Screams and roars erupted, three large masses rushing at the wall of men. Like stone boulders they clashed, disrupting formation and sending everyone flying. Two of the knights hurried to challenge one of the orcs, numbers aiding in the fight of unfairness. It was more than happy to fight them.
In a flurry of strikes, dodges and human barking of orders the fight flared, two other orcs dismissing the humans and rushing at Magus, dazzled by the gold on his robe. Their heavy steps thundered as they ran, the ground crumbling under the weight of all that muscle.
The undead saw their power and, although it was hard to admit, it easily outperformed that of himself. Him, being all bone and no muscle, could not compete, even if he was stronger than the average human. Either way, physical power was not his strength and he was not planning to meet them head-on.
Focusing on the innate power of magic, mana rushed to his palm. Fire spewed out of it, burning the glove that hid his inhuman form.
“Begone.”
Leaping like a snake, the giants were unable to dodge. It burned, melting metal, setting fur on fire and blackening the green underneath. They howled louder than any beast Magus has seen so far, one of them losing their footing and falling to the ground.
It seems that they were maddened to the point they did not feel their flesh sizzling since the other orc jumped over his comrade and readied to swing its weapon, a large club of charred wood. The undead guard hurried to protect its master, meeting the strike with its shield. With such power it collided, the zombie was sent flying out of sight, barely stopping the stampede of muscle.
“What tremendous power.” A fireball sprung to existence. “Simply marvelous.”
No wonder they contested cavalry charges in strength. That single strike could easily end the life of any human, a living one that is. Of course Magus was not keen on testing his own toughness.
He spun the fireball, it turning white as it shot off at a speed faster than eyes could see. Upon contact a large explosion went off, disintegrating part of the head of the monstrosity, stopping it mid-swing as the body collapsed and the shockwave carried on to crumble the shabby huts of the greenskins. Ruining perfect guinea pigs felt disappointing, but all he needed was one, even if slightly broken.
The fighting continued unimpeded as there was no time to pay attention to the explosions and screams. Magus watched from the sidelines as his guard scrambled to get back to its destined place. Bone fractures trivial and dismembering non-lethal, zombies were tough enough to ‘live through’ a strike from an orc. They could survive even when beheaded, though that would make them lose control of the body. In other words - useless.
As the seven spearmen struggled against the overwhelming numbers, one having to face ten or more of the little green pests, the crossbowmen ran out of bolts. In a moment of madness, or perhaps bravado, they chucked them away and drew their swords, jumping into the melee as well. An orc still heaved on the ground, its lungs seared by the previous flame.
Cut its limbs off, ordered Magus mentally. He only needed one of them alive, saving this one should be fine even if the knights succeed in their fight, which, to be said, was unlikely.
The two of them fought a single opponent, talent and technique versus raw inhuman power. They parried, dodged, sliced, stabbed… Did everything they could, but the orc did not fall. Fists with the power of battering rams behind them flew one after the other, the beast seemed more confident in hand-to-hand combat. With each swing the air flurried, sending waves of dust everywhere as the knights hurried to dodge, already catching breaths as they relied on second wind.
The orc roared and shouted something in a monstrous tongue, likely rallying the few goblins whom got injured and tried to save their skin. It seems the humans also began barking even more orders, telling their comrades to finish the little ones quicker or for the crossbowmen to suppress fire, even though they were already engaged in melee and had no bolts to pepper the enemy with.
“Mage! What the hell are you doing?!” Screamed Levi, barely fending off three weakened goblins. His armor shone as the stone spears cracked or slid off the plate. “Do something!”
“It seems I’ve used too much mana,” spoke the undead, acting dizzy and wobbly. “I took care of the two big ones, the rest is up to you.”
“Damn!” He sliced the goblin’s head clean off in fury. The other two immediately ran away, seeing they couldn’t take him on. “You’re fucking useless!” He rushed into melee as well, hoping to save his men and his hide by proxy. By the point he made any noticeable difference, only four spearmen stood, two bled on the ground with the rest turning paler at an increased rate as the warmth of life left them.
The undead guard sliced off the orcs limbs and Magus cauterized them immediately. No matter how strong and muscly, they didn’t fare well against the magical axe. The beast roared, screamed and tried to spit multiple times. Even with only a torso and head left it thrashed around with surprising vigor.
“Lay still, maggot,” the undead kicked it in the head, though that didn’t do anything.
The flesh was strong, thick and compact. Nature gifted them with all the physical advantages, so why were they so low on the food chain?
There’s no time to ponder these things, thought the undead. Whatever the reason was, all were equal in death.
As he rolled the orc on its stomach to prevent the dribble from reaching him, came a deafening scream, startling the humans and grabbing the attention of Magus.
