Bones watched the general in fascination. The undaunted attack, the dauntless attitude, and the complete confidence in his skills—this was the kind of attention he craved for himself one day.
After Zidall's devastating display of power, which left dozens dead, the enemy soldiers rallied and launched a counterattack. Unfazed, the general spun his battlestaff and prepared to slam it into the ground again.
[Hellfi—]
Before he could complete his spell, a sword strike with enough force to cleave the earth interrupted him. Zidall barely managed to block the blow with his battlestaff, the impact sending him skidding across the ground toward the forest.
"General Gral Varis, it's been a while..." Zidall glanced at the fresh cut on his battlestaff, greeting his attacker with a calm, almost amused expression.
"It truly has, Zidall. But must we do this?" General Varis of the Wezar army responded, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Kidllams has already left, in a hurry too. Surely you realize how pointless this all is? The King is bound to return at any moment!"
"I'm just following orders," Zidall replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Until your King returns, we must do this. But I promise to be lenient."
"Lenient?" Varis gestured at the frozen ground and the bodies strewn about. His gaze then shifted toward the camp where Grizzlestride was wreaking havoc, screams and shouts filling the air. Zidall followed his gaze, then whistled sharply. Moments later, Grizzlestride came crashing through the fortified fence near the gates, galloping toward his master.
"You and me, Varis. Let's settle this elsewhere," Zidall proposed.
Varis nodded, taking one last look at the chaos in the camp. "Lead the way."
The two generals departed, leaving their armies to clash without restraint. The Aphitonians surged out of the forest like a swarm of locusts, overwhelming the camp. Inspired by the confrontation between the generals, Bones eagerly jumped into the fray.
The battle that morning proved far from pointless, despite General Varis’s initial misgivings. The movements of the Aphitonian main camp and the sudden appearance of General Zidall had drawn significant attention, forcing the Wezar forces to send reinforcements to the newly fortified camp. This shift in focus weakened the other Wezar positions, leaving them vulnerable.
In a well-coordinated strike, the Aphitonian forces, led by Zidall, attacked the nearest camp in the clearing. Simultaneously, another group maneuvered through the swamps to assault the South Camp, while the bulk of their forces circled around the battlefield to besiege the fortress. With General Varis fully occupied by Zidall, the few gold rankers who had left the North Camp with him as reinforcements tipped the scales in the battle for the fortress. It fell into enemy hands, and with the fortress secured, the Aphitonian army set its sights on their next target: the mines.
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Bones wobbled as he made his way deeper into the swamp, his body barely holding together after the brutal battle. His once-pristine robe was now little more than tattered rags hanging loosely, almost falling off his skeletal frame. His body was riddled with holes and cracks that would take days to repair, but the most pressing concern was the throbbing pain in his skull. It had been a long time since he’d felt the need to rest, but now the fatigue was overwhelming. Leaning against a tree, he slowly slid down to a sitting position, clutching his head in both hands.
Groan
"I overdid it! I really overdid it this time…but I can't rest! Not here, not now. I have to push through!" Bones muttered to himself, determined to keep going.
His sole purpose in joining the battle had been to test a theory—whether he could manipulate the stakes created by his Boneyard spell. He believed that if he could feel the resonance with those bones, as he had back in the swamp, then he should be able to control them. With that goal in mind, he threw himself into the fray, casting Boneyard after Boneyard wherever he saw an opening. But it wasn't easy. He had to stay constantly on the move, dodging blows and retaliating when necessary. His concentration was split between surviving and achieving his goal, and it was only after numerous failed attempts that he finally reached the state of mind where he felt the resonance once more.
Tuning out the chaos around him, Bones focused all his energy on manipulating the stakes. With a forceful motion of his hand, he yanked them from the ground. Slowly, they began to rise, levitating in the air. Ecstasy surged through him as he realized he had succeeded. But in his euphoria, he didn't notice the resonance coming from the bones of the injured soldiers around him—soldiers who were screaming in agony as their bones protruded through their flesh. He was too caught up in his triumph to care.
Driven by an overwhelming sense of power, Bones continued to pull on the resonance. The stakes obeyed his command, but so did the bones of the fallen soldiers. With a sickening crunch, the bones were ripped out of their bodies, still attached to muscles and tendons. The air was filled with the gut-wrenching cries of those whose bodies were being torn apart from the inside.
