Brad

“We’ve done it again,” Clare said to Brad, who was surveying his troops. “Another battle, another win, and another victory without a single casualty.”

“What about the injuries? Were there any injured? How many troops of ours were hurt?” Brad had to stop himself from using the word “mine” instead of “ours” as he looked over at Clare, surprised to hear how perfectly executed the attack had been. He had expected at least five or ten people to die as they struck the undead horde. He hadn’t expected the enemy to roll over and die so easily.

The hell-cursed were usually formidable, but the continuous training of his men, the syncing of skills, and the constant study and abuse of zombie attack patterns had paid off. As long as they weren’t completely outnumbered, and there weren’t too many evolved brutes and advanced hell-cursed, then crushing them wasn’t difficult. In fact, he had to admit that he was much more concerned about losing people against a small number of insectoid chimeras than a large number of zombies.

“Injuries were light, but the wounded have already been healed up. We have four medics working constantly to keep everyone up,” Clare continued her report.

Everyone who had reached a level high enough to have a class could theoretically turn into a medic. However, Brad had gone out of his way to keep that number low so that each medic would have plenty of things to heal and would level up their skill faster. Even if there wasn’t someone hurt, he’d find wardens and have someone hurt themselves if he had to keep those skills leveling non-stop.

He’d probably be leveling up his healing class himself too just so he could increase his mind even one point and equip more skills, but this mission was perfect for leveling up his main class: crusader, a class that gained experience every time he or one of his followers killed anything that wasn’t human. The more followers he had, the more aliens he killed, and the stronger he became.

As he reveled in his victory, he looked across the river to see what type of challenge awaited him. He could see the army that he would face in the battle ahead. It was massive, populated with mutated monsters, and stretching as far as his eyes could see.

To make matters worse, it was already rushing toward the base he needed to defend, lest he die in a rain of nuclear fallout.

“This is fucking bad . . .” Brad muttered as he turned to look at his force once more. Five hundred people stood arranged into the groups of ten they usually fought in when clearing monsters and aliens around the base. His was a formidable force, and it was more than capable of handling armies of a thousand undead without issue, but against the army they were about to engage, he knew it would crumble. There was no way it wouldn’t break when facing that powerful of a foe.

He could already imagine how the beautiful women he had handpicked and groomed to be his arms, ears, and eyes in this post-apocalyptic world might be torn to shreds if he didn’t think and act carefully. Killed right before his eyes before he could even savor their perfect, system-enhanced, well-toned bodies, which he had been drooling over since he began the annoying job of being a leader.

Can we just fucking not suicide our shit on them? Brad thought, wishing for a moment he hadn’t pumped them all up about “doing their duty for humanity” and “making sure those bastards don’t succeed” and “protecting the light of hope for humans everywhere.”

Why the hell did I have to give so many damn speeches? This is all that one bastard’s fault, Brad complained internally, hating the fact that those annoying fucking Graikoi had not only made him give away some of the cards they had given to him in earlier missions, but were also now demanding he come out here and save a base of people that weren’t his, or else they would not only withdraw their support but rat him out to his followers.

He held up his hand, signaling the others to stop, and he surveyed the landscape. Across the river was a nuclear power plant base surrounded by thirty-foot-tall walls. It was under siege from some ten thousand zombies and monsters that had marched forth from the hell-cursed army. Human soldiers fired from the top of the base's walls but still seemed to be struggling against their attackers. The sky above them was filled with smoke and ash as explosions went off on either side of the battle and cries of anguish echoed across the land.

The hell-cursed army surged forward in an endless wave, climbing over each other as they charged the base. Their numbers were overwhelming, and Brad could see that it wouldn’t be long before they breached the plant’s defenses.

FUCK! he shouted in his mind as he continued to study the people he had brought with him. Then his eyes darted between them, the aliens, and the river that he didn’t want to cross.

“I think we could finish the bridge with little effort just using the corpses of the fiends we’ve killed here,” Casey said as she appeared like a ninja next to Brad, nearly startling him out of his skin.

“Yeah, that’s true . . . but what are we going to do about them?” Brad wondered aloud. Then, as he looked over at the bridge and his troops one more time, he had an idea. Pointing to the kid that inspired it, he beckoned him over.

“Get that kid and . . .” His eyes scanned his people. He might not have recognized any of them, but he knew which ones didn’t matter. If there was one thing he knew, it was a weak link, and his army had several. Weak, underleveled, ugly people. There wasn’t a single society that wasn’t filled with them. “Him, and him, and him . . . and her . . . and him . . .” Brad began to point out the worthless people who had clung to the coattails of their betters just to survive, one after the other naming them off until he had found well over a hundred of them. “We need them to survive.”

“We do?” Clare asked as she and Casey looked at Brad skeptically, but they still adhered to his wishes, Casey turning and fetching Brad’s chosen.

