Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 60 - Marked for death - Part One_Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 60 - Marked for death - Part One

The effects of the Ward and Dirge of Undeath actively competed against one another. However, it was obvious that the Dirge of Undeath was the stronger Spell overall. The Empowered version of the Spell appeared to provide or otherwise enforce a much higher level of mobility from the undead under its influence. The effects of the Empowered ward dampened the mobility bonus, functionally returning the undead to their original levels of function.

Despite losing the advantages provided by the Ward, cancelling the Dirge of Undeath was out of the question. Drawing the undead to our fortified position and destroying them was the reason for using the Dirge of Undeath in the first place.

To offset the loss of the Ward, I Summoned generic Lesser Summons of every Species represented within my Demi-Plane. I kept the Lesser Summons stowed away out of sight and away from danger. Maintaining them would take up most of my considerable means of mana regeneration, and I didn’t want to increase that burden further.

Ophelia’s blessing had solved one of my most pressing fears regarding the near-limitless numbers of the undead. By turning the corpses of the defeated undead into ash, it prevented the remaining lesser undead from using their fallen as means to scale the northern and southern walls.

Unfortunately, many of the middling and greater undead did not need the leg up to scale the walls. They possessed inherent advantages that allowed them to climb or jump over the walls under their own power.

In the fringes of the Ward’s influence, more powerful undead had begun forming a coordinated effort to preserve their own numbers. Rough trenches were carved out of the frozen dirt by hand and claw while the displaced earth was turned into loose low walls intended to break the line of sight of the Asrusian bowmen.

To better counter the entrenchment effort of the Vampyrs, I began forming towers on the northeast face of the western mountain. Forming bunkers and firing positions higher up the mountain would have been a more efficient use of mana and time. However, it would have dramatically increased the horizontal distance between the bowmen and the Vampyrs' position, rendering their attacks less effective.

With so much of my attention dedicated elsewhere, I relied heavily on my champions to intercept undead that managed to outflank our fortifications.

For the most part, the Asrusians seemed more than capable of culling the endless hordes of lesser undead. Even the middling undead were dispatched without much apparent difficulty.

However, the longer the fighting continued, the more the Asrusian bowmen began to tire. Targets were so plentiful that the bowmen hardly needed to aim. Unfortunately, drawing back bow strings on their bows and crossbows still exacted a toll on the stamina of the bowmen. The stamina cost could be offset by the Kobold Racial Ability, but it wasn’t a perfect solution since the soldiers had to take time off to eat and recover their lost HP.

The officers in charge were doing their best to cycle through their troops. However, the overwhelming number of undead had instilled a mild sense of panic in the soldiers, making them resistant to the orders requiring them to take time off to rest and recuperate.

I understood the feeling all too well.

The endless hordes of undead rushing toward the wall fostered a mounting sense of urgency in my mind. The need to be doing more to ensure not just our victory, but our survival.

Adding to that pressure, the more intelligent undead had begun to return ranged attacks against those positioned on the wall. Most of the attacks were made with simple slings hurling rough stones.

Propelled by the unholy strength of the Vampyrs, the mundane projectiles travelled far faster and further than under the means of a regular man. While not nearly as lethal as the slaying enchantment provided by Ophelia, a lucky strike had the capability of doing severe damage.

Matters became even more complicated with the arrival of the armoured undead. Most appeared to be unfortunate Werrian soldiers who had been raised as Zombies by the Liche. However, a minority amongst their number moved with purpose and undeniable intelligence.

As best I could tell, they attempted to probe the fortifications for exploitable weaknesses. That, or they were deliberately drawing attacks to satisfy a nascent death wish. However, given the difficulty of downing the armoured Zombies, the brashness of the more intelligent undead could have been the result of deserved arrogance.

With each passing moment, greater numbers of armoured undead appeared amongst the ranks of the endless horde.

To counter the ever-increasing ranks of the armoured undead, the Asrusians deployed ballista. The siege javelins launched from the ballistae proved capable of piercing through several unarmoured undead and still penetrating an armoured undead’s shield and armour.

The only downside was that the ballistae and their teams needed dedicated space to function correctly. This was a stark contrast to the soldiers using bows and crossbows, who could set up just about anywhere and fight within arm’s length of one another without issue.

Ushu, Cooper, and Dhizi strafed the battlefield, dashing apart undead by the dozens as their talons crashed into the rotting bodies of the undead and their tails smashed them to pieces. All the while, the teams on their backs rained down death upon the endless hordes.

With every other pass, the trio of giant flying reptiles disgorged torrents of caustic bile which melted the flesh and corroded the bones of any undead it came into contact with. Dhizi’s bile was particularly potent, liquifying lesser undead in less than a second.

As near as I could tell, Dhizi’s venom-related Racial Abilities extended to saliva, which was technically venomous. I also had a hunch that the increased rate of digestion from my own Iron Gut’s Racial Ability Synergy was contributing to the rate at which the undead were dissolved.

The expulsion of bile was not a Species or Class Ability, and after a few dozen torrents each, the trio of giant flying reptiles had depleted their supply.

Thankfully, their bile retained significant potency and the caustic pools continued exacting a horrific toll on the mindless undead.

Despite their horrific losses, the undead were slowly gaining ground. Through sheer weight of numbers, the undead hordes crept forward inch by inch, hour by hour. With no end to their ranks in sight, it was becoming a real possibility that the battle would eventually devolve into a desperate melee.

The battle became even more chaotic as Zombie birds of prey the size of horses began arriving in ever-increasing numbers.

Destroying the giant zombified birds was relatively easy. However, they drew attention away from the other undead, allowing them to gain more ground.

The setting of the sun combined with the heavy cloud cover severely reduced visibility and allowed the intelligent undead to perform a series of moderately successful raids. Targeting the soldiers posted on the periphery, the undead employed ranged attacks to deny the Asrusians the opportunity to retaliate.

It wasn’t until sunrise that I realised how much of a strong role the thorn bush had played in protecting our position throughout the night.

