The witch Morrigu used to be just a regular village magician. As such, she was used to blessing the land, healing minor injuries, and cooking potions for sick locales. She was free to study whatever arts she wanted, as long as they didn’t bring harm to the village or… the church wouldn’t learn about it. Because, you see, the local king was pragmatic and knew that magic is just a tool, and until that tool would be used for something evil, there was nothing wrong about learning it! Bah! Even more! If the time of crisis came and the Demon-kin would attack, it would be better to have someone who would know how their arts worked!

But, the Church of The Three did not share this way of thinking, and as it possessed a powerful political position, it forced the king to condemn dark arts.

And so he did… while giving unofficial allowance to everyone to do as they please with only one restriction - do not let the church know that you do what you do. It was an open secret that everyone knew about, the church including.

And, as it is easy to understand, Morrigu did practice the dark arts of necromancy, and was reported by her apprentice, who she didn't let go to the academy, as he was simply not ready. The naive young student thinking that the older witch kept him around only to make him work for her in an act of vengeance sent a message to the nearest inquisition post about his teacher’s practices as well as places where they could find proof of it.

The inquisition was quick to storm a little hut on the edge of a forest and found almost every stash of heretics books, pendants, and materials.

Morrigu was sentenced to be burned on the pyre and the young student… was tied down to the village on the west till the time a new village witch or priest would be sent there to take his place. Oh, but no king nor church was eager to deal with such unimportant matter quickly, and thus a hasteful student once again had his journey to the capital's university delayed.

Later, in the cell of the inquisition, bruised and beaten Morrigu was visited in the dark of a night by a mysterious stranger who offered her freedom… if later she would agree to do something for him.

Old Morrigu was afraid of death. That was the reason she studied the dark arts of necromancy - she hoped to achieve immortality. With awareness of her death waiting for her following morning she was quick to make her decision.

And so, later that day, when she was supposed to be served her last meal - meat and wine - the usual dish for those sentenced to death - the schedule in the kitchen was somehow changed and a younger acolyte of the inquisition was sent to this choir. Oh, serving the heretic wasn’t to his liking, and as a cruel prank, he gave her a dead rat on the silver plate alongside a chalice filled with rat’s blood.

It was supposed to be a gruesome joke.

Magic has many forms. Mana, emotions… and life. She was “lucky”, as freshly extracted blood was still full of the creature's essence. Using her necromantic skills, she tapped into that essence and used it as her own. The chalice held very little essence, just enough to reanimate a rat and send him over the bars of her cell to go fetch the keys to her room and the shackles of white onyx which restricted her movements and most importantly, her magic.

The inquisition was dealing not only with heretics but also with political enemies, free-thinking philosophers, scientists too brave in their research, and so on. Upon their visit to the office of the church, they were being “convinced” to cast aside their actions and turn their “hearts” to the light. During those “conversations” many died as a result of an extreme form of “negotiations” performed by the inquisitors. Because of that, the field next to the inquisition office was filled with dozens, no, hundreds of graves of church’s victims. And with the power of Morrigu, they all raised to take vengeance upon their torturers.

Morrigu knew that it was not a coincidence. Shift in kitchens, barely enough blood to perform but a single resurrection, and the only animal that was small and nimble enough to perform exactly those actions.

And then, just two days later, the man appeared in front of her asking her to meet her end of the bargain.

Ah, this stranger fascinated her! The way he worked was so unorthodox! Devil's while striking their deal were far less subtle! They would just manifest with fire and smoke, make a huge hole in the wall letting her escape and then demand her to sacrifice innocent in their name.

But this… Zariel? His motives were unknown. He was like a player, sending his pawns in directions only known to him. To him, they all were but pawns meant to serve their role and perish.

And this is why Morrigu decided to show herself as someone usable. Someone that is good to have for whatever reason! She wanted to be seen as someone unreplicable… otherwise, she feared that death would once again come to claim her.

So, after sending hordes of empty husks, she once again dug deep within corners of her mind, where her most complex and twisted spells remained safe - in her subconsciousness, where not even mind readers could find them.

And she sang,

“Fire on Water and Ice over Flames,

The fate’s threads shall tangle, twist and dance,

May the oceans freeze, may the thunder split the land,

As a hell gates would open to taint this realm…”

Her voice resonated across the corpses, the bodies trembled, responding to her words.

“I am summoning thy - lost in the mist,

I am calling forth bandits, murderers and beasts,

Come on forth to unleash thy rage,

To take thy vengeance, as this world you would plague!”

The mist which suffocated the Deadwoods thickened over the group of corpses, taking the shape of a rotating mass of black smoke. Smoke, which while moving would occasionally form into faces twisted with the grimace of pain.

And then souls started leaving the clustered mass of agony and started descending into the vessels offered to them below. Few of them tried to possess the witch, yet the barriers which she erected before repelled each and every attacking mass.

All of the rage-filled souls started fighting over the bodies, each of them trying to find the ideal vessel for themselves. When multiple souls possessed a single body, the strongest one would either swallow or banish the weaker, but, when few equally strong would reach for the same vessel, something absolutely unholy would happen.

