8. Death vs death

Across the ocean, Maras fought with incessant haste and determination, every second was a burst of activity. Struggling with Bacteria, Maras and Ildrid slaughtered them, harvesting them for their armies, having veered off in a south westerly direction. Thirteen Necromancer Lords chased him, determined to put an end to the rogue Necromancers; Ildrid formed a vanguard to try and stop them, and Maras thought of strategies to end the pursuit, swivelling his head around, using his ghosts as scouts to survey the terrain, all the while Bacteria hampered them.

“Ildrid? Where have the Demons gone?”

“They’ve gone sir.”

“Stop begging the question. That’s what I’m asking, where?”

“Their realm,” Ildrid muttered.

“I see, well that’s less trouble I guess, but we still have Dina charging against us,” he growled, “damn it.”

Maras flicked the knife in his hand, thinking of where to teleport if need be. His Reapers and Ghouls suddenly came across someone else’s Spectres. Blue ethereal sparks clashed, some purple; the ghosts which usually floated now being pushed and dragged on the dirt, Maras clenched his teeth, urging his ethereal beings forward.

“Oh great,” Maras muttered, “just what we need.”

“What’s that?” Ildrid said.

“Someone just like me,” Maras said with a grimace in his tone, for he was only bone.

“Oh shit, a ghost summoner,” Ildrid said, “archers! No, axemen form tight ranks and keep your… senses ready!”

Maras was hopping around the battlefield, his Reapers and Ghouls making quick work of any Spectre, Maras’s Spectres duelling a Dina Necromancer’s. Three other skeletal armies, one Zombie army, a few Lichs, and even a Vampire were on their way. Ready to finish the renegade Necromancer. The fissures between Maras and Dina formed because of the Cahov invasion, and yet Cahov’s invasion had finished and Maras and Ildrid were still outlaws. They ran and yet not nearly fast enough to evade everyone. Bats flew overhead and long distance shots could be seen arcing toward them.

“Fuck!” Maras seethed, “Ildrid, you run into the mass of Bacteria, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you crazy? That’s 13 Lords.”

“Soon to be former…” he muttered, grinning in his voice, “our Undead faction will be made today!”

“Make history,” Ildrid whispered.

Vampires flew overhead, and Spectres stabbed them. Clashing with other ghost Lords. Ghouls harvested Bacteria, while his Reapers cut a Vampire in half. It glued itself back together, in the meanwhile Maras hopped around making sure he fought off any pursuers of his ally. Wraiths threw knives, Reapers clashed with other Reapers and skeletons.

“Surrender outlaw, and we might not turn you into mush!”

“Dina made a literal deal with the Devils. You are traitors to Undeath!” Maras immediately retorted, chastising them with no fear.

“They’re out now, but your loyalty was obvious, you don’t deserve to be Undead!” A Vampire Lord said.

The Vampire Lord carried a green glowing sword, swiping endlessly to end Maras’s existence; other Vampire brethren swarmed the Undead warlord with equal vigour. Bacteria were being harvested in the background and yet the Undead were exchanging blows in the forefront. Maras hopped from place to place, his Spectres being deployed to take out leadership, his Spectres assassinating one Lich Lord. Vampires were rebuffed with Reapers, skeletons and Zombies attempted to make Maras history; Maras also had to deal with Bacteria, suffering horrendous losses, half his Ghouls rejoining the fight, fighting Dina’s Ghouls and all other Undead creatures levied against him. His Wraiths racked quite a few kills but it was his Spectres hopping from place to place, that silently and cunningly stabbed a few Lords dead. The Lichs were smarter, put bigger guards and attacked him personally with more force and frequency; the Bacteria aggressiveness dialled up and the fighting went from an aggressive skirmish to a chaotic total war. Other Dina Lords appeared and Maras methodically eliminated them; his Spectres all returned next to him, having done their work flawlessly.

“Good work,” he whispered.

Leaderless armies still organised against him, but in the end when he faced the other Ghost Lord he defeated the Lord and took control of his flock. The Vampire Lord was bested, his minions dissipated, not known exactly where to. He looked at the customary knife of Spectres that he was equipped with, musing on mortality, destruction and Undeath.

I did what I had to do, it’s a fate I wish they wouldn’t have to suffer.

“Dina betrayed the Undead, I will make my own faction,” he said over the destroyed Dina Lords.

Reapers, Ghouls and Wraiths quickly flocked to him and he destroyed the remnant skeletons and Zombies and Lichs before wading through the endless sea of Bacteria. Maras looked around him, seeing nothing but Bacteria, he summoned a Ghoul Lord.

“Basara, that is your name,” Maras whispered.

The purple beast, the ghoul got its claws ready, ready to fight the beasts that were Bacteria, and grow their forces.

“What would you wish of me master?” The Ghoul Lord asked.

“Summon Ghouls and harvest the Bacteria. I will contact you,” Maras told it, “grow stronger here.”

Maras ran after Ildrid.

“It’s an endless sea, I couldn’t- wait you’re done?” The skeleton jangled in confusion, “fucking hell.”

“I dispatched with them, yes.”

“Dispatched?” He said, immediately internalising his dialogue, You demolished them, and how? How did you manage it you crazy bastard, he thought, “anyway what’s the plan?” Ildrid asked surprised and eager.

Maras you are so crazy, the risks you put yourself in. Why are you like this?

“Cahov is dealing with civil strife,” Maras whispered, scared someone might overhear, “those Demons are boundless, so are Bacteria of course, but…”

“But?” Ildrid listened.

“We have made lots of enemies here Ildrid, or rather I have I guess.”

“It is brave to seek independence from Dina. Knowing what you know,” Ildrid said, “even if it is dangerous…” Ildrid said wistfully, “I don’t blame you, it was the right thing to do.”

The two skeletal figures both turned their skeletal heads, looking at the sight of zounds of Bacteria in their vicinity.

An endless farm for our activities. Maras thought.

“They are not the ones to accept forgiveness, but I do not seek it. Enough of Dina, I will bring war to Cahov.”

“Are you sure Maras?”

The skeleton and the skeletal ghost both advanced forward, one silently, the other not so silently.

It’s all a chore, death is as much a chore as life. Maras chuckled at his own witticisms.

