Uno
The world was on fire.
My precious silver-infused plants were either instantly turning to ash or melting, depending on the metal content. It wasn’t helping that they were not made with durability in mind. None of the Evil Eyes remained untouched either but accepting that I already focused on seeding a few more, my cable-like roots piercing through the soil straight toward the light. Minutes later my sight returned - and just in time.
The earlier inferno had embroiled both enemy constructs and allied ghouls alike forcing the battle to a screeching stop, while the shocked silence covered the combatants. The undead army vanished behind a fiery curtain, the sounds of boiling flesh and cracks of seared bone making the humans flinch every so often. Hoarse and nearly legible screams of the undying ghouls being burned alive only added to the horror.
From what I’ve seen Charles’ spell used three components - earth, fire, and kinetic. Somehow he managed to summon a stone boulder high up in the sky and then surrounded it with his green-tinted fires. The gravity did the rest, as the doom-sphere gained unstoppable momentum and simply smacked down right in the middle of the enemy forces.
A classic meteorite spell, taken straight out of a video game!
Unlike his previous attacks, this magic was more complicated, not simply woven from greenish-orange flames, but rather lovingly composed out of a few different types of magical energies. Because of that the lich’s mana shield also reacted differently - there was a pause when fiery and freezing magic clashed (the concepts conveying much more than temperature), but nothing like an instant explosion happened. Instead, the superheated rock just hung in the air for a fat second, before splintering into a myriad of shotgun-like shots, pelting all that remained underneath. A second later the ground was covered in the magical equivalent of a napalm strike combined with an A10 strafing run, crazed mana hissing and steaming as it attempted to devour both living and dead with mindless greed.
If this happened anywhere but on Yana, I would be sure that the enemy already bit the dust. My earlier world’s modern forces would fare poorly under such assault - after all, no matter if it was infantry, tanks, or armored vehicles they wouldn’t stand a chance against the mass and momentum of a freaking meteorite. No matter how powerful their anti-air was. However, we were in the middle of fantasy land, and because of that, the odds of the unthinkable happening were quite high.
The melting fire crackled for minutes straight before at last running out of magical fuel. And, as I presumed earlier, some figures were still standing, if looking a bit toasty.
To my surprise, and to the disgust of human soldiers, most of their ghouls also managed to weather the storm. Some of them lacked pieces of flesh, burned inside out with visible holes reaching deep enough to see their bones or viscera. All of them were covered in third-degree burns, but as long as they were alive the magic keeping them whole slowly regenerated the sustained damage. I was fascinated with the way their cursed items restored lean muscles and twisted, barely human forms. It looked painfully slow - the way the healing magic pushed out pieces of shrapnel, straightened bones, and realigned spines.
Not all of Knut’s subordinates survived though, some ended up on the ground in hand-sized pieces, their meat cooked to crisp, with sickly-looking organs splattered everywhere. They soon became a feast for their brethren, just another piece of meat to be consumed, even as melted metal from their eyes and blinders slowly dripped to the ground.
The damage dealt by Charles’ magic was enormous and yet they were not even the main target (or a target at all!) of his attack, just an unfortunate casualty.
The rest of the smoke gave way to the scorched earth and the devastation that lay behind. Like Knut’s forces, the skeletons, zombies, and even more advanced undead fared poorly against the all-consuming flame. I expected to see a sea of burning bones and ash, and indeed, there were some, but most of the dead simply broke down into pieces. Skulls, melted metal, deeply seared meat, carbonized bone, smoked leather and wood covered the ground - there was not a centimeter of an empty space left.
And while the greater part of the undead horde survived, it had depended more on how far away they were from the epicenter of the blast than their innate sturdiness. As I watched, the lich's grip on its servants seemed to slacken and more base instincts prevailed, the dead slowly crowding towards the outpost’s defensive line - their innate desire to feast on the living easily overpowering whatever self-preservation instinct was left in their rotting flesh and bleached bone.
Amongst the carnage, two figures stood still, unbroken by Charles’ attack. One of them was the undead mage and leader of the invasion. The smoke dispersed and the lich appeared - its back was still straightened, but the proud look it normally sported was diluted by the everpresent soot covering its bones and equipment. Both its right hand and the remains of the staff it carried were charred black, the magical implement crumbling before my eyes, and soon the grey ash was all that remained, drifting peacefully towards the scorched ground.
