Darian inspected corpse after corpse, his bloody hands searching for anything they could use. But most of the men he checked had little to nothing on their person, and so Gorm set to inspecting their tents and the crumbled buildings for supplies. Darian had often enjoyed looting in video games, but searching these bodies did not offer the same satisfaction. And despite his belly being full of blood already, the scent of it was so thick he couldn’t keep his fangs retracted. More than once he caught someone giving him a sideways glance, but they didn’t seem afraid. Though the way Darian hungered still made him a bit uneasy. In his old life, such carnage would have made him sick. But now all it did was make him hungry.
Darian walked over to the horses, one of which was still alive. It stood standing at the edge of the camp, its eyes fogged over by swirling green light. Closer, Darian could see the gash in its side, one delivered by an axe, most likely. He reached out and touched the animal, feeling a bit guilty he’d forced it to fight on his behalf.
“You won’t survive alone out here, especially with that wound,” Darian said, readying his sword. His domination over the animal would be over before it could fight again, and so he decided to end its suffering.
His blade pierced the horse’s chest, the beast falling to the ground a moment later as Darian pulled his sword free of its heart. He could hear the thing thumping madly before he delivered the blow, and now its blood spurted onto the ground.
He knelt and sank his fangs into the beast. Doing so when his belly was near to bursting already made him a little sick, but consuming the blood of a new creature was one of the only ways to get Race XP.
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Large beast blood consumed: +3 Race XP
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Darian wiped his mouth as he dismissed the notification. His race was nearly to the next level, but he felt a bit of apprehension about increasing it. He’d been wondering since the incident at the fort why he was so close to losing control. Fria’s blood was something he’d already smelled before and overcome. He thought maybe his wounds had something to do with it, and while they certainly didn’t help, there had to be more to it. That’s when he realized the only other thing that changed between both incidents with Fria was his race level. What if each time it goes up, my thirst gets worse?
Wanting to clear his worried thoughts, he checked the body of the necromancer next, the one who summoned a horde of zombies. Leaning down, Darian dug his fangs into the man’s wrist in order to absorb a skill from him.
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Blood consumed: Human Necromancer (Lv.11)
* Temporary skill unlocked: [Summon Zombie Horde]
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Looking internally, Darian found he could use this new skill twice before it ran out. Looks like no matter what skill I get, I’m limited to two uses of it. But his Blood Vial now housed the necromancer’s blood, meaning he effectively had four uses of the ability.
He checked the man’s staff next, surprised to find no item notification appeared. But he did shoot a pillar of fire out of it, didn’t he? The staff itself was made of unremarkable wood, but the end glinted from a small red crystal, though it was duller than when Darian first saw it.
“Probably out of uses,” Gorm said, a sack thrown over his shoulder and a half-eaten potato in his hand. “Still could be worth some coin if you want to hang on to it.”
“Is there a way to recharge it or something?” Darian asked, looking into the little red crystal.
“Not for us, but an arcanist could do it.” Gorm lowered his sack and took the staff. “Mages can store their spells in the crystals,” he said, tapping the end of the staff. “Handy for those powerful spells that can only be used a few times before they run out.”
“Good to know.” Darian was a bit disappointed the staff couldn’t be used. The fire spell within it had been strong enough to shatter his blood shield after a single use. Fire that strong would have been handy against the undead.
“Might check around though. I doubt the guy only brought one staff with him.” Gorm reached for the staff. “I can have Gustan carry it, if you’d like. We’ll need the gold once this is over.”
We? Darian could pocket the staff in his inventory, but didn’t want do it with the others around. “Here,” he said, handing the item off. “Just remember, I’m the one who found it.”
Gorm smiled. “Claiming loot already? I like it.” He took the staff and walked over to Gustan, who was tending to Harper’s head wound.
Darian checked the other necromancer next, frowning when he rolled the body over. The boy’s face was ashen, his green eyes greying, staring up at nothing. Probably only around fourteen or fifteen. A small pit formed in Darian’s chest. But the boy was an enemy, wasn’t he? He reached down and checked his robe, finding nothing tucked away within it.
Wanting to keep his frantic thoughts busy, Darian plucked the boy’s staff off the bloodied ground.
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Item Obtained – Strengthening Staff Lv.3
Weight: 3 Pounds
* Strengthens the physical attributes of an undead summon, increasing their total level by three.
* Uses remaining: 4
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Could be useful. He checked to make sure the others were busy, and he dropped the staff into his inventory. Then he stood and stared down at the boy, the buzz of mosquitoes thick in the air.
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He reminded himself again that this was his new reality. And in this new reality, people had to die. The Lich cult might have had a good reason for allying with the necromancer. Maybe they even could have been his allies under different circumstances. But she wanted to destroy Fria’s home, and Darian had committed himself to stopping her. He’d originally set himself against the necromancer because of Gershank’s threats, but it was more than that now. Helping Fria and even The Society to a lesser extent felt like the right thing to do. But fighting would also make him stronger, and he knew even greater challenges lay ahead.
“Darian!” Gorm called, half his body inside the big stone building. “I’ve found something.”