Many of these souls were lost in the mist for years, decades or even centuries. None wanted to leave once they possessed a body, and so since no soul wished to give up and leave, they merged.

Each soul carried the burden of its own agony, but upon combining, their pain multiplied by the feelings of merged existences, and so, they screamed and cried.

“It hurts! It hurts!” “And so they shall suffer!” “Brother, where are you?!” “They didn’t return from the field yet, even though three days have passed!” “Mother! Where are you?! I can’t see you!” “Run! It’s behind us! Run!”

All of these woeful sentences were yelled by a single undead made of several bodies. The Elder Horror was first to rise. First, but not last.

More beasts kept on rising, some were made of many bodies, some were merged with tools and weapons that were next to the body at the moment of possessing, and rest, the weakest souls which didn’t manage to find a vessel scattered around the forest looking for prey, because, without a host, they would surely perish within the mist again.

“Watch me, oh Fate Breaker! Watch the power that can make a kingdom fall!” Morrigu smiled.

And then, she was pierced.

She didn’t notice when a single skeleton with a rusty sword appeared. His bones were black and inside of his skull a vicious green fog was shining.

Never before had she practiced using such a powerful necromantic spell, and so she used far too much power, which later lured something older. Something that feasted on the misery of all the souls which appeared in the mist and wished to spread this agony over the living.

The Death Lord in the rank of General marched before still rising undead, which upon seeing the black skeleton lamented in unison. This scream was like a war cry which resonated across the whole Deadwoods.

The abomination later turned toward the greatest life force supplies it could sense in the vicinity - it turned west, to the camp of adventures of the Silver Lion House.

Level: 2 [37/100]

I dismissed the status window with a quick move of my hand. Using traps from the previous night I managed to catch and kill five wild rabbits, each of them gave barely two or three essence points.

I knew that I would get far less essence from them than from humans, but still the difference was simply overwhelming. If I would keep my current tempo, I would become stronger in around five more days! Slow. Far too slow! At this rate Michael will manage to die of old age before I would become strong enough to…

A weird sensation resonated through my bones.

Cold air came from the southeast, bringing not only chills but also something more. Something deeper and heavier, something that was assaulting my mind, calling me, trying to make me bow and obey.

My vision became darkened as the entire world looked as if it was covered with burning shadows. Far over the horizon, I saw a presence, its power was beaming like a beacon which was summoning my very existence.

You are under the effect of [Call of the grave] [Mental] type of attack Checking [WIS], [INT], and [SPI] attributes for possible defense against the attack. “I am calling forth all of you, who managed to escape from the cold embrace of death. I am calling forth all of those, whose hearts burn with hatred. You, who were murdered, who were deprived of your very life. Join me, and I shall lead you toward the very things that your dead, cold hearts desire. Follow me, and we shall trample the killers. The thieves. The living.”

His tone was so commanding. So strong, yet beautiful. Like a voice of a harsh father, who through his seemingly cold and heartless actions wishes to make his children grow into strong and independent adults.

It was so natural to listen to his voice. To follow his commands. To obey.

Yes, he is strong, and many other strong beings are bound to his words. With the eyes of my imagination I could see how his army storms through the gates of Diederik’s mansion. How they break through into the main hall and slaughter all the nobles. His father, his mother, his servants and finally him. I could see the head of Jack the hunter being offered to me by one of my brothers in arms.

And I could see dreams of other undeads as well. I was killing alongside them, delivering sweet, sweet vengeance upon those who wronged my sister. Or their sons, in case they were dead. Or sons of their sons.

[Defensive Roll] failed. You are now part of the [Undead Legion] fraction.

With His voice still ringing in my mind, I turned around and made the first step toward my new family.

The guards in front of the House’s camp were talking peacefully, tired after a whole day of intense hunting. For them, being sent to guard the camp was a blessing, as they could simply rest. Watching the grass grow while their companions were running different, far more tasking errands. They didn't have much to do, as all around the camp a bunch of small fireplaces were raised to illuminate the surrounding area. If any walking corpse would get close to the camp, they would spot them long before they would manage to cause any trouble.

“... have you heard? I was told that little Agnes no longer has a crush on the Captain.” “Who is this poor fella who took his place? You know Agnes, her heart hates voids.” “Ha-ha, indeed. Well, the Captain knows, yet for now he keeps this information for himse…”

His voice stopped abruptly as two arrows were sent flying, each hitting guards at the very same moment. The speaker's throat was pierced, killing him on spot, while the other one had more luck as he was wounded in the shoulder.

On the very edge of an area illuminated by a fireplace two skeleton archers were standing, already preparing their weapons for another shot.

“A-ALARM!” The remaining guard yelled with all strength in his lungs “... undead attack!”

He turned around towards a bell and started ringing loudly, waking the entire camp.

There was no chaos. No panic. Adventurers practiced their drill on a daily basis. Each and every member of a House knew exactly what they had to do. They stopped doing their tasks, dropping whatever they held running toward barrels standing on the main alleys of the camp filled with weapons and armors.