The rest of its body didn’t look much better, nor did its wardrobe. Charles’ flames did a number on the cloth, searing and mangling what was once a highly magical item. The pellets of stone bore numerous holes in the material, turning the magnificent robe into a battered rag. The bones underneath fared as badly, sporting hairline cracks and straight-up holes, their pale luster reduced to a blackened mess.
The undead mage survived, the blue flame present in its eyes - undiminished… no - glowing even brighter than before. For once, since the beginning of this battle, its gaze was ablaze with emotion.
I just couldn’t recognize what that emotion was.
The second figure emerged from the fiery aftermatch a moment later - the undead knight hid under its enormous greatsword, using it as a makeshift shield. Yet, despite such quick thinking, its defensive measures simply weren't enough. The avaricious flame consumed anything that was not defended well enough - including the knight’s hand grasping the hilt of its weapon and the rest of its bare bones. The inferno turned anything that wasn’t metal into kindling, leaving the skeletal warrior still capable of fighting but diminished nonetheless.
It squirmed, suddenly grasping the greatsword in its unbroken left hand, shifting the weight of its weapon. It has been secured with frightening ease. One that was clearly a result of surviving a thousand battles.
It seemed like nothing had changed for a moment, the undead monsters still were ready to assault both my dungeon and Silver Oasis. And yet I felt the vile magic faltering, the compulsion summoning its undead servants weakening. In reaction to that the Waltzer castle skeletons slowed their endless emergence, while the local humans - both those on the surface and those still desperately wedged on my first floor - breathed out a sigh of relief. Lacking their earlier numbers and replenishment speed the rest of the dead weren’t a major threat anymore, and their crumbly forms were easily dispatched by either my creatures or Silver Oasis' troops.
The shocked peace on the surface didn’t last long, however.
The first one to make his move was however not Charles, nor the lich or its minion - it was Knut and his ghouls. The, now naked (wearing only a helmet didn’t count as clothed in my humble opinion), leader of the cursed roared into the air, gathering surprised gazes. He gasped a moment later, exhaustion from battle settling in. Yet already the noise had drawn the attention of the ghoul survivors, their animalistic howls joining their chief’s scream. All of them were naked too, of course, as the fire didn’t spare their clothes.
“Bhreeeethreeeen!” Knut howled, his words stretched into an unrecognizable mess of growls and lisps. “Wheeee fight! Wheeee defeeeend! Wheeee repheeeent!”
“““Wheeee repheeeent!!!””” A slew of voices followed Knut’s scream - and the first sign of humanity coming from the cursed warriors.
The Silver Oasis forces weren’t as amused as I was, though, doubly so because their chained beasts’ reaffirmation of meatshield role came by unnoticed. Ghouls’ words were almost unrecognizable because of their lowered intelligence and physical damage to their heads and throats. Somehow the magic seemed intent on returning the ability to fight and move, before regenerating their lips and vocal cords. Curious but understandable.
Their humanity wasn’t strange. I was more surprised by their ability to pull back from their rage and cannibalistic greed. With a flick of my mind, a blue screen with the cursed weapon and helmet combo was summoned.
Berserker’s Blood Sword
A magical weapon forged from mundane iron and enchanted with an ability to greatly increase cutting power when bathed in blood. At the same time, the curse placed on it forces its wielder into a powerful rage at the sight of blood - which makes the user an unstoppable killing machine.
Any biological entity equipping the weapon will be immune to psychological effects but also unable to make a distinction between allies and enemies. The battle rage lasts a maximum of 10 minutes or less if there are no enemies left on the battlefield. After the berserk state ends the user’s physical abilities are cut in half and exhaustion sets in.
This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not wearable by dungeon creatures.
Warning! Equipping the item results in a change of class!
Regenerating Helmet of Endless Hunger
A magical helmet made from mundane iron and enchanted with the boon of regeneration and the curse of hunger. The boon and the curse are connected and will activate simultaneously.
Any biological entity wearing it will constantly regenerate damage, burns, destroyed organs, or lost limbs back to the last remembered form of the user. During the process of regeneration, the user will have to endure constant hunger pains and a desire to feed. Be it flesh, plant, or even rotten matter - all will be consumed to fuel the enchantment.
