Uno

I should be scared, trembling in my boots, as the dead armies were poised to clash above my dungeon. Instead, I grinned, ignoring the fight that would make or break us. I wasn’t so sure earlier, but now it was damningly clear - Charles needed all the help he could get. Once one of the enemy forces dealt with their opponent, their singular focus would surely turn to Silver Oasis.

No matter how tattered they had become it still should remain a force we would be hard-pressed to beat, no matter if it was the Lich or Charles’ former family members who were able to win.

And we couldn’t have that - at least not until I had his body firmly in my grasp. No matter how much I had to dance on a blade’s edge.

Welp, that sounded creepy. Ugh.

Anyway.

The Lich continued being a nuisance, its endless monologue pissing me off, but what I was most wary of were scouts of foreign powers dotted amongst the landscape. They limited my choices, especially when it came to using forbidden magic or creatures. Some of the watchers were still far away, but the most unlucky team had seconds until they were discovered.

It didn’t help that the elves in question weren’t keen on hiding, spewing bloodlust like water out of a firefighter hose. I could see three long-eared adventurers camping on a nearby hill and it was only a question of time before the Lich noticed them too.

I hoped they would buy us at least a few minutes before their inevitable demise… if we were lucky they might’ve even managed to chip away at the powerful, magic-flinging undead.

Below their hiding spot two undead forces collided with a sound of broken flesh and bone, their charge otherwise eerily quiet. The Kingdom’s preserved soldiers fared far worse than their opponents, the numerous human undead - despite being armored - were simply too fragile to withstand the outpouring of the giant skeletons and abominable agglomerations of flesh.

The few skeletal centaurs and bestial dead slipped the Kingdom’s defensive line and gleefully charged toward Charles’ troops. Their inherent hunger was winning against the Lich’s commands.

Was the main baddie distracted by something?

Still, the attackers were few and far between, which meant they had been easily dispatched by the Oasis’ shield wall and the berserking Puppets. There were some inevitable casualties and the sounds of battle had been enriched by the screams of the wounded and the sharp orders of the commanders.

The beastkin parties were still held in reserve, rearing to go and ready to tear into the enemy. The same with our other trump card - the few Ogrekin we had managed to create. Turning into those was more art than science at this point. Still, the rats were trying their best. Currently, these big brutes were just picking their noses near the javelin stockpile. It was too soon to let them loose.

At this moment another note had been added to the surrounding din. The archers let their missiles fly - something that normally would be considered a waste when confronted with an undead enemy. This time, however, the flesh and bone hissed in response as the enhanced dissolving solution spilled over the warring foes. The undead forces trembled under the sudden assault, keeling in pain.

The volley was a success - thanks to an upgraded mixture used earlier as a deterrent by the Oasis's mages. Once again it had proven its worth.

It was a combination of my Ratlings' ingenuity and the open minds of Master Vincent's students that made the upgrade possible. The human academics were more than happy to share the mixture's secrets and to conduct experiments to predict its effectiveness. The rats used my Dungeon’s bounty to supplement the acid.

After that knowledge donation, many Lebirs had been harmed in the name of science.

Or was it alchemy?

Anyway, with the Lebirs only partially undead it was hard to judge the finished potion’s power. And I didn’t want to test it on Jailer Jonathan. Even if he was always hungry, and a little bit stupid, there was a glimmer of intelligence in his eyes. That meant remembering grudges, if pushed hard enough. There was no need to risk it.

Another avenue of experimentation were skeletons spawned in the Waltzer Castle, but their overall fragility meant they turned out useless too. Their bones crumbled easily to enhanced and standard recipes, leaving the scientists stumped.

In the end, we proceeded ahead with what had been made. It was a gamble - but a winning one, it seemed.

Master Vincent’s apprentices hooted and screamed as their hard work had been validated. They reminded me of university students celebrating the end of the school year. I admit - watching the invaders desperately trying to shake the hissing goo off was pretty funny but I still would prefer if the mages kept some decorum. Anyway, it was too bad that the improved solution was so potent that it was dangerous even to the living (with a few unlucky sods losing their sight), not to mention that after being made it chewed through the containers in hours.

