Charles

I was rather certain that the undead sent by the Geinard Kingdom were once a part of my family. The wait for the runners to confirm that assumption was torturous, but I endured. Somehow. Agnes' warm hand cradling my own helped but, in the meantime, I had to focus on something else, otherwise, the guilt and anger would consume me whole.

And what was a better distraction than doing my job as Silver Oasis’ leader?

I threw myself into organizing the troops. A few army officers were already doing that, but I found them lacking. They were human and thought like humans - something that we couldn’t condone anymore. They didn’t do our allied forces any justice and treated them like standard Geinard Kingdom’s auxiliaries, which was a fancy word for meatshields.

It was a waste.

Even worse - a lack of imagination.

It didn’t help that a part of our forces were turned humans, which meant they understood what the orders really meant. This knowledge decimated our morale… after all, it was hard to feel motivated when you knew that your commanders would throw you into a meat grinder without an ounce of hesitation.

This had to change, mostly because we were no longer part of the Geinard Kingdom. We didn’t have the support of robust cities teeming with recruits that allowed our former country to use human wave tactics.

I planned the changes while watching as the troops milled around, checking their weapons and armor. The human part of our force amounted to about 230 soldiers, clad in dungeon-made armaments. This meant there was no uniformity to be found but as a tradeoff, the quality was through the roof - at least according to my blacksmiths.

Uno had a different opinion, though, saying that his Smith’s products were of trash tier and thus unfit for regular use. Still, he allowed the pieces to be taken without much complaint. I shuddered to think what quality item he would consider passable. It would probably be something made out of legendary adamantium or orichalcum filled with enough enchantments to buy a nation.

He did murmur something about “steel” and “steelmaking” but he clamped down when questioned. Being treated as barbarians did hurt a little.

Anyway, we at least managed to arm the defensive force with a comparable type of weaponry - most of them sported a spear, shield, and some sort of a close-range weapon. Some of the soldiers carried halberds and glaives instead, but they were good enough. We had to be creative with our supply. The pieces of armor were even less “samey” and instead consisted of a variety of metal helmets, breastplates, vambraces, and skirts. It didn’t seem like much, but a common soldier in the Kingdom’s army could count only on a few pieces of leather armor to shield him from harm.

With a Dungeon Core as an ally I could arm an army - and without spending any money, too!

I shook off my grin, forcing myself to return to counting my forces.

Besides humans I also had a bunch of soldiers turned beastkin at my disposal. There were about 80-odd, with an eclectic range of abilities and bloodlines. Some were tougher, some had poison attacks, others possessed good senses, and a few had scales, fur… there was even a natural mage or two in their midst. Yet the random nature of Uno’s serum meant that rarely there were more than a few representatives of the same race.

This was a bit of a problem - with such diversity, their role on the battlefield took a lot of work to define.

Still, I knew better than to bunch up them in a large group, like my officers wanted to do. As the weaker party, we had to abhor waste, and that meant using them to their full potential. I was shaking my head when I changed the battle plan. Instead of an unruly mob, the beastkin were soon turned into small, semi-autonomic groups, ready to harass the enemy from the sides.

Their weaponry and abilities varied, so I allowed them to create their own teams, and, with most of them being veterans, this turned out to be a correct decision. A bunch of bird-adjacent soldiers decided to use their superior sight and speed to form javelin-throwing bands, the more armored and blood-thirsty kin decided on two-handed weapons and hit-and-run charges. The few mages created their entourages, ready to hit hard and retreat, just like adventuring teams would do.

The situation was improving, and so was the morale.

Next, I moved to the dwarves that Uno employed. Or whatever they were. I couldn’t be arsed to bother about that. Politics when employing non-human mercenaries? That was a problem for tomorrow’ Charles.

The midgets were, as most of their kin, armed and armored to the teeth. However, unlike the Dwarven Holds slow and steady style, which favored a pairing of heavy shield and a close combat weapon, they abandoned the defense for offense instead. Each and every one of them carried either an axe or a mace in one of their hands.

Adding to that the fact that all of their weapons and armor were made from something called Tempered Iron - supposedly a magically created alloy - their survivability and damage-dealing capabilities were through the roof. Their lack of fear of death was just a bonus, really.

With those troops, I had two options. Either keep them in reserve as a massive hammer ready to strike our foes where they were the weakest, or reinforce the defensive line. In the end, it came down to offense and defense, once again.