This is a cursed item, thus its ownership can be only transferred after the current wielder has been killed or a sufficiently strong anti-curse magic has been used. Not wearable by dungeon creatures.
I nodded. Any remaining blood on the battlefield had been vaporized under Charles’ attack, and no enemies were visible for a long while with the everpresent smoke covering the field, so the rage fueling them had abated. Thus the ghouls had regained their senses and then the most powerful and oldest of their kind - Knut - took charge of guiding their thoughts.
Normally they would turn on their captors, tearing into the Silver Oasis’ lines with the same ferocity they displayed when fighting the undead.
And yet the misguided sense of belonging turned them into willing tools of the humans.
It was foolish, but still… Not my problem.
Not that anyone else had a clue what actually happened. Access to blue boxes explaining what items really did seemed to be pretty rare amongst the Geinard Kingdom’s people and without that knowledge, it would be hard to understand where the exact limits of the cursed tools they used lie.
They were probably forced to use tried and true empirical methods when coming up with explanations. Monkeys banging on the rocks.
Sucks to be them.
In a happier, more accommodating world, I would try to pass as an item identifier, living a leisurely life. And yet the continent of Yana was much too cutthroat for that to work. Especially for a stone like me.
Anyway, the not-really-dead formed a sloppy line and started intercepting the undead drifting toward the humans. This action clearly designated their allegiance. In response, Silver Oasis warriors shuffled around for a few tense moments before relaxing their stance.
Charles was heaving, teetering on the verge of hyperventilation, as he tried to stabilize his mana and mind after a heavy expenditure. While earlier he stood alone, the greenish flames visibly balking at anyone coming close, now a few soldiers guarded his flanks, including Master Vincent and Butler Adam keeping him upright.
“I-I’m okay…” He gasped before squinting at the lazily continuing battle. The dead and not-dead slugged it out in a strange dance. The ever-regenerating ghouls kept a clear advantage against even the most evolved undead. Their armor and special abilities made them count as small blockades, with Knut’s kin working in groups, in a way that reminded me of how wolves hunted - by distracting their prey while a packmate went for a kill. Be it an armored death knight, a large abomination, or an emaciated wight, all fell before their combined might.
As the fight continued I felt a draft. A cold wind blew screaming above my metallic trees.
The rage of the powerful lich boiled in the air, stopping both the invaders and defenders in their tracks.
The undead caster summoned a walking stick made entirely out of ice, and then a moment later smashed it into the ground.
“ENOUGH!” It screamed in the ancient language, yet the hatred and its inhuman willpower affected every soul present, from the strongest warriors to the smallest critters. All stopped in their tracks, horrified.
Even though its bones had been burned and blemished, the lich’s eyes held greater sway than before, like a close-up with nothingness had only steeled its resolve.
It gazed imperiously at the enemies and its servants - still grasped in the power of its voice - and slick, cold intent wandered from the Knut’s ghouls, toward obedient Ogrekin, Charles with his entourage, and then ended up focusing on… me? An eye far colder than death streamed through my dungeon cables, carrying a promise of murder and oblivion.
I hurriedly cut the connection, suddenly turning from an observer into a participant. The curse howled as it turned copper and flesh it encountered into a paste, then bulged and exploded into an eerily beautiful ice flower. Seconds passed as I trembled, reminded of my mortality. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, my curiosity forced me to return to the surface. This time I was carefully peeking at the main actors from another plant, situated afar in the backline of the Silver Oasis forces.
Thankfully, the lich ignored my presence as it hollered loudly, not caring about the lack of audience. “Good! That’s how our descendants ought to be! Keep your head high and do not stain the honor of your ancestors!” After a moment it continued. “We may be enemies yet, but to defeat a powerful foe is a deed much greater than trampling over a bunch of weaklings!”
Human forces scowled in response, still not understanding an ounce of the undead’s words, but feeling the contempt contained within. The breather was nonetheless used to reposition their forces and to bring back a few exhausted or hurt soldiers to the medical tents.
The lich hit the ground with its icy staff a few more times, clearly excited. “And to think that you even tamed a dungeon under your feet! Marvelous!” It screamed as my head was covered in a metaphorical cold sweat. “Grow in power! Gather allies! Show the world how the Geinard bloodline fights for their life!”
It stopped for a moment, glaring longingly at Charles and his entourage.