As the faint light of dawn bled over the mountains, I couldn’t help but stare at the masses of thorny vines that now covered the mountains flanking our fortifications. Like the many limbs of a giant eldritch cephalopod, thick vines arched from the mountains and snatched all but a few of the giant Zombie birds from the sky before they even had a chance to approach the pass.

As more light filtered over the ground to the north, it revealed more thorny growths expanding from the mountains and forming screening walls to the northeast and northwest. However, for whatever reason, the thorn bush gave a wide berth to the Vampyrs' trenches.

Even so, the screening walls of thorns tore apart the undead with ruthless abandon, viciously tearing them limb from limb and crushing their bodies into a mangled mess. All the while, smaller vines dragged away the bounty of organic material and mana stones.

Despite the assistance provided by the thorn bush, it barely dented the ranks of the otherwise limitless hordes of undead.

A matter of intense concern came from the increasing numbers of undead arriving from the south. As best as anyone could determine, they were coming from the Mournbrent Labyrinth. Small consolation as it was, the undead approaching from the south lacked the numbers of those in the north. However, the increasing frequency of zombified monsters amongst the ranks of the northern hordes suggested the possibility that the Labyrinths of several cities had been turned into Zombie producing factories.

If that was true, then my plan was very likely to fail without an appropriate degree of escalation.

The only upside was that the more powerful and intelligent undead had been drawn alongside the mindless hordes. While destroying a few hundred thousand Zombies and Skeletons might not weaken the Liche’s defences, losing her commanders and vanguard would.

With the towers complete, I shifted my attention from defence to offence. In between maintaining the Lesser Summons, I experimented with casting Thundering Strikes on ballistae javelins. The lethality of the projectiles was notably increased, but it failed to meet my expectations.

At my request, a catapult was assembled and custom ammunition was prepared. It was hours before the preparations were completed, but I had more than enough things to keep me busy in the meantime.

Technically, I could have provided the stone ammunition for the catapult myself. However, I had my reasons for not doing so. Conserving mana was the most pressing reason. A lack of geological knowledge and the ability to sense faults in the stone was another.

The special ammunition I had requested was custom-made by Sen back in Sanctuary. Made from dense but deliberately fault-ridden stone, I intended that the projectile would maintain its integrity long enough to land at its desired destination. Thundering Strikes would then cause the projectile to explode and send shards of stone scything through the ranks of the undead.

I had no delusions that the injuries would be as fatal to the undead as they would be to living targets. However, the existence of HP and Ophelia’s slayer enchantment meant that it could exact a potentially devastating toll.

Watching the small boulder arc through the sky, I realised that the effective range of the catapult was far shorter than the movies had led me to expect. This left the trenches of the Vampyr well out of reach.

The small boulder exploded after ploughing through several lesser undead. The resulting shrapnel scythed through the pressed ranks of the undead, turning them to ash.

Spending a few minutes to confirm the kill count, I was stunned to discover that one hundred and seven lesser undead, mostly Zombies, had been destroyed by the explosion and shrapnel.

While I had been sifting through the skill notifications, the catapult’s crew had loaded and fired two large clay jars of burning oil.

The burning oil did not seem particularly effective. The mindless undead simply ignored the flames and marched straight through the flames.

Experimenting further, the catapult crew achieved far greater success with loads of stone shrapnel. The slayer enchantment made each individual stone a particularly lethal projectile against the undead. However, it was still less effective than hurling the original small stone boulder, so they switched back again.

By the early evening, engineers were busy at work assembling a trebuchet. Unfortunately, the engineers would not be finished for quite some time.

In an attempt to counter the rising numbers of armoured undead, ballistae began replacing the teams of bowmen who were formerly stationed within the bunkers. I was later approached by a Lieutenant who wanted to know if I could make arrow slits in the wall and scale them to allow for ballistae to fire javelins through them and straight into the approaching ranks of the undead.

I had no particular reason to object, so I did as the Lieutenant asked.

Despite the mounting losses amongst the Asrusian soldiers and Kobold auxiliary, the battle was steadily turning back in our favour. Another wave of Asrusian reinforcements had been requested and would arrive within a week. Emergency reinforcements could be deployed as well, but they were being kept as a trump card.

Fesk and Nila’s teams had both spotted Confederate scouts skulking in the mountains to the east and flying on large predatory birds to the south. It was obvious that the Confederate political faction they belonged to had no intention of assisting. They were there only to assess the Asrusians' strength.

Ushu, Cooper and Dhizi made the Asrusians a genuine threat. In an open battle, they were each capable of killing thousands of soldiers and breaching all but the most robust of defences. The special teams mounted on their backs made Ushu and Cooper a bane to other airborne monsters. Whatever the special teams couldn’t bring down with projectiles, the Dragons could savagely maul into submission or retreat.

In my haste and fervour to secure the pass, I hadn’t fully considered how the existence of the thorn bush would be interpreted by our rivals.

The best solution to the problem I could think of was to somehow transplant the core of the thorn bush into Mournbrent’s Labyrinth after we defeated the Liche. In the Labyrinth, it would have all the undead it could eat and would stop them from leaving the Labyrinth uncontested.

My line of thinking was that once rumours of the thorn bush occupying the first floor of the Mournbrent Labyrinth spread. Over time, people would simply assume that it was some sort of monster native to that Labyrinth and that the Asrusians had tamed some of them to subjugate the undead rampaging within the Werrian Empire’s borders. Or something like that.

A small number of the soldiers had already referred to the sentient thorn bush as a Thorn Beast and Bramble Walker. This made me confident that it could be passed off as some sort of monster without much difficulty.

Although it did raise the issue of how I was going to communicate with it.

To the best of my knowledge, the sentient thorn bush could understand spoken words. However, it had no vocal cords with which to reply in turn. Hana had shown she could understand the sentient willow, and other flora. The problem with involving Hana rested on how upset she had been when I used the Spell the first time.

Granted, there were mitigating circumstances this time that would probably dampen her disappointment, but I wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation.

While preoccupied with my thoughts, I had been standing in front of the thornbush and staring at it. As much as a means to focus my thoughts as anything else.

