Barriers erected by Othniel and Jiar contrasted against the barrage as they held off the assault. I was glad they remembered, because that would’ve been a nasty attack to take head on.
The roof of the temple was in line with where the attack had come from. Standing on top of it was a figure. Though the temple was several streets away and likely hundreds of buildings lay between us, the direct line between us was not that great. I could make out details, the figure wore glowing armor, and behind him were two more people, one in robes that shone brightly with white light and the other in heavy armor made of white metal.
“The archbishop,” I said, drawing everyone’s attention to the temple. “The bishop, and the chief paladin. Looks like it’s boss fight time.”
My forces were now charging across the bridge. At the head was Freya and Abimelech. On the street were lines of soldiers marching towards us. I began to focus on defensive spells, we would need to hold until things were ready to kick off. There was one more figure still yet to show himself, the general who commanded the garrison and soldiers of Maltis.
***
The city at the foot of the bridge was devastated. Freya had joined us in the tower. Her death priest powers were impressive. She was closer to Vito in strength than I was. Along with her clerics, the elemental zombies, and necromancers our defenses were greatly strengthened.
As a priest, her powers were more defensive focused which allowed Othniel and me to strike out with eldritch power. The elemental zombies exclusively funneled power into us as we unleashed horrendous torrents that tore apart troops and buildings alike.
We had pushed off the foot of the bridge. Attacking midday had caught them by surprise and they’d been too slow to muster enough troops to hold that chokepoint. A barrage of eldritch cannon shots shattered a series of barriers, and behind them, a flight of arrows fell into clustered soldiers. E’lon had gone to coordinate her ranged battalion.
Izban and Tole were being supported by the six undead necromancers backing up the forces. Jiar was also teamed up with the elemental zombies, black lightning crackling around her.
The fighting had erupted so suddenly, that unfortunately many of the local residents had been caught up in the destruction. While I did feel bad, they did make useful cannon fodder as now more and more zombies poured over the bridge.
I cast a spell that I had been hesitant to, but we needed it. The zombie plagues spell spread out from my hands, covering the entire army. It fully depleted my mana reserves casting the spell in order to help reserve the elemental zombies’ power and not drain them to quickly now that the initial fighting was leveling off.
Freya’s force consisted of a higher number of casters than mine. Over half of her army was casters of some kind. After all, they were missionaries of her god out to create undead, they would need large numbers of death clerics and death priests. That wasn’t even counting the necromancers.
Though we were under a constant barrage of magical attacks from the priests and casters of our enemy, our defenses were mighty. Though death priests and death clerics did not have as powerful of defensive magics as their counterparts did, they did still have the ability to channel powerful barriers.
We had dispersed much of Freya’s weaker casters throughout my army to support the undead and to create more as needed. The regeneration field I had laid out was still active and bone guard were drug back into it when they took damage, it was essentially a medical field.
Two streets and a block in each direction on both sides of the bridge had been devastated by clashing magic and warriors who hit with enough strength to shatter stone. Due to the overwhelming amount of regeneration, we had lost none of the core of my army, though I did know some of her acolytes had fallen. Overall, our numbers were only growing. Every fallen soldier or civilian rose as a zombie.
The abundance of necromancers meant even the zombies that fell rose back to service before long. Like I said before, while possible to reanimate corpses that have already been animated, it wasn’t worth it unless you took the time to do it right. We had the casters to take the time needed.
My magical sight showed the battlefield as overlaying regeneration and buffing spells that kept my army driving forward. In the middle, Maxwell rode on the back of Snappy. His band was with him and their heavy metal music flooded across the entire battlefield. It was a strength enhancement, though we had a lot of casters, making the hordes of zombies we had harder to kill was more useful than buffing spells being cast.
There was a sudden massive explosion of white light in the middle of my army. It had been centered around a pair of flesh golems that had torn apart and broken through lines of guards. I realized too late the barrage that had been constantly hammering the tower had let up. Charging into the crater left in my lines, I spotted the three figures from atop the temple.
The general still had yet to show himself, but I was beginning to suspect he was not a melee type. I would’ve noticed him otherwise, that meant he was either a range type or a caster. The idea of another powerful caster being out there was disconcerting.
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“Time to go fight the boss,” I said, pushing the general out of my mind. Raven, who had left a while ago, would no doubt be heading towards the archbishop as well.
***
We struck suddenly and powerfully. Mercy was already fully charged with eldritch power. I had been right, Raven found us on our way there along with Freya and her commander, a death paladin.
I was not foolish enough to single myself out in this fight, fighting this archbishop would be far more difficult than a mere captain of the guard. A horde of zombies surged forward with me. My Dread Thirteen were scattered throughout the battlefield fighting on multiple fronts, so I pulled zombies with me. They were heading towards me, but we did not have time to wait.
The difference between a bone guard and a zombie in this fight would be small enough that it was pointless to bring the more valuable troops. The zombies were there to absorb blows and to serve as a health pool for me.