“While she’s doing that, get an engineering squad and start rebuilding that bridge. Make it as large as possible in case we need to retreat to it. If they try to swarm us, we can use the bridge to funnel them and make them more manageable.”

When they were all gathered around, Brad inspected them one last time to make sure he had the right ones. He had to make sure there wasn’t a single beautiful woman in the group or someone whose death would hurt his cause.

“Sir, I was told that you wanted to see me?” said a familiar-looking kid as he did the most awkward salute.

I should know him . . . Brad thought as he stared at the young man. Then it clicked. He was that one victim of Talboit. What was his name? What was his name? Brad struggled for a bit to remember it. He could still remember meeting the kid though, watching the young man drive his knife into Talboit with courage and ferocity.

“Do you know why I wanted to see you all before the battle?” Brad asked as he still tried to think of the kid’s name, looking over to Clare for any clue, only to have her look back at him with a blank face, waiting to hear about why Brad would “need” these people.

“No sir . . .” the kid answered first, once again acting before everyone around him followed suit.

“Because I know your stories. I know each and every one of you,” Brad replied, looking over at the kid. “I know how, when we found you all, you were terrified. You were afraid of dying. You were trapped by people and monsters, scared of what would happen to you. But now . . . you’re not those people anymore. You’re more than that, and you will be more than that. You all will be the shields of humanity! When we cross that bridge that they’re building, we’re going to be face to face with the most dire and horrendous of foes that humanity has ever faced.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Even though nothing he said called for a response, all of them raised their weapons, letting out an excited cheer, reminding Brad exactly how crazy they were.

“And I will be right there with you on the front lines, fighting them,” Brad promised. “And while I will lead us to battle, to victory, that victory is going to come at a price. That enemy over there”—Brad pointed across the river—“is not like any we’ve fought before. When we face off against them, we will be facing death itself. That is why I want to tell you all now that, if you want to turn back, it’s okay. If you are afraid of death, it’s okay. No one will fault you for wanting to live since we all want to live. But if you still wish to be my shield, to follow me side by side into the depths of hell as we claw our world back from those alien scum . . . then stand now! Come forward. Stand tall and proud so that no one will forget your faces or your names as we carve out our place in history—our place as the people who saved humanity!”

It was no surprise at this point that none of them backed down. They all raised their weapons yet again, some of them even firing off a few shots if they were holding guns, and cheered. He was marching them to their deaths. He hadn’t been clear about it, but the subtlety would be obvious to anyone with a brain: they were to be the main army’s cannon fodder. Yet they were excited. It’s good that at least they know their place and where they’re most needed, Brad thought as he smiled at the group of witless zealots.

“I can’t believe you memorized each one’s face and story,” Clare said, a tear welling up in her eye. “I can’t believe how much you care about them. You must have known how terrified they were of the upcoming battle, and now look at them. You really, really do care.”

Of course they were scared, Brad thought. He knew their kind after all. He didn’t have to know their stories too. They were weak, and the weak people were always rightfully afraid of what would happen to them. A zebra would always be afraid of a lion. It was nature. “I only said what had to be said. I will stand in front of them,” he assured her, “to make sure that it isn’t monsters but me they will see as they charge into battle.”

Clare could barely contain herself. “And I will be right—”

“No!” Brad worried he might have upset her by shouting, but there was no way he was going to lose someone so valuable and hot. He had faith that he could make it out of any situation, that, with his bone golem, he would be able to escape the front lines when the time called for it, but he didn’t know if she would even try. With his luck, she’d die fighting like a moron the moment the fight turned sour.

“I need you and Casey to protect the flanks, to make sure that if anything happens, the rest of the army is okay. You are the only two I can count on,” Brad said, but what he really meant was: I need you two to survive. I’ve put too much effort into you.

“Are you . . . Are you sure?” Clare looked hurt.

“I’m sure. There are no other people I can rely on besides you and Casey,” he insisted. “And when I give the signal, you’re the only one that can organize the retreat to the bridge, to the funnel of death where we will bury our foes.”

Not to mention, once these idiots begin to die, I’m going to need you to be alive to do the fighting, he thought, looking at his passive class skill, Avenger’s Light, which increased the damage and attack speed of nearby allies for every nearby ally that died.

She gave him a weak smile. “Okay then. I’ll make you proud.”

“Bridge is done,” Casey said as she joined them. Turning to look over at the Bridge, Brad saw that she hadn’t let him down. It had gone from being wide enough for two massive trucks to drive side by side to being able to fit four or five trucks with ease.

“Were there really that many bodies?” Brad asked as he looked at the bridge, wondering how she came up with so much material so quickly.

“We used a lot of item cards to make sure it was done right and properly,” Casey explained. “We’ll get more items in the next battle, so no one had an issue sacrificing what they didn’t need. I told them how you wanted to make sure a safe retreat came first.”

