The leader stumbled back, dropping his sword as both hands flew to his throat, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood as Chase moved. He spat out the mouthful of flesh that he’d torn out of the leader’s throat with his teeth and grabbed the dropped sword, the shock of his action making the two elves restraining him loosen their grips. Rolling to a half crouch, Chase turned and swiped the sword, the blade easily cutting through the necks of the two that had been behind him, their startled expressions frozen on their faces as their heads fell to the ground. Chase sprang up, ignoring the pain ripping through his everything, and leapt at the nearest cluster of elves.

The blade parted flesh like red hot iron through butter, slashing through their bodies with a hot, wet sound that echoed in the still night. The elves, taken by surprise, could only stumble back, their eyes wide with fear and shock. The crimson coating made the blade slippery in his hand, but Chase gripped it tighter. He was a whirlwind of death and destruction, his movements swift and ruthless. Another fell beneath his onslaught, split from shoulder to hip in a spray of blood.

Chase turned to face the next group, determined to take as many of them with him as he could before they rallied and overwhelmed him with sheer numbers, only to pause as the pillar of light the elves and shamblers had come through suddenly went out. Chase looked over the elves, unsure how they were going to react, and his jaw dropped when, one by one, they began kneeling and bowing to him.

“What the hell?” Chase muttered, confusion flooding his mind. Sure, he’d killed the leader after a fierce duel and then killed several more, but he kinda expected them to understand that they still outnumbered him more than ninety to one.

One stood, a female elf with shock red hair in what he could only describe as a black, lacy cocktail dress, and slowly approached. Chase kept himself ready, doing his best to not let the pain of his multiple injuries show as she came to a stop ten feet from him.

“I am Sikadi, Administrative Thrall formerly of the Othgar Clan,” she said, her voice clear and firm, though there was an undercurrent of fear in her words.

Chase was silent, watching her with a wary gaze, and after a moment, she spoke again, her words hesitant.

“By the laws of His Majesty Arek Sannar the Undying, the Eternal King of the Dokkalfar, as you have defeated Heir Svalgalti in honorable combat, his holdings are now yours,” she said while bowing her head.

Chase’s eyebrows furrowed in consternation. He knew that the word ‘thrall’ was a term used for a slave in the old viking culture over a thousand years before, and he had a sneaking suspicion about his quest. Pulling up the quest tab, he saw that his suspicion was correct, as it was labeled Complete.

Survive the Assault – Your Home Base will be attacked. Enslave or kill the attackers. Reward: 5 Race Advancement Orbs (L), Unlock Auction House. COMPLETED

Letting out an annoyed breath, Chase turned his attention back to the el-Sikadi. Now that he felt some reassurance that things were going to calm down a little bit, he gave her more than a cursory examination. Her pointed ears peeked out from under a mass of fiery red curls, cascading down her back in perfect waves. She was dressed in a form-fitting black dress, the sheer lace showing glimpses of smooth skin beneath. The delicate fabric hugged her curves and ended just above her ankles, leaving her feet bare in the mud.

Turning his focus back to her face, he asked, “What can your people do?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“My Lord,” Sikadi said, straightening her posture as she seemed to slip into a more comfortable role. “The holdings granted to Heir Svalgalti upon the ending of the Tutorial were as follows: five hundred Daghai grade draug, fifty necrotechs, a fifth of which specialized in architecture and infrastructure, twenty necromancers of various specializations, twenty necrograft-enhanced soldiers, ten administrators of various specializations, the cadavers and soul caskets required to establish a remote outpost that had the potential for growth, in addition to the supplies and resources needed to sustain the aforementioned thralls and draug.

“Based on my current estimates, you eliminated twenty eight draug, five soldiers, and two necromancers in addition to Heir Svalgalti. With the remaining resources and thralls, it will take between six and ten days to establish a suitable outpost, provided the construction can be overseen by a competent necrotech and there are no interruptions. The outpost will be able to support a population of up to four thousand at full capacity.”