***
Oliver perched atop the tower with his feet kicked up. The night air was brisk, cool as it blew through the ramshackle town. Victoria’s undead minions patrolled below, marching lockstep as they rattled into the dark. Oliver, as he did each night, looked into that inviting darkness and thought about making a run for it.
He wasn’t a prisoner, at least not by any conventional means. When Victoria had made him her companion, he’d been excited at the prospect of furthering his own power. But one quip too many had landed him out in the muck. Honestly, he’d be long gone if he didn’t worry about Victoria catching up with him. She was a fine woman and all that, well before she decided on becoming a lich. All that torture at the hands of the Justicars had really done a number on that old head of hers. But if she died, what would happen to him? All this talk of a system and some other reality Victoria spouted off was interesting to him at first, but now it terrified him. He’d gained power while serving her. That much was true. Yet the curtains would close on this little show of hers eventually, and he had no intention of sticking around for the epilogue.
“Still,” Oliver said to himself. “If she goes down, I might go with her for all I know. Or lose my new powers, which would be just as dreadful.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the night wash over him.
“Sir,” Drell’s dead, dry voice said from the stairs. “A message has arrived for you.”
Oliver sighed. “You can handle this one, Drell.”
“But sir thi—”
“I have faith in you, old friend! Now go and leave me to rest. You undead may not need sleep, but I do.” He relaxed, waiting for the sound of Drell’s boots to draw away.
“Sir,” Drell said again. “This message also comes with new troops. Many of them.”
That got Oliver’s attention. He jumped out of his chair and made for the stairs, Drell following close behind, his iron armor tapping against his bleached bones.
Now why would Victoria be sending more troops here? She’d already sent some from the northern gate, leaving the Wargs to guard it. He hadn’t questioned anything then, but now she was sending even more? The ruined town was already filled to bursting with skeletons and Bone Knights. Something's got her spooked.
Down in the muddy street, Oliver found one of Victoria’s personal servants, Lora, waiting for him. Behind her stood an undead woman wearing steel armor, her face pale and rotting, but mostly still held together. Even further back, he saw the shapes of several Death Knights, the smaller Bone Knights beside them.
“Greetings,” Lora said, bowing. “Our master sends word and fresh troops to garrison the town.”
“Not much room for them, I’m afraid.” Oliver squinted at the gathered horde. Had to be around thirty new bodies, as far as he could tell.
“She wishes for you to deal with the goblins by tomorrow night,” Lora said. “These new troops are to assist you, and she has given you a new servant to aid in this objective.” Lora beckoned and the new undead stepped forward, Oliver’s nose wrinkling as he smelled the rot.
“Hello,” she said, voice sounding natural, her throat not yet melted away. “I am Yulia.”
“She is a cleric,” Lora explained. “Use her to heal your wounds.”
“Well Yulia, welcome to the end of the world.” Oliver smiled, the undead all just staring at him with their blank eyes. “I’m sure we’ll get along swimmingly.”
“Master also wishes for you to deal with the Lich cult.”
“You’ll have to be more specific, my dear Lora. In my old line of work, dealing with someone has one very specific meaning.”
“My apologies,” Lora bowed again. “Master wishes for you to kill them if they do not agree to new terms.”
“Oh.” Well, can’t say I was expecting that. “I suppose their latest delivery to the fort fell through?”
Lora stood in silence, almost seeming to contemplate her next words. “Yes.” She handed Oliver a sealed letter.
As soon as his fingers touched the parchment, he activated one of his unique skills. With [Knowledge Transfer] active, his brain absorbed the contents of the letter instantly.
“Harsh terms,” Oliver said, handing the letter off to Drell.
“Master is done playing other people’s games,” Lora said, her voice somehow harsher than normal, the hint of accusation in her tone.
“Well, rest assured I’ll handle all this. Come Yulia and Drell, we have plans to discuss.” Oliver turned. “The rest of you, set to patrolling the perimeter and keep watch for goblins.” The new arrivals instantly began to shuffle around, falling in behind the other undead already on patrol.
Lora gave a parting bow and then walked down the ruined road to the south, two Bone Knights going with her as a personal guard. Oliver watched her go, and when he was sure she was gone for good, he turned to Drell.
“Drell, my good friend, I want you to deliver this message to the Lich cult’s camp. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” he rasped.
“Yes. Take two of the Death Knights and two Bone Knights with you. Give them a show of force.”
“But sir, would it not be better to—”
“Ah none of that Drell, especially not in front of the new recruit,” Oliver nodded at Yulia, the girl’s waxen face blank of all expression.
Drell stood silently for a moment, his flaming blue eyes staring into Oliver’s skull. “Very well. I will gather soldiers and depart for the camp.”
“Good man,” Oliver said, clapping Drell on his armored shoulder. “And make sure you kill them all if they refuse. Most of them are rather weak, so it shouldn’t be much trouble.”
“Understood.” Drell snapped to attention, then disappeared down one of the town’s narrow alleyways.
Oliver turned to Yulia. “Well, my fresh compatriot, how do you feel about killing some goblins?”
She said nothing.
Rather lively one you’ve sent me, Victoria. Oliver sighed and stared up at the sky, wishing someone would finally come along and end his boredom