After getting a short overview of the situation by the wraith Ziihor stretched his body once again.

It was truly incredible what the wraith was capable of. He did not only sort out the warriors that perfomed good but restocked the undead army by recruiting them throughout the desert. He also trained them in some defense and offense maneuvers copied by the wolves, as well as training them in the art of wielding weapons in the right manner. The undead knights which could only bash with their accrued shields could now wield the crude iron knives.

By sorting out those that could perform on high levels from the low levels he essentially created an elite corps of undeads. Ghouls with higher agility, undead warriors with higher defense and offense, banshees with more potent mind attacks (typical screeching) and acid spitters with higher range and higher acidity.

The wraith seemed to be a formidable observer. 'A tactician maybe?', Ziihor thought.

Likewise the wraith prepared small shelters for the undeads, – or more accurate – their weapons. Undead needed no sleep normally, Ziihor – once a mighty god now in the body of a skeleton – was a chaotic anomally.

Tents were covered over the different weapon trays. Small axes, one poleaxe, throwing knifes, daggers and other badly manufactured weapons.

'I hope we get to see dwarves. If they can still perform as good with the furnance as they did in the past then creating neat weapons and armor would be a piece of cake'. Ziihor pondered over the past while thinking where they should head next.

Ziihor though decided to simply stay put at their current location and train some more.

Two months leisurely passed by.

Ziihor already restored his body to its previous undamaged state and his troops were restocked completely, with a bit excess undeads.

Together they counted now roughly 500 undeads for the main army and 50 as a special unit. 150 undead knights, 200 ghouls, 50 banshees and 100 acid spitters. A few Burrowers were turned into undead slaves by Ziihor, mainly as mounts or for transportation of goods; if the need ever arises.

In the meantime the wraith mastered language and could now speak without stretching the characters. 'What a fast learner' Ziihor thought.

He was once again impressed by the prowess of the wraith and tried to squeeze out some information about what he, the wraith, was exactly and why he was so loyal towards him. His undead augmentation would not work that well on special existences such as the wraith with inborn intelect and soul by unknown means, that's how it should be.

But somehow the wraith was adamant that it was Ziihor who called out to him, gave him purpose, sentience and power.

Ziihor simply gave up on inquiring the wraith any further, dreading that he might come to despise him later on.

The days were uneventful and the undeads mindlessly lazed around the encampement, which pissed off Ziihor.

“You lazy-bones! I got work for ya' all!“. Ziihor shouted through the plains. (Yes, pun intended with lazy-bones.)

Ziihor was thinking about staying low profile at first and to establish a real base of operations and chain of command via evolving his undead army until they gained ego and intellect.

It would be a long and strenous path but Ziihor had all the time he wanted. He was an undead, immortal God after all.

With a rough goal in mind Ziihor began to teach the undeads how to handle weapons correctly, wraith did the basis already but it was only copied from an even worse fighting style of the wolves.

The undead warriors gripped in their unshielded hands, swords, daggers, axes; yes, even branches to train with.

Ziihor had to correct them at all times, posture and grip on the 'weapons' were simply wrong and unstable. A slight nudge and they would lose their weapons, even by attacking they had a high chance of losing their weapon by the following sensation of impact and numbness.

Ziihor was strict, no souls or flesh for those that did miserable at the training camp; which was 100% at the first day.

The undeads moaned despondent after their first day all the while Ziihor was enjoying some went astray souls and the flesh of slain Burrowers over a small fire.

The wraith was also taught, though in a more in-depth way. Positioning of his feet in his normal appearance and even on how he had to maneuver in 'shadow-mode'. Ziihor taught him even special stances, originating from Lesser Gods and Demigods of War and Battle and modified into usable techniques. Of course he could teach the fragile wraith techniques from the Highgods and Overgods but the strain would be to much for the wraith, even if Ziihor mitigates the techniques.

'Wraith... Wraith... Wraith! Fuck, I got no name for him!'. Ziihor cursed to himself, calling the wraith always wraith would be tedious and boring, seeing how the wraith showed a promising personality as a loyal servant.

Sitting himself down on a small hill Ziihor could observe the whole army. It was still in the morning and from far away they looked pretty much like any other human troop, except for the bits an pieces of flesh and blood that was flying here and there.

Ziihor's gaze landed on the lone wraith that was merrily practicing his newly taught moves. His shadowy figure was prominent on the bright background of the rising sun. His moves had a certain hypnotic feeling to them, they seemed so peaceful yet so devasting and brutal; aspects that the mind couldn't process once they were combined. The dew on the low hill set in, like small flakes of snow they surrounded the wraith. It was a majestic sight.

The black figure blured from left to right, his long thin limbs flying in the wind like obsidian grass blades. With his elegant movements so starkly differentiating from his dark form it created an abstract image. If Ziihor wouldn't know it better than he might confuse the wraith with some divine being.

The movements of the wraith slowed down, his cracked lips curved upwards in a delighted smile. The wraith was at peace.

A switch sudenly turned in Ziihor's mind. 'Weiss! Weiss!!! That is a good name!'. Ziihor mentally screamed out and patted his shoulder for the great idea.

('Weiss' from the german word for white. It's weiß or weiss in german. See the irony in the name?)

Weiss had no idea about his new name and continously trained throughout the day, urging himself to master the newly taught techniques o be of more use to Ziihor.

'One problem solved. Another to go...'. Ziihor now knew how to adress the wraith, even without his consent, but there was another problem. The dream he had months before reminded him of Yvydtia again. She adored his human-like appearance and if it would be in his abilities he would turn human right on the spot just to honor her.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The only thing that Ziihor's body was equipped with was an acid producing organ akin to a stomach. He never used it in fighting but it was a great feeling to be sated after eating a hearty meal, so he kept this organ within him all the time.

