Chapter Seventy-One

Ambrose made his way to the western front, relieving his forces wherever he could by defeating orc after orc. As he fought, Vivienne’s voice drifted into his mind.

Vathwin needs assistance, Sir Knight. A powerful orc necromancer has made it to the graveyard, and it is contesting his will. We could lose control of the draugrs if the threat is not dealt with.

Ambrose cursed, split one orc down the middle, and went to the graveyard. Battle was all around him, men screaming, skills lighting up the air. A few times, Ambrose had to cut through a fireball or tap his [Infernal Aegis] skill to repel attacks. He had to be careful because that skill did not differentiate between friend and foe, and many of his men would fall from the pressure of Ambrose’s spiritual skill.

The graveyard came into sight. In the middle of the graves stood Vathwin. The pale man’s jaw was tight, his eyes blazing with determination as an icy blue shield swirled around him. An orc in otherworldly green and void black robes and bone-white runes flowed over the seams and cuffs.

Undead orcs bashed at Vathwin’s shield, once green skin now the color of rotting earth and mold.

The orcish necromancer did not appear to be struggling; he stood calmly, hood raised, as his undead fought with the same unrelenting fervor the draugr fought with. Naturally, Ambrose threw his axe at the necromancer. A shield of bone formed from grey mana snapped around the necromancer as Ambrose’s axe clashed with it, bursting into necrotic green and black fire.

Slowly, the necromancer’s head turned to look at him. His eyes were shining with hateful glee.

“Ah, Mr. Severen. Welcome. Do you like my new skill? It’s called ‘Domination.’ You got a taste of it with the commander back there.”

Ambrose sent his mana into the ground to shift it, but as he did, a platform of that same bone formed just a step up in the air next to the necromancer Eric was controlling, who stepped on it. He now hovered in the air.

“Can’t have you trying to sink me, now can we?”

Ambrose formed a giant axe of hellfire in the air and swung it at the necromancer, who dodged as the infernal flames smote the undead around him. Vathwin winced as fire licked at his shield.

“Be careful! Maintaining the shield is hard enough.”

Ambrose ignored him, chains flowing toward the necromancer in an attempt to wrap around him. A whirlwind of pale bone exploded around him, batting away the chains as the necromancer grinned.

“This orc has bone manipulation. Neat, wouldn’t you say?”

Ambrose growled, rushing forward as he formed balls of hellfire in the air around him, flinging them toward the necromancer like miniature fireballs. A shield of bone formed around the necromantic orc, but that was precisely what he wanted.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

He leaped, pushing off with his D-Grade strength and a blast of hellfire that propelled himself upward over the shield. As he came down on the other side, he reached out, bones slashing, scraping against his gauntlets. He reached through it, touched the necromancer, and teleported them below the graveyard.

To the void of darkness that fell near endlessly to the heart of the island that lay below.

Ambrose used [Infernal Aegis] to suppress the area as they fell, and the orcish necromancer was not powerful enough to resist the skill. Ambrose began to understand that countering a spiritual skill took more than mere willpower. You needed spirit to stop spirit.

Ambrose saw the orc grunt, his body shaking from the pressure around him. The bones vanished around him as the pressure of Ambrose’s skill was too much for the orc to access his mana to maintain it.

“Ah well, this is the end of my little minion here. Impressive skill.”

Eric’s voice emanating from the orc wasn’t strained, even if the orc's face was contorted, tight, as if forcing himself through hard manual labor.

Ambrose kept his spiritual skills going as they continued to fall. In the last instant, he teleported back to the graveyard. A notification pulsed in his mind; he pushed it aside. Vathwin was taking a breath, his shield fading from around him.

“Thank you for the help, Knight. I must admit, I was not expecting a necromancer of that caliber to show up.”

Ambrose grunted, crossing his arms.

“I thought you were a big-time death knight; why weren’t you doing more?”

Vathwins eyes narrowed,

“Do you have any idea what I am doing right now, newly integrated? My mana is keeping a few hundred draugr animated and fighting all across miles of this island. Whenever one is defeated, my mana draws them back together to fight again. When contested, I could still call up a shield that fended off hostile mana, seeking to overwhelm my own.”

Vathwin snorted, shaking his head and holding his hands to the side.

“How much more do you expect me to do, Sir Knight? Shall I dance a jig while I’m at it?”

Ambrose chuckled,

“That might be a thing to see. Point taken, then.”

Ambrose cocked his head as Vivienne’s voice once again spoke within his mind.

Sir Knight, a boat has landed on the western front. If it isn't handled, orcish reinforcements will overwhelm the island.

Ambrose teleported, wasting no more time on idle thoughts. As he flashed into existence, he swept an axe of hellfire outward, incinerating a group of orcs rushing onto the beach. Their screams reverberated through the air. Orcs, already on the beach, rushed him, weapons flashing.

Ambrose used [Infernal Aegis], suppressing every enemy present. There were no Knights of Avalon present, most of the forces here having moved away to support the other parts of the island.

That may have been a mistake.

Ambrose intended on rectifying it as he held up a hand, forming a massive ball of hellfire that superheated the air. Heat blanketed the area, mingling with the suppressive doubt of his spirit. Ambrose allowed his hand to fall, and with it the huge ball of hellflame descended like a falling star upon the island.

Like a nova blast, the massive fireball detonated, unleashing the flames of hades upon that little beach. Anything touched by those flames didn’t just have their flesh burned. Their very spirits turned to ash, their mana lighting up around them as they screamed, dying, burned from existence.

In mere moments, Ambrose stood amongst a beach of ash, smoke rising through the air, a burning scent causing his nostrils to twitch.

An explosion rocked the island, causing Ambrose to whip his head around.

The wall. They’ve broken through into the town.

Ambrose teleported. A sea of orcs flooded through the broken and burning wall. A truly massive orc waded through the others, directly towards the building that houses the non-combatants.

Directly towards the building where little Jenny and the others waited, counting on him and the other to protect them.

Ambrose took a step towards the building, but a voice gave him pause.

“Oh Mr. Severen! Over here, Mr. Severen!”

Ambrose rocketed his head around towards the voice.

In a blazing hole, smoke curling upward from the burning wood around him, stood Eric Delrosa.

He gave Ambrose a mocking grin, bowing with a flourish.

Then he turned and ran at the same time a girls scream came from the building.