“I will not be denied!” Kaufman screamed, as his cabal members fell to sharp blades and scorching magic around him. The portal, the black void above the altar, was failing. They were so close, but the power being fed by the ritual could not sustain it. His god, the dark that waits, was just beyond that gate, so close he could feel its presence. With a last, desperate gamble, he hurled his body into the portal, linking his life force to the ritual. He would keep it open, through his blood, body and soul.”

Chapter 79

Wil stood at the warehouse entrance, the large double doors were open behind him, letting the bright yellow sunlight shine on his back. The sun overhead could barely light the thick darkness of the warehouse ahead of him as he waited, his sword gripped tightly in one hand.

From the gloom ahead, he could pick out the faint silhouettes of dozens of slow moving, shambling corpses. Their reanimated bodies barely held enough corrupted mana to reach Rank 1, but there were dozens of them. Their large numbers, combined with their infectious blood, meant that Wil would need to be very careful on how to approach this fight.

He was cautious to stay in the protective light, letting the zombies make their way towards him, their path unhindered in the empty warehouse. From behind, he could hear Garman curse quietly at the delay, he was impatient to get started.

As they neared, Wil could make out more details of his enemies. With rotting flesh and missing limbs, their decaying bodies barely kept functional by the mana that fueled them.

The layout of the warehouse was both a benefit and detriment. The open space would allow him to fight freely, without constraint, but it would allow the undead to easily surround him.

He needed to restrict their movement, prevent them from overwhelming him. Wil had the perfect spell for that goal.

He channeled his mana, funneling the silvery energy into a spell matrix. It glowed a sickly green in the dim light, slowly brightening as it was saturated with power.

“Web!” Wil shouted, thrusting his hand through the completed mana construct, taking aim of where he wanted the sticky green netting to land. The spell flew quickly through the air, spreading out as it traveled, until it covered over a dozen of the slow moving undead.

They collapsed onto the ground, their limbs caught in the magical net. They squirmed on the ground, feebly attempting to force their way free of the constricting spell.

The mob of undead behind them, mindless and acting on instinct, failed to recognize the threat and stumbled over their prone companions, piling on top of them and sticking to the web as well.

With their movement restricted, Wil was free to attack without fear of attacks on his flank. Taking a deep breath, he hefted his new sword and dashed into the dim light. Channeling mana into his magical weapon, the blade glowed with a pale blue light.

Leaving the safety of the light, Wil sprinted forward, his mana enriched body moving faster than the slow-moving zombies could ever respond to.

With a slash of his sword, he split the nearest undead in half, he sword barely slowing as it carved through the undead flesh, leaving two smoking halves behind. The power of the enchantments burned their corrupted bodies as it cut, cauterizing the wounds and sealing the infectious blood within.

In an instant, he cut down several, his sword leaving streaks of blue light in its wake. He danced between the falling corpses, using the techniques that Kellerman and Greaves had drilled into him, years ago.

Since attending the academy, he had neglected his swordsmanship, his techniques were rusty. Garman felt that these weaker undead would make the perfect opponents to practice on.

Two days had passed since Garman has agreed to mentor him. They had spent every waking moment back in the city, clearing the weaker undead from the outskirts of the city. This warehouse had already been cleared of anything valuable years ago, but the undead here were ideal for their training needs.

Garman had shown him on a map how to estimate the expected undead rankings for an area when they were planning his training.

“See here?” Garman said, spreading the large map across the common room table. The chatter of the other auxiliaries faded into the background around them. He pointed to a cluster of large mansions, near the center of town, on a small hill overlooking the ocean.

“That’s the bloody merchant council’s section of town. When the gods damned city fell, it started from here. Whatever caused this mess, it started in that shithole.”

Before Wil could ask the obvious question of why no one has gone into the area to fix the cause yet, Garman continued, knowing what he was going to ask.

“The whole section is filled with bloody negative energy, saps the life out of anyone who steps foot in there. The legion sent a party of Rank 10’s in there when this whole thing started, nearly lost the bloody lot of them. So, we stay out of there, keep the bastards in their cage.”