“Good. Good. Then it has all come together,” Brad smiled, feeling like his plan was perfect as he lifted his halberd-like “Flag of Humanity,” as his followers like to call it, into the air. “Then prepare for battle. We’re marching right away! Those who I called up earlier, grab the biggest shields you can find and follow me! Everyone else, stay behind them, keep your formations tight, and don’t let a single one of those invading alien bastards live!”

The moment they crossed the long bridge and reached the other side of the river, many of the hell-cursed that had been swarming the base turned to face them, charging at them the moment they saw them. It wasn’t just a few of them, but thousands and thousands.

Even though Brad knew he would be fine, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about the onslaught of enemies coming toward him. The moment the hell-cursed reached them though, his troops fanned out to the left and right of him to face off against their foes, that nervousness washed right off as adrenaline began pumping through his veins.

His bone golem crushed one of the evolved hell-cursed brutes, but Brad could see the writing on the wall. His people were already starting to die as they got chopped down by the enemy.

He called out orders, organizing his troops into a single line that stretched across the bridge's length. When the formation was complete, Brad began to march forward, leading them in a steady clip toward the oncoming horde.

“We must stand our ground! Hold the bridge! For every one of them we take down, ten more will replace them. We must fight and buy time until my signal is given, then you must run back across the bridge. We will draw these monsters to their doom!”

The expendable rabble cheered and then began to fight with all their might against the hell-cursed army. Brad watched from beside his bone golem as they fought bravely, taking down many of the enemy troops but also falling, one sacrificial lamb after another dying in order to do so. As he watched them fight for their lives, he knew it was time for him to act.

“Signal the retreat!” Brad ordered, raising and waving his flag so that Clare and Casey would know what to do. “We’ve gathered enough! PULL THEM TO THE BRIDGE! FUNNEL THEM TO THEIR DEATHs!”

The retreat took even less time than the charge, but it was dangerous. Even with his bone golem, Brad could feel the pressure as he tried to back up slowly while still keeping his eyes on the enemies ahead of him. He didn’t want to trip or slip up and die as he edged backward. Once he reached the bridge it was much easier. The hell-cursed struggled to advance farther along it as the ranged support from the other river shore cut into them, killing all the smaller zombies easily. While they couldn’t manage to take down the evolved crystal brutes and the other more heavily mutated monsters, the thinned out numbers allowed Brad to let his bone golem create a barrier and helped them retreat even farther until nothing but the people Brad was okay sacrificing were left on the bridge, the capable fighters having already made it safely back to the other shore.

“This is the spot! This is where they will die!” Brad assured his followers as he turned and prepared for battle. While he fought there, he couldn’t help but notice a kid fighting tooth and nail to stay alive right next to him and the thousands of massive evolved monstrosities ahead of him. He almost felt bad for the kid.

Sorry, little man, it’s not your fault you were born weak, he thought as he took in a deep breath, checking behind him to make sure that every person that mattered had already gotten off the bridge before switching out his card to his bone manipulation skill and immediately activating the ability. The bone bridge erupted in a cacophony of splintering and shattering, collapsing in on itself with the hell-cursed legion, the surviving members of Brad’s “shield of humanity,” and Brad himself atop it. Flesh and bone flew like a deadly hail, shredding friend and foe alike. In seconds, they all began falling into the deep waters of the river to be swept away by its fast moving currents.

Brad, still holding the flag of humanity, did his best to put on a show as he reached out, like he was trying to save the kid next to him even while mentally ordering his bone golem to catch and protect him from the fall. He even made sure to look extra desperate trying to reach the kid as the bone golem fulfilled the order, snatching him up, bouncing off one of the rocks on the river, and ferrying him to the shoreline.

Brad stood on the shore and watched the aftermath, and then he dropped to his knees and hung his head. As he put on his little show of grief for the fallen, Brad noted the massive bonuses he was receiving from Avenger’s Light as more and more of his bait squad died. His plan had worked perfectly.

“They’re dead, Brad,” Clare said as she and Casey rushed to his side, holding him back as he acted like he wanted to go back into the river and help whom he could—as if they could stop him if he really wanted to go. “They’re dead, and we can’t do anything about it.”

Turning to Clare and rubbing his eyes as hard as he could to create the “I just cried” effect, he looked at her with as much anger as he could muster. “No. There is something I can do. There is something we can do,” he insisted. “We can make sure they didn’t die in vain. Get that bridge back up immediately so we can get across that river and kill every single one of those fucking bastards!”

As one, like hundreds of ants working together, Brad’s followers immediately reconstructed the bridge. This one was shorter, thinner, and barely reached the other side as the number of bodies they had to work with were far fewer, but it was up and quickly at that. The moment it was completed, Brad, freshly buffed from Avenger’s Light, charged with his bone golem down the center of the bridge and into the battle, his troops in a vengeful frenzy behind him as he entered the fight, the whole force ready to slaughter anything and everything they could.