Freya went for the archbishop, she was the strongest of our small group by far, and the most well equipped for such a fight. Freya wielded a dagger in one hand and a scepter in the other. The archbishop wielded a massive war hammer. His armor and fighting stance made me think he likely had come up through the ranks of paladins instead of the ranks of priests to reach his current role.
Raven supported by life thieves went after the bishop. Her lack of heavy armor would make her vulnerable to Raven’s sickles and the life thieves would provide great distraction for the bishop. They couldn’t be easily ignored, but it would take significant effort to drive them back.
I went after the paladin. I managed to bring up a scan of him, my stomach clinching at what I read.
Paladin of Olattee
Level: 150
Paladins of Olattee have taken the third oath to the god of purity. The privilege of taking the third oath is reserved to those who have walked in Olattee’s light and sanctified themselves before the god of purity pledging their whole soul to his service.
As a full paladin of Olattee, they have devoted themselves completely and entirely to their god. Their lives are not their own, they serve only the gods will. Their eyes only see things that are pure in the eyes of their god and what is un-pure in those same eyes, they will smite all who oppose them.
He was just barely a Paladin of Olattee. He could only have taken the oath after passing level 150. The paladin wielded a sword made out of black metal so dark that it looked like it was removed from the world, the runes carved down the center of the blade were the exact opposite. They were inlaid with metal so white it was painful to look at. It reminded me of the monstrosities Olattee had been summoning to this world.
By this point a constant stream of zombies flooded over the bridge. Both from the guards who had opposed us on the other side, the forces of the forsaken that were now ours, and the large graveyard where Freya’s necromancers had visited. They were all technically in my army and I gave a mental command to every mindless undead nearby to constantly follow me.
Death energy bled through my body as I accelerated towards the paladin. His plate armor was powerful, though not as intricate as the commander of the fort had been. I was thankful for that. There was openings in his armor I could exploit.
I lost track of the other fights as I engaged. The eldritch power contained within Mercy gave my blows a powerful magical effect that would tear down barriers. The magic was mostly unused just sitting in the weapon waiting for me to summon it. Mercy’s blade was configured into a slender blade, razor-sharp on one side and tapering to a angled point.
The mighty black-and-white great sword came thundering down. Moving my feet like a dancer I sidestepped and used the shaft of Mercy to deflect the momentum of the incoming blade.
The blade hit with enough force that even though only a fraction of it transferred into Mercy it still rattled my bones. He was far stronger than I was, but I was much faster. Even without activating my armor I was faster. The commander of the fort had been far better balanced. The paladin, whatever his name was, was over twenty levels above me, with hardly any points in his agility.
I shook my head. “For being as strong as you are you’re sure stupid, who stacks strength and short stacks agility?” I didn’t think about using gaming terminology on NPC, it just blew me away that someone would actually do that.
When he spoke, I gained insight as to why. “Pure path only strength!” His words were simple and the dullness in his eyes became evident. He hadn’t just short stacked agility, he’d only put points into strength. That meant any speed he had came from his equipment buffs which were hard to come by.
That also explained why his blows ripped the very air apart. I briefly let the death energy quit cycling through my body to test if I was still faster, I was. I refused to believe he had never put any points into any other of his attributes, but he had definitely stopped doing so a long time ago. I began cycling my death energy again, I had plenty of cores to pull from in my bag.
The gear worn by this brute was superb. His armor turned aside blows, and when I blasted him with the spells in my rings, they rippled off with powerful barriers projected by his armor.
The zombies with me swarmed onto him as I sought an opening. His sword cleaved zombies in half as if they were made out of tissue paper. Still, they piled on. Even the dismembered and torn apart bodies still fought as long as they had magic.
I struck again and again around his neck. The slow speed of the paladin allowing my blade to find the same weak spot over and over. When the armor cracked, and a hole was made, a barrier flared out driving Mercy back. The chink I had made in the armor was already beginning to heal. I was being more reckless than I should, and could’ve gone for one of the traditional weak spots, but I didn’t want to.
I smiled as Mercy reshaped into a new formation. The same handle I used to create the plasma in split form appeared at the head, pointed to the side. A beam of eldritch plasma grew out of the end. I leapt into the air, and activating my armor for the first time, I sped up my attack even further as I slammed the eldritch plasma into the same weakened spot.
The barrier around the neck held for a moment, but the momentum of the attack and the power of the eldritch plasma shattered it. Mercy continued until the handle pierced through and the eldritch power poured into the paladin’s neck. I thought I heard a cry of pain before eldritch fire burst from his eyes and he went limp.
To my surprise he wasn’t quite dead, his lifeforce still burned. But there was no coming back from that. Even if they somehow managed to heal the wound, eldritch power pouring into a mind not ready for it would leave behind irreparable damage.
My attention turned to the raging battle between Freya and the archbishop. Her death paladin lay in a smoking heap, a burn mark in the center of his chest plate. Freya was pushed hard, the archbishop was definitely stronger than her. I scanned him as I rushed forward to help the death priestess.