Chase hummed, before saying, “I assume that the draug you mentioned are…”

He waved in the general direction of the shamblers, and she nodded. Taking that information in, he pursed his lips before continuing, “You are the first nonhumans I have encountered, elaborate on the necrotechs and the like.”

Sikadi’s eyebrows rose slightly, “I was under the impression that every Tutorial Zone had multiple races from the Melding within them. Regardless, even before the birth of King Arek Sannar the Undying, the dokkalfar had developed necromantic magics to a level that they began to be incorporated into everyday life. Necrotechs are those that specialize in using necromancy within the non-military fields, such as agriculture, construction, and logistics. Through the use of necrocraft, they are able to animate cadavers to perform menial labor and tasks, freeing up the living population to pursue other endeavors. This has allowed our society to advance rapidly in terms of infrastructure and quality of life.

“The necromancers you now command specialize in a range of disciplines. Some focus on the reanimation and control of draug for military purposes. Others delve into the more esoteric aspects of necromancy, such as soul manipulation and transference. A few are skilled in necrograft - the enhancement of living tissue with necromantic energies to grant increased strength, speed and durability; alternatively replacing limbs or organs with necromancy enhanced versions.

“The soldiers that survived are prime examples of necrograft. Their bodies have been imbued with necrotic power, making them far more formidable than a normal elf warrior. With proper direction from the necromancers, they can be shaped into an elite fighting force.

“As for the administrators like myself, we are trained in the management and logistics of running a successful outpost or settlement. My particular focus is on resource allocation and personnel organization. I can ensure that all of the disparate elements under your command work together smoothly and efficiently to carry out your will.

“If it pleases you, my Lord, I can begin making arrangements for the establishment of your new outpost immediately. We can sort through the supplies and select an optimal site to begin construction. I will also take an inventory of the skills and specialties of the remaining thralls so that they can be assigned to appropriate tasks.”

Sikadi folded her hands in front of her as she finished her explanation, awaiting Chase's response. Despite the carnage around them, she seemed to have fallen into an easy professionalism, the shock of the sudden shift in power dynamics fading as she focused on her duties. Her hands were clasped demurely in front of her and she stood with a straight-backed poise that belied the lace and silk of her dress. Despite that, Chase could see the steel in her eyes. His instincts were saying to trust her, but considering how dokkalfar was an ancient way of saying dark elf, he’d be on his guard around her.

Still, Chase considered her words, his gaze drifting over the bowed heads of the remaining elves. He had approached this quest expecting danger, violence, and either wiping out the entire force or dying to them, so it was understandable that the idea of suddenly being in command of what amounted to a small army of necromancers and their undead minions was not a scenario he had anticipated.

“Alright,” he said slowly, his voice filled with reluctance. “Have some of your people scout the hills to pick a suitable site for the outpost, but do not touch the buildings over there.”

He pointed with the sword in the direction of his cabin and the other buildings by it before continuing, “No more than five of you are to approach those buildings at a time, and you will be one of those five until further notice. Furthermore, until further notice you will not create any undead beyond what is needed to keep your current numbers of undead at five hundred. Am I clear?”

“As you command, My Lord,” Sikadi said with another bow. She turned gracefully and began issuing orders in a tongue that sounded like an odd mix of German and some manner of East Asian language.

The other elves moved to obey, a few dressed in what looked like a mix of black robes and business suits making a number of gestures that got the shamblers moving towards the carts and wagons that had been on the other side of the pillar.

Chase was about to turn to collect his pick and shield to head back to the cabin when there was a commotion by one of the carts. Turning to look, Chase found his eyebrows raising when a black man was dragged out from the cart, only for the elves to scurry away as he held up a cross from around his neck and began speaking in Latin.

“I just want to get some sleep,” Chase muttered as he made his way over to find out just what the hell was going on.