Hovering over the badly wounded Lily, a beastkin healer by the name of Sophia, someone I hired way back when we had traveled to Ebongrave. She was changing the bandages and administering various ointments to the wounds, paying great care.

 

But as she realized she was no longer alone in the room with the patient, she became first startled, then angry as if to bite out a retort, then shocked when she found it to be me standing there.

 

"My-my lord?!" She stuttered out, wide-eyed and her rabbit ears twitching.

 

I didn't answer her. I couldn't answer her.

 

The turmoil was too great for me to care about anyone other than the wounded and dismembered Lily. I crossed the distance between us and kneeled by the side of her stained red and black bed from both blood and grime.

 

She was in no mortal danger, I very well knew that. Simply losing an arm was no life-threatening situation for someone like us, and especially with healers who had all kinds of skills to save practically anyone, no matter how serious the injury.

 

But losing an arm... was still a permanent loss to most.

 

For me, the notion of being dismembered myself held little to no weight. With all my skills, abilities, and attributes, I could reattach my arms as if it was nothing. Although incredibly taxing and would take some time, even growing out new limbs was not something I've needed to worry about for a while.

 

But for Lily...

 

She might've lost her arm forever, even with the power of my blood running through her veins. As of now, at the current level of my capabilities and of those serving under me, I saw no solution for her.

 

Ridding myself of those morose thoughts, I focused on her face that was covered in a small layer of perspiration, as if in a fever.

 

I lifted my hand and caressed her cheek, the skin more palate than fair from her loss of blood and considerable wounds. It was with a gentle touch that I tugged her jaw open.

 

With my other hand, I clenched my sharp nails into the meat of my palm as it hovered over her open mouth, letting droplets of drop rapidly begin to spill.

 

Sophia had so far said nor done nothing to stop me, still being in a state of bewilderment as she stared at her lord. But I ignored her as she didn't get in my way - though she wasn't as foolish as to even attempt of course.

 

My blood, much more potent than before I had left for the Trials, would not help her regrow her arm. But it would help heal her wounds, as evident by the scratches upon and down her body began closing at a rate visible to the naked eye.

 

Although her body soon came to a state of near-perfect health with my blood, she did not regain consciousness.

 

I made sure she didn't as I had something I needed to take care of.

 

I got to my feet, feeling the rage and regret that had built up within me reach a point where it had become calm. Yet, nevertheless, that did not mean it had disappeared.

 

No, it simply meant it had become something much more dangerous.

 

"Who did this? Did she get this from the frontline?" I asked, not even noticing how cold my words had turned.

 

"Wha-? I-I, uh..." Sophia sputtered, my voice breaking her out of the stupor in which she had fallen.

 

She seemed to be at a loss for words, but as my gaze bore into her, she soon came to her senses.

 

"T-the general-"

 

"The enemy general," She added. "She g-got most of the wounds on the battlefield, b-but, Lady Tal'chor was gravely injured by the general amongst the chaos of the fighting."

 

Breaking our gazes, she looked around as if searching for something.

 

"I-I've got the battle reports here if you-" She said hastily before suddenly trailing off, realizing I was no longer standing where I had been, nor in the tent at all.

 

‹ Wagnar Guth'truk ›

 

"Hmm- where are those damned pyromancers? Have they found the source yet?" General Wagnar called out to his lieutenant as he watched over the scene of the large-scale battle unfolding before his perceptive eyes.

 

"No sir, it would appear that whatever is controlling those plants and roots is not any nature mage among the enemy forces. And so far, our mages have been unable to beat back the threat - the origin of this unseen enemy remaining unknown." An armored high orc responded.

 

"They can't retrace the magic? We've already lost a legion's worth of men just widdling them this much," The general asked.

 

"It would not appear so... most of our mages are reporting they're being conjured or controlled something unlike they've ever seen."

 

He took a moment, a pensive expression crossing his rugged greenskin face.

 

"This might actually be a great opportunity for us." Wagnar mused, greed dancing in his eyes.

 

"Lord General?" The lieutenant queried questioningly.

 

"When we capture this little shithole, we might also seize whatever is protecting this place and use it for ourselves." The general explained. "I mean, if these ragtag monsters can, this might easily become a stronghold to launch our invasion on the southern borders."

 

"Wise as ever, Lord General." The high orc bowed slightly, the same gleam as the general had held only moments before also now to be seen in his eyes.