I was playing a long game, trying to conserve my forces, so I decided for the dwarves to be dotted amongst the frontline troops. Their smaller forms allowed them to dash from and forth, dealing the damage and returning before a counter-attack was mounted, into the safety of a spear line.

That was the plan, anyway.

We also had a few half-giants… no, Uno called them Ogrekin, with a suspicious inflation in his voice, like he was telling a joke only he understood. These were tall, muscular brutes with an intelligence of a child. Stupid and loyal - one could say they embodied an image of a perfect soldier.

Our artisans once again toiled hard when it came to making adequate armor for them. It was crude, heavy, and durable. It had to suffice.

Uno’s Smith was useless in this matter, the creature either refusing to help or not understanding what was needed. We couldn’t show him how the Ogrekin looked because the brutes were too big to enter the floor, and when we forced them to crawl through the tunnels they broke down crying…

Who knew that something that big and powerful could have claustrophobia?

It was not all bad, though. One weapon type made by the monstrous smith turned out to be large enough to be usable. A humongous, two-handed sword looked like a shortsword in an Ogrekin’s hand, but it was better than nothing.

This type of sword, paired with a thick sheet of metal, hammered into a heavy, barely usable shield completed their uniform.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

We didn’t forget about their monstrous strength, though. That’s why near their position Oasis crafters prepared two dozen large throwing spears. Well, at their size they were more like ballista bolts, but with a smooth texture and a weird, sparkling color. It was all because of the material used in their production - the silvery trees that the Oasis was known for.

They were to be a nasty surprise for any flyers or haughty mages.

Good ol’ ballista bolt to the face beat nearly any foe.

Who else could we count on?

There was Knut with his brethren, but I wasn’t sure if sending a bunch of bloodthirsty undead was a good idea, especially if most - if not all - of the succulent flesh was on our side. I was doubly doubtful when it came to their loyalty, especially after Uno betrayed what the details of their curse were.

Bloodthirst, hunger, and regeneration were a terrifying combination, especially because it seemed like it was created at random. At least their ranks were limited to the amount of artifacts we took from the Dungeon’s depths.

I also had to sit through a two-hour-long meeting between Uno and Master Vincent, the old mage jumping in place at the chance to compare notes. Still, the ghouls that we created were a formidable foe, especially with the cult-like hold Knut had over them.

In the end, I decided to bury them in the ground, with a few tunnels splitting from the carved-out section of the dungeon. They were told to move forward after the signal and would emerge in the middle of enemy lines, far away from our succulent troops. The few volunteers responsible for freeing them knew where to run after doing their job, but their chances of survival were not great.

Yet each and every one of them wanted to make a difference, no matter the danger. Their backgrounds varied, but most of them lost family, and hope for a better future - or were just tired of living in a cruel world.

The deathseekers.

Wars like ours had a way of creating them in droves.

And last but not least - amongst our ranks were the magi following Master Vincent. A bunch of robed magicians, who showcased an unhealthy amount of curiosity, like their fascination with the rats that Uno uplifted. Despite the curfew that blocked anyone from delving deeper than the second floor they constantly pushed the boundary, intentionally avoiding culling Uno’s minions and were instead trying to engage in trade and even academic disputes!

I was appalled at their stupidity… and even more appalled that this strategy was working!

The rats started building little stands here and there, tucked away in the cracks of the dungeon while hawking their wares to those bold or stupid enough to set foot on the second floor. They exchanged the items from the outside for food, magical knowledge, and their terrifying serum.

A healing potion with the unfortunate side effect of turning people into beastkin. I shuddered when considering what would it do to people who already were turned. Would they turn into a chimera? Die? Or maybe the inhuman blood would simply strengthen, until they lost all of their humanity, becoming pure monsters?

At least Master Vincent’s students knew better than to test newly bought spells and concoctions on the eve of a battle. I dreaded how many of them would blow themselves up.

And then come back as beastkin.

Despite their clear instability, Master Vincent’s followers were anything but weak. Their formidable skill with Arcane Missiles made them perfect at killing off enemy soldiers en masse. They might struggle with more powerful spellcasters, but that was what I was here for.