The screams echoed across the battlefield, sending chills through those who heard them. Bones had wanted attention, and he got it. The first soldier who realized what was happening charged at him with a battle cry, but Bones barely acknowledged him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a barrage of bone stakes flying at the man, impaling him before he could get close. Another soldier came at him from the opposite direction, and Bones merely pointed, sending more stakes to end his life.
One by one, soldiers tried to take him down, but each met the same grisly fate. Bones moved his arms like a conductor leading an orchestra, each gesture sending death to his enemies. The battlefield was his stage, the bones, his instruments, and the screams of the dying soldiers, the music that filled the air. He had become a maestro of death, relishing in the chaos and destruction he had unleashed.
The rest of the battle became a blur of violence and confusion for Bones. Everything was happening so quickly that he barely had time to process his actions. He acted on instinct, attacking anyone who came within range, driven by a feverish compulsion. His mana reserves were dwindling, but he couldn't stop himself from manipulating the storm of bones that raged around him. The battle had taken on a life of its own, and he was merely a vessel for the chaos.
As his mana pool finally depleted, a deep, insidious whisper echoed in his mind:
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“Don’t stop. Kill. Kill some more.”
Bones felt an unnatural pull, and without thinking, he reached deeper into himself, drawing upon a darker, more primal source of energy. Chaos mana, wild and unrestrained, surged through him. Cracks began to appear on his skeletal body, glowing faintly with a pulsating light.
ding
Chaos Affinity [low] > Chaos Affinity [medium]
The cracks radiated chaos mana in alternating hues of neon green and a dark, sickly pale. His bone projectiles, now tainted with this chaotic energy, left trails of decay as they tore through flesh, withering anything they touched. With each kill, the chaos within him grew stronger, flowing through his body with an intensity that bordered on madness.
The mana began to manifest physically, an ethereal, smoke-like substance rising from the cracks in his bones. It swirled around him, giving him an otherworldly, terrifying presence. Bones began to laugh, a twisted, maniacal sound that echoed through the battlefield. He was lost in the madness, consumed by the chaos coursing through him.
But even as he reveled in his newfound power, the battle continued to rage around him. The mass of soldiers, undeterred by his terrifying display, closed in. The chaos within him surged, but without the focus or discipline to control it, Bones became a beacon of destruction, drawing more and more enemies towards him.
In the end, the tide of bodies overwhelmed him. The sheer number of soldiers, combined with his own lack of restraint, left him vulnerable. He fought with everything he had, but the chaos that had fueled him now became his undoing. The soldiers swarmed him, weapons flashing in the dim light, and with a final, echoing laugh, Bones was brought down.
As his vision faded, the last thing he felt was the chaos within him, still pulsing, still raging, as if it were a living thing, refusing to die even as his consciousness slipped away.
Not far from Bones' position, two figures watched the mayhem unfold.
“This is madness! Absolute madness!” Guntar shouted, barely able to keep up with the relentless barrage of attacks and spells flying around them.
Trevak nodded in agreement, his face set in a grimace as he struggled to stay clear of the chaos. They hadn't planned to be caught in the front lines for so long, but their greed for progress had ensnared them. Now, they were trapped in the midst of the battle, overwhelmed by the fierce clashes between both sides.
When Trevak spotted a figure manipulating bones and wreaking havoc, he was struck by a sudden realization. “It couldn’t be…”
“Forget it, Trevak!” Guntar yelled, grabbing his companion's attention and gesturing urgently away from the battlefield. Trevak, understanding the urgency, nodded in agreement. They quickly retreated, abandoning the front lines.
Two months later, they reached their destination in the Slesian Kingdom. Guntar, weary of risky criminal dealings, decided to turn over a new leaf. Leveraging his experience in leadership and management, he established a legitimate business running a brothel. Meanwhile, Trevak continued his covert work for the assassin guild.
In time, Guntar came to a profound realization about his feelings for Trevak. What he had once seen as mere companionship now felt deeper. Trevak’s half-elf features, with their delicate grace, had always drawn him in, but it took Guntar some time to recognize the true nature of his feelings. He had come to appreciate Trevak’s openness and found himself developing feelings he hadn't expected.