Ildrid turned his skeletal head and looked at his companion, opting to not ask in the end.

“Surely it was easier to simply be at peace,” Ildrid asked prodding for a greater answer, “what is it you truly seek Maras?”

Years passed by in his end; how many years was it now, it’s always so hard to tell?

150 years ago. 892 CC in the depths of summer; it was a bright summer’s day in the Kingdom of Arar, in a small village tending to crops with his family. His father was a lightning mage, Arari citizens wielded lightning at their fingertips, they caught fish, they grew crops, some even automated production like in Sumar, controlling Golems with electricity. Life was peaceful, calm, the smells of honeycomb, of mead, of sweet pollen fragrances, of sweat in the fields, the sounds of laughter, women’s laughter, and the occasional shrieking of the little ones who were outside playing who were too innocent. The grounds were tilled, the water hit the ground from pumps, the splatters too soft on the pavement, ox groaned and men huffed. Then the ground shook, the crops burned, Demon soldiers came out of nowhere cut women in half, outright put children on spits.

“Athamar you have to run!”

Zaps of electricity killed the two biggest Demons, but the thunderous footsteps followed Athamar. Athamar ran to the local villages mage library. Lightning could be heard outside, searing the insides or simply overloading the nervous systems of the Demons leaving them dead. The flesh smelled; the grunts of Demons, the screams of Humans. Athamar picked up a book with a warning sign.

“To be destroyed,” he read.

Black hair and blue eyes, the blue eyes staring at the forbidden text.

Bind your soul to your own skeleton to be a Spectre Lord, accept the your death of your body is only the beginning. Say I accept.

“I accept…”

Athamar rushed outside and spun lightning. Perhaps it was the bind he had made on himself, the mark of the damned that allowed him to fight like a lunatic. His family torn to shreds were avenged, but there was nothing left, imps and Demons, and Devils appeared, and after hours of fighting in the village, the Arari military showed up. Athamar was dead. Maras arose in his place as a Spectre he wrought sweet revenge, he barely knew what he was doing, hopping from place to place, summoning other Spectres to fight with him, and they whittled down the Demons killing them all. Maras turned his head, seeing the Arari army cast lightning bolts at him.

No. You’ve got it all wrong.

He couldn’t speak, he did not know how to speak through his new skeletal body.

“It!”

“Kill the monster.”

“Wasn’t me!”

“Enough excuses. Die!”

Maras hopped away, and fled northwards to Dina. He knew that was where he could learn about his new self.

All the thoughts brought him back to the present, his ghostly army tearing through the Bacteria, clasping his light blue skeleton frame, thinking of how it all came to this. I sure learnt how to be a Necromancer. But these skills I feel I could have picked them up from a book just as well. Demons. Men. Necromancers, the Undead. Nothing is perfect I suppose. I’ve seen it all. Men kill just as much. And yet. I hate the Demons, and yet I know that my purpose now is much more than that.

“What is it I seek Ildrid? Perhaps it’s vengeance, but I am beyond that kind of petty Human justification. I haven’t existed for this amount of time to be so trivial…”

“What?” Ildrid said, “what are you harping on about?” Was what Ildrid said, but he wanted to hear more.

Maras didn’t have any nerves but he jumped a little, clasping his skeletal face with a groan.

“We are fighting for so much more, for our own justice, but you know what?”

“What?” Ildrid asked, not knowing what would be said next.

“Let’s do what we want, we’re already dead right?” The Spectre Lord said simply.

Ildrid stared at the ghostly skeletal figure, Ildrid’s skeleton pale white, Maras had a pale blue glow to his skeletal visage.

“What are you suggesting?”

“We can do anything Ildrid, change everything that’s the long term plan,” he paused, “but for the short term perhaps the Demon realm, maybe they need help? At the very least we can threaten them so they never declare war on our world.”

“Help?” Ildrid asked confused, “are you trying to intimidate them?”

‘Help’ is hardly the right word Maras. I know you don’t want to help.

“Yeah, not just the Demons, all of them. Everything,” he whispered, “for 150 years I’ve been a dog Ildrid, let’s change history.”

“And now you’re a wolf is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Maras thought about the implications of the word. Hovering over the ground.

“Ildrid, some fight for causes, some fight for love, some fight for ideologies, others revenge and others for mere profit,” Maras paused, “There is so much injustice in this world, particularly among the living. We are not cursed by the flesh, so maybe we can change things in a way they can’t.”

Ildrid chuckled a bit and stared at his friend, Maras merely contemplated existence.

“Were you not trying to kill that Warlock? Changing things is not so simple. Even the Undead have a nature Maras, you will find yourself in a situation you did not intend, doing things you did not plan, and perhaps that’s more of a true definition of fate than any.”

The words stung and Maras chuckled lightly.

“Yeah you’re probably right, The Warlock, yes, but for what?” Maras wistfully said, “purely based on orders. I am pretty sure the Warlock fled this world because of it. All because they were afraid of his power,” he paused, “perhaps I can’t escape what is in store for me, I can at least make sure those Demons don’t come back.”

“Can you?” Ildrid said simply, “Their fear of the Warlock is reasonable, who knows what he could do,” Ildrid said, “but the Warlock is gone now. I don’t know if you can actually stop them coming here.”

“It might be,” Maras mumbled, “but we forced him out of the world, and all the chaos that ensued because of it.”

“Necromancers discussing morality,” Ildrid laughed, the irony, “but yeah, the world’s fucked up.”

Maras looked at Ildrid and nodded.

“Without necromancy I would be dead in Arar,” Maras said melancholically.

“You died in Arari,” Ildrid quickly retorted.

“Fuck you!” Maras snapped back.

The two of them chuckled a little, and then went to work clearing Bacteria, hours later they appeared before the rough ocean. Basara the Ghoul Lord marched endlessly through endless Bacteria hordes, his own horde of ravenous beasts poisoned and ripped apart those beasts.

“Basara continue growing in strength,” Maras communicated with his Ghoul Lord telepathically.

