Within a couple of minutes of leaving the plains, Varrus witnessed a large response from the Scourge commanders.

A Hero tier Lich, and Darkfallen archmage-beings of darkness practically drenched in Death magic-rushed to the scene. They were flanked by dozens of Elite necromancers, and Darkfallen mages.

If they attacked from ambush, Varrus speculated that they could one-shot a single Hero if they focused their attack, but he decided he'd rather remain hidden for now. If they revealed themselves now, then their operation would be compromised, and they'd be forced to return empty handed or risk being overwhelmed.

Whilst Varrus was contemplating murder, the Scourge commanders reasserted control over the remaining Undead, and dispelled Varrus's spell, yet the damage had been done.

Over a third of the force had been completely destroyed. The bones were smashed to bits, and flesh chewed into paste, these pieces of macabre organs were broken, such that they could no longer be raised into undeath.

Furthermore, a quarter were in a tattered, less than ideal state, and required the constant ministrations of the Lichs, and necromancers to heal the damage that Varrus had indirectly dealt.

Hopefully this would reduce the burden for the defenders, and by forcing some Elites to this region, the gatehouse could hold longer.

During his observation, Varrus noticed one irate Lich point a boney finger in accusation, only for a Darkfallen to slap it away, and retort harshly.

Varrus put a hand to his mouth, barely withholding laughter as the Darkfallen, and Lich seemed to argue and accuse one another over the situation.

It would seem that unity was lacking in this group of Undead. The Lichs were former human wizards who had willing transformed themselves, whereas the Darkfallen were recently murdered, typical smug Elves.

Forcing these two natural enemies to work together was like asking uppity, old money Italian mobsters to form an alliance with up and coming cartel gangsters.

Varrus filed this information away for later. If he found an opportunity to turn this division into outright hostility, then he would act.

However, for now, his target was the pair of ziggurats.

Located upon two separate hills, one on the west, and another on the east. The ziggurats had a clear shot upon Tranquillien, and acted as a powerful artillery, constantly bearing down upon the town's shields.

Varrus and Syra were carefully making their way towards the western ziggurat, as it was the closest to their position.

Along the way, they were forced to quickly side step large, tightly packed columns of Undead.

It would seem that they had alerted the Scourge's high command, and they had begun to mobilize patrols to snuff them out.

Varrus and Syra were still on the open plains, and were only a stones throw away from beginning their ascent up the hill when they met their first scouting party.

100 Undead came marching down the hill, orderly as can be. A stray bird crossed their path, and was taken down by a dozen thrown spears in an instant.

It appeared that the enemy had learnt their lesson, and had given their minions some basic commands to abide by.

Now, Varrus could easily dispatch this group, but given the heightened security, the last thing he wanted to do was draw some heat upon himself.

Instead, he ran to the side as fast as he could, trusting that his perks/the Muffle spell would keep his movement silent.

After sidestepping the scout force, and letting the regiment of 100 pass, Varrus was shocked to see a second patrol with a 5,000 long line of ghouls follow behind.

The slobbering Undead were moving at a sprint, and were running across such a large area, Varrus was having trouble finding a hiding spot.

There were so many of them, and they were moving so fast, that the ghouls were kicking up a cloud of noxious, plagued dust wherever they went.

In fact, whoever was in command must suspect rogues were at play, because that wasn't dust following in their wake. It was a purple cloud of toxic air!

‘Shit.’ Varrus thought to himself as he saw that they were swiftly running out of options.

They were so close to their target, yet a screen had been set up by the enemy, one designed to drive them out into the light.

Not only was there a patrol barreling down the hill, but a flanking force had been coming up from the plains.

They were effectively trapped.

This commando raid seemed to be rapidly coming to an end, and they’d have to either fight their way out. They could charge towards the ziggurat, flee to the sidelines, then come back, or try to return to the town. When Varrus was thinking about these three possibilities, Syra had made the decision for him.

“I'll create a diversion in the rear, take that opportunity to double back, and complete the mission.” Syra whispered from Varrus's side.

“What, no-” Varrus voiced in disagreement, only to see Syra reveal herself from invisibility, then begin to brutally dice up a dozen ghouls with every swing of her buster sword.

“No one can match my speed!” Syra gloated, yet as she did so, she glanced backward, where Varrus was standing.

Varrus rolled his eyes.

‘As if that is reassuring!’ Varrus worried to himself.

Gritting his teeth so hard they might crack, Varrus burned Syra's image in his mind, then turned to the side, and ran through a gap in the enemy formation that she had created.