“And then I’ll come and crush you. Add you and those you love to my collection.” It whispered, and yet the covetous voice was clearly echoed amongst the soldiers' ranks, sending shivers amongst their lines, even though the meaning of the words was lost on them.
“Brace for a mental attack!” Yelled the sergeants and human warriors shook off their stupor, many taking out small paraphernalia, their voice rising and fading in some kind of a chant. Most of the fetishes were made in the shape of the white kite shield on a black background, which, as I recall, was a symbol of the Geinard Kingdom. Their quality varied greatly, from metal plates to barely dual-colored rocks, smoothed out from frequent usage.
It was a curious thing. I thought that Charles’ forces had cleanly separated themselves from the Kingdom. Being left for dead kinda does that to people.
Was I reading the situation wrong?
I noticed that it was mostly common soldiers that carried such items, the mages and higher-ups instead simply stood straighter, smaller and bigger auras of mana slowly covering their bodies.
The lich only scoffed at the frenzy that came over enemy forces and instead waved its hand in the air, pushing power into its words.
“ARISE.”
For a moment there was simply silence, before the first bone clacked on the ground, an unseen force dragging it to an arbitrary point. More soon followed the uneven noise filling the air. Only a second passed when a small hill made up of bones trembled before the undead caster, vibrating at an increasingly slower pace.
When it stopped the bones started to melt, becoming more like a fluid. Their color homogenized into a dirty grey, and their shape slowly changed to a… stretcher. A meter-wide plank, anyway, with handles growing from the upper and lower parts of the thing. After filling the horizontal part the liquid grew upward, creating a sort of canopy, before thickening the upper part of the bony structure.
Wait, was the lich making a palanquin? If so, where were the carriers?
As if to answer my question another command was given and dirty gray skeletons slowly rose from the surrounding bones. Unlike their “natural” counterparts these were clearly engineered - or should I say evolved? - with thicker arms and legs, complete with a lack of neck and a ribcage so expanded that it looked more like plate armor.
Without a word the new minions moved and kneeled near the palanquin, their hands prepared to lift it at a moment’s notice. The undead caster inspected its work, before barking a few orders and gracefully lying down.
The other undead started to bunch up, forming six orderly columns, while the large skeleton with a sword simply strode near the commanding lich as it was lifted into the air.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Ah, Waltzer.” It waved. “Come, walk with me. We need to repair the damage.” The mage spoke while inspecting the cracked and burned bones on its minion. “It’s a trifle really. The only problem will be the quality of materials, but I’m sure I’ll be able to procure them in the north. One way or another.”
Seeing the muted reaction of its companion the caster sighed heavily.
“It’s such a shame that only your shell remained. What would I give to see you in the height of your glory again.” There was a pregnant pause. “And this time fighting on the right side.”
Slowly, ever so slowly the undead filed out and abandoned their positions, to which humans reacted with much celebration, despite their exhaustion. A wasteland of flesh, bone, and ash remained, bare of any living creatures or plants.
And between that cursed plain and Silver Oasis' forces, a bunch of figures was waiting on their knees, their gaunt and naked forms displayed for all to see. Knut’s ghouls were kneeling in a straight line, each of them wearing their cursed helmets and keeping their swords behind their backs, hands bleeding from sharp edges.
Their eyes were empty as they stared at the ground, repeating a somber chant, not dissimilar to what human soldiers had done a moment before. The red, nearly brown blood slowly dripped onto the earth, wounds closing and opening every other second, as the cursed magic worked overtime to keep them alive.
There was a moment of confusion in the ranks before an order to recapture them was given, and trembling warriors with rough linen sacks in their hands thought they were sneaky, as they closed the distance.
It would be a comical sight, if not for the absolute fear visible in their wide eyes.
Minutes passed and soldiers relaxed their guard, chatting, praying, and smiling at each other. Cauldrons with food were brought out, filled with filling stew, but the defense forces didn’t completely relax their guard. Their leader, Charles, also managed to mostly recover. His red eyes regained their brilliance, while both his butler Adam and crazy-looking Master Vincent were standing nearby, ready to assist.
It was a peaceful time.
Everyone knew it wouldn’t last.
Minutes passed, with time stretching out like molasses.
Then, something changed.