The skeleton and the skeletal ghost stared into the precipice of a cliff, then went onto some more gentle rolling beach slopes. In the end they turned around, Maras used green crystals to open up a portal to the Demon world, carefully storing some for his return journey. The ocean rhythmically chopped at the shores, a soothing sound. Maras and Ildrid sat down, their minions fought in the background against the ravenous hordes.

“So you wish to fight for ideology,” Ildrid said, “an ideological Undead who seeks to be moral.”

“Are we less moral than your average Demon or Human?” Maras retorted defensively.

Ildrid chuckled, and stared in a skeletal stare, perhaps if he had eyebrows he would twitch them, if he had pupils they would dilate, he nonetheless shook his head. Ildrid produced a shield and thudded it into the ground.

“So what you’re saying is, now it truly begins?”

“Now it truly begins.”

The two Necromancers stepped out of a portal into the bowls of the Cahovian realm. Red, fiery hell with the occasional dark rock to add to the atmosphere.

“The red glow really gives it the atmospheric look.”

Maras stared at the Demon realm. Illogical rage filled him. I already killed those who killed my parents.

“Just what I’d expect from the Cahov,” Maras whispered.

“What?”

“Nothing, Ildrid, we are better than them remember, don’t kill the innocents.”

I am not like them. I will never become like my enemies.

Ildrid nodded, not very enthusiastically, but he nodded. He glanced and looked around the hellish red landscape. They marched into a village, where terrified Demon villagers gave them information. Ildrid kept a portal open and used skeletons to carry green crystals.

“Who are you? Lord?”

“I am Lord Maras.”

“Are you from Dina? Is Dina invading now?” The Demon imp asked impertinently, immediately creating panicked faces.

“I am my own faction of Undead,” Maras explained, “I am Maras, this is Ildrid. We have come to make a true treaty of peace.”

So you are invading? The imp thought. It’s little face scrunched up trying to glean what Maras was really about.

“Some Warlock came and freed all the Goblins, there’s a general marching on our capital. We can’t possibly make war on your world.”

“Treaties are usually just written pieces of paper or verbal agreements, they’re usually nothing more than a glorified promise,” Ildrid agreed with the Demon townsfolk.

“Ildrid,” Maras said, “even if it is a mere promise, I want them to make it. I want Demons to understand they made a promise.”

“A promise under duress?” A courageous Demon said, “is hardly a promise, it’s more of a threat.”

“We want them to not invade our world,” Maras whispered, “that will be our legacy.”

And you do this by invading our world? The imp thought, snarling furiously.

They left the village, taking a nearby fort, looking over the lava and charred landscape. Ildrid stood on top of the tower, his skeletons standing guard over captured Demon grunts.

“No wonder they wanted to invade our world,” Ildrid mused.

“It has its own beauty,” Maras muttered.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ildrid said, pointing with an axe with much worry.

Ildrid noticed the landscape of battle, some mere after effects of battle and war; and other very present fighting.

“Chaos…” a Devil peasant said, “Lord Agelas a Devil is probably going to take over. Those Devils are extreme.”

“Are they not like Demi gods to you?” Ildrid asked candidly.

“They’ve been a sort of uninvolved elite,” the Demon explained, “Demons are less powerful, but our monarch was always a Demon, we had and have Demon elites as well. But if the Devil’s rule. I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

“Aren’t there are at least less of them?” Maras asked.

“Well yeah, I guess there are, but they’re powerful, they can revive each other, and Demons of course.”

The villagers were thankful to not be turned into Undead, but it was not with elation that they waved to the Undead. Maras did not need supplies, crystals were only to placate local Demon villagers, it was not necessary for his troops. He surrounded a fortress, which promptly fired at him, his Spectres swooped in, threw the garrison off the battlements, and the rest promptly surrendered; not before literally soiling themselves.

“Any news?” Maras asked the two guards.

“News?”

The red ambient air, the lava, bubbled behind the fortress’s guards, the Demon world was terrifying, and yet Maras was the one who terrified the Demons, they shrugged in fear and confusion. Turning to one another in attempts to glean information of what to say.

“I don’t think so?” One said hesitantly.

“Sir, the Demon Lord has…” the messenger said a bit aghast at the Undead.

The messenger came out of the bowels of the fort. Staring at the shrouded Spectre and his army of ethereal beings. The Demon audibly gulped, staring at Maras who stared at him with full intention of hearing the report.

“What did the Demon Lord do?” Maras asked carefully, quietly and calmly.

“Die, he died.” The Demon corrected, hiccuping in fear.

Cold sweat fell off his brow, the skeletal figure stared at the Demon who was all sweaty and shrugged, the cold unrelenting stare of Maras unnerved the Demon who awaited a reply.

“So this Agelas is running the show now?”

“Yes,” the Demon said shaking his head and terrified out of his mind.

Maras stared off into the distance. Looking down at the Demon.

“I see,” Maras simply said.

Agelas a Devil had killed the previous royal family. The Cahrin clan’s heirs had apparently been involved in several palace coups, the reigning dynasty was now completely rooted out. Agelas was surrounded by Devil bodyguards, ministers and generals.

“We must reinvigorate the Cahov Empire, we must crush the Goblins. I don’t know if it’s even worth enslaving them, perhaps we need rid of them,” Agelas said to his advisor.

“That is an extreme decision, the mining in Goblina is dependent on them,” the advisor explained, his hand shaking, his voice quivering.

The advisor stared at the fierce Agelas, his sharp features, his musculature were all impressive, sharp arms, and sharp fingers, and perhaps an even sharper stare.

“Can’t imps do the mining instead? Aren’t most of those peasants a resource we can use?”

A resource? Peasants? This is a Devil talking but even so, what a thing to say. Regular Demons are mere ants, and Imps are ‘a resource,’ a foul beast to be sure.

The minister was a Demon, minister to the previous Emperor, finance minister, Lord Cathlor, he had lands in the north, growing Demon wheat he managed to still get a budget surplus for Cahov even despite the lavishness of the royal family. Lord Cathlor was a thin Demon with no beard and a kempt uniform. Uther sat in the corner, growling silently.

A Devil beat me to it. I was too slow. Too weak, well I still have time, but how the hell can I kill a Devil. Those things are naturally stronger. I can’t arouse suspicion.