The trunk of the original thorn bush was now roughly three feet wide, and the forking vines were roughly a foot thick at their base.

I wasn’t quite sure how, but I had the distinct impression that the thorn bush was staring just as intently at me as I was staring at it. The thorn bush might have had some form of mana sense that approximated the equivalent of sight and hearing, but I had no way of knowing for sure.

On a whim, I reached out and pressed my hand against the trunk of the thorn bush. Uncertain of what I had expected, I was mildly surprised by just how warm the trunk was to the touch. However, I was far more surprised to recognise the mental link our physical contact formed in my mind.

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A gold and black status alert appeared in the centre of my vision. Flickering and shuddering, the gold and black of the panel alternated to inverted neon shades of pink, green, and blue before briefly returning to normal and starting over again.

Staring at the stuttering panel of broken text, I slowly managed to puzzle out the meaning of the broken text.

The thornbush wanted to become my minion.

“Is that even possible?” I muttered dubiously, uncertain of what exactly would happen if I accepted the request.

I had not encountered anything like the glitch since arriving in this world.

The consciousness of the thornbush gave off the conflicting sense of being both profoundly distracted and somehow immensely focused. However, after considering the sheer amount of ground the thorn bush covered, it made a weird sort of sense.

“This world is full of unknowns and ancient secrets,” I muttered, earning curious glances from my champions due to a lack of context.

The longer I considered the consciousness of the thorn bush, the more I realised the true extent of what I had done. The thorn bush did not share my flesh, but it shared my blood. In an incredibly weird sort of way, it made us related. Closer than the connection with my children, but at the same time, it was something else entirely.

The closest comparison for reference I possessed was how I had managed to create clones of Sebet by using the Empowered Summon Servant Spell. However, I had felt no kinship or familiarity with Sebet’s clones.

The difference might have laid within the function of the Spell.

Empowered Summon Servant had used my blood to provide an artificial core, allowing the clones to regenerate mana rather than running at a deficit until disappearing outright. There was also the possibility that Sebet’s ability to change her form may have overwritten any of my blood that was present within her clones.

As best as I could tell, my blood had not just stained the original trunk and vines. The Empowered Plant Growth Spell had infused my blood into the thorn bush and permanently altered it.

I felt a pang of guilt.

If my hypothesis was true, then that meant that the thorn bush likely suffered the same mana stone addiction as me.

I took what consolation I could in the fact that the consciousness of the thorn bush exhibited flashes of hunger but not the desperate need that would suggest addiction.

I spent the better part of an hour staring at the glitching status alert before making up my mind.

“Accept,” I hissed quietly and mentally braced myself for the worst.

A cascade of glitching stuttering status alerts passed before my eyes. However, after a few moments, the glitching status alerts disappeared. In their place was a much smaller black panel with a single line of text.

[ Integration Status Of New Species: {Pending} ]

“A blank Status?...” Rolland muttered apprehensively, “I’m not the only one who can see this, right?” He whispered after double-checking to make sure no one was close enough to overhear.

Jayne and Faine both nodded, each wearing an expression of mild confusion and intense concern.

I blinked in surprise as the original glitched-out status alert appeared in front of my eyes for a second time.

I could tell just by looking at the thorn bush that it was not the one making the request.

The vague image of a crimson-limbed willow tree passed from the consciousness of the thorn bush to mine. Alongside the image of the willow tree came a string of bizarre sensations that I vaguely recognised as a form of two-way communication.

The willow and thorn bush were communicating with one another.

I realised that the second appearance of the status alert had to be the result of the willow mirroring the thorn bush’s request.

Reassured by the fact that whatever powers governed the Labyrinths hadn’t been broken or retaliated against me after accepting the thorn bush, I decided to accept the willow’s request as well.

[ Integration Status Of New Species: {Pending} ]

The status alert came immediately after accepting the willow’s request, suggesting that whatever had caused the earlier error had been resolved.

“Tell no one,” I cautioned my champions and then returned to my duties of maintaining the extensive list of Lesser Summons.

Two days passed without further status alerts or a change in the Status of the thorn bush.

The number of undead assaulting the fortified pass through the mountains had somewhat plateaued. However, more powerful undead were arriving in greater numbers with each passing hour. Several monstrosities best described as unliving siege engines had attempted to secure positions along the Vampyrs’ trenches before being destroyed.

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

Mounted with catapults, the unliving siege engines possessed a multitude of limbs that allowed them to autonomously reload and fire projectiles without outside assistance.

Thankfully, the Asrusian ballistae crews made a point of culling the abominations with extreme prejudice.

Battering rams, siege ladders and even a small number of iffy-looking siege towers had all attempted to reach the wall. Despite failing to reach the wall, their broken remains provided cover for the undead that came after them.

Ushu and Cooper had made several attempts at clearing out the trenches by disgorging their bile. Unfortunately, their efforts failed to kill more than a handful of Vampyr Thinbloods.

I had made a point of visiting the thorn bush in the morning and late evenings but nothing had changed regarding its Status and integration. On a more positive note, the thorn bush had extended its screening efforts toward the south, creating dense thickets of thorns while leaving the road untouched.

I still didn’t understand why the thorn bush was unable or reluctant to overrun the Vampyrs' position.

My working theory was that one of the Vampyrs had an item, Ability, or Spell, that projected an anti-life aura.

Suspecting Wisp would have the answers I needed, I sought him out on the northern wall.

Wisp had not moved from his position on the wall since taking up his vigil with Ophelia’s sword. He had made the occasional flourish with the blade or loudly proclaimed something to the effect of hewing down the desecrated dead to grant them peace, but that was all.

“Wisp,” I nodded in greeting to better mimic the behaviour of my champions.

Thus far, we had managed to maintain my concealed identity to a certain degree. However, due to keeping the other champions in reserve, it had become increasingly obvious that I was not ‘just another champion’. Thankfully, the soldiers had predominantly elected to interpret my high level of involvement and activity as a form of higher ranking and ability amongst the champions. However, there was a real possibility of that narrative falling apart if someone got a good look at my equipment hidden beneath my armour.