I did remember that gasoline in my old world had a similar problem… and there were solutions to that. Ones that I didn’t ever Google (I wasn’t that bored), so all I could guess was the use of some kind of anti-corrosive emulsion. Made of what? Chrome?

No idea.

Anyway, seconds later after the first attack a few of our mages joined the battle, their indiscriminate spells burning, freezing, and electrocuting the undead. Some opted to simply crush them, with the Vincent’s apprentices shoving their fancy Magic Missiles up the enemy’s ass.

It seemed like some of them had a bit of pent-up rage.

I could see the Lich's eyes turning livelier, as it screamed bloody murder about the level of today’s youth and prepared its own magic… only to get interrupted by a trio of elven adventurers.

A mage wearing the most ridiculous hat I had ever seen, a completely un-elven-looking muscle-bound warrior with a tower shield (how did he manage to drag it up there?!), and… a completely normal rogue. Clad in leathers, wielding a pair of daggers, a bow - the standard fare.

I instantly decided that he was the weirdest and probably the most dangerous one.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Instead of attacking the Lich from afar, they focused on carving a road toward the magic-toting undead, thus giving it precious seconds to focus and strategize - a costly mistake.

The caster’s blue eyes swirled as a powerful spell condensed, its azure colors twisting into an orb above the mage’s head. The summon trembled, barely containing the mana it was stuffed with before shooting toward… Charles’ defensive line.

My Puppet’s eyes constricted in shock.

The ice ball was slow-moving but powerful, chock full of mana. Whenever it passed everything - living or not - turned into white statues, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. I could feel Charles's fire mana bubbling as he gathered power, staring at the enemy attack with a gaunt face.

I swallowed.

A few arrows and magic spells flew away, failing to intercept it, as the orb hungrily swallowed any interruptions.

It was too soon. The battle was just beginning, we couldn’t afford to exhaust one of our few trump cards. Just as I wondered if Guardian and his Kobold bodyguards had to be used I noticed something weird. A small, solitary figure drew my eyes.

Or rather it drew both mine and most of the army’s gazes.

A Puppet, or dwarf outcast, as the humans described them, was sprinting toward the spell, its short legs moving like crazy, even while clad in full armor. It would be a comical sight, if not for the gravity of the situation. The rat piloting it was one talented bastard, perfectly jumping around obstacles… and worse.

It was climbing the fucking undead on the way, performing the most insane fantasy parkour imaginable. The limbs and heads were trashed as Puppet’s pilot tried to bounce around, its feet smashing bones, denting helmets, all the while gaining speed and height. Doing everything in its power to bridge the gap and smash the incoming spell. The ability to ignore the pain from sundered muscles of its “meatsuit” sure came in handy.

We all watched with a bated breath as it clawed its way closer and closer.

And then its leg slipped.

The dwarf-lookalike fell in silence, only to get torn to shreds in seconds.

I breathed out.

A shame. It was a valiant try… And the human army thought the same.

“Damn!”

“So close, that madman was so close!”

“Shiiiiit.”

“They really don’t care about their lives, do they?”

The humans cursed… and then three more Puppets sprinted from the defensive line, their pilots trying to finish the self-imposed mission. I chuckled under my nose, while Charles mumbled with a shocked expression.

“Your monsters are suicidal.”

“I prefer to call them devoted. But hey, let’s not split hairs. It doesn’t matter how we call it, if it’s working, right?”

“Is it though?” He grumbled back, his eyes glued to the runners.

I grinned through the mouthpiece, as two more Puppets sprinted away, their predecessors already torn apart. Seconds later one of them managed to avoid the grasping hands, jumping into the middle of the incoming spell, its axe blade cutting through the orb’s core.

The spell wobbled in place, a shrill sound exploding outward before a wall of death followed.

My Puppet died, just like the others around the burst magic, but its sacrifice wasn't in vain. A large chunk of Lich’s forces and Kingdom’s undead were turned into statues, far away from our troops.

