A disheveled man ran through a field full of broken banners and corpses, sweating and panting. On his hand was a broken sword which complimented his dirt-ridden and blood-soaked clothes.

For every step, panic seeped deeper into his mind as the sound of hooves clopping against the crimson ground became louder and louder. Behind him was a horseman masquerading as Death itself - fully enclosed in metal scales with an expressionless silver mask to hide the visage of the lifeless rider. Ghastly black fog leaked from the armors of the horse and the rider, as if they were slowly disintegrating into ash.

The horseman held his lance with two hands, and prepared for a downwards thrust as he got closer to his soon-to-be victim.

“Humanos! Reject me!” the man begged to the skies in hopes that whatever divine being out there was listening.

The masked rider held his lance over his head, prepared to end the man’s short life, but swerved in the last minute. His last-minute maneuver caused two metallic spiders to crash into each other mid-air.

Surprised at the sudden appearance of such creatures, the rider noticed something was approaching him from afar - a rider clad from head to toe in dark metal riding atop an ugly bull-like beast with a plow at the front.

The masked rider gripped his lance and charged at his newly arrived enemy. Within seconds, the two riders clashed. The black-clad horseman’s long lance barely missed the masked horseman, and was pierced at the heart. The impact was so strong, the masked rider’s lance shattered, its midsection bursting into tiny wooden chips.

He thought that was the end, only to realize that the black-clad rider couldn’t be bothered by the spear point sticking out of its chest.

“NORTHMAN!” the disheveled man shouted from afar with great relief. “STRIKE THAT UNDEAD WITH NO REMORSE!”

The undead horseman realized what he was up against.

“Utranish e karaia! Sa’ah-kra ha’saakra!” the undead shouted with a hollow, echoing voice towards the drone cavalry. He took out his spare lance then gripped it with his two hands again. With a kick of his horse, the undead’s charge began anew.

The drone responded in kind, beginning the second bout. This time, the masked undead missed his mark and hit the drone’s thick shield, deflecting his lance away from his intended target. Luckily for him, the drone failed to hit the undead.

The drone slammed its shield against the undead, then used its edges to bash at the lifeless horseman. Acting quickly, the horseman circled around the drone as he grabbed the mace on his hip.

Instead of just discarding the lance, the drone threw it at the horseman before pulling out its axe. The undead managed to barely avoid the lance, but this gave the opportunity for the drone to hack at the horseman’s neck. Chainmail shattered, and a loud crack could even be heard by the human watching the fight between the dead and the machine from afar.

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With his free hand, the undead grabbed at the drone’s neck and bashed his mace against it. The two exchanged blows until the undead broke off and retreated. Of course, the drone gave chase.

The undead pulled his bow from behind then made a quick prayer. He skilfully nocked his arrow, turned his body, and fired at the drone chasing after him. The drone didn’t even bother dodging the arrows as the gap between the two horsemen closed.

The undead tried different angles and aimed at possible weak spots, but failed to even irritate the drone. As he readied another arrow, from the corner of his sight, more drone riders appeared. He kicked his horse harder out of habit and gave up on the idea of using his bow.

The horseman was headed straight for a large group of undead organizing themselves from a recent battle. As the zombies shuffled around to form ranks, their lines were quickly smashed by the Varangian heavy cavalry.

Undead horsemen tried to respond accordingly, but were harassed by supporting spider drones. Though it wasn’t clear which side had the upper hand, the undead unexpectedly broke off without warning. While the foot zombies were left behind to hold the drones back, the undead horse riders scattered into different directions. When the final undead was laid to rest, the drones didn’t pursue the rest. Instead, they moved into formation and waited. Hours later, Princeps and his army finally arrived.

Princeps scanned the area slowly and carefully, his red glowing eyes intently studying the scarred land. His sight landed on a grotesque creature made of eyeballs with wings, hiding within the forests. When the monster realized Princeps was staring at it, it scurried away deeper into the forest.

‘Report. Undead entities are increasing in numbers. Reason deduced: to stop us,’ Princeps concluded. ‘Slight delay in plans expected.’

‘Affirmative. Will make sure to stay in one piece when you arrive,’ Exarci replied in hivespeak.

‘Addendum. Will cease delaying actions if the situation is unfavorable to our side.’

‘Take your time.’

With that said, Princeps put his drones to work. Spider drones and warrior drones scavenged the battlefield, stripping the dead, and preparing the site for processing. Two mini-Custodians were set up at the center of the battlefield along with a shiny new addition - a glass-like floating box. It was the size of a large wagon and was barely protected with a few plates welded into it.

“Order. Temporarily set up here and use all materials gained to create combat units,” Princeps said to the box.

“COMMAND RECEIVED. COMMENCING PROTOCOL…”

The box rooted itself onto the ground, then unpacked itself. Cranes protruded out of its exterior and conveyor belts were placed on its sides. Within minutes, the machine was ready, and the drones tossed all of the bodies into it.

The machine gobbled up all the bodies happily, and in turn, it started churning out fresh drones. Unlike the mini-Custodians (also known as the Factory Cores), the Outpost Mind was able to produce full drones and didn’t require a lot of anti-mana to power it.

The dead bodies were turned into drone chips, and the scavenged metal were recycled into weapons and armors. What started as a small force had slowly turned into a horde, and the closer Princeps got to the frontline, the more his army grew.

In just a day, the plains were picked clean. The only signs of battles were the trampled and bloody grass. The drones packed up like nothing happened, and prepared to move.

‘Observation. Small battlefield towards the north. Task force moving to clean-up.’