“I can’t believe that’s the plan, just wait? For what?” Wil asked, confused at what the emperor was thinking regarding Aachen.

“Believe it or not, junior, but the empire has bigger problems than here. You think the empire doesn’t have a gods damned high ranker they could send here? Most of them are dealing with bigger fires around the empire, this is small stakes.” Wil didn’t respond, thinking about what could be worse than here.

“Anyway, if Aachen is a circle, then this district is the center.” Garman pointed at the mansions, then made a series of concentric circles with his finger.

“Further you go out from the center, the weaker the energy is and the lower ranking the undead are. We’re going to start you here, on the outskirts, near the wall. Everything’s already been cleared and looted, so you won’t get rich, but there’s still low ranking dead that you can harvest. You’ll make some coin with that orb, collecting the mana from them.”

That conversation had been two days ago, and here they were, slicing through low-ranking zombies in empty warehouses, as Garman taught Wil how to stay alive in Aachen.

Wil danced through his enemies, his feet never stopping and his blade whistling through the air as he cut down the foes in front of him. He had full control over the battlefield, his ‘Web’ spell had divided the empty warehouse in half, allowing him the mobility to weave and twist around the slow-moving zombies.

With a final slash, the last standing zombie’s head flew of its shoulders, Wil was careful to step back after the blade cut into its flesh. Garman had shown in how to avoid any splatters of infectious blood.

The low-ranking zombie would barely have any. The amount of blood seemed to be tied to the rank of the undead somehow. The higher ranking, the higher risk of infection, but it was a good habit to get used to.

As the zombie collapsed on the ground, twitching feebly, he summoned a ball of flame above his hand. Pumping the mercury like mana into the tier-less ‘firebolt’ spell, he made the flame white hot, before tossing it onto the sticky green web.

With a loud ‘whoosh’ the trapped zombies were engulfed in flames, quickly burning them until nothing remained but a pile of blackened and charred bodies.

“Good work, Junior. Could do without all the dancing though, you looked a bit like a brothel harlot” Garman said, coming deeper into the warehouse from where he had been leaning by the door.

“Thanks, I guess.” Wil replied with a shrug.

Taking the clear glass orb from his pocket, he went to the first twitching undead corpse, leaning down and holding it above the figure. He could see a fine black mist rise of the body, before it was sucked into the sphere.

In a moment, the body stopped moving and the orb had a small, black sparkle in the glass, a pinprick of negative energy. Wil repeated the process on the next body.

“I’ll be sure to tell Kellerman what you think about his footwork technique when he gets here.” Wil said, as he moved on to the pile of smoking, blackened corpses. A large amount of mist rose from the bodies, pulled directly into the sparkling glass orb.

“Yeah, well, when he sees how I took a pissant and turned him into a man, I think he’ll forgive the insults.” Garman laughed, walking slowly around the warehouse with his axe on his shoulder. He peered into the darkened corners and behind the few remaining piles of debris, making sure there were no surprises waiting for them.

Wil snorted, thinking about the meeting they had set for a few months’ time. Kellerman had written him back quickly, the wonders of the Illyrian mail service, with surprising news that he would be coming to Aachen later this year on business.

They would discuss Garman’s recruitment at that time.

Finishing up with the last undead, Wil walked back to the entrance with Garman, observing the orb in his hand. In the two days they had been clearing buildings, the orb had darkened considerably. He figured he could pay his debt and purchase a couple of new spells by the end of the week.

“Where to now?” Wil asked. This was the last warehouse on this street. The adjacent road had several tall apartment buildings they could enter, although they would need to be careful of the narrow hallways.

“We’re going to the merchant’s quarter. They’re raiding the gods damned bank today, figured it would be good experience for you to watch. You know, stupidity in action.” Garman responded as they walked into the bright sunlight and back onto the dusty road.

Wil let out a deep sigh. From what he had seen the last few days on the outskirts of town, the bank would be deadly. It was located deep into the ‘inner circle’ of negative energy, and it would have higher ranking undead guarding it.