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Lord Agelas was a big creature, red skin, muscly arms and legs, large shoulders a well developed chest. He wore a resplendent shiny crimson armour. He caught Uther in his voice and boomed at him saying:

“Uther I trust you can keep the Demon Lords in line!” Agelas said, “we need order in Cahov. I will annex the other Demons once I bring Cahov into order.”

Uther was slightly bigger than Cathlor but much smaller than Agelas. Agelas was three metres tall, he was a strong being, able to teleport, able to revive Demons and other Devils. The halls of the palace had scurrying servants, most too scared to even glance at the new Emperor, the new Lord of Cahov.

“The Cahrin clan has ruled 400 years… and Devil’s merely obeyed the imperial family. Why did we ever do that I wonder?”

Uther nodded.

“Tradition,” Uther posited.

And loyalty. Something you apparently lack. Uther thought, knowing he couldn’t be too honest.

Agelas nodded, it was not the answer he was fishing for, but Agelas deemed it acceptable, he turned in a more authoritative manner, speaking to Uther with gravitas, Agelas probably used magic to make his voice resonate that bit more.

“Uther!” Agelas said, making the Demon jump, “you are in charge of internal security. Make sure the Demons are loyal.”

“Yes your majesty,” Uther nodded, half shuddering.

Uther relayed orders to lieutenants who organised security forces to restore order. All cities soon had jackboots armed with pikes, halberds and maces. Uther’s communication crystal glowed and a rather panicked voice was heard on the other end, Agelas stood next to him.

“Lord… Agelas was it?” The voice quivered.

“What is it?” Agelas answered impatiently, “fucking…” he muttered inaudibly.

“Umm… a Necromancer has appeared outside of Goblina. He has defeated an army sent to dispatch him,” the voice was clearly nervous, “we require assistance…” the panicked soldier blurted finally.

Agelas turned to his counsel, everyone looked confused, not least the generals who pretended to be busy, some looked at Agelas in fright while others turned away, not daring to meet his fiery red eyes. Uther just stood there perfectly still, ready to be dispatched wherever.

“Destroy this fucking filth,” Agelas said, his diction perfect, “do you understand me?” Spittle flying out of his mouth, “Undead in the land of Demons? Has our border security always been this lax?”

“We will deal with it,” one of his general’s said, nervous beyond belief.

Agelas shot a stare at the general and snarled, shooting a fireball into the ceiling and making the courtiers and soldiers jump.

Ildrid had amassed a skeletal army at a plateau, they were gentle rolling hills, various fortresses and millions of Demon soldiers. Many of these forts and fortresses had been speedily built to crush any Goblin resistance. It was doubtful any Goblins would rise up in these circumstances or if any were even alive. Maras and Ildrid had entered the plain having taken small forts and marching through villages but clearly some of the villagers had narked on them, and with terrifying effect. Millions of Demons were behind them, millions more were in front of them, and to the side of them; they were completely surrounded. Maras snarled at the sight of so many, swivelling his head before preparing his voice.

“If you don’t retreat you will all die!!” Maras said in the loudest voice he could.

Only so many Demons heard him, and even they ignored him, taking it as a small yapping dog; the majority heard something but didn’t know what it was.

“Ildrid, I will protect you.”

“Yes Maras, and perhaps I will protect you.”

If Maras could, he would have smiled at Ildrid’s comment, any good feelings were first interrupted by large Demons that rampaged at them. 5 metre tall axe wielding Demons alongside others carrying large glowing swords. Reapers sliced their throats, and their blood dampened the ground. Large meteorites fell from the sky, taking out Demon and Undead; Ildrid was knocked upwards, and Maras caught him and put him back down. The battlefield devolved into chaos as Demons could be heard roaring as they charged down at them from all directions. Maras was at a severe disadvantage, without Ildrid he could simply flee and strike at the Demons from the hills. He chose to stay.

“Leave me…” Ildrid whispered, “I’ve caused enough trouble.”

“Damn it! No!”

Reapers sliced and Wraiths flung knives at high velocity and frequency. Maras saved Ildrid from imminent destruction and stood next to his comrade in arms, his forces blunting the attack.

“We can both retreat to those hills, I can cover the retreat!” Ildrid said, changing his tune significantly.

“No, let’s fight here, it will be messy, but we can win.”

100s of Ghouls ripped into the Demons as they cascaded downwards. They felt the poison on their flesh, and collapsed upon being scratched, some tumbled down the slope, others attempted to pike the rabid creatures. Bane formed a protective shield, healing allies while absorbing the impact, ethereal beings vanished, skeletons used spears, pikes, arrows and axes. Both sides shot missiles, the Demons had larger heavier units that quite often bulldozed their way through, only to be sliced open. With death came more Undead, more skeletons poured out of the dead, not quite raised but summoned, the mana acquired from killing, allowed new skeletons to be summoned from the ether, the same was true for the ethereal beings. Maras was nearly destroyed, three Bane shielded him and revitalised his blue skeletal figure.

“Fuck…” Maras whispered, “I can’t die here. Not like this.” I am dead already.

Maras would grimace if he could.

The Demons sent wave after wave, catapult shots, mages shot fireballs which fried many a skeleton and left many a Demon unaffected. Nonetheless Maras teleported Ildrid out of harms way, his Undead created enough death mana for Ildrid to create a whole formation of pikes. The Demons could be heard shouting, the pikes were not particularly pleasant to any kind of soldier, pikes were pikes.

“Archers Ildrid. They will increase casualties, more casualties, more Undead.”

Ildrid nodded, he was nearly destroyed by the comet sized boulders, again Bane healed him.

“Those Bane…” Ildrid whispered.

Maras stayed quiet, he knew exactly what his ally meant, and agreed wholeheartedly. The Undead advanced up the slope, it was gruelling bloody work, for the Demons charged down and up the slope. The Demons surrounded them. Skeleton pikes kept multiplying, Demons kept trying to fry them, and Maras sent some of his Spectres to assassinate the mages to get some stability.

“We’re going to die…” Ildrid whispered.

“We are already dead remember?” Maras chuckled, he paused and then said, “I have a contingency!”