‘You had better run ASAP.’ Varrus darkly thought to himself as he ran towards the ziggurat.

Varrus respected, and hated Syra for unilaterally taking that decision from him. He knew that time was ticking, and that decisiveness was needed, but fuck!

Intellectually he knew that she should be fine, but damn if he wasn't worried. If she didn't have those speed enchantments on her gear, then even as strong as Syra was, he didn't think she could solo a handful of Heroes, and hundreds of Elites.

She was a resourceful girl. Someone like her didn't survive a decade in the Amani forests, or fight in the war against the Orcs, and fall easily.

However, ever since she reassured him at the wall, he was confident that they would do this together.

Separating from her so early into the siege didn't sit right with him.

‘Fuck!’ Varrus raged once more to himself, before channeling those negative emotions towards completing the mission.

Whoever it was that had set them up was going to get an asswhooping so hard, Varrus was going to go biblical on their boney asses!

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It was with this renewed vigor and vitriol for those who would dare to harm his wife, that Varrus made record time towards the western ziggurat.

Built like a pyramid reminiscent of an Aztec temple, Varrus noticed blood stains dripping down from the top. He speculated live sacrifices had been offered up on this altar venerating death.

Fortunately, there were few guards, and enemy forces were sparse at this location.

Apparently, whoever was in command had redirected the defenses at this point, and Varrus spotted only a dozen gargoyles in the air, and a pair of ghouls standing guard at the door.

Varrus slowed down as he approached, wary of any traps.

He took one last look back down the hill before he took the plunge, and saw a swarm of activity.

Multiple, Hero & Elite level spells rocked the area where the plains and the hillside met. Syra's Holy Void was activated, and he saw that she was in a constant, running battle against the Lich, and Darkfallen archmage from earlier.

The pair of magic casters constantly used Blink to evade Syra's extreme speed, and were forced to toss up barriers of blood and ice magic to protect themselves from a violent demise.

Varrus balled his fists at the sight, then entered the ziggurat, determined to end this farce and see to Syra's safety.

Immediately upon entry, Varrus felt a cool chill upon the nape of his neck, and heard the haunting whispers of tortured ghosts in the air.

Gripping his dagger tightly, Varrus internally scoffed at the spectacle. Compared to the overwhelming darkness of the temple in the Kobolds domain, this construction made of bone and Death magic was several tiers less threatening.

In fact, despite the hallways being naturally dark, he could see well enough thanks to his Elven nature.

Varrus advanced deep into the moving and moved somewhere between the speed of a fast walk, and a jog, eager to get this over with.

The interior of the ziggurat had many twisting turns, high ceilings with narrow corridors, and had spear-wielding skeletons patrolling in fixed rotations.

He didn't want to alert whoever was in charge of this ziggurat, so whenever he saw a patrol, Varrus would either jump between the walls to the ceiling, or simply side step them.

Along the way, whenever he noticed he was out of sight, Varrus would routinely slap down Fire Runes on the ceiling, and walls that were out of reach.

Ever since he had demolished the temple underground, Varrus realized the awesome potential of this fire and forget spell. He had used it to great effect against the Trolls, inside the temple, and now against the Undead.

The Sneak perk, Demolition Job increased the damage of runes whilst placed in stealth by 2% of his Sneak skill. Add onto that with his spell power modifier, and other buffs, and these runes would pack a serious punch!

After laying down hundreds of runes over 10 minutes, Varrus had finally reached the bottom floor of the ziggurat.

Varrus beheld a glowing green, sickly pool of goo, surrounded by a dozen necromancers, and a Lich.

The necromancers were all chanting, and a purple beam was being channeled from their hands to create a hovering orb resting above the goo.

A screen shimmered in place, depicting the outside world, with which the Lich directing the magic could see through.

The Lich then did something with the orb, and a series of runes alongside the interior of the ziggurat lit up.

A second later, Varrus felt the structure shudder, and knew that this was the source of its power. There was so much energy involved within this chamber, he knew that if he took it out, it would cause a catastrophic explosion.

However, that could wait. He had to destroy the other ziggurat, and fast if he wanted to reunite with Syra. Initially, he had planned on taking them out, one after the other, but he had an idea.

Why not turn the power of one ziggurat upon the Scourge?

While he had this thought, he noticed on the screen, that a big battle was developing in the plains amongst the Undead.

In that image, Varrus caught sight of Syra locked in a one versus three duel. These three Heroes were reinforced by Elites, and were giving her trouble. None of them could land a solid blow on her, but conversely, she was so occupied that she couldn't deal any damage to them in turn.