“Champion,” the cowl of Wisp’s robe bobbed briefly in response.

“I am concerned that the Vampyrs may have some form of Anti-life magic item or something to that effect,” I stated candidly.

“Several, in fact,” Wisp replied confidently, “Although I suspect some are far weaker than others. It is not an altogether uncommon item for sentient undead to possess.”

“How do we counter them?” I demanded.

“You don’t,” Wisp stated bluntly. “The anti-life aura, as you put it, is entropy incarnate. Although some would rather foolishly ascribe its properties to corruption, that would be a mistake. Undeath is fuelled by a perversion of the natural order, a subversion of entropy. It becomes a tool to be turned against the living because the undead themselves are immune to its touch...” Wisp paused briefly and gave off the impression that he was scowling beneath the hood of his robes. “Corruption, true corruption, affects the undead just like the living. The key difference is that tumorous growths, the suppression of resistance against diseases, and malformed organs will not result in the death of an undead. In most cases, it will not impair their capabilities in the slightest. But it does affect them.”

“What about taking control over the undead and having them destroy the items?” My distaste for stripping the free will of others did not extend to the undead. I had seen too much of what they were capable of to consider them ‘human’.

“Possible, possible...” Wisp replied somewhat distractedly, “Although, I do recall that such an agent may already exist,” he commented in a decidedly quieter tone than usual, “An agent they would not suspect until it was far too late to act. If supported with the right Spells and Synergies, a decisive and fatal strike could be dealt to the heart of their resistance.”

My thoughts immediately turned to Fesk, but I quickly realised that he was not the agent Wisp had been referring to.

Marco, Tobi’s older brother. The Vampyr.

I had charged Marco with spying on the Liche and her subordinates. He was the reason we knew so much about the Liche’s forces before our invasion. Of course, a great deal of that information was now largely worthless. It was time to set Marco a new task.

“I understand,” I nodded to Wisp and then left the wall.

Retreating to the private quarters I had carved out of Dhizi’s cave, I stationed Randle, Faine and Jayne outside of the door to make sure I wouldn’t be disturbed or overheard.

They obeyed without question and established a perimeter.

Once the door was securely closed, I Summoned Marco’s projection.

Clad in dark leathers and black quilted cloth armour, Marco looked every part the assassin I intended for him to become. His bright red eyes and sharp overdeveloped canines made his true nature obvious at even a glance. Which would very much play in his favour while infiltrating the Vampyrs' position.

Marco was also armed with an assortment of blades from daggers to short sword. A crossbow hung on one shoulder, which he probably wouldn't be using as it wasn't suited to stealth or close-range combat within the trenches.

“I have a new assignment for you,” I stated bluntly, disregarding the niceties I may have entertained with someone else.

"What is it?" Marco asked, unphased by my bluntness.

"You're going to infiltrate a Vampyr siege camp and kill their commander,” I replied tersely, “You’re also going to destroy every ani-life aura-generating item you can find.”

"How do you expect me to accomplish this?" Marco asked flatly, neither upset nor resistant to the idea of engaging in what he most likely interpreted as a suicide mission.

"Magic," I stated simply. “You are going to be taken back to Sanctuary first and given your choice of magic items from the treasury. You will also be allowed several of our most potent Evolution Elixirs-”

Marco looked surprised.

“The Liche’s Lieutenants may be concentrated within the siege camp” I explained dryly, “I don’t want you to fail because I was unwilling to look past your...condition...”

Marco licked his lips nervously and looked around his surroundings, “Is the siege camp near here? Because I can sense...something...A sort of call that a part of me feels obliged to answer...”

“That was my doing, and yes, the enemy siege camp is a relatively short distance from this location,” I confirmed with a small measure of satisfaction.

Marco stared at me for a few moments before turning his attention toward the wall, “You called them here? On purpose?”

“I did,” I replied grimly, “And now I want them destroyed before they can do any more harm.”

Marco clenched his fists and nodded obediently. He understood better than most what the Vampyrs were capable of.

I took out a map from one of the crates stacked against the wall and opened it so Marco could see it. I doubted he would need specific directions since he could feel the Dirge of Undeath, but I wanted to make sure.

After making a few final preparations, I dismissed Marco’s projection and made further arrangements with my champions.

Jayne would serve as Marco’s contact and use a wand of teleportation to ferry Marco to and from Sanctuary.

With the cloud cover allowing Marco to travel without fear of the sun, he would arrive roughly within the same timeframe as the next wave of Asrusian reinforcements.

While Summoning replacements for the Lesser Summons, I was joined by Nadine.

Just like the army’s Surgeons, Nadine had been kept increasingly busy as injuries amongst the soldiers became more frequent. She had claimed an empty room beyond where I was storing the Lesser Summons. With the Lesser Summons providing a twenty-four-hour guard service, Nadine could afford to isolate herself and relax in privacy.

“Are you sure you don’t know of any other treatments related to blunt force trauma?” Nadine asked with forced optimism, “Cold compress’ and those herbal elixirs don’t heal nearly enough to get the soldiers back to full HP.”

“Everything I know, I already taught you and Wraithe already,” I replied and shrugged helplessly, “You should be grateful that the alchemists can make those elixirs at all. Pharmaceuticals were not my specialty, not by a long shot. Hana’s experimentation in creating medical-grade concentrations in otherwise commonplace herbs has been huge as well. I think you’re just being greedy...”

Nadine let out a long sigh and hopped up onto one of the storage crates and used it as a seat while resting her back against the smooth stone wall. “Yeah, I know...” Nadine admitted and kneaded her forehead with the heels of her palms, “It’s just, if we do it right, we can just about completely heal all the missing HP from a nasty laceration or puncture in one go. Of course, the market costs for the Healing would be insane, but with the army footing the bill-” She stopped herself and shook her head, “-Anyway, my remains. It’s annoying to be so lacking in treating those particular injuries...” Nadine scowled for a moment and then shook her head again before letting out a tired sigh, “I think I just need some proper sleep to set my mind right again.”