“What’cha looking so smug over, man?” My ruminations were stopped by a rude fellow. Or rather, a rude fellow’s mouthpiece. I frowned but a quick look around showed that none of my followers were nearby. “Don’t fret, I checked we were free to talk.” Despite not seeing his face I could nearly hear the grin in his voice.

“What do you want, Uno?” I asked, ready to hear out another unreasonable demand.

“Well, for once, it’s the other way. What I can do for you? I saw you wandering around the Oasis without rest for hours!”

“Was it that long?” I muttered.

“Counting and reorganizing troops without a rest is bad for you. Not everyone is a perfect crystal like me. So… are you worried about the battle?”

“A bit.”

“That’s not all, am I right?”

For a moment we stood in silence. “I abhor the thought that I have to fight my own family.” I admitted, my teeth clenching with anger. “They still carried the same blood as I. Despite how we parted… I didn’t want to see them dead.”

Instead of the mockery I anticipated, the Dungeon Core sat in silence for a moment.

“Those on the surface aren’t all of the forces at your disposal, you know?” Uno spoke with a strange tone. “I have hundreds of Lebirs, some kobolds in exoskeletons, and a whole rat city downstairs, all ready to rumble.”

“I have unbound Dungeon Bosses and a cult of Mechanicus ready to sally out if the situation turns dire. And…” There was a giddy excitement in his voice. “A little surprise for anyone stupid enough to truly push my buttons.” Uno stopped speaking and gazed at the nearby hills. Or at least his puppet did.

I coughed, but that wasn’t enough…

I couldn’t stop myself anymore.

I started laughing.

It was a long, deep, hearty laugh that left me wanting for air.

“A-are you trying to cheer me up?” I gasped, my lips curling up when I heard his outrage.

“Way to be dick, dude! Way to be a dick!” He screamed out. “Here I am, trying to show you the situation isn’t that bad only to have my efforts laughed at?”

“N-no, t-that wasn’t my intention!” I answered, but my sincerity could be doubted. After all, I was still gasping for air.

The atmosphere relaxed as we simply gazed at the surrounding hustle and bustle, the soldiers and servants rushing to make last-minute adjustments.

It was a blessed ten minutes of silence.

But the world was not such a great place to let me rest.

“Incoming! Join the formation!” The sergeants shouted at the top of their lungs.

“Ready spells!” Another other screamed as the mages murmured chants under their hoods.

“Archers, prepare to fire! Check the bowstrings! Normal arrows first!” All the while scouts tried to find good targets.

“Scream, brothers! We will bury the dead once again!”

“““GRAAAAAAAAAAH!””” And beastkin were being beastkin… Wild, untamed. Bloodthirsty.

The chaos was turning into order under my very eyes.

Soon the undead column had crested a nearby hill and I gasped. There was no longer a need for any scout reports. These silhouettes were burned in my memory, be it for bad or good. A Mage, a Warrior, and a Prodigy. For a moment their current forms overlapped with the past.

Their smiles and scowls.

I could feel my eyes watering, a few tears slowly falling down my face.

The zombies and skeletons leading the advance wore a familiar symbol. Blue flame… once it was a mark of strength, a proof of nobility. Now they were just a part of another horror unleashed onto the world.

As I stared unblinkedly something happened.

Something loud.

The sky trembled, and ancient magic raked wounds against the Geinard Kingdom’s ranks, crushing and cutting the undead as another army crested the horizon.

It was comprised of the dead too, but instead of the familiar if haunting ranks of the human skeletons, these were pure abominations - large masses of pus-ridden flesh with barely human form, skeletal centaurs, giant undead, and hunched ghouls.

And amongst them stood a familiar figure spewing ancient words.

The Lich.

I still gazed dumbly as the two armies collided with a screech of bone and meat. I turned my head away only to hear Uno scream.

“No, fuck YOU dead-thing! Charles doesn’t give a shit about your ancient grudges!”

The Lich continued its monologue. Uno… continued to comment.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

“WHAT FUCKING DEBT?!”

“ARE YOU INSANE?”

“You can understand him?” I muttered, gobsmacked.

“Yeah? He’s kind of a dick, you know. I think he has a grudge against your ancestor. Or this Waltzer fellow. No matter.” I could nearly see him grin. “I think you will need my help, eh?”

Then, without waiting for a response he continued.

“Especially since my scouts found out elven, half-elven, and dwarven squads nearby. They are closing in. This party is going to get louder.”

I groaned. Gods really had it against me, today.