Ildrid sighed, and then turned to Maras wondering what Maras’s plan could even be. Hours of combat it seemed, but it only had been thirty minutes; total utter carnage with slashes, stabs, fireballs, large boulders flying from the sky and the dead rising endlessly. The Demons nonetheless were ruthless and seemingly gaining the upper hand, pushing the Undead back and into a smaller space. Ildrid could not maintain his skeletons, but it did not matter for Maras’s Ghouls crashed into the flank of some of the Demons, they were heard screaming, they immediately attempted to blunt the attack. Pikes, swords and fire were used against the Undead, but it was the Demons whose fleshy exteriors were ripped into; Ghoul claws poisoned the Demons they scratched, the Demons were pushed back, the Demons tried their hardest to stabilise their lines. Maras’s Ghouls were one thing, but it would be the newly promoted Ghoul Lord who would save Maras and Ildrid from certain doom. Large Demons heard nothing until they were swamped from behind; the beasts barrelled into their rear with animalistic scratching. Basara did not attack for too long, even 30,000 Ghouls could only fight the battle for so long against so many Demons, for they were being reinforced constantly. Maras despite being dead could smell, he could smell all the corpses. Demon anguish was not that different from Human anguish. He closed his eyes and turned toward Basara.

“Thank you Basara,” Maras said inaudibly to anyone but Basara, “you must save yourself now.”

Basara extricated the Ghouls expertly, while Maras and Ildrid retreated from the plains in defeat, the double envelopment was too much for Maras, instead they teleported to hills, crags and mountains. Spectres assassinated the Demons down below as the Demons furiously searched for the location of their foe. Basara fled the battlefield back to Bacterium to gather resources. Skeleton archers, crossbowmen and bowmen formed on the ridges, Ildrid readied himself to re-engage the Demons. It was an endless haze in the Demon world, not that the Undead needed sleep, but it was hard to tell how much time had passed, but it was at least three Human days. Spectres slowly whittled and attacked the Demons, before they sent some of their forces into the mountain passes. In the end Maras found that there were already a lot of Demon forces in these mountains. Flying Demons paradropped forces in, Devil commandos appeared.

“Time to die bonehead! Permanently!”

Reapers battled them, upward, downward and sideways, scythe slices were blocked, held by the flesh like it was armour, for the metal could not penetrate far enough. Maras’s Ghouls pushed the Devils down, scratching and ultimately killing the three that had tried to surprise them. Maras’s operations against the Demons in the area had invited 10 armies to try and quash him. Maras smelled blood, but mostly he smelled the anger on the Demons tongues, even from afar it was hard to not notice such intense bloodlust. In himself he was a quiet brooding commander, understood by few.

“Thanks for saving me out there, if it wasn’t for you, I would have been ground into powder,” Ildrid said breathlessly, albeit he had no breath, but he clearly felt the pressure of combat.

“Always Ildrid. Always. I’ll save you every time. Even if the world is against us, no one will know of that glory, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” there was something soft in Maras’s voice.

Ildrid was quiet for a moment, a skeleton could not cry, but it looked again at the other skeletal figure. Ildrid had deep respect for his compatriot in arms, deeper than he would express in words.

“Humans won’t even know our names,” Ildrid said.

“And yet, here we are.”

Maras launched a brutal attack, it was chaotic, it was insane, it was bloody. Reapers and Spectres came out of nowhere to attack Demon reconnaissance parties, the plains that led to the forts below, they were now being peppered with arrows and bolts. The skeletons got their full revenge on the Demons. Goblins watched the carnage below, watching as Undead sliced, and ripped. It was suicidal but it was effective.

“They’re over there! We can kill the Undead commanders!” One Demon soldier said pointing them out.

A peasant stock Demon promoted above his station had command over 1000 imps and 1000 regulars, looked with awe at the carnage wrought on troops some kilometres ahead.

“What do we do commander?”

If we just charge in we will be slaughtered. But if I delay too long I could be charged with treason, demoted.

“Advance forward!” He screamed, trying to inspire himself as much as he was his men.

Thousands were already dead, spearmen sliced in half by reapers that carried their twirling scythes; Spectres hopped from place to place killing commander and common soldier alike. Ghouls rushed them from many directions, it seemed they had been summoned on the spot, and they had been, causing much carnage to the Demons.

“I will give you a show,” Maras whispered.

He gave them an orchestra of death. Ghouls, Spectres and Reapers killed most spectacularly, at some point the randomness of Spectres faded, and Ghouls and Reapers ripped apart the Demons. Large Demon soldiers, magic wielding soldiers and mere infantry were crushed with utmost ferocity. Pools of blood, became lakes, in some places people had to hop; of course to Ghouls and Reapers this was nothing. Reapers floated around, Ghouls outright emerged from the lake to add to it. The low born Demon commander was in the fray, his soldiers ripped apart.

“No! Erez! Fuck. Damn you Undead!”

His head was cut off, his achievements ended there. Maras checked up on Ildrid, skeletons poured down the mountain, axe wielding and spear wielding, the Spectres and Ghouls merely continued their killing while the crimson stained skeletons plunged their weapons into Demon bodies. A horde of imps charged at the skeletons for they intended to blunt the Undead advance, but it was futile. Ghouls scratched at anything like wolverines, and with each death that only added to the cascade of Undead. Goblins watched from atop the neighbouring mountains.

“That is a Necromancer…” a father said to a son, “a person who wields death, who is death.”

“Death…” the son said.

Green skin, hooked nose, claw like hands, boils in some places, leathery skin, and short statures.

“Why is he here?” The son asked in a questioning tone.

“I don’t know son, I wonder does it even know?” The Goblin father trembled.

Both trembled at the thought, to them it was creepy, but it was not the target of the Undead’s ire.

The battle progressed to where Maras was before, he fully integrated his Undead army to the location, fully committing Ghouls and Reapers.

“I am Maras! I have come to make sure you never wage war on Humans, to make sure you never wage on our lands ever again!” The Undead Lord boomed across the valley, “your Demon Lord will be killed by me.”