“Mental fatigue can be just as debilitating as physical fatigue. So you need to take it seriously,” I commented approvingly.

“Right...” Nadine agreed somewhat awkwardly and nervously scratched at her arm. “Ah, on that subject...Hey Tim? You know how you said you would Summon Lash and your kids so you could sleep better?”

“Yeah?” I replied hesitantly, already guessing where this conversation was headed.

“Well...I was wondering, with Fesk needing to stay with Ushu to keep an eye on him, and otherwise being so busy...” Nadine’s cheeks flushed.

I diverted the mana I had been gathering for replacing the Swamp Lurker’s Lesser Summon and Summoned a projection of Fesk instead. “Five hours of light activity, maybe up to an hour for anything...intense...” I stated bluntly and left the room.

Rejoining my champions outside, I shifted my mana regeneration exploit to begin burning HP so I could make up for the shortfall and get back on schedule.

Before I could settle down and begin eating rations to recover my HP, Dhizi made a rough landing on the nearby mountain slope.

Considering the rough terrain and aggressive angle of the slope it was objectively one of Dhizi’s better landings.

Dhizi had made herself comfortable in the far end of the cave and conjured a trio of roasted Swamp Lurkers from thin air.

With the intelligence of Dhizi and the Dragons firmly beyond question, I had issued them a quest that afforded them the means to feed themselves. It required a dedicated team of hunters within Sanctuary to maintain the necessary stocks of food and water, but I considered the trade-off to be more than worth it.

A happy Wyvern or Dragon would not go looking for food where they otherwise shouldn’t.

Besides, it wasn’t like they weren’t earning their keep.

“Replacing the Summons again?” Clarice asked conversationally as she discarded her helmet and pulled down her padded hood, “How can it be so cold up there-” She hooked her thump up toward the overcast sky, “-and still get so hot under my armour?!” Clarice demanded exasperatedly, furiously tussling her damp hair to try and air it out.

“It’s all the insulation,” I replied glibly, having had this particular conversation a few times already.

“Yeah? Well, it fucking sucks!” Clarice complained bitterly as she fumbled with the buckles to her breastplate, “Fucking thing!”

Normally, I wouldn’t have been so bold, but my earlier conversation with Nadine had pushed me past the point of embarrassment. “Clarice, I’m going to make you an offer,” I picked up my helmet and got to my feet before staring Clarice down.

Despite her obvious frustration, Clarice remained silent.

“I’m going to Summon Sebet and get an update on the Confederate activity to our south,” I announced with deliberate detachment, “After which, Sebet and yourself can spend whatever time remains as you will. But only if you let me regenerate my missing mana in peace. Deal?”

Clarice stared at me in stunned silence.

“Good,” I sighed and walked a short distance down the mountain so I could continue eating in peace.

Left alone again with my own thoughts, I regretted how I had handled the situation. Discussing the Vampyrs and the Liche had put me on edge and the constant low-level fatigue being generated and removed to fuel my mana regeneration wasn’t helping.

Objectively, I understood that lashing out was not a healthy way to deal with the accumulated stress. But Clarice had a way of getting under people's skin, and sometimes confronting her was the only way to vent the accumulated irritation before it had the opportunity to fester.

Summoning Sebet with four-fifths of my total mana, I decided that was enough to satiate my conscience.

“Ah, so refreshing to experience my true form again,” Sebet purred lustily and stretched her clawed limbs, wings and tail without reservations or consideration for modesty, “And good to see you, of course!” She licked her lips hungrily and eyed Clarice like a snake preparing to strike a startled rabbit.

“Business first,” I sighed, trying and failing to keep the irritation from my voice, “I need to know what-”

“The tree?” Sebet interjected presumptively with the confidence of a mind reader only to suddenly look surprised, “Oh, this isn’t about the tree? Hrm...”

“That wasn’t the reason I summoned you,” I admitted, “But since you raised the subject, continue.”

Sebet shrugged, shedding her earlier surprise and taking on a business-like demeanour, “Well, the crimson willow has proven quite valuable in our early efforts to establish an agrarian interest within the Dominion’s borders. We have barely begun to establish ourselves, but several hostile elements have been neutralised and cleanly disposed of by the crimson willow.” Sebet nodded approvingly, “I would go so far as to say that it has exceeded our expectations. However, as praiseworthy as its actions have been, its request to apply as a minion came as a significant surprise,” Sebet took on an amused expression and tapped her chin, “However, I think I now understand. It did not want to be left out.”

“The request only came through after I invited the thorn bush,” I confirmed and nodded in agreement with Sebet’s assessment. The fear of being left out or left behind was a sentiment I understood only too well. “Now, what about the Confederates stationed to the south of our position?”

Sebet’s smile split into a wide predatory grin, “Oh, I believe you will be most pleased,” she purred, “I have already freed a sizeable number of Variants from the Confederate camp and many more wild monsters besides.” Sebet’s smile widened further still and revealed rows of shark-like teeth, “I have seized a position of substantial influence and have arranged for many more Variants and Slaves to replace those I have already freed. I intend to repeat this process as long as possible, but have also made arrangements to purchase a considerable consignment of Slaves that will be intercepted before reaching their intended destination!” Her wings twitched and fluttered with suppressed excitement and her tail whipped dangerously from side to side, “I believe I have met and exceeded the mandate so graciously bestowed upon me!”

“You want a reward?” I asked brazenly, having expected as much after Sebet went out of her way to make note of her accomplishments.

“Duty is its own reward...” Sebet replied in a thoroughly unconvincing tone.

“First, tell me, what are the Confederates up to?” It was the reason I had Summoned her projection in the first place, and despite being pleased by her other news, I still wanted to know what was happening.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Sebet graciously bowed her head. “Forgiveness, I was simply excited to share my good news,” there was something in the tone of her voice that made Sebet sound too honest and caused me to doubt her instead. Not that it mattered. “The Confederate force is engaging in surveillance of your position but has no current orders that extend to any other action. I have taken the liberty of intercepting and altering several reports to better ensure that certain subjects of interest were portrayed in a more mundane light.” Sebet bowed at the waist before writing herself again, “I hope my actions have met with your approval.”

