That year, at the selection of the strongest wizard in the Kingdom of Orlan, His Majesty Ron made an important speech.

"I don't understand why everyone is talking about the problem with my magic."

"It seems that these problems have doomed me to be the strongest wizard."

"Twenty years ago, I set out on a journey from the capital, during which I killed countless evil god believers, and took in countless cursed creatures and forbidden truths."

"And in just twenty years, have I become the target of public criticism?"

"No matter what..."

"I have nothing to do with spells that hypnotize others!"

"Besides, I can't use magic to turn men into little loli!!"

"You are slandering!!!"

Ron's speech caused an uproar.

At this point, all the wizards voted unanimously that only Ron Griffith was the greatest magician in the world.

"Scourge of the Dead + Half Behind-the-scenes BOSS + Explosive Soldiers + Mage Tower"

What would happen if a sixth-level necromancer who was on a plane expedition traveled back to the Victorian era?

Werewolves, vampires, banshees, angels, demons? Yeah, I know this stuff.

Evil God? Unknown existence? Hmm? I'm familiar with this thing too.

Some time ago, there was the same thing lying on my dissection table.

Transform the undead, spread the Dark Furnace Meditation, train more Furnace Mages, become the new lineage of Mages, return to the peak, and even go one step further to become a seventh-level Holy Spirit Mage, or even an eighth-level Overlord.

The undead plague will once again sweep across the endless world, and it all starts with a werewolf manor.