex of dark, necromantic energy. Bones knitted themselves together with a sound like dry twigs snapping.
Gub stood up. Well, mostly. He was now a skeleton. His eyes were gone, replaced by two pinpricks of blue hellfire. He looked at his bony hands, clacked his jaw, and then immediately picked up his mop.
System Alert:
Unit Created: Skeleton Janitor (Level 1).
Perks: Immune to Fatigue, Does Not Require Food, 100% Loyalty.
Downside: Union Representation Not Recognized.
"Excellent," I muttered. "Productivity just went up 200%."
Seraphina watched this horror show from the corner of the room. She had finally stopped hyperventilating, but she looked pale. "You... you can't just raise the dead, Max. That’s a violation of the Sanctity of Life Act, Section 8."
"He’s not dead," I corrected, spinning my crystal body to face her. "He’s post-living. And more importantly, he’s efficient. The Church killed my staff, Seraphina. Did you expect me to file a complaint with HR? No. I am HR."
Speaking of which.
I had 12,500 Mana remaining from the Lady Elara potion scheme. I needed a manager. Someone who could organize a workforce of brainless skeletons while I focused on the macroeconomics of not dying.
I pulled up the [Summoning Menu]. I scrolled past "Orc Warrior" and "Dark Elf Assassin." I needed brains, not brawn.
There. [Demon: Succubus (Administrator Variant)]. Cost: 5,000 Mana.
"Purchase," I thought.
A tear in reality opened next to the Skeleton Gub. It smelled like sulfur and expensive perfume. A woman stepped out. She had crimson skin, curling ram horns, and was wearing a pinstripe pencil skirt that looked like it was tailored in the fiery pits of Hell. She held a clipboard.
She adjusted her glasses. "Lilith, reporting for duty," she said, her voice like velvet dragged over gravel. "I was told there would be a 401k match?"
"We offer stock options," I lied. "Lilith, this is Gub. He cleans. You manage. We are currently in a hostile work environment. Your job is to ensure operational continuity while I deal with the hostile takeover happening outside."
Lilith glanced at the skeleton, then at the nervous Paladin, and finally at me. She made a note on her clipboard. "Understood. I’ll need to restructure the org chart. The skeleton needs a helmet."
"Do it," I said.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.