The Demons took it as an insult, and all across the valley they shot fire balls, shot meteorites, charged soldiers at him, shot arrows, the whole slew of their arsenal came to utterly crush Maras for uttering such words. Devils duelled his Reapers, Demons were sliced, and more of the valley ran red with the blood of the Demon soldiers. Maras spent an entire week on this battlefield. He had rushed back and forth, saved Ildrid, and collected death mana through the dead; Ildrid now emerged from the mountains with millions and could not be contained, his army rolling up all the Demons on the plain, so many stomping skeletons; stabbing, cutting, killing; whatever was left of the Demon army ran, the rest were slaughtered which only increased the Undead. Ildrid annihilated any resistance and promptly took nearby fortresses. Some Demons dropped to their knees and raised their hands and surrendered, which Ildrid accepted; they had soiled themselves, and bawled for mercy, the Demons watched the Undead army march across with astonishment. Maras had acquired 100,000 Ghouls in the course of the battle. Ildrid and Maras had killed 50 million, such a cataclysmic defeat for the Demons left no chance at stopping Maras.

“I’m a monster…” Maras whispered, “even if they are Demons. I may have caused war for a thousand years.”

“You might have,” Ildrid said, “you might have scared them for 2000. They chose to fight us.”

“Even so…” Maras said clutching his face, “many mothers will be sad over the coming days, weeks, months.” Years.

“This is what they wanted for others,” Ildrid said, “but yes. Perhaps you should rule the Demons.”

Maras balked at the suggestion. They marched on Goblina, taking it without any more of a fight. Fortress garrisons outright ran away from him. The scourge of the Demons. Basara supplied him with green crystals, which he used in his administration of the city, crops, water, food and supplies soon entered the greatly destroyed mining city. The Goblins were made into regular citizens. He saw Demons cursing him. Some refused his charity, glaring at the butcher of so many Demons, others accepted it, but with glares, some acted, and others still accepted it for what it was, a bribe. Maras and Ildrid slowly crawled towards Carson. Unlike Warlocks they could not teleport so flagrantly or defeat Demon forces so easily, but they could walk eternally without rest. They marched to the city of Carson, it was the closest target, and the Undead marched without tiring as the Demon soldiers formed a massive army before them. General Ismor a Devil, had built ditches, towers, marshalled millions of Demon footmen many millions more of imps. Devil noblemen, Demon noblemen, large Demons armed with axes and large swords, millions of troops armed and ready.

“General Ismor, high Devil Agelas has given you supreme authority over Carson. You are to put down this Undead scum and return to Cahovia when you are done,” Ismor had received his orders from high command through a communication crystal with no equivocation.

Maras and Ildrid had taken over villages, and some forts, he had no supply lines, he did not need food, or rest, but he did need supplies for the villages, bribes to keep rebellion to a minimum and to make sure the Demons respected him, which they did not. Maras could smell future blood, he could smell the Demon sweat, the anxiousness from afar, the triumphalism, the innate anger, overwhelming emotions that could only be trouble.

“Ildrid they are waiting for us.”

“What do you wish to do?” Ildrid said, a little bit worried, his voice shook in trepidation.

“Do not fret my friend, there may be a lot of them. But they do not have an Ildrid among them.”

Ildrid laughed, perhaps for the first time in a while. He still stared at the blue ethereal figure, making his own quip.

“That is true, but a Maras is far more terrifying.”

“Yeah, it is,” Maras whispered, “we are here to make sure the Demons never again invade our world. That means overthrowing Agelas and ensuring a true peace,” he said much louder.

His example was a bad one, for the Demons opinion of Undead was now quite beyond hatred.

“There is no such thing as peace,” Ildrid said, “there is only preparation for war, has your long life not proved that.”

“We must do better than our ancestors, Ildrid, has your-”

“Enough already, I get it, I understand,” Ildrid said, “although both can be true.”

Both indeed can be true. Maras thought.

Maras and Ildrid faced the massive Demon army. Maras decided to at least attempt a negotiation.

“If the Demons promise to not invade our world and Agelas promises to step down. We will leave!” Maras said, throwing a knife into the ground for extra effect.

“Agelas is the rightful Demon Lord. It’s time to sleep Necromancer. Permanently! Mages!” One Demon officer said, and something like it was repeated by many other officers.

Fire rained down on the Necromancers, and Maras gave them ethereal blade and claw to taste. Ghouls ravaged the front lines, soldiers screamed, Demon commanders created an immense fire wall that annihilated everything not Demonic.

“Ildrid!” Maras said in a commanding tone.

Ildrid fired many arrows into the Demon lines, and the Demon lines fired many arrows back, alongside fiery walls of destruction intended to knock out the the Undead from the battle. Spectres teleported behind the mages, sorcerers and archers gutted them.

“Now Ildrid!”

More skeletal archers began hailing down on the Demon lines, inflicting casualties with no way of returning fire. Maras continued for 5 minutes. Ildrid increased the amount of archers as the volleys became even more devastating. When the Demons faltered, the fire stopped and Ghouls embedded with skeletal axemen took out the front lines. It was a complete blood bath, Wraiths took the first line of trenches. Demon pikemen and maces attempted to take the trench back, large Demons caused tremors in the ground, attempting to wrestle the ground from the Undead. The roars of the large Demons added to the ambience of battle; slashing, hacking, and the clanging of metal, and of course the groans of the dying, slit throats, slit arms, the gurgling of blood of the dying. Ildrid led from the rear, Maras teleported to new locations, and summoned his troops.

“Hold the line!” Demon officers screamed and regular soldiers repeated.

General Ismor towers did a good job at whittling down the Undead, protecting his base camp, not allowing them to gain much of a foothold, but when everything seemed to be stable, the Demons and their Devil overlords delivered something to crush the Necromancer; Demon cavalry charged with thunderous hooves, allaying the Demons’ fears of defeat, they rode through much of the Undead. Undead spears on the other hand were seriously hampered by fire, the Undead crackled under Demon attack. Imps rolled down the hills, forward and onward, Maras looked like he was about to be heavily flanked, surrounded, if not outright destroyed. Large Demons smashed the lines, Devils joined in the fray, more pikes came to their aid; Maras’s force were pushed back, an impish army came at their rear. Skeletal pikes held a formation to keep them at bay, and Ildrid’s archers opened more devastating salvos; Maras’s Wraiths slowed the momentum of the flanking manoeuvre, their constant slinging of knives devastating the charge. Demon riders were unhorsed, the elite troops were being rinsed from the front. As time went on, more archers produced more salvos, more Ghouls tore the belly out of the Demon flanks, Wraiths took out elite units, and the momentum began to turn, as Maras’s units began to churn. Maras’s Reapers smashed into the front, lopping off heads, Ildrid produced more axemen and sent them after the imps, but focused most of his attention on creating an ever increasing hail of arrows. A slow and bloody maul ensued, the cavalry’s momentum was stopped completely, the elites began slowly falling, and regular rank and file began cracking in certain places. Demonic towers fired down at the now advancing Undead forces, but Spectres soon took over said towers.