Among the piles of corpses and blood stood the last orc. It held a knight by the waist, a sword stuck in its collarbone, deeply lodged under the bone and flesh. Roaring in fury and dominance, the steel grip slowly closed, bending armor of the man who desperately flailed his legs and arms. The inhuman grin widened into a bright, yellowy smile.
The other knight jumped to save him, aiming the sword at the wrists, but the green giant saw it coming and kicked the human away in a ferocious strike to the head. He was sent flying, helmet to the wind and neck busted from the strike. Dead before reaching the ground.
In a paralyzing shriek, spearmen simply froze unable to fathom the sight, the orc pulled the head off the human body. Like a carrot out of the ground the spine dangled, blood dripping and the owner twitching in reminiscence to life.
The orc laughed in non-existent applause and cheers, and the humans turned to run. Levi was left standing, his legs unmoving, as the fleeing men got brutally slaughtered by the goblins. They bashed their heads into the rock, too weak to crush them the like an orc, but nonetheless extremely happy to take out their rage.
It didn’t take long for Magus to get surrounded by the green horde as well, though it has dwindled to but a twenty goblins and an orc.
Now that he looked at it, the monster was larger than others. As Magus wondered whether it was their leader, much like how wolves had pack leaders whom were the largest and strongest of all, the orc bellowed at the top of its lungs. Amongst the inhuman tongue only a single word the undead grasped – ‘human’. The beast spoke something about them, likely mistaking the undead for one, as it pointed at the armless orc and tied up women.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Do you expect for a trade or do you wish for me to surrender?” A ball of fire began forming and the goblins stirred. They jumped in formation, a poor copy of the one humans had, as they tried to defend the orc from impending doom. “Quite foolish for target practice.”
As the ball of fire started spinning, from behind the green ranks Levi was pushed to the front. Only human leaders were so weak it seems. The helmet of his was dented and his life was slowly dwindling. A concussion, likely. So much from all that protection.
The orc grinned as it grabbed Levi by the head, holding him out in front of itself. It probably thought that a hostage would turn the tide of battle, forcing the powerful mage to surrender. Naturally, that was as wrong of a conclusion as a beast of that caliber could reach.
“Shield yourself all you want…” The fireball whitened under increased pressure. Unfortunately, the human shield somewhat worked, as the undead needed the corpse intact. “I’ll just blast around you.”
The greenskins probably caught wind of what was to come and tried to spread out as fast as possible, even the giant orc stepped back, as if that would help. It was too late.
Magic swirled, air combusted and the fireball shot out. It went through two goblins in an instant, carving large holes in their stomachs as their guts caught fire. Time seemingly slowed, the undead senses surpassing that of the living. Magus felt the flame consume everything in its path, an invisible connection of magic between them greedily depleting mana. Thankfully the place was abundant with it, making everything go smooth like a breeze. With just a thought the flame halted, spinning even faster as it whitened to the point of blinding radiance and exploded.
Life extinguished in an instant. Dust, guts, blood and everything else rose up, the ground trembling from the sheer power and energy released in that strike. Half the goblins no longer existed, the others mortally injured from the shock which travelled the air and through their frail bodies. Their leader too lied hopelessly, trying to stand but unable to do so.
“You, living, are so fragile…” Said the undead, feeling his marrow grow hotter as it slowly replenished itself with the thick mana surrounding him.
He noted in his mind to not repeat such an action again, the cost simply taking too long to recover from. Mana sickness was the last he needed right now. Apparently it caused mutations and the like, sometimes outright killing the person, but all of that applied to the living. How could an undead die again? Surely that was impossible.
“Well then, what do I do with th-” He stalled, seeing that the human females lied twitching. Shockwaves travelled further than he anticipated it’d seem. Seven of them were already dead, one barely alive and the rest only slightly injured. The life in their stomachs was too weak to live through it though.
Cursing under his breath, though unable to feel anger like humans, he let loose on the corpses. He raised five of the soldiers, one loose-necked knight included, and approached the orc. Killing it felt wasteful, but since the limbless one was still alive he had no need of another.
Pulling out the crooked blade from under his robe, he was about to end the life of the beast, but then a sudden inspiration hit him. Having no time to experiment in the castle, especially on the living, the undead constantly wondered about the different powers he has seen.
The cursed child and her ‘gift’ forcefully fused flesh, mostly maiming the ‘patients’ for life as she was too inept to use the power rightly. Was negative energy the opposite of that? The undead knew it turned corpses into undead, but what would happen if he used it on a living being?
Eager to try it out, he reached for the orc with the uncovered hand of bone. The beast breathed heavily, its eyes bloodshot as it feared the unknown. What will this undead creature do to it? It probably wondered.