 

"Enough, lieutenant - the battle is not yet over, and these ants are putting up a fight." He said, turning his head to spit on the ground. "But soon, this little hill of theirs will burn.

 

"Soon." He added firmly, locking gazes with the high orc lieutenant who had followed him into battle so many times.

 

Just as it seemed that the high orc was to respond, both of them tore their gazes from each other to snap to the battlefield before them. They didn't know what, but they felt like something was... wrong.

 

In the masses, of which one side heavily outnumbered the other, something had subtly changed the atmosphere of the entire battle. Wagnar turned his focus to the two troublemakers of the enemy first. The damned titan of a monster who cleaved his way through his forces and the pregnant bitch who had turned no small amount of his warrior against each other, sowing chaos amongst his army.

 

But no, they were still going strong at it, the massive orc-like monster ever bellowing in mindless challenge to all who dared and the dark elf ever impossible to get to with the other one protecting her. Although Wagnar feared neither of them in one on one, he too had to give respect where respect was due. Those two, especially with that other fast human wench, had truly been a force to be reckoned with.

 

He had managed to wound the human after leering at both of the women, making them lash out in anger, but they were still too troublesome for him to deal with alone. If he had to, he would definitely come out the other end with no small amount of scratches, though he was certain of victory.

 

And when he had seen the pure rage on that hulking orc's face as it rushed towards him wholly uncaring for the attacks lacerating his body after wounding the human, he had felt a pang of fear run down his spine. Though, he'd never admit that - even to himself.

 

Surprisingly, it was the lieutenant who was the first to spot what had alerted both of their senses.

 

"S-sir... what's that?" He said, pointing to one of the split battlefields.

 

Squinting, the general tried to spot what he was pointing to. First, it was hard to see, but as it slowly escalated and became bigger, he realized what had managed to put hesitation and worry in the voice of his right-hand man.

 

"What the..." Wagnar muttered in confusion.

 

On the battlefield, where thousands of monsters were making carnage, something stirred. The bloodied and war-torn earth beneath the warriors... moved.

 

It was hard to see, but the more it happened, Wagnar realized the blood spilled by the numerous corpses strewn about, painting the ground red, was coalescing. Incredulous, both the general and the lieutenant could only stare in shock as the blood came to form a figure in the midst of his army.

 

A golem of blood, with only its body from the waist up having formed.

 

At first, it was only the size of an orc, but as more blood heeded its call - the more it grew.

 

It wreaked havoc on his forces. Even as it still collected blood from warriors already long dead, it sought and collected blood from more fresh victims. Victims of its own.

 

Slack-mouthed, Wagnar watched as a monstrosity, a colossus made of blood, swept away his army - killing thousands within the blink of an eye. Each swing of its arms that shifted and morphed into any shape imaginable caused destruction on a scale that was hard to believe.

 

Wagnar was horror-stricken, as was his lieutenant.

 

"S-sir, sir!"

 

"Wha-what?" Wagnar sputtered, first now realizing that his lieutenant had tried to get through to him in his shock.

 

"We need to retreat!" He yelled, even having the audacity to shake his higher officer by grabbing him by the shoulders.

 

But Wagnar did not care, he couldn't. The sight before him was too much, and decorum was the last thing on his mind.

 

"O-okay... recall the f-" He began, regaining some composure.

 

But before he even managed to finish his sentence, he was suddenly splattered by a screen of crimson.

 

Blood and gore coated the general's face and upper body, painting a horrifying tapestry. The man who had always been by his side and fought life and death with him - was no longer.

 

The only thing that remained of him as he tumbled to the ground was his lower body. The entire upper part of him was just... gone.

 

A figure stood behind where the lieutenant had once been, his body seemingly untouched by the gore covering both the general and all of the surroundings.

 

"Shamirh?" He asked weakly, calling the name of his friend despite less than half of the man remained as a whole.

 

Fear, pain, and sadness welled up inside the general's stunned mind. But anger too accompanied them, allowing his petrified body to begin to move.

 

"I will take this too," The monster before him said, the chill in his voice numbing Wagnar's slowly building rage at seeing his life-long friend being slaughtered like an... ant.

 

He wanted to react, to fight back. But before he ever managed to do so - pain lanced through him, and no longer was he himself whole.

 

The general's arm fell to the ground lifelessly, slowly as if even time had not caught up to what had just happened.