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved at the prospect of Sebet actively sabotaging the Confederates’ intelligence gathering.

“Disrupting enemy intelligence is part of your established list of responsibilities, but I approve of the extra efforts you have taken of your own initiative,” I paused for a moment and noticed Clarice had been making a genuine effort not to say or do anything throughout Sebet’s report. “Fine,” I sighed and waved toward Clarice dismissively, “You may spend your remaining mana as you see fit.” A series of unpleasant thoughts clamoured for my attention moments later. “Within the parameters of our agreements, Contract and your Oaths,” I added hastily.

“But of course!” Sebet replied as she took a firm hold of Clarice’s hand and began leading her toward Clarice’s quarters at the far end of the cave, “I wouldn’t dare do anything without explicit consent! And besides, I do love it when she begs...”

Blocking the mental image from my mind, I made my way down the mountain and focused my thoughts on how best to increase Marco’s chance of success against the Vampyrs. It was time to repay the undead for all the suffering they had caused and enact my retribution.

***** Marco (Vampyr) - Werrian Empire *****

Because his mission would most likely cost him his life, Marco had been allowed to visit his brother before leaving Sanctuary.

Despite the devoted care he was receiving from a team of dedicated maids and healers, Tobi had appeared mere inches from death. It had been a fresh reminder of the damage the Liche had inflicted upon their family.

Marco’s pain and anger had only intensified with the arrival of his parents. Unable to bear the thought of seeing the horror and disgust in their eyes, Marco had fled before they had even noticed he was there.

However, before the Tyrant’s champion could escort Marco to Sanctuary’s treasury, they were intercepted by Tobi’s pet Shadowcat, Shady. After failing to shoo the Beast away, Marco realised that the Shadowcat intended to accompany him outside of Sanctuary.

The part of him that still feared death prompted Marco to accept the Shadowcat’s companionship.

After petitioning the Tyrant’s champion for Elixirs to allow the Shadowcat to Evolve, Marco was granted ten more Elixirs. Consuming the Elixirs, they had both Evolved numerous times within a short period, but Shady had been temporarily incapacitated by the alcoholic content of the Elixirs and required treatment by the healers.

Marco had been severely chastised by a giant Rat-Kin after she had announced that the former Shadowcat would have died from liver poisoning if it had not drastically increased in size as part of his evolution to become a Shadow Stalker.

Now armed with weapons bearing powerful Spells cast by the Tyrant’s champions, and clad in light but incredibly durable magical armour, Marco stealthily stalked toward the deep trenches with all the determination he could muster.

The lesser undead streamed past him but lost their drive and momentum as they passed through an invisible barrier a short distance from his current position. Despite his size, Shady passed amongst them unseen and completely undetected. Whatever Spell had been cast upon his collar shielded the Shadow Stalker from even Marco’s powerful Life Sense ability.

The trenches were more or less as the champions had described. Haphazardly dug out of the frozen ground by hand, the trenches varied wildly in regards to the cover they would afford to anyone attempting to take shelter within.

The storm clouds blocking out the moon and the stars in the night sky also concealed the Vampyrs prowling the centremost trenches from the eyes of the living.

As Marco and Shady approached the centremost trenches, he quickly realised that the Vampyrs had expanded deeper into the frozen dirt. A large tunnel guarded by four Vampyrs of middling strength led underground.

Bearing the same Spell as Shady, Marco passed the guards and descended into the utter darkness of the tunnels below.

Despite being otherwise outside of their perception, Marco had to take great care in avoiding contact with any of the Vampyrs they encountered. While he had few doubts that the Spell would continue working afterwards, Marco was rather certain that being jostled by an unseen force would raise an alarm on general principle alone.

Curiously, Shady’s new body allowed him to pass through most obstacles with ease, and could even phase through the Vampyrs without alerting them to his presence.

At first, Marco wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be going. The tunnels followed no rhyme or reason in their design and he found himself doubling back to places he had already visited more often than not.

Then the screaming started.

It was a sound Marco had heard only a handful of times before. It was the high-pitched wailing of a Vampyr’s protracted death throes. It was the sound A Vampyr made when they became completely blood-starved and would begin feverishly attacking anyone and everything in their vicinity to survive.

Despite being utterly repulsed by the sound, Marco had no other leads and decided to follow them to their source.

The majority of the Vampyrs Marco passed in the tunnels were slightly gaunter than they would have been in their prime, but only a relative handful seemed to be approaching true starvation. Furthermore, it was the Thinbloods who looked the most worse for wear, leaving the relative combat potential of the Vampyr coven at close to full strength.

However, Marco found it strange that he had seen so few Thinbloods while navigating the tunnels. In his rather limited experience, there had usually been ten Thinbloods for every other Vampyr present.

There was a very real possibility that the Thinbloods had all been killed while assaulting the Tyrant’s fortified position, but Marco had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

Just as the screams reached their end, Marco turned a corner and found himself standing within a large chamber formed out of the same hard frozen earth as the tunnels.

Dozens of Purebloods were gathered in small groups and watching the spectacle of a lone Thinblood being forcibly exsanguinated by a far smaller Vampyr.

The Thinblood’s assailant was taking her time, ignoring the increasingly feeble struggles of the weaker Vampyr.

Already reduced to a husk, the Thinblood’s extremities slowly began crumbling to ash as the final drops of its essence were stripped from its body.

A horrified and fearful expression of the small group of Thinbloods huddling in the corner of the chamber made it clear what had happened to the other Thinbloods. The more powerful Vampyrs were feeding on them.

There was a cruel irony to it that Marco couldn’t help but appreciate.

Beneath the will of their sires, the Thinbloods were more helpless than the humans they preyed upon not so long ago. Unlike a Slave who could attempt to free themselves by entering a contest of will and enduring pain to earn their freedom. A Vampyr was bound to the will of their sire until either they or their sire were destroyed.

