A week had passed since the capture of Prehg.

I sat in my newly-adorned throne, made of various bones from various races. When the mortals fled, I ordered my brethren to reconstruct the city to a more war-ready fortress. The powers of the generals helped immensely with the construction, them taking part in forming the intimidating walls of dark bones and skulls surrounding Prehg.

In the center of the newly-built fortress, the newly constructed Eternal Palace overlooked it. It replaced the nothingness that was the Hall of Order, after I destroyed it. My powers stretched across the entire fortress, symbolized by the dark, stormy clouds that would greedily eat up and block the sun's rays before it could ever break through them.

By the second, my power grows stronger and stronger. For now, the black mist of death that is the clouds will absorb and condense the sun's rays, but whenever I need it, I will call upon the immense power being stored inside.

Inside the throne room of the Eternal Palace, a blackness of a shadow stretched across the floor. Out of it appeared Mareth, one of my generals. When he fully emerged from the floor, he knelt down before me.

"My liege, it is done. The mortal king of Carthage now knows the fear of death."

"Good."

I rose from my throne and stepped off of the steps that led to it. Mareth followed by my side as I walked out of the throne room. The plan was one that appears many times in the history of mankind, divide and conquer. Although I know of my strength, I am no fool. For only a fool would let the enemy attack at their strongest. The alliance of the humans is a dangerous thing, but even if it's just one less faction standing up to me, it will make a world of difference in the upcoming war.

I could always send Mareth to assassinate the various leaders, but the strength of the other two factions' leaders are not as feeble as the king of Carthage. The Eastern Empire's sun emperor, for example, is renown throughout the Mainland for his 5-star strength. He alone could destroy my entire army, if my generals didn't combine their might to destroy him.

The High Priest of the Holy Temple is the most powerful. No one clearly knows of his strength, but stories have described his power as the last high-tiered priest of mankind. All know that every high-tiered being has to have 6-stars of strength, at the minimum. That kind of power, only I, alone, could face.

The many skeletal soldiers knelt whenever they felt my presence around them. I walked through the remade east gate of the fortress, into the forest. Many boats and ships came into the ports, I was somewhat lucky as it was only the occasional merchant or transport ship of people from the Deadlands, nothing my forces couldn't handle. However, I cannot be reliant on mere luck alone, I must increase my forces immediately. There's only two hundred or so of my brethren under my command, nothing compared to the hundreds of thousands of humans in the armies of Mainland alone, not to mention the other billions of mortals that walk Torathul. It was time to raise an army.

My 8-foot skeletal frame faced the forest, and I radiated my power to it. The black mist of death came like a tidal wave as it plunged itself against the forest, devouring all the life it could touch. Trees and grass decayed, animals tried to flee as they sensed the danger, but they weren't fast enough as the black mist ate at their flesh until there was nothing but bone. The once lush forest now had a spacious and baren wasteland where many trees once were. The forest was large, so I didn't want to destroy the entire environment, but nonetheless, the wastelands stretched 10 miles into the forest.

I, like I did before, placed my boney hand down to the earth as I knelt down to the black dirt. I felt them, the corpses and fossils buried here throughout the many milleniums this world has had sentient life. I called to them, and they answered.

Bones melded together underneath the earth as millions upon millions of long-dead fossils and decaying bodies got touched by my power. The black mist seeped into the ground, ate at their flesh if they had any left, fixed them up and melded them into the form of my desire, which in this case was the standard skeleton soldier, and they started to dig their way up to the surface as flames awoke within their eyes and burned menacingly.

A loud rumble reverborated throughout the fortress and the ground shook as boney arms sprouted from the earth. Many holes that stretched more than the average eye could see littered across the baren wasteland. Covered with dirt, the mist surrounding them cleansed them as their auras slowly wiped it off of their skeletal bodies.The once empty wasteland was now crowded with my brethren. 

I mentally called for the generals to come, and they appeared beside me. 

"This is but an appetizer of what the mortals will face in our conquest. Divide them among you, and prepare them for the upcoming war." They all knelt as I turned away to head back into the walls of the fortress. "The mortals shall know true death.."

""Yes, my lord.""

Carthage Kingdom

Sunlight peered through the stained glass windows, lighting up the serene hallway which was the throne room. An old and feeble man sat with his arms in his armrests, slouched off to one side, his head supported by his right hand. His short, white hair reflected the light coming from the outside, his old and wrinkled face covered behind an emotionless mask. 

The king of Carthage was waiting. His fear was immense from the brief encounter he had with the thing which sent him the death threat from the Immortals. Many, if not all, noticed the abrupt change in their king's behavior, but he didn't let them know he was afraid. A sign of weakness, even in his own country, would be one's downfall. His son was ready to become king, but what he wasn't ready for, however, was the Immortals. An anomaly of this world, a new rise of power of an unknown race that will change the hierarchy of the world powers forever.

The emotional facade of his was the only thing that kept him from shivering in fear at the thought of what would happen when they would come for him, for his kingdom, for his family and country. He would have to make the proper preparations for when the day would come, so that his family would be able to escape in the chaos.

Now, however, he would witness the destruction of his former adversaries. He was somewhat lucky to be chosen out of the three factions to be sent the message personally. He knew he was the only one due to the fact that neither the Empire nor the Temple hesitated in preparing their armies, whatsoever. They showed no sign of feeling danger from the Immortals, all they have done was mock Carthage for deciding to stay out of the upcoming war. Once they were done with the Immortals, the Temple would not be pleased with him for deciding to not vanquish the 'enemies of humanity' that were the undead. First it was the demons, but now it is the new race of living but non-living creatures, the undead. What next will it be, the elves? Dragons? The king of Carthage scoffed at the blindly-followed ideals of the Holy Temple.

Putting humanity on a pedastal above the rest of the races of the world, they forget the fact that we are not the only ones created by a god, created by our own god, by that matter. The Immortals.. he wondered where they came from, what god created such terrifying monstrosities. And their leader.. it seemed that a new era had risen. This would be the third Great War.. a winter that would stretch across the globe, leaving not one race untouched. He just hoped that his own family would survive and be forgotten by them.

"Your majesty, Oswald has requested an audience."

I looked to the royal guard briefly then focused my vision on the doors.

"Very well."

The tall doors leading to the throne room opened, and Oswald, accompanied by two of his subordinates, walked inside and knelt before him.

"Your majesty, the allied army between the Empire and Holy Temple, according to my information, will be attacking the city of Prehg in two days."

Oswald did not waste time, and got straight to the point of what he wanted to let his king know.

The king of Carthage lifted his eyes from Oswald and looked outside of one of the windows. Dark clouds appeared seemingly from nothing and slowly blotted out the sun. The sunlight that warmed his face was gone, day turned to night. As the king watched the dark foreboding occur infront of his eyes, he spoke in the faintest whisper, but since the room was quiet, they were able to hear.

"It seems.. the winter has come.."