Alaster walked leisurely through the dense forest, stepping lightly over the roots of the ancient wood crawling over each other. The moon struggled to cast its light through the dense canopy, casting the world below in darkness. Damp wind from the east foretold of rain.
Unseen and unheard, the predators of the night hunted. Prowling through the brush with blood on their minds. Distant sounds of their hunts echoed past Alaster. None dared to approach Alaster. Even actively suppressing his aura, as he was, the animal Instinct was acute. While an Adept or weaker Expert might have, it was impossible for Alaster to properly hide his power from their senses.
None, except the Undead.
There were many similarities and differences between the Living and Undead. Many were obvious while others were less so. But one difference that was often overlooked was that the Undead did not have a survival instinct. As a result of that, their senses were muted. Still present, but quieter, weaker.
Even Alaster had forgotten that aspect as his own Undead had never had the need. He had never sent them very far from him, though he could. And when they were active, they were typically given a direct threat, not one they had to seek out or avoid. It was only after reading a brief mention of this aspect that Alaster remembered and decided to take advantage of it.
Which led to his current situation. Wandering through the forest, far from the safety of the city walls, deep in territory filled with Monsters that would make Experts hesitant.
The young man had previously set one of his Shadows to follow one of the Undead scouts, hoping that it would lead him to the Lich controlling it. It had taken nearly a week, during which Alaster began to settle into his new circumstances.
The lessons were strangely both calming and intensive. Each one was thought provoking and fascinating. His teacher was a quiet man that often disappeared, coming and going as he pleased. Alaster doubted that each one of those times were due to his role as the City Elder.
Azemar was typically reading, but Alaster never saw him reading the same book twice, or from a book that he could find in the library. From just the short time he had been in Galmore, Alaster learned that the Elder was a very deceptive man, but that he cared very deeply about his daughter.
A daughter that seemed to take some cruel pleasure from disrupting Alaster. Lunaria seemed to have a way of sensing anytime Alaster attempted to sit down and work on expanding his army. He had only managed to grow his Forgotten by a pitiful handful. Let alone begin the actual design on his newest Minion.
Every evening, after Alaster cleans up the meal while Lunaria talks with him, the two sit down to play a few games of chess. Alaster had not won once.
Just after Lunaria waved good night to Alaster for the night, he received a prompting from one of his Shadows. Briefly bonding with the Assassin, Alaster saw that it had found the Lich. Or at least its army. And what an army it was.
Through the muted senses of the Shadow Assassin, Alaster could tell that each Skeleton, which accounted for the majority of the Undead Army, was weak. Even an Undead Worker could contend with one, at least for a few moments. The issue was their number. The Skeletons alone numbered in the thousands at least.
There were two other kinds of Undead within the army. The Zombies were stronger and more durable than the Skeletons, some even wearing proper armor, and they numbered in the hundreds. The last type of Undead were the Undead Beasts, ranging from Skeleton to Zombie, large and small. They were the least in number, but the most diverse.
The Shadow was hidden in the branches of a nearby tree and was high enough to see dozens more Skeletons joining the army, likely other scouts.
For an army this size, there was no way Alaster would be able to defeat it in a frontal assault, at least not alone. But Alaster had no intention of sharing his prey. He might not be able to confront the army in its entirety, but the Undead Army of the Lich was nearly thirty miles away from the walls of Galmore. Alaster would instead engage in guerrilla warfare.
Of course, such a conflict perfectly suited those that could simply raise their dead again, but even the Lich had limited Mana. Alaster planned on destroying so many Undead with each attack that it would not be able to keep up. Slowly whittling down the massive army until he could attack it in a frontal assault.
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He could have had the Shadow Assassins search the army until they found the lich and simply have them kill it. The Lich was weak in any sort of melee. It was the smartest and safest plan. The army would vanish upon their Master’s death without even the opportunity to threaten Galmore or Alaster.
But Alaster felt compelled to fight. To prove that his Army of the Dead was better. He wanted to make the Lich feel despair before he destroyed it. The feeling was nonsensical, but Alaster did not care enough to fight against it. The fights would allow his Undead to grow stronger.
Of course, if the battle came too close to Galmore, Alaster would notify Azemar. Even if he wanted to defeat the Lich by himself, he would not risk the city. Not for some misguided sense of honor or heroism, but simply because it was his best chance to save his sister, for now.