Despite the warnings, the group of auxiliaries had gathered over a hundred people to join them, each were over Rank 3, making everyone in the group considerably stronger than Wil.

He could take on a group of Rank 1 zombies without too much trouble, but he would struggle with anything stronger than a rank 2 Ghoul in a group. A ranked monster was almost always stronger than a ranked human.

One of the things Garman had taught him, was to always outrank or outnumber your opponent when your adventuring in Aachen.

“Maybe they’ll make it? I heard they recruited a couple Rank 6’s to join them.” Wil asked, not surprised that the lure of gold was drawing people in. It had been over a year since anyone tried entering the Bank. Short memories combined with greed made a powerful attraction for the desperate.

“Yeah, and maybe I’ll marry an Elf with giant tits, move to Elvenhome, grow pointy ears and sing songs all day. Those bastards are doomed, don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise.” Garman said, scoffing at the idea.

They walked in silence down the deserted streets, eventually making it back to the main road that led to the once bustling merchant’s section of town. The warehouses from the outskirts were replaced by stone storefronts, two story structures with clay tiled roofs.

Broken windows panes, peeling paint and debris strewn across the ground were a testament to the length of time that had passed since this part of the city had been the trading hub of an empire.

The bank was located in a large market square, its white marble stone had withstood the death of the city. It had a flawless façade and tall, white columns supporting a golden roof that reflected the sunlight like a polished mirror.

As beautiful as the building was, it was also an impregnatable structure, designed to protect the treasures within. The heavy metal doors, when closed, were capable of repelling siege engines with their heavy enchantments.

Likewise, the windows panes were made thick glass, with fine etchings of strengthening runes to prevent them from breaking under even the heaviest of blows. To further secure a city’s gold, thick steel bars covered the widows like a spider’s web.

All these defenses were rendered useless during the disaster, as even the thickest walls and strongest doors couldn’t protect against the killing energy unleashed upon the city. The thick doors hung open, the enchantments faded as they were no longer needed.

The buildings magic was a dead as the city it was located in.

The Bank was designed to keep thieves and enemies out, but now its purpose was twisted, and the enemies were waiting deep within. Undying guards of a treasure that held no value to them.

Wil and Garman approached the bank from the main road, the normally empty street was a bustling hub of activity.

A long line of carts and wagons were waiting at the bottom of the bank’s stairs, wrapping around to ring the area. The auxiliaries expected to clear the bank and retrieve the gold within, and had prepared dozens of carts for the purpose, hauled by donkey’s, horses and oxen they had hired from merchants bringing goods to the garrison.

Small parties of auxiliaries were gathered at the base of the stairs, checking equipment, preparing spells, or resting before the coming fight. Clerics from the garrison cathedral had set up a triage station in the center of the street, a white tent with the goddesses’ symbol on the front.

Crates of healing potions were waiting nearby, with many more being distributed to the fortune seekers.

Aside from the auxiliaries and clerics, a third group were gathered together. A large congregation of bystanders, legion warriors, merchants and even other adventuring groups were waiting to watch the outcome of this endeavor. Like Garman and Wil, they were curious as to what would happen, but not willing to participate.

Walking pass everything, Wil and Garman walked to a large fountain that stood in the center of the square. The flowing water had long since dried, and they joined several others sitting on the fountain lip and surrounding benches, waiting for the show to start.

Wil recognized several of the watchers, including some of new comers who shared the same lodging house as himself.

Nodding in greeting, Wil sat on a white marble bench, leaning back against the fountain as he waited.

“Gather around! Gather around!” Someone yelled from the top of the steps to the waiting crowd below.

In a few minutes, over a hundred people were gathered at the base of the stairs. All higher ranked, Wil could feel the concentration of mana they were exuding naturally, just from standing together.

At the head of the crows were several high rankers. Their Rank 6 power shimmered around them, like a heat haze.

The speaker was the short, scraggly looking man from the common room, the one who had suggested this plan in the beginning. Looking at him closely, Wil could feel that he was a Rank 4, surprisingly. From the attributes of his mana, he likely focused on stealth and concealment.

