POV : WASTELAND
The army of Fort Bone was now swarming across the wasteland. Alexander was out on a hunt for the dungeons with his squad. At first, it seemed like any other day—a mixture of dungeon spawn roamed the wasteland and the areas surrounding Fort Bone: ghouls, skeletons, slimes, undead, mutated rhinoceroses, giant ants, and mutant deer. Those were all standard for him and his crew. ‘Nothing I haven’t cracked open before,‘ he thought, gripping his great sword as they made their rounds.
But something caught his attention that made his stomach drop. A red flare shot up into the sky—a signal that everyone on his hunting team knew meant only one thing: danger. Real, serious danger. Without hesitation, Alexander and his group of 29 hunters converged toward the flare, moving with practiced speed. ‘This ain’t good,‘ he thought, his eyes narrowing as they ran, ‘not this far out.‘
A five kilometer run later, they reached the source of the flare. His team skidded to a halt as they arrived at the chaotic scene. A mixed group of Portal Crusher hunting teams, already in the thick of battle, fought desperately against skeletons—only these weren’t like the usual brittle undead they were used to. These skeletons were wearing bone armor, wielding weapons, and attacking with organized ferocity. Mixed in with them were some of the regular skeletons he had gotten used to.
“What the hell?” Alexander muttered under his breath, surveying the chaos. Several hunters were already down, bleeding out in the dust. The two groups that had arrived before them had originally been around 60 men strong, but now only 40 remained on their feet. The rest lay scattered, wounded or worse. The skeleton regiment pressed in, relentless.
Alexander’s jaw tightened. ‘This ain’t right. Skeletons don’t fight like this…‘ He shook off the hesitation and bellowed to his team, “It’s overtime!” With a surge of adrenaline, he charged into the fray.
His sword connected with the first skeleton, but instead of shattering like usual, the rusted armor absorbed the blow. The skeleton staggered, but it didn’t fall. Alexander gritted his teeth. ‘Well, damn.‘ He swung again, harder this time, and CRACK! The skeleton’s skull shattered, but it had taken him far more effort than ever before. And that was just one.
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As the battle raged on, Alexander found himself locked in grueling, toe-to-toe fights with the bone-clad undead. Each skeleton took longer than expected to bring down, and his arms were growing heavier with each swing. Minutes ticked by as every clash became a battle of endurance. CRACK. Another skeleton down. CRACK. And another. But they kept coming.
After what felt like hours, the last of the armored skeletons fell. The Portal Crushers, bruised and battered, let out a collective sigh of relief. They had won, but the victory was a strange, uneasy one. The battlefield was littered with the broken remains of these unusually strong enemies, and the price had been high. Mana coins clinked as they looted the fallen monsters, but Alexander couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut.
‘They had gotten a ton of coins, but the price definitely wasn’t worth it.‘
“Why are these varmints getting stronger?” Alexander muttered aloud, scanning the wreckage. He wasn’t used to seeing skeletons like this—not with armor, not with weapons. Something was wrong.
Without wasting any time, he gathered his team and headed back to Fort Bone to report to Atlas. They did loot as much as they could though, including the weapons and armor. Proof was going to be needed for Atlas and the other leaders.
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POV : FORT BONE
Back at Fort Bone, Alexander made his way to the council chamber, where Atlas sat at the head of the table, his usual cool detachment in place. The council was deep in discussion, but Alexander cut straight to the point.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said, his voice firm. Atlas glanced up, his eyes narrowing at Alexander’s tone.
“What is it?” Atlas asked, though his expression was more curious than concerned.
“Those skeletons out there,” Alexander started, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it, “ain’t like the ones we’ve been fightin’. These ones got armor, weapons—real stuff, not just scraps—and they’re tougher. Way tougher. Took all I had to get through ‘em, and the team… well, we took some bad hits.”
He dumped the pile of armor and weapons onto the table.
Atlas’s face darkened, a flicker of realization crossing his features. “Oh no,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “We’re too late.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Too late for what?”
Atlas leaned forward, his voice lower. “There’s been a dungeon break. The Faith Settlement—you know we haven’t fully examined it since the takeover. With all the marches and fighting, and the fact that Nadir probably didn’t cleanse that dungeon regularly, it means the dungeon recovered its mana. It’s probably been pumping out bosses, and now a horde’s appeared. That horde is feeding on the increased mana from our empire-wide bonuses.”
“Wait, so you’re tellin’ me these things are just gonna keep gettin’ worse?” Alexander asked, his voice cutting sharp.
Atlas nodded grimly. “Unless we hunt it down and stop it systematically, yes. We’ll need to organize. Fast.”
Alexander clenched his fists, his mind already racing with tactics. “Well darn that, let’s get at ‘er.”