Currently, Alaster was walking through the forest towards the Lich’s army. He wanted to find a suitable location to release his Undead from his Soul Domain. A Shadow had already scouted out the location and Alaster arrived shortly after.
A large clearing, with tall grass and even ground. Perfect for assembling his Military.
* * * * *
High above the trees, a dragon hovered, flapping its mighty wings to stay in one place. Unlike a normal dragon, this one’s scales glistened in the moonlight. This was not a true dragon, but one made of metal, imbued with artificial life by the Magic of its Master.
Azemar watched from atop his mount, curious to see what his young pupil would do.
In the peaceful scene of nature, a young giant of a man disturbed the tranquility. Clad in cruel armor that seemed to absorb the pale moonlight and offering nothing in return.
The fearsome man walked to the middle of the clearing, and look up at the moon, as if reminiscing in long ago memories. Moments turned into minutes before he looked down at the ground, twisting the forefoot of his right foot in the dense grass. Seemingly accepting, Alaster knelt down and gently laid his palm on the soft and gentle ground.
A moment later, a pulse of raw Mana emanated from the hand, physically felt by even Azemar from high above. Azemar was impressed that someone so young could control Mana so well as to have a physical force, even one so weak. It was not something that could be gained from simple Levels, but from practice.
But what happened next surprised Azemar. The raw Mana was not the result, but the side effect. Alaster was pushing it away, expelling it from the area, allowing his own Mana to saturate it.
Originating from the young man’s palm, sickly green Mana surrounded by a thin layer of black and tinged with red radiated out, killing the once green grass before it caught alight, burning to naught but ash in moments.
The aura of death expanded, killing everything within the clearing, but halting just within, leaving nothing but ash and dirt.
From behind the kneeling Alaster, a large portal faded into existence, filling the air with the feeling of death and decay. A feeling that Azemar had long sense grown accustomed to.
Out of the portal came ranks upon ranks of the Undead. Each holding their weapons close to their bodies and marching forward in neat lines, parting around their Master.
Azemar watched the dead march out without end. He had thought he had a general idea of the boy’s power, as well as the limits. And as he was certain of his current Magical strength, Azemar relented that he had gotten the estimation of the boy’s Minions very wrong.
Minutes passed as they continued to exit the portal, gradually filling the large clearing. First came the hundreds of mismatched Undead of his Horde Legion. Followed the disciplined soldiers of his Custom army. The Blackguards with their long spears and strong shields followed by the giant Minotaurs and their frightening poleaxes and tower shields.
Then came the few Minions that Alaster had made himself. Azemar was still attempting to gauge their abilities and strengths, but they were without a doubt powerful. He had seen so personally when he saw just a few of the barbarian Undead rampage through the ranks of Tarian Soldiers during the Siege of Onigas. Now, there were nearly fifty of the Weaved Undead.
Azemar did not count the Shadow Assassins as they were not really meant for combat. Of course, he had noticed them throughout the city and forest. There were many of them, strategically placed throughout the city.
However, surprising the Elder once more, after the Weaved Undead, came lines after lines of Undead mounted on Skeletal Steeds. First came light armored armed with sword and shield, then medium armored armed with spear, sword and shield. Finally, and most numerous, were the behemoths of armor, both mount and rider, armed with long lances and thick shields.
The Skeletal Stallions of each tier of mounted Undead were different sizes and armor. The swordsmen rode small mounts that were typically found on farmlands or caravans. The spearmen rode what would be classified as war mounts, horses bred to endure the strain of war as well as aid their rider in combat.
But the heavy cavalry rode giants of horses, their backs easily taller than the average man. Even Alaster was only level with them when standing. They also wore heavy steel armor, angled in the middle to throw aside any weapon or body. Their hooves were sharp and clawed in order to gain traction. Their riders were only slightly smaller than the Minotaurs but wore similar armor.
One hundred of the Heavy Cavalry rode out of the portal, but it was still not done. Last out of portal were twelve dark individuals. As they exited the portal, Azemar felt their presence. It felt wrong, as if they were not natural.
They stepped forward and as one, knelt behind their Master as the portal closed behind them.
Azemar knew of the Lich Army and was content to let the boy handle it, but seeing the true might of the young man’s Military might, he scowled.
‘He holds more power than I thought. I need to accelerate my plans.’