‘A rogue or thief’ Wil thought to himself, waiting for the crowd to settle and the man to speak.

“Alright! let’s go!” He yelled, without any preamble.

With a wave, the scraggly man led his group up the stairs and towards the doors. They had obviously gone over the plan before.

Watching, he saw that a group were carrying large steel rods, sledgehammers and lengths of rope to the ground floor windows. Tying the rope around the bars, they tied the other end to several horses standing in the square, before placing the steel rod against the marble.

The larger amongst them took a hold of the hammers and struck the chisels, cracking the marble and damaging the weakly lingering enchantments, while others spurred the horses on, pulling the ropes taut as the barred windows finally gave way with a loud ‘pop.’

The large sledgehammers slammed repeatedly against the fine glass, the remaining runes couldn’t protect from the assault as the glass shattered.

Not wasting any time, dozens of people climbed through the open windows, weapons drawn and ready.

While the bars were being removed and the windows broken, a group were stealthy making their way into the main entrance of the bank.

The slightly ajar doors were pulled back, fully exposing the interior to the light. From where Wil sat near the fountain, he could only make out a small portion of the opulent foyer, before the darkness within blocked his vision.

In less than half an hour, over a hundred auxiliaries had entered the bank, moving out of sight of those waiting for them outside.

In the silence, Wil could only hear the murmurs and whispers of those speaking around him, the quiet cursing of Garman at their stupidity, and the faint prayers of the clerics.

“Maybe they’ll succeed.” Wil said quietly to Garman, he could see that some of the others waiting were listening in. “I mean, no one thought to take the windows out before, they were still intact.”

“Dream on, Junior. You think this is the first time anyone’s thought of it? I watched a mage blow the whole roof of that bastard a few years ago. She was chucking stones the size of a horse at it, before they entered. It was a good plan, until they all died.”

“How is that possible? It looks like no one has ever been in there before? Even the windows panes were still unbroken.” Wil asked, as Garman scoffed at the question.

“Still don’t get it do you? You can’t destroy Aachen. You could take this place apart, stone by stone, brick by brick, and after the next night, this shithole will be the same as always. Whatever is bringing these bastards back every night, it also repairs the city. I guarantee you that after Nightfall, that bank will look the same as we just saw it.”

Wil looked around, taking in the buildings around him.

“But they look so…worn?”

“They still age, junior. Paint peels, wood rots, but the bones of this place will always be here. This place is just as dead as those zombies we fought. It rots and decays but keeps coming back.”

Wil opened his mouth to respond, when he was cut off by a scream coming for the bank in front of him. He could hear yelling, muffled by the thick stone walls, before an explosion shook the ground around them and fire erupted from on the now open windows.

Standing up to get a better look, he could see flashes of light as spells were unleashed inside, and the screaming became louder.

Abruptly, he could see a figure emerge from the darkness, running into the light. It was a woman, a mage by the robes she was wearing.

She was screaming as she ran, shielding her face with both hands. The clerics nearby reacted swiftly, moving up the stairs to help her.

Before she could reach them, she collapsed on the ground, giving them a glimpse of why she was running. Half of her face was missing, nothing remained but exposed bone.

His view was cut off as the clerics lifted her, carrying her down the white marble steps to the waiting tent. From the long trail of red blood left in their wake, Wil was doubtful of her chances of survival.

The sounds of fighting continued for nearly an hour. Great gouts of fire erupted from the structure as the ground shook from the spells unleased, until abruptly, silence returned to the square and the screams were silenced.

Wil glanced at Garman as they waited for another hour, the yellow sun sinking low in the west, before Garman stood up, brushing the dust from his pants as he did so.

“Well, that’s it. Let’s go get something to eat.” He said, turning away from the bank and walking back towards the distant wall, and the garrison on the other side.

Standing to join him, Wil took one last look at the now silent bank. Aside from the mage, no one else had emerged. Judging from the white cloth drawn over the one body in the triage tent, it was doubtful she had made it either.

Turning away, Wil joined the others as all the watchers began to trek back to the garrison, followed by a long line of empty wagons.