And the gazes of Oasis's soldiers changed.

Earlier they were just full of determination. A will to make the enemies pay for their lives. Now their gazes carried awe and a spark of hope.

“Those damn dwarves…”

“I shudder what the higher castes do if these are the riff-raff.”

“What did Master Charles promise them to throw their lives away so easily? A new home?”

“We won’t be worse than the midgets!”

“Stand! Staaaaand! Do! Not! Charge!”

“Keep formation!”

“I said stop!”

The sergeants were having problems stopping the troops from advancing. The unflinching zeal that the Puppets had demonstrated was slowly worming into their hearts and souls.

The battle continued, with Lich being strangely quiet.

I turned to check on it, just in time to observe the last moments of the distraction squad.

All three elves had been cut by Lich’s cold magic, their forms torn up and pierced with icicles and frost. Still, the undead magician itself wasn’t unscathed, a few of its bones cracked and burnt. It was less than what Charles had managed before, but at this point, I would take any advantage.

It was just like doing a raid in an MMO - we just had to keep accumulating damage on the boss!

The elven rogue screamed, and I blinked in surprise. He was speaking in the ancient tongue - the same that the Lich used.

“More will come, monster! We will hound you without rest, without mercy!” His black eyes burned with hatred.

The Lich chuckled, happy a chance at conversation, despite the grim circumstances.

“Did the old ones teach you how to speak? How fun! Maybe I won’t kill you after all…” It laughed again. “What should I do, with these rare materials…” It mused. “Oh well, let’s just turn you into an undead! If I get lucky you won’t even lose your mind! An immortal conversation partner would be splendid!”

The leather-clad elf spat on the ground. “I would rather die.” He growled.

“That can be arranged!” His opponent crooned. “I should really hunt the elves more. In hindsight, it’s obvious that the most ancient race would have the biggest chance to remember the old ways.”

“Now, now. How did the young ones call it? Hitting two birds with one stone?”

“Aeon’s servants will turn you into ashes, monster!” The rogue screamed back, clearly stalling. I noticed that the undead noticed it too. It just didn’t care about what the ants around it could do.

Arrogance.

“Still clinging to that dead god of yours? He had been brought down so long ago.” The undead scoffed, eyeing its opponent, then it added after a brief moment of silence. “What, no response? No shouts of rage? No indignation?”

“Do you think you’re the first heretic to spew blasphemy in our faces?” The elf grinned back. “We’re used to it. Just like our enemies are getting used to being BURNED ALIVE!” He laughed, madness blistering in his eyes, as a suicidal attack was snuck in by the tower-shield warrior.

The undead reacted with an ice spell, only to have the damage reflected in a swirl of light. A few more cracks were added to its bones, but the muscular elf was torn in half by the counter-attack.

“Fool.” The Lich spat out, eyeing the fallen opponent.

The rogue followed right after his companion, dodging the close combat spells in a desperate bid to get close and deal more damage.

“You will die, monster, even if it’s the last thing we will do!” He screamed, the dagger adding nicks and dents to the enemy. “Nishan - cast it!” He gasped, an icicle piercing his chest a moment later, there was a hoarse laugh and he too crumbled down without another word.

The blonde elf nodded with a serious expression, his right arm bloodied and crushed.

A magic that had been ramping up in the background for minutes coalesced into a beam of light, centered on the Lich. I could hear the spell in my crystalline bones, its last chants were echoing in my head.

“...and I give myself to you, oh Aeon. Hear my plea. See my devotion. Burn my foes.”

“NEW DAWN!”

The world exploded.

Seconds later we regained our sight.

Unsurprisingly the Lich was a bit toasty but still fine. Damn monster. Everything else in a radius of twenty meters had been vaporized, sand glassed, and organic matter turned into ashes.

“Another robe wasted.” The undead shouted with anger. “Waltzer!” It hollered again, even louder. “Get out here and take care of the rats! I need to change.”

I trembled.