Drums in the deep! I wanted to scream, my favorite movie playing and replaying in my head. My revenant, Non simply scoffed through the link, retaining only the significance of a new group of enemies arriving.
“Kill. Dark.” She sent, her bloodlust filling the gaps.
Sure, the arrivals were coming from the south, where Geinard Kingdom heartlands stood. It was unlikely that they were anything but enemies. Especially since Charles declared Silver Oasis' independence, or however one would like to call it.
More time passed before human scouts returned with news and by that time the drums were joined by a regular thumping sound. A sound of many feet moving in perfect, mechanical precision. A sound of an army at march.
The first one to crest the hill was a figure clad in dark armor, the same one I saw before. It was riding on an armored horse, with a cape billowing behind its back. Not a single piece of flesh was visible in the setting sun, the same with the soldiers that marched just behind the knight.
Unlike their leader, they wore old and often wrinkled leather armor and a full-face helmet combo, complete with wooden shields and spears. Painted on their chests was a symbol of Geinard Kingdom - a white kite shield on a black background. A definition of a cheap infantry.
Or it would be so if not for their inhuman precision when marching.
It was like observing a puppet being moved by a skilled master. Each step was as long as the last and it took them as far as the one before. Which, by itself was fine. There were however about two hundred of these guys, and all of them moved in the same rhythm.
I wasn’t the only one to notice that discrepancy. The human forces, which relaxed seeing a familiar iconography returned to the highest alert.
Despite their worries, the incoming force stopped before entering Silver Oasis proper. Instead, their leader raised his hand, and the army spread out in the nearby plain, as his horse slowly trotted closer. The soldiers behind him spread out from a two-man column into a formation more reminiscent of a three-soldier deep firing line.
“Captain Sohek from the 342nd Defence Regiment hails the free settlement of Silver Oasis.” The leader growled, clearly disgusted with the latter part. “Send out your representative. I’m here to negotiate.”
There was a commotion on Charles’ side as his aides tried to stop him from coming forward. Cries of it could be a trap! and you’re still not at full strength were ignored by the fiery magician as he slapped away those holding him back.
He walked to the frontline with a straight back, the soldiers giving him space. But his steps stopped just before the barrier made from that strange anti-undead liquid. With a squint on an otherwise tranquil face, Charles began.
“Here I am, just as you wanted. Speak your part, Captain Sohek.”
The newcomer knight sighed. “A Blueflame, right?”
“Right now? Just Charles will do. After all the family kinda threw me out, right?” The flame mage responded with a smirk. “It wouldn’t do to dirty their name with rebellion.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, considering you’re its only living representative.”
“Wha--?!” Charles gasped, but Sohek continued his offensive.
“With your ancestor currently missing and most if not all adults either dead or crippled many of the Blueflames' old enemies used this chance to join their forces and get rid of a thorn in their side.” There was a pregnant pause. “They succeeded. As far as we know any man, woman, or child carrying Blueflame blood, was purged from existence. That is discounting some far offshoots or those exiled, like yourself.”
“I thought you were trying to get on my good side.” Charles sneered.
“Hmmm?”
“As a representative of the royal family, recounting how they failed to uphold their duties during this time of strife doesn’t really inspire my belief in them.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” The armored man’s face was hidden under the helmet, but his confusion was easy to notice.
“It seems like you forgot that during war magical nobles are under the protection of royalty, to stop a situation you described from happening.” Charles huffed while scratching his chin like the extermination of Blueflames didn’t concern him. “Otherwise most of the current families would be already extinct, not to mention how would it have weakened the Geinard Kingdom as a whole.”
“I see a few reasons for doing so.” The mage continued, his gaze growing colder with each word, before starting to count, each straightening finger looking like a soundless accusation. “First - to get under my skin. Unlikely, seeing as I am unimportant in the greater scope of things, but still in the realm of possibility. Or so you would think.” He quietly whispered the last words.
“Second - it is a play between houses, a long-winded plot in the making.” Charles closed his eyes, breathing out. ”I can think of a few of our enemies with enough cunning, tactical sense, and sheer vitriol to plan such a massacre. Unlikely, but still possible, since even without protectors Blueflames have their own secret methods to defend.”
“Third - the Royal Family completely lost control over the Shieldstar and the situation has persisted for long enough that the noble families grew bold.“ He sneered. “Like starving wolves, they tore into each other until only a few remained. Bloodied, weakened but at the same time sated by their enemies' demise.”