“Ildrid!” Maras screamed, in the thick of the fighting.

Demon towers were converted into Undead towers, Ildrid stuffing the towers with archers, nonetheless the city of Carson still had Demon archers occasionally that peppered the Undead, but the effect on the Demons was not good. Ismor’s troops were being crunched. He was aghast at the power of the Necromancers, he watched the casualties accumulate.

Who are these, what are they? Ismor thought

The numerical superiority did not help, all Ismor could see where his troops dying, and Undead being raised. Elite Devil troops revived Demon troops, but Ghouls continued to push the Demons backwards into the trenches and then out of them, Wraiths helped bring down Devil after Devil, more imps were brought endlessly out from the city, and from Ismor’s reserves to try plug gaps. They were just added to the slaughter; Ildrid’s hail of arrows turned on the imps behind them, more or less finishing them off before turning to the Demon army in front of Maras. Ismor looked at the spectacle of death, paralysed, screaming to his troops to finish the dead, but unable to think of a solution. Skeletal melee units began to reinforce Maras’s units. More Demon mages attempted to create a firewall, Spectres and Ildrid’s archers quickly neutralised them. Demons put wooden barricades, they were quickly knocked over, the second trench fell, imps and Demon regular troops in a panicked state attempted to beat back the Undead. They were unsuccessful. The city of Carson’s walls were taken over, firing at the behinds of the Demons. The walls became a battle ground too, Demon archers tried to take their spot on the walls, skeletons prevented it, skeletal archers were adding to the hail storm that hit the Demons. Ildrid was racking up enemy casualties, which meant he could add more troops to the fray. Skeletons added a consistency to the Undead army, while Maras’s units acted as a more of an elite shock troop; both bludgeoned the Demons and Devils endlessly. Ildrid captured the walls completely, preventing Ismor’s troops from retreating, while skeleton troops circled around the beleaguered Cahov army. Ismor attempted to break out of the encirclement, but it consistently got worse. Every attempt at a breakout lead to more casualties.

“Fry them!” Ismor screamed defiantly. He swivelled as he said it, trying desperately to inspire a break out, “don’t let him win!”

Troops died at an astonishing rate. Demons hid behind their shields, but the Undead picked them apart. Ismor would die heroically, he would be the last to die through twisted fate; his troops were all killed, all demon would rue the date, Maras stabbed Ismor personally, but it was a Reaper that would lop his arms and legs and then his head. 100 million Demons lay dead, 20,000 Devils, while Maras had lost many, he had replenished much of his forces, Ildrid stormed Carson, but the garrison soon surrendered, hearing that the vast Demon army outside had been bested put them in no mood to resist.

Just outside the city, the dead bodies littered the view, the trenches were filled, the dirt became a dark red with the blood of the Demons. The decomposing bodies were cremated, a large unavoidable fate after such a massacre. Maras marched on the local forts, Demons surrendered without much of a fight. When Agelas’s bodyguard heard of the defeat, he was butchered, Maras had no knowledge of this, marching his Undead army to take forts and towns along the way. The great city of Volcanar was taken by Spectres as well as Ultremar. No one had the stomach to fight the great Undead army, simply letting it roll through their territory in the vain hope that it would leave.

“What kind of regime should we leave here?” Ildrid mused, “should we rule the Demons?”

“It is best not,” Maras said, “our forces took their lands as a show of strength. We cannot hold these lands, not without even more carnage.”

“Which you’re against?” Ildrid mused with mirth and skepticism.

“Ildrid, we fought soldiers and beat them, this is not uncommon in any land. If we fight rebels, it will get ugly. I might be Undead, but that’s not who I am.”

For sure Maras. I will see to it, that I will emulate you. That you live up to those words. Perhaps exist is better words.

Ildrid rattled with every movement, traders and common Demon kind moved out the way, as the Undead marched along the royal roads. It took one month for Ildrid and Maras to march into Cahovia. They did not take over the administration, instead they negotiated with some of the Demon Lords and Devil Lords to change the regime. The grand fiery city of lava and many kinds of Demons were intrigued by the Necromancer’s proposals, particularly one of them. They entered through the grand plazas and boulevards, the strange Demonic gardens were passed by before the two Undead flanked by a bunch of Spectres and Wraiths entered the royal palaces. Maras was ready to teleport out of the city, and begin war at the slightest bit of intrigue against them. Lord Uther, the ambassador to the Devils, a man who had survived two regimes stood before the two Undead; with neither happiness nor anger, a slithering specimen who could live under any regime. The room was tense, Maras and Ildrid had waged a devastating war on the Demons which had led to another toppled government. Now power brokers stood in front of each other, discussing the future of the Cahov.

“In exchange for leaving our world alone, we will pay you in Bacterium crystal. As you well know it is highly valuable for it’s ability to make things grow, and to create water,” Maras explained.

Ildrid looked at the Demons, they were all poker faced, not making any discernible expressions, still intrigued on what was going to be said.

“You will be permitted to enter the continent of Bacterium to hunt them yourselves. But anywhere else with military purposes, and we will fight you,” Ildrid said.

Uther looked at the two of them and chuckled slightly.

“You want us to be some sort of Republic, you will pay us, and we are allowed to go to Bacterium ourselves, that’s the deal?”

“It’s a better deal than you deserve,” Maras said truthfully, “it is also the most profitable deal. The other continents have nothing on them, Bacterium is useful to us for we can harvest death mana, it is useful to you because the resources from Bacteria can help your economy.”

The Demonic Lords could not argue with the Undead ethereal beings logic, he was unequivocally right.