If he had a human specimen he could easily copy their bodies after devouring them but the wasteland was completely devoid of most life.

To be sure Ziihor once again spread his senses, trying to pin out at least one other source of life other than the unnerving worms.

His skull wrinkled in concentration. The two amethyst orbs glowed in a bright purple and radiated a gloomy light. A non-existent drop of sweat ran down Ziihor's forehead; his wings spasmed slightly.

'Come on. Come on! COME ON!!! AHHHH Nothing!'. Ziihor collapsed and rolled his body in the dirt like a kid throwing a tantrum. His senses could encompass everything dozens of miles away but other than the weak life signals from the underground living Burrowers there was nothing.

'Huh... what?'. While rolling around Ziihor caught a life signal also from the underground like the Burrowers. The life force had a slightly different nuance and was many times more powerful than the ordinary Burrowers.

'Don't tell me... A queen!'. A Queen Burrower was similiar to insect queens, she solely spawned the beasts but did not lazy around like its insect counterparts would do. The Queen Burrower is many times stronger, faster, durable, more acidic and loves to display its might. Whenever a small caravan passes through its territory it would rocket to the surface and swallow it whole, a deadly predator.

The Queen Burrower ranks in the lower tier King rank of the earth realm. One step away from the sky realm. 'This will be a formidable opponent!'

Ziihor was ecstatic about this discovery. He hadn't fought a strong opponent since he was beaten by the wolves. He was slightly depressed by his bitter defeat and how Weiss had to safe him. Depressed? Yes. But he was sure he would get a bad whooping by the Queen Burrower if he fought it now, so the only thing he could do was to train himself and his undead troops.

After two months he was only at the Elite level through devouring a dozen of Burrower souls and feasting on their flesh, his undeads did not evolve either.

'We gotta find a new home.'. Ziihor was desperate, the Queen Burrower was sure to leave after a few years but this was not enough time to strengthen himself and his troops to its level if he stayed in the desert. And the Queen was just to good of a pray as if Ziihor could just leave her. Eating its soul would catapult him to the top of the earth realm.

'A human encampement would be nice.'. Ziihor thought, but it was problematic at the same time. A blackened skeleton with wings, a never seen before undead, and a horde of weapon wielding abominations simply marching into a human town would be total madness. They would be hunted down before they could even find a resting spot.

Ziihor wandered aimlessly around on the plains, trying to come up with an idea. Ziihor had really no clue on how to handle the situation so he went looking for Weiss to get advice. When he reached the 'training grounds' were the undeads were sparring he could see Weiss diligently teaching a new batch of undeads. 'That's it!'. Ziihor nearly jumped up in joy.

Why did he or Weiss had to teach the undeads on how to fight? Ziihor could simply educate a few of the elite corps undeads into teachers for the other undeads. That way Ziihor didn't had to leave Weiss back if he would depart for a new settlement and at the same time the undeads would continously grow stronger.

It took five months to reeducate the whole batch of elite undead warriors into instructors. Their weapon skills increased tremendously and combined they could easily keep up with Weiss, all of that while being one of the weakest kind of undeads.

Ziihor was already expectantly waiting for their first evolutions. Their powers should skyrocket then.

After spending over half a year in the desert the Queen Burrower did not move much, continously spawning Burrowers the whole time and growing impatient by the lack of foes.

Ziihor stood at the far end of the camp. Wielding a rusted broad axe and cloaked in a robe made of tent cloth he waited for Weiss.

Between the tents he could see a shadow hushing here and there, it was fast, too fast for any human eye to perceive. Weiss appeared right before Ziihor in just a moments time. His thin hands held a crude dagger in them and were pressing down on Ziihor's throat. “Not good enough“, Ziihor said. “You have to be even faster and use unpredictable moves.“. Weiss looked depressed on the ground, his master was right. It only noticed to late how the head of the battle axe was already threatening to split its skull.

Ziihor used his powerful wings to hoist the axe up over his back and swing it down only to stop before splitting Weiss's skull. It was some kind of spar they invented. Weiss would try to kill Ziihor with honest killing intent and Ziihor had to defend against it or put Weiss in a situation where he would die.

Weiss backed down with the dagger and distanced himself a few steps. “Master Ziihor, where should we go now?“. Weiss already knew Ziihor's name since long ago.

Ziihor moved the axe from his wings to his hand, pulled down the hood of the robe over his head and strided with big steps towards the horizon. Weiss only eyed him confused but followed anyway. Likewise Weiss pulled out a grey robe and pulled its hood over his face, daggers battle ready in both hands.

Ziihor gave him a quick glance from the front, smiled, or rather cracked his lower jaw in a awkward manner, and told Weiss. “I don't know.“. Weiss only stopped for a moment, thinking about his master's words. Shrugging his shoulders he sprinted to Ziihor's side, his robe flutering in the dry desert winds.

The undeads waved both of them goodbye and resumed training shortly after, they were a lively bunch after all. (WOHOO! Second pun!)

Ziihor unfolded his wings and flexed his bones once again. He went into a kneeling position and motioned for the wraith to come closer. “Try to keep up!“. Ziihor said before he almost instantly vanished in a giant cloud of dust, rising towards the sky and touching the clouds. Weiss was startled but after seeing his master disappear towards the horizon and the taunting invite for a speed competition he uttered out he had no other choice than to obey. Assimilating into the ground with clothes and all Weiss dashed from shaow to shadow, provided by single clouds.

It would take time to reach their destination so why not make it a fun time?