As he finished speaking Captain Sohek started clapping slowly, while a small chuckle escaped his lips. The warrior dismounted from his horse, seemingly tired of looking down on Charles.
“I never was good at word games.” He explained. “The diplomats at home said I should start with it, according to their wisdom. To give me a high ground, a starting advantage, or similar bullshit.” You could nearly hear his grin under the helmet. “Real warriors don’t need such things, dont’cha think?”
“Now, why don’t we talk about what I’m here for.” The man studied Charles for a moment. “I was gifted with enough decision power to guarantee both your independence from the Geinard Kingdom as well as some refugees to fill your little oasis with. Hell, I’ll even throw some material support. Weapons, armor, food, you name it.”
“And the price for that grace would be letting you take back Agnes, yes?” Charles answered with a sneer.
“Oh, come on!” Sohek exclaimed while waving his hands. “It’s Princess Agnes Geinard! And I’ll be taking her back to her family! You are the one keeping her here, against her will! We are not the bad guys!”
“Sure, and what you and yours will do to help her? At least I don’t want to use her, allowing that monster to take control of my fiance!” The red-haired mage shouted, magic churning around his body menacingly.
“I would advise you not to call Lady Green any names.” The armored man answered coldly, his countenance suddenly straightening. It was fear, I noticed. Raw, primal fear. “She is very particular about that. If you anger her any further I cannot guarantee your safety nor the safety of those you shelter.” He continued stiffly.
Two men stared at each other with indescribable expressions, while Geinard soldiers and Charles’ rebels continued their stand-off behind their backs. The armored Captain was first to cave, as he chuckled and leaned forward, still however careful to not cross the Silver Oasis alchemical barrier.
“You know damn well how our Kingdom operates.” Sohek whispered conspiratorily, suddenly changing his tune. “We use whatever we can to weather the storm. To survive. No matter how low or sacrilegious the outsiders may find our means. Even the royal line is no exception to this.”
With a deep breath, he continued. “Do you really think that His Majesty will not sacrifice his daughter to resurrect one of the pillars of the Kingdom? Lady Green is rumored to be a level 50 powerhouse! See reason, scion of Blueflame! We can’t lose her, lest we will be trampled under monster stampedes! Not now, not ever!” With a heated gaze, he continued. “You should understand how power is necessary to do what is right! What price has one life, when such a sacrifice could save hundreds of thousands of souls?!”
“And what if I don’t care?” Charles answered through clenched teeth. “What if I reject such notions, and cling to the love we shared? To emotion? To justice?”
“Then I would call you but a young fool.” Sohek answered sadly. The soldiers behind him shuffled their ranks, showing disciplined behavior.
“We can still talk it out, despite our differences.” He continued after a moment with a false cheer. “Will you invite me to talk like civilized people over a cup of tea? I’ll even leave all but a few of my bodyguards outside your perimeter.”
“Hmmm? What do you say?”
“My answer is simple. Of course… not. Go to hell, you undead freak!”
I observed as Captain Sohek balled his fists in response and then… started laughing.
“How… did you… know?” He spoke between bouts of giggling. “Haaa… it’s good I no longer need to breathe.”
Charles shot him a mean gaze, before answering calmly. “You’re not the first official sent to our little outpost. None of them needed the invitation to take over our best quarters while keeping their nose high in the air at the peasant stench.”
“Not to mention that something was wrong with your men. Standing still, without as much as twitching or looking around? What are these? Royal Guards? Also…” The red-eyed mage squinted at his opponent. “Who the hell walks all covered up in this kind of weather?! It was clear that you fear the sun and that your men are anything but that!”
“Sure. Nearly correct. I don’t really fear the sun.” Sohek took off his helmet, showing to the world black eyes and short coal hair complete with a triangular, sharp face. Two incisors were visible against his bloodless lips, completing a standard vampiric visage. “It is just so inconvenient you know?” As he spoke the last rays of the sun hissed, dissolving his skin.
Despite the damage the Captain just stood there, letting off an unsettling feeling. Seconds passed as his flesh regenerated and then turned crisp again. He showcased his powers a few more times before raising the hood, the helmet secured tightly at his waist.