Hours later, the fighting had ceased as the Aphitonians retreated to the border. Among the hundreds of dead bodies scattered across the battlefield, Bones slowly rose to his feet. Arrows were embedded in his upper body, and his clothes were in tatters—torn and shredded from the relentless attacks, with burn marks from incorporeal smoke marring the fabric. He glanced around at the carnage and then down at himself, his expression unreadable. With a weary exhale, he turned to leave. Nearby soldiers, watching in stunned silence, marveled at the sight of the figure responsible for so much death walking away as though his injuries were inconsequential.
Bones slumped against a tree, allowing his mana flow to stabilize and his condition to recover. While the sensation of fatigue was not an issue for him, the mental exhaustion from the battle lingered. When he finally managed to stand, he turned his attention to the notifications awaiting him. The first was troubling—his Chaos Affinity had advanced from low to medium. Bones scowled as he reviewed the message. The battle had taken him to the edge of control. The whispers and the chaotic energy he’d harnessed were unsettling. His arms bore the marks of this chaotic power—damaged and scarred with a texture reminiscent of bark, the pulsating green light of chaos now faded.
He reflected on the chaos mana’s impact. It had caused severe decay and rot, even affecting higher-tier opponents. Bones wondered, with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, if he could harness this power more effectively. But he abruptly halted his thoughts. Controlling chaos was beyond him. He was still grappling with basic mana manipulation and had barely begun to understand chaos. He needed to focus on the present.
Bones received another level in his Bonemancer Adept class and saw numerous skill level-ups as the sole positive outcomes of the battle. Additionally, he confirmed that he could manipulate stakes created by his Boneyard skill.
His next priority was to advance his Soul Magic skill, which was close to leveling up. He planned to dedicate the next few days to this task when—
A sudden disturbance jolted him from his thoughts. Bones spun around, his vision a chaotic blur. He caught fleeting glimpses of a figure fleeing and another pursuing them, all seen from a disorienting, upside-down perspective. His head fell to the ground, rolling and bouncing until it finally settled. He saw his headless body standing motionless before collapsing like a marionette with cut strings, just a couple of meters from where his head had fallen.
Struggling to regain control, Bones tapped the ground, trying to orient himself. His disembodied hands groped until they found the cranial bones of his skull. He clutched his head and pulled it toward his neck. Lying still, he waited for his mend skill to activate, slowly reconnecting his head to his body. During this vulnerable moment, someone approached, rifled through his pockets, and then fled. Hours later, with his body finally reconnected and operational, Bones rose to his feet. He had seen enough of the war and decided it was time to withdraw.
The Aphitonians captured the fortress later that day and the mines the next. General Varis ordered a retreat to regroup and plan a counterattack. Reclaiming the mines was a priority, but by the end of the week, the mine had been sabotaged and collapsed. No one claimed responsibility, leading General Zidall to question his orders and the overall strategy. He decided to withdraw to the fortress to fortify defenses and sent a group of loyal scouts to the capital to seek answers.
In the meantime, Bones crossed into the Aphiton Kingdom, taking care to avoid detection. His timing proved advantageous as the main camp near the border had been disbanded, and the army had dispersed. Bones navigated through the chaos, evading only the scattered remnants that had retreated early in the battle.
His journey through the kingdom attracted some attention. On several occasions, he was stopped and asked for identification. His adventurer's ID card worked in his favor at times, but he also had to fight his way through several confrontations. Eventually, he reached the outpost at the northern border, near the Evergreen Woodlands, the domain of the Forest Elves.
The outpost, the last settlement before the expansive forest, was deserted. Bones entered the empty camp, noting that some equipment and horses were missing, but most of the outpost was abandoned without signs of a fight.
"Looks like everyone left in a hurry," Bones observed. "No traces of a battle, so the outpost wasn’t attacked. This could be a good opportunity for some much-needed rest."
Bones explored the camp thoroughly and chose a secluded corner in the stables to rest. He removed his gear, sat cross-legged, and entered Eternal Rest. The reason for the outpost's abandonment remained unclear, but he resumed his journey the following day, crossing into the Forest Elves' kingdom.