“We agree to your terms skeleton, now go back to your world,” Uther said, clasping his nasal bridge, “I can’t believe this…” he said to the other Demons.

“I assure you, the Undead remember,” Ildrid said, a potent warning, “we have a very long memory.”

The Undead left, a portal opened by Basara using the green crystals led them out back to Bacterium. The Demons now argued with themselves.

“Lord Uther are you seriously thinking we should create a republic?”

“A republic seems fine,” Uther whispered, nearly tutting in frustration, “Cahrin, then Agelas. Why not calm down, accept the bribes, occasionally take some Bacteria crystal.”

“Yes,” a different Lord, a Lord of Volcanar said, “I agree with Uther, I also agree with Maras. The rest of the Human world is all hassle and no profit.”

“Volcanium, there is another matter we must discuss…” Uther said, everyone looked at Uther with distrust and anxiety, “apparently some sort of exile port has been established, a city called Aterpea. It consists of deserters on the Continent of Sand.”

“And?” Volcanium rumbled.

Volcanium was a large Draconic being that was nearly four metres tall, his whole body was the colour of volcanic obsidian, a dragon like creature, an old Lord, and most importantly quiet.

“I have seen a few different regimes, the Cahrin, then this Agelas. I let him do whatever, I’ve seen the dynasty before the Cahrin when I was a little boy. Oh the Oldregars. Monarchies are overrated. They work fine if you have a good ruler, but otherwise, they are often as bloody as incompetent. If we are being paid to not invade. It might not be such a bad thing,” Volcanium rumbled along, coughing at the end of it all.

Volcanium’s draconic eyes stared down the room, and soon the others were more a less in agreement. Uther however had been ignited into an explosion of emotions, his true opinions left his mouth.

“You were the one!” Uther leapt up, “you killed Agelas!”

“As he killed Cahrin.”

“They were already killing each other!” Uther protested, “everyone knows that Agelas merely cleared up the mess.”

“I’m hardly a Cahrin loyalist, he started a war that cost millions of Demons their lives. He kept slaves which soon enough rebelled and caused chaos,” Volcanium explained, “why should I-”

“Damn you Volcanium, Damn you!”

Uther was livid. Uther threw up his arms, and was about to take weapons out.

“Yes you were part of the subjugation effort, and I hurt your pride,” Volcanium rumbled, which soon transformed into a chuckle, “don’t take it so personally.”

“If you were so against the invasion why didn’t you say something?” Uther protested, his voice sharp intending to cast aspersions at Volcanium.

“Lord Cahrin was not one to take disagreement as anything less than treason,” Volcanium bluntly and defensively said.

“You’re not even a true Demon!” Uther said, hitting a sore spot, which instead of producing anger produced laughter.

Volcanium grinned with his canine teeth, his dark igneous rock skin having dark red magma welling up from his mouth. He blew a flame out like a smoker would blow a cigarette.

“Uh you Demons are so tiresome,” Volcanium growled, “my father served the dynasty before the Cahrins. 542cc our family moved from the Drake Isles to the Cahov Empire. We founded Volcanium.”

“Thank you for the history lesson, but that still makes you an outsider. Unworthy to even be a Lord.”

“We served Cahov in war and in peace,” Volcanium breathed, “Drakes are not popular among Demons but like you Fire Demons, we are very familiar with fire.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Uther said slamming his fist onto the table.

It echoed briefly, the other spectators tensing in these momentous moments. History was being made. Everyone eyed their weapons, some administrative clerks, merely flicked their eyes around, wondering who was going to make the next move.

If shit goes down, where am I going to hide? A thin clerk thought.

“Everything,” Volcanium said adamantly, “everything. Agelas was a mad power hungry despot who didn’t even know the misery he caused,” Volcanium’s voice echoed, booming across the corridors outside.

“Enough!” Uther shouted.

He clasped his hand and men came rushing through the doorways, spears pointed, at least three Devils came to point their blades at Volcanium. Every entrance and exit was blocked, and anyone who was normal they would be in a panic trying to get out.

“We will find a monarch to rule this land!” Uther said adamantly.

“Are you sure you wish to do this?” Volcanium rumbled.

“You are not one to make threats. Your bluffs are nothing. We will find a true Demon to rule your land.”

“Are you sure?” Volcanium repeated ominously.

A soldier attempted to spear him, but Volcanium not only breathed fire but outright threw one Demon into another, when the Devil’s attempted to teleport he shot them with fire through the stomach, clawed the other two and batted one with his tail before he caught another soldier and gutted him as well. The other soldiers, neutral soldiers stared in awe at the martial prowess of the Drake. The soldiers stared at Volcanium, and he stared back growling at them.

“The royalist attempt at a coup has failed, Cahov will become a Republic, we will consult Demon kind!” Volcanium proclaimed.

Uther was fleeing in the madness, bumping into a Drake’s stomach and falling over.

“What the…”

“Who is he?” The Drake asked.

The neutral soldiers saw which way the wind was blowing and crowded around, bringing Uther back to the table.

“Volcanium?” One soldier said, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Volcanium barked back.

The soldier shuddered in response, his red eyes stared at the draconic black eyes in front of him.

“Don’t you want to become king, the new supreme Lord of all Demons?”

Volcanium laughed, then sat down, his breath smelled of cinders, his draconic hands extending claws as he merely scratched the table before him.

“I am not a man who wishes for power,” Volcanium said, “dictators, kings, emperors they are a curse upon us. Let it be known that I stand for a Republic.” For now. The time is not right.

“You pretending to be oh so noble and holier than thou is sickening,” Uther said.

Volcanium stabbed Uther through the chest. The stab audible, the slop of blood that splattered on the floor, both audible and smellable.

“I’m not holier than thou, I rid of you now, to prevent coups later.”

“Fuck… you.” Uther said in his last breath.

“No one can lambast me for this, he would kill more if I spared him,” Volcanium said, to little lament.

The other Demon Lords merely nodded, there was not much more to them than vassals of the Demon Lord, yet now each Demon Lord had a semi equal say in the new order. For now. This semi Republican system had an obvious flaw, Volcanium was far too powerful. Nonetheless for now, there was a Republic. For now.