“So, now that everything is clear… will you talk?” He continued as if nothing had happened. “I’ll be honest. Now that you know about us, the ceiling of rewards given has gone up. Immortality doesn’t sound so bad, doesn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t call turning into a monster as becoming immortal.”
“Technicalities. We need all the recruits we can get. If human cohorts aren’t enough then we’ll raise our dead to stop the enemy!”
“And what, at this point differentiates you from the monsters on the other side?” Charles asked bitterly.
“Why, convictions of course!”
“You know my answer, monster.”
“Ah, but I think you misunderstand.” A wide grin appeared on Sohek's face. “While it’s true I cannot walk in uninvited, these fellas.” He pointed behind him, at the leather-clad undead. “Aren’t limited to such things. The barrier will hurt - a bit - but once they are through you’re dead.”
“And you know what?” The undead Captain added in a whisper. “There are no restrictions on entering places without the living.”
Okay, the stakes are rising a bit too much. I’ve already invested in Charles a fair bit, not to mention all those exp--, I mean all these resources I’ve put into humans living above my dungeon. I was not going to let this Sohek guy, and by extension whatever remained from the Geinard Kingdom simply take them!
Time to expedite my timetable!
It’s great that my Puppets and Dragoons were already massed underground. Now, to give orders…
“March upwards, my creations! Silver Oasis humans are allies! The undead on the other side of the barrier - enemies! March upwards and stand against the destruction!”
“Ah, and one more thing - try to behave like dwarves? Mute dwarves, preferably?” I added in a much less sure tone.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea...
Ignoring my conflicted emotions the underground force raised their weapons in a show of silent support. Their weapons and armor clanked as they slowly made their way toward the stairs. There were not even a hundred of these guys, but counting Charles’ forces we would be able to easily repel up to five hundred enemies… Or so I thought. These troops weren’t battle-tested but their heavy armor and even heavier weapons allowed them to dish out and endure enormous amounts of damage.
I also notice a change in the Puppets' descriptions.
[Analyze]
Soulscoured Puppet
A former sapient creature subjected to inhuman torture, ending in the absence of will and an independent soul. The resulting residue is completely dependent on received orders and dungeon mana. It can be repurposed to function outside the depths that spawned it.
It remains indistinguishable from other sapient beings and retains the skills and magical abilities that it was capable of before the change, the only exception being the ability to speak or write. It is still however able to understand speech. Due to extensive remodeling, the physical strength and reflexes of the puppet were greatly enhanced.
This puppet has also been strengthened by installing a shard of Anima in its chest. It functions as an additional power source and self-destruct device.
Threat level: dependent on the base model
Yup, here it is… my minions were now a type of kamikaze, with a gleaming green haze covering their hands and legs when it was exerting itself. A set of levers and armor was added since its inception, in some part reflecting what the Dragoons had done earlier. My Ratling engineers were anything but creative… even if the mention of self-destruction kinda worried me.
Since when did they?
No. It’s better to not know.
As I mumbled under my nose the march never stopped, and now even above ground a loud THUD, THUD, THUD sound could be heard, my soldiers marching in a perfect step.
They arrived at the first floor and promptly ignored any humans encountered. The Silver Oasis folk didn’t know how to react but since the creatures didn’t move to attack they too settled in a state of worried observation. Additionally, they weren’t sure who they were, only adding to the confusion.
Sohek and Charles waited for the noise to subside, both unsure of the source and its consequences. Yet, when the first Dragoons and Puppets emerged from the underground Sohek reacted with revulsion.
“Have you really fallen so low, Blueflame, to consort with demi-humans?” He shouted while spitting on the ground. “They’re worse than monsters, lower than animals, they can’t be trusted!”
“Wha--! I'm not their ally!”
“Don’t try to deny it, deviant!” Sohek’s eyes narrowed. “A dwarven clan and its kobold mercenaries! As for the caste… outcasts?” He muttered quickly. “Still, I am truly… disappointed.”
As he spoke my warriors came closer, easily finding empty space beside their new human comrades, who kinda didn’t know how to react. Details, details. What mattered was that soon their heavy iron armor stood toe to toe with leather-clad humans. Dragoons as a defensive specialization focused on reinforcing the line, while Puppets gathered on the flanks, their maces and axes ready to shed blood.