Feeling the hatred, the negative energy gathered at the fine point of his index finger. Just like raising a corpse it entered the body, though this time there was resistance. Something tried to push it out, but the undead forced even more of it inside. Soon the energy freely roamed the orc’s still-living body, though not for long as the beast began to tremble. It cried, murmured something under its breath and went rigid. The life extinguished as its organs failed and the brain died.
Just as Magus realized that it had passed away, the negative energy surged out of the body. Like a black shadow, in mid-day it roamed the air, repelling mana until it found what it looked for – its owner. With the mind of its own it returned to the undead’s body, him still unsure how in the hell it all worked.
***
After raising the confusingly killed orc, Magus hurried to delve into the deep below. Had he been human, he would’ve searched the goblin town first, be it for prisoners or loot, but the undead had no interest in those things, nor did he feel any other living remaining there.
Walking down the ancient steps, mana turned denser and denser. The actual stairway going so deep the light of day was unable to pierce through the darkness. The pit’s walls carved by unnatural means, definitely not something a goblin could produce, twisted and turned, like growths or tumors of some kind, the crevasses reminding those of the brain.
When he reached the bottom, the crunch of bones beneath his feet and the innumerable hallways in all directions met him. Bleak streaks of blue marked their floors, invisible inside the main room beneath all the bone and trash thrown in by the goblins above. Up to the knees the skulls rose, some human some not. Many of the bones the undead did not even know of, having not seen them in any of the books he read so far.
Fighting the impulse to collect them, he chose a hallway to follow. It was one of the brighter ones, where mana was plainly pouring out of. It likely lead to the source of this strange phenomena, and although he wasn’t expecting to meet anyone down here, still ordered his puppets to follow.
Ten minutes under the ground, he came to a junction, naturally choosing to follow the source of mana, and then every ten minutes or so the same-looking junctions kept appearing, until, after two hours in total below the surface, he took a right turn and the hallway suddenly changed.
No longer it twisted and warped. Solid bricks of stone and bars of prison compiled the wet walls. From the ceiling water dripped in a solemn silence as the undead investigated the cells. They were empty, food all but mush of rot and the bunk beds the same. At the end of the corridor a door waited, its hinges rusted and wood rotting.
Magus still had no idea what was going on here. At first it didn’t look like something built by man, but now it screamed of someone. Did a goblin leader live here? Was it not the now-shambling orc? Perhaps this is a type of fortification humans made in the past? There were no rules stating that one should build above ground after all, and the tight corridors seemed easy to defend both from footmen and ranged weapons.
The easiest way to find out was to look. And so he did. Ordering through the mental bond, the orc, ‘Chieftain’ the undead chose to call it, charged the puny excuse of a door. It shattered immediately, too weak to hold against an orc, even if intact, not to mention one strengthened by undeath.
As the splinters set, the door so weak it was an overkill to send in the orc, Magus took the sight with a deep, deathly gasp.
Bright blue gems grew from the rocky sky of the enormous space, the highest point reaching as far as 50 meters. From them hung metal cages, some housing skeletal remains, others still-moving figures of goblins. Below, a large… orb, hovered above the rocky ground. Shelves of jars crammed with most wondrous and unseen specimens encased a small area into a place one’s mind could get lost in. Weird blue liquid bubbled inside glass-like tubes and bottles, releasing vapor which travelled up a yet another tube, this time one made of brass, and exiting through the thousand teeth of a fish-like face in a screech beckoning to stay away. It was a room one could only dream about.
All the tables crowded with books and scrolls combined into a place an obvious researcher had lived, or rather, still lives.
Red, veiny and with many limbs it writhed on the floor, its tentacles trying to touch the orb but getting pushed back every time. With no eyes, the creature breathed loudly, wet sounds and oozing liquid seeping through the skin.
It was definitely alive, but a creature Magus could have never imagined to exist. The life presence of it was so meager and small had Magus not looked he would’ve confused it for a rabbit.
“Well, well, well,” suddenly spoke a voice, not from the creature but the walls themselves. “Today of all days I had not expected an undead to welcome me with their presence.”
Magus turned, hoping to catch sight of whomever spoke, as his guards surrounded him in a shield of not-yet-rotting flesh. It knew of his nature, a sign of danger for both parties as the undead fully focused its brilliant mind to end the existence of the speaker.
“Did you enjoy the sight of Gleaner, my pet?” The walls thundered as the ground split open, a man rising from the crack. “Introduce yourself, would you?”
He was a human, or at least looked the part, having a head, two hands, two legs and all. Pale skin, wrinkly and withered, the crooked fingers held onto an equally crooked staff of black, a sheening red gem imbedded in its head. Three whole strands of grey covered his top, falling down the cheek and onto his grey robe.
“I will,” three balls of red gathered in the air. “Granted you forfeit your life immediately.”