On small towers crossbow users and archers quickly appeared and squads already started forming near the outer walls.

“Priests! We need light! Cast this blasted fog away!”

The leading commander - Nicolai the Silver Lion - who was leading his House gave out a loud order. The next moment, a priest assigned to every squad started chanting a spell. Above their heads balls of light started forming, slowly traveling high into the sky merging together and creating a small, makeshift, sun illuminating a huge area. Warm wind which it created pushed the mist away revealing the horde forming at the edge of a forest.

These were no longer pathetic groups, barely organized, and sent into battle. The front row was made of skeleton arches, which were readying to send a volley, behind them a group of zombies were ready to move into the first row covering archers in case they sent an attacking force. Between the trees colossal shadows were moving - beasts which were waiting for an order to change the tide of battle. And on a small elevated ground the entire scenery was being watched by a tall, dark silhouette accompanied by two more creatures standing behind it. A commander and two advisors. Such a chain of command was old, archaic even, it was being used during the first war of the continent, since then replaced by different, more flexible ones.

Despite that it was still proof that whoever was leading this small army, was a skilled commander and probably a veteran of many battles.

“Bart, raport!” Nicolai yelled toward his second in command. “Sir, yes, sir! We are being attacked by an organized army of around two hundred undead, mostly lesser kind, but sentinels on the towers notice a regular squad of heavily armored Reversed in the third line!”

Reversed. Medium rank undeads. Usually reanimated experienced soldiers that had bodies preserved in nearly perfect condition and remembering everything that they have learned on the battlefield.

They knew no fear, pain, and because of their degenerated neural system they could use their body to 100% of their possibilities without worrying about permanently damaging their joints or muscles.

“Do they have mages?” “Sir, we do not know, none were spotted, yet it is possible that the one that is leading them is a higher lich…”

Yes, that was quite likely to be the case.

“Sir, your orders?”

Silver Lion quickly considered all possible options.

“For now, we wait. Thanks to our higher ground and better weapons we have nearly twice the range of their units. Have the priests bless the weapons. Cover the arrows in oil, once they move, they burn. “At once, commander!”

Nicolai’s attendant ran to deliver his orders.

“You, young one, you have studied the art of war of a new generation. What do you think? What will they do?”

The Great one asked me a question. We were standing on the elevated ground watching His army form a line.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace, I did study it, but very briefly…” I bowed my head with shame. I remembered reading such a book before, it was given to me by someone, yet, I paid very little attention to this lecture. I cursed the foolishness of my old, living self “... I think that this particular thing didn’t change since your time, oh enlightened, they will try using the advantage of their fortification and thus let you do the first move…” “Indeed, young one. And how would you move in my place?” “Their chain of thoughts are flawed, Your Grace, they are prepared for only standard form of siege, they are ready only for melee fighters, cavalry, ranged units, mages and war machines. We should start with the Greater Ones, create an opening and…” “Foolish child!” The other sapient hissed. She was a skeleton, probably, once a mage on a noble's court “... You don’t start the battle showing all your cards from the beginning! Let’s play alongside their rules for now, let them believe they have an upper hand. Let’s send the first two lines, distract the defenders. They will attract the attack from the defenders and let the Reversed come closer to the walls. Then, the Greater Ones would attack creating an opening in their defense letting the Reversed enter the battlefield with little to no losses.” “What do you think about this plan, younger one?”

General asked me in a calm, patient tone.

“Her plan might work. Might. But if it won’t, we will suffer heavy losses without accomplishing anything. My plan will work for sure… though the losses in the Greater Ones will be bigger as well.” “Young one, your plan is better for this battle, but Alexis’s looks further into war. Your plan relies on suffering heavy losses on our strongest unit. A commander needs to plan victory of war, not a single battle. The weakest ones are easy to be re-raisen, or even replaced by fallen enemies, while Abominations are pretty much unique.” “I hear your words, Enlightened.” I bowed my head with gratitude. He decided to waste his precious time to lecture me, the unworthy. “Alexis. This is your plan. You will lead the first attack. Aster, you will lead the Reversed. Fight bravely, do not fear of falling. After the battle’s dust would settle, I would raise you again.” “We live to obey.” The lich bowed her head. “For we are part of a greater plan.”

I followed.

We left His side, walking for a few dozen meters together.

“May luck be on your side, sister.” I said as each of us moved toward specific units. “Luck has nothing to do with this. Only skill and insight.”

Liches. Mages. Even though dominated by His will, they still tend to rebel a little, showing the remains of their old personalities. How silly. There is no place for “I” in the plan. Only as one we would triumph.

I took my place in the first row of the Reversed, raising my arms to the side. Soldiers quickly handed a spear in my hand and attached a shield to my left hand while putting a sword behind my belt.

“For the greater plan! For the Dark General! For Eli…”

A blur in my mind. A twist. A pain.

I was about to call someone’s name, but whose?

And then the battle began.