Ahead of the soldiers but still not so close to the undead as Charles stood a leader Puppet, made from Tobil… something? I knew I stole his memories, but so many dwarves had been devoured by that unsuccessful procedure it all mashed together. Anyway - he was larger and sturdier than his compatriots and thus, he was in charge. Or should I say “it”? Whatever.
The representative of the kobolds was unimaginatively named Kobold Sergeant. I vaguely remembered that it was the Guardian that bestowed such a “rare” name on the poor sod. While not different from other kobolds it had a stronger presence, bright eyes full of curiosity, and, more importantly, an ability to speak. He just needed an occasion to do so. I couldn’t wait.
And just in time - as Captain Sohek was finishing his tantrum. How nice.
“I will inform my superiors about your betrayal, human.” He hissed. “What you’ve built here will be burned back to the ground, your allies slaughtered and left for the crows to feed!”
“Once again, these are not my allies… I don’t know from where these dwarves had appeared!” Charles spat out tiredly.
“Your measly attempts at distraction aren’t working, blood bag!” The vampire put on his helmet but didn’t stop screaming in an accusatory tone. “Wash your neck, for our retribution will be swift!” His head turned to the undead warriors behind him. “Follow me!”
With a deliberate slowness, his horse turned around and trotted away from the Silver Oasis leaving Charles and his soldiers dumbfounded once again. After all, it was twice now that a foe had simply turned tail and left. During one day, too.
The fiery mage observed the undead leaving, as his butler, Adam, came closer, glaring at the leaving enemy. Clearly, the unanswered insults didn’t lay well with the man.
“Shouldn’t we send them a few farewell gifts, Master?”
“I… will… do… just… that…” He groaned out, answering his question.
“Master?” The old servant turned around, suddenly worried.
“Do not interrupt him, he’s casting some outrageous spell right now.” From the human forces' ranks emerged Master Vincent, his shaggy appearance and grey beard as always making him look like a vagabond, not the powerful mage he was. “It’s curious, as I don’t recognize the casting framework…” He mused.
I focused on Charles and the magical voodoo that he was currently performing. There was a small hum instead of the usual chant and… a line of energy stretching under the ground in a way similar to my own cable-like dungeon protrusions.
Interesting.
After noticing the pattern I followed this feeding line and arrived about thirty meters ahead of the horse carrying Captain Sohek. Under the soil, nearly invisible to anyone's senses was something I could only describe as a shaped explosive, prepared to burst upwards the moment it was destabilized.
The boiling heat inside the trap was impressive and Charles was still filling it with his mana, enlarging the explosion. I was by no means an expert on magical boom-making, but something about the spell rubbed me the wrong way.
Even with Sohek’s slow pace, it took only under a minute for him to arrive at the site.
I saw Charles suddenly relax and observed as a magical equivalent of a cartoon black powder trail burned to my mana sight, before ending up in the convoluted mass of mana under the poor vampire.
And then exploded upwards with a roar of a thousand suns!
The attack was loud, powerful, and wide enough to turn the vamp into ashes before he could even respond. The few dead around him turned out flammable enough for the explosion to turn them into fiery human matches, quickly burning through all the flesh, skin, leather, and bone.
They didn’t scream and the Geinard Kingdom's dead simply… stood there. The drummer was still giving his best, despite the other's indifference.
The humans were in a rough shape, most of them lying on the ground, covering their ears. The soundwave was stronger than anticipated. Some of them were even bleeding from their eyes and ears, literally coughing out blood too, which I think was indicative of internal damage. In xianxia-verse anyway.
Ignoring his soldiers Charles straightened up, before roaring to the skies.
“Chaaaaaaaaaaarge! Kill them all!”
The first ones to advance were my Puppets and Dragoons, their reinforced bodies allowing them to weather the attack relatively unscathed.
As I gazed at the slowly moving line of heavily armored units the red-haired mage hobbled over to the leaders of my forces. He gazed at them, with more tiredness than anything else and spoke quietly.
“Lead me to your master. We need to parley.”
I laughed giddily.
[Yes, lead him to me, it's about time to deal in truths, after all.] My words were answered with nods and a hissing chuckle as Kobold Seargant started to answer. I didn’t listen anymore, focused on creating a simple loudspeaker.
Then trying to connect it with everpresent copper wires.
Oh, I was going to have so much fun.