The compulsion to obey was absolute and utterly without loopholes or exploits. A sire’s commands were enforced by intention, not just by word alone.

Very likely, the Thinbloods in the corner had all been commanded to remain in place and await their turn.

“Blech!” The short Vampyr threw away the Thinblood’s remains and struck the wall of the chamber, “Tastes fucking disgusting!” She snarled and began to shake, “FUCK!” The short Vampyr struck the wall with enough force to bury her arm to the elbow before withdrawing it a few moments later. “YOU! Shitferbrains! Tell me that fucking wall had been turned to fucking rubble!”

The Pureblood, the more powerful Vampyr had named Shitferbrains, was hastily abandoned by its fellows and left isolated. “Mistress, the siege continues despite the reinforcements provided by her excellency...” Despite being abandoned, the Pureblood held his ground and replied in an even and carefully measured tone.

“Hrmf!” The short Vampyr kicked at the ash on the floor and released a feral snarl, “You're lucky I like you Shitferbrains!” She sneered before turning her ire upon his former companions, “If that wall isn’t gone by daybreak, I’m going to pick one of you next!”

The Purebloods bowed their heads and were about to flee but stopped abruptly as the short Vampyr’s eyes settled on Marco.

“Who the fuck are you?!” She demanded, her will momentarily brushing against his mind before being violently repulsed. “What the fuck?!” The short Vampyr staggered before almost immediately righting herself again. She glowered at Marco and her claws twitched in irritation and anticipation of violence, “You one of Vlaad’s cocksuckers?!” She demanded, her will pressing harder against Marco’s mind before once again being aggressively repulsed before it could attempt to gain purchase.

“I was,” Marco admitted after realising that every Vampyr in the chamber was now staring in his direction. Even if they could not sense him directly, they were most likely being provided with that information second-hand through their sire.

“One of the strays then...” The short Vampyr commented with slightly less hostility and relaxed a little, “You find some magic gear or something?” She asked warily, nodding towards his blatantly magical armour and array of weapons.

Marco nodded, “I did.” Again, it would have been pointless to lie, so he didn’t bother trying.

“At least you don’t have his nasty Euro-trash accent,” she muttered loudly, making an obvious attempt at baiting him into a confrontation.

Marco shrugged, “I wasn’t taken from the Empire,” he replied flatly. Despite being uncertain what euro-trash meant, he determined that from the context it was some form of slur referring to the Vampyr Elder Vlaad’s Werrian accent.

The short Vampyr nodded but continued to eye him warily. “What about the giant cat next to you?” She demanded, “You bringing me some sort of gift? Hoping I will take you in?”

“Something like that,” Marco agreed, testing the waters with a low-stakes lie.

“I fucking hate cats,” the short Vampyr commented flatly, “Everyone fucking knows that...” Her eyes grew unfocused for a fraction of a second and she glanced away at something Marco couldn’t see, “Malds likes’em though...” She worked her jaw while clenching and unclenching her fingers, echoing popping sounds throughout the chamber. “Fuck’it, it’s not like I have allergies anymore anyway...” The small Vampyr raised one hand and motioned for Marco and Shady to approach.

Provided with the opportunity he needed, Marco looked at Shady and nodded his head toward the Vampyr.

Marco was now fairly certain that the short Vampyr was one of the Liche’s top commanders. Which would make her an Elder or perhaps even a Primogenitor. Sanctuary’s Elixirs had turned Marco into an Elder, but he could instinctively sense that the Vampyr before him was still many times stronger than he was.

Marco accepted the reality that he would not be leaving the chamber alive. Even if he somehow managed to kill the Progenitor, which would be a prodigious feat in and of itself, the dozens of Purebloods would overwhelm him and tear him to pieces.

Accepting his fate lent Marco a sense of confidence in confronting the more powerful Vampyr on its home turf.

Passing by the ranks of Purebloods, Marco kept his eyes focused on his target.

As Marco made his final approach toward his target, the short Vampyr snickered contemptuously. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” She sneered derisively, “Do you think you’re the first hitman those decrepit bedridden old geezers have sent after us?” She shook her head and cackled hysterically, “You aren’t even the strongest! I’ve killed cocksuckers ten times stronger than you without breaking a sweat!” In a blur of motion, the sabre sheathed on her hip appeared in her right hand. “I’m gonna enjoy draining you dry!” She snarled and slowly stalked toward him.

Obeying a silent command, the Purebloods shied away, backing themselves against the walls of the chamber and blocking the exits.

“You ready to die?” The short Vampyr grinned and bared her fangs as an all too familiar bloodlust took hold in her eyes, “Cuz I’m not gonna make it quick!”

Marco drew his short sword just in time to divert her sabre and deflect the blow with his armour. The strength behind the short Vampyr’s strike gouged through the magical hardened boiled leather like it was wet clay, sparing his flesh by a fraction of an inch.

Before he could dodge, the short Vampyr initiated a second strike aiming for his legs.

Reacting on instinct, Marco expended a portion of his mana and disappeared in a burst of shadow just as the edge of the sabre began cutting into his left thigh. Reappearing behind his enemy, Marco thrust his shortsword toward her exposed neck.

One strike! All I need is-

Before Marco could finish his thought, the short Vampyr spun about with blurring speed and batted aside his sword with her bare hand and thrust her sabre toward his exposed midsection.

Just as she was preparing to bury her blade in Marco’s belly, she leapt backward just in time for Shady’s claws to rake through the space she had occupied a fraction of a second before.

“Tch! Bad pussy!” The short Vampyr cackled, leaping forward and slamming her fist into Shady’s side with bone-shattering force before the Shadow Stalker had the opportunity to Shadowstep to safety.

Shady flew through the air and managed to right himself in time to Shadowstep away before striking the wall.

Left alone to face off against the Primogeniture Vampyr, Marco drew a dagger from his belt and threw it at her hoping to create an opening. Despite using all the Abilities, Strength and speed at his disposal, the short Vampyr swatted the dagger aside with casual ease.

However, her bloodlust faltered as her attention was drawn toward the Pureblood who had been struck by the dagger and was now pinned against the wall.