Pride swelled up in Varrus's heart, as he saw her block a Frost Nova from a Lich with one hand, then parry several lightning fast attacks from an Arcane Warrior, who was Blinking all around her with dozens of short ranged teleports.

Yet even so, she was forced to conjure a Divine Shield around herself, to repel a savage attack from behind, as one of the house-sized gargoyles had ambushed her from the sky.

Varrus had a greasy feeling in his stomach as he watched Syra barely recover by rolling forward. She was fast, and should have escaped to the gatehouse by now. The only logical reason for why she was sticking around, was to buy him more time.

‘Foolish woman.’ Varrus cursed as he felt the love and will to sacrifice coming from the woman he loved.

Ignoring the screen, it took Varrus only a second to think up a plan on how to take control of this ziggurat.

Although he had no idea on how to operate the strange runes or spell, that didn't mean that he was out of options.

First he activated Imposing Presence, letting loose with a pressure that affected all within the room, distracting them from channeling their spell. The backlash from this caused them all to fall over, and suffer serious internal pain, one even disintegrated, as his body couldn't take it.

At the same time, he had snuck within melee range of the Lich, and while it was discombobulated, Varrus stabbed his dagger repeatedly along its body, savagely damaging it, yet making sure not to destroy this vessel, and send the Lich back to its phylactory.

His actions were so swift and brutal that even though his invisibility had been dispelled, none could react in time.

Varrus then slapped down a Calm spell on everyone present, making sure that they could not resist.

Once he was satisfied, he then cast Enslave the Weak on the Lich.

Enslave the Weak: Forces a hostile humanoid below 20% Health to serve your will permanently until slain. You can only have one slave per 200 base mana.

This spell operated on the same rules as the Conjuration skill tree, meaning Varrus couldn't abuse it on everyone. It was a little disappointing that he couldn't transform all of his most hated foes into loyal minions, but he was pleased to be in possession of such a broken skill.

Casting the Restoration spell, Necromantic Healing, Varrus restored the Lich, and observed him, wary of any sudden betrayal.

“What is thy bidding, master?” The Lich bowed upon noticing Varrus's scrutiny.

“Target that Darkfallen.” Varrus grinned as he pointed at the screen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Syra effortlessly parried an overhead attack, then shoved her sword forward, aiming for the Arcane Warrior's neck.

“Hit her with another Frost Nova!” The Darkfallen warrior commanded to the Lich, as he barely Blinked out of Syra’s attack.

“Do not command me, Elf. Besides, you must lock her in place if you expect my spell to land.” The Lich drily responded.

“Blasted pile of bones.” The Darkfallen Herk muttered under his breath before he Blinked behind Syra for another go at it.

Syra jump-flipped backward, onto a giant gargoyle's claw, narrowly evading the teleporting warrior, and forcing him to dodge the talon that was meant for her.

Syra glanced at the towering ziggurat once more, and bit her lip, hoping that Varrus was okay. At the same time she slashed down with her sword, cleaving the arm completely off of the gargoyle.

“Hyyyaaargh!” The gargoyle howled in anger and pain, as it madly tried to grasp at Syra with its other claw to no avail.

While this was going on, the ziggurat had redirected its fire, and a purple concussive ball of Death magic slammed into the ground just in front of the Darkfallen warrior.

“Lich, inform your compatriot in the tower to aim elsewhere. Then again, I would expect such abysmal aim from a lesser race.” The Darkfallen snobbishly disdained.

“Careful, Elf.” The Lich icily admonished.

A second, third, fourth and fifth blast came one after another down upon the Darkfallen's position, forcing him to dodge.

“It was a mistake to include Humans in this, one of you go take care of the ziggurat, I'll deal with this traitor myself.” The Darkfallen snarled towards a unit of Elites, then lunged at the Lich.

“What are you doing? I am not the target of your ire?” The Lich said in confusion, yet raised a Frost Barrier to protect himself from the Arcane Warrior's onslaught.

Syra took this extra breathing room, and climbed up the gargoyle like a monkey climbing a tree. It tried to smash her into the rocks, and tore at its own flesh in a mad attempt to dislodge her.

However, Syra nimbly dodged every last attack, then cleanly decapitated the gargoyle once she had reached the crown of its head.

At the same time that this happened, the ziggurat that had been attacking the Darkfallen had turned upon the Elites, and caused chaos in the ranks.

Syra knew that her husband had succeeded, and that it would soon be time to return to Tranquillien.

But when she looked at the Lich and Darkfallen distracted with one another, a sickly sweet smile graced her face.

Who said she couldn't add a couple of flowers to her diary before she returned?