Eyes wide with terror and mouth agape, the Pureblood collapsed into a pile of ash.

“The fuck?...” The short Vampyr staggered backward and stared at Marco with newfound respect and an unmistakable trace of fear in her eyes, “You some sort of Van Halen mother fucker or some shit?!”

(AN: Yes, I know it’s Van Helsing.)

Before Marco could overcome his own confusion at her accusation, the short Vampyr drew a knife from her belt and hurled it into Marco’s right shoulder.

With no time to react, Marco fought back the urge to reach for the knife. He could feel its serrated edges buried in his flesh and knew that he wouldn’t have time to heal the wound before his enemy attacked again.

Using Shadowstep to buy some distance between them, Marco was relieved to discover that the Ability didn’t carry the serrated knife with him.

Visibly angered by his evading her trap, the short Vampyr drew several more knives and threw them all in a fraction of a second.

Marco managed to deflect the second knife and dodge the fourth, but four others managed to bore themselves through his armour and anchor themselves in his flesh. Grimacing in pain, Marco was about to gather his mana and Shadowstep for the third time but froze as the dark spectre of death rose up from behind the short Vampyr.

Clad in writhing shadows that roiled and writhed like living smoke, the Summoned undead bore a length of coiled silver chain around one arm while holding the handle of a small lantern in the same hand. In its other hand, it held aloft a sword that burned with a deep amber radiance that burned at Marco’s eyes.

Completely taken off guard by her Ability to Summon such a powerful undead, Marco very nearly surrendered to despair. However, even as a part of him demanded he accept defeat, Marco noticed that he was not the only one that was frightened by the sudden appearance of the Summoned undead.

Looking over her shoulder, the short Vampyr stared back at her Summon in absolute terror.

Without saying a word, the Summon scythed its blade down toward the short Vampyr’s collarbone.

With impossible speed, the short Vampyr leapt backward and away from the blade.

Just as quickly, the black-robed figure appeared beside her, its blade still descending toward her.

The Vampyr dodged again and again, but the figure remained ever at her side, its blade drawing closer and closer to her flesh.

Barely able to follow their movements with his enhanced senses, Marco decided to gamble it all. Gathering his mana for another Shadowstep, he guessed at where the Vampyr would try to dodge next. Dropping his shortsword, Marco prayed to any gods that might be listening and then activated the Shadowstep.

Clawed fingers already closing the moment he appeared at his new destination, Marco forced his body into overdrive as his brain registered mild resistance against his hardened nails.

The short Vampyr stared at Marco in shock as she realised he had managed to take a hold of her left forearm. Even with his claws burrowing through her flesh, she began pulling away, bodily yanking Marco off his feet and ripping gouges through her own arm in the process.

However, Marco’s gambit paid off.

Slowed by his attack and trying to shake him loose, the short Vampyr was not fast enough to get cleanly away from her pursuer.

The radiant blade of the shadow-wreathed undead’s sword cleaved through the short Vampyr’s arm without visible effort, amputating it just above her elbow.

Before Marco fully realised what was happening, the arm clutched in his hands turned to ash as he sailed over the wounded Vampyr and crashed into the wall.

As the Vampyr staggered backwards and stared in horror at her amputated stump, the black cowled undead released a dry cackle and slowly paced toward her.

Purebloods leapt into action, some drawing weapons, while others simply bared their fangs and claws.

The Summoned undead paid them no mind at all, simply releasing a pulse of mana that stopped them dead in their tracks.

Before the Purebloods could recover, the Tyrant’s champions appeared in their midst and began hewing the Purebloods down in droves. A single strike was all any of the Purebloods could take before collapsing into a scattered pile of ash.

While three of the champions focused on the Purebloods, one champion closed in on the short Vampyr. Hefting a pitch-black mace adorned with thorns and bathed in the radiant amber light, it was clear that he intended to end her.

“YOU!!!” The champion roared in unbridled rage and raised his mace in a two-handed grip.

The short Vampyr staggered backwards, cradling the stump of her amputated arm, “Malds! Any fucking second now?!” She shrieked in panic, tripping over her own feet and falling to the ground.

Just as the champion prepared to deliver the deathblow, his stance wavered and he began to stagger.

The dark-robed figure drew the Tyrant’s champion back just in time to avoid an inky black sphere of impenetrable darkness. It lasted only a moment, but when it disappeared, the short Vampyr was gone.

“NO!!!” The champion rushed forward and searched the immediate area for signs of the Vampyr, completely ignoring the rallying Purebloods in his fervour.

“She is gone,” the dark-robed undead stated matter-of-factly in his dry rasping voice, “But rest assured, she will not survive.”

“Explain!” Demanded the champion angrily.

The undead bowed in deference, “Of course. It is somewhat complicated but can be essentially reduced to a simple principle. What was created from Divinity, can only be destroyed by Divinity,” it let out a quiet laugh that sounded like dry summer leaves, “Without Divinity to stall its progress, the slayer enchantment will eat through the host's body until nothing remains.”

“You’re certain of this?!” The champion demanded darkly.

“Absolutely,” the dark-robed undead replied cheerily, “I am glad I had the opportunity to be of such service!”

The angry champion grunted in aggravation but said nothing more before turning his attention toward Marco. “If she dies, I’ll see to it you get rewarded,” he promised, ignoring the Pureblood attempting to strike him down from behind and the billowing ash that followed as one of the other champions intercepted it and impaled it briefly on their spear.

Too confused by what was happening to properly react, Marco just nodded. It had only just dawned on him that the Tyrant’s champions had never truly intended for him to wipe out the Vampyrs to begin with. He had just been used so they could catch them off guard and launch their own surprise attack.

Strangely, Marco was surprised to find he didn’t really care. He had expected to die and now found himself very much alive, or at least as alive as he had been earlier. More than that, assuming the Tyrant’s champion could be trusted, Marco would have the opportunity to ask for a reward. The chance to ask for his life, rather, his unlife, to be his own again.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 60 - Marked for death - Part One

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