Part 1 - Village

Walking out of his immortal palace, Blue gazed into space, watching a beam of light carry his dwarven race through a tear in space. Peering into the tear, Blue saw the plane they were being transported to and mused. 

“Hm, so that’s the place they are being sent to. Guess I’ll pay a visit to make this go smoothly.”

Once the location was found, the blue specter took a step and disappeared from the doorway of his immortal palace. 

In the next moment, he appeared in another part of the void, where space anomalies tore open and sealed shut constantly, creating rifts. Using his God’s Eyes, Blue peered into the rifts of space to see a figure sitting cross-legged, impaled with strange translucent metal chains. 

The figure gave off an air of ancientness, their golden hair covering their emaciated naked body. The most striking thing about the humanoid figure was the nine tattered tails chained and constricted behind them. Despite the figure’s weakened state, the figure raised their head. Their eyes primal and full of life, the figure opened its mouth.

“What do you want, newbie? Shouldn’t you be enjoying that detestable game? It’s that time correct?”

“I’ll cut to the chase, old fox. My people have come into contact with your ‘remnants.’ I want access to them so lend them to me.”

“Heh. Hehe. HAHAHAHAHAHA.” The ancient figure began to laugh hysterically for a long while before going silent. 

Their tone became cold and without emotion, “You think, with your little power, you can ask a favor of me? In your dreams. Go play your little game with those fools. My power will not be used by someone so beneath me.”

Although he was being berated by this old thing, Blue showed no hint of anger.

“Old Fox, if you do me this boon and if I win this game, I’ll see to it that your sentence is lessened or even waved. Doing me this favor would be better than spending another twenty epochs here.” 

Raising their head high, the old fox mocked, “I don’t want to be free. If you can kill a certain meddling elf goddess then I’d throw you my support. Otherwise, nothing you say can interest me.”

“Name.”

With a toothy grin, the old fix barked, “Major Elf Bitch Aileas.”

“Consider it a promise. As long as you help me she’ll die, I’ll even swear my divinity on the void if you support me.”

“Heh. I figured you would say n-- Wha? Are you insane? You, a puny newbie god, think you can kill an ancient?”

“Yeah. I need to win this and I’ll do anything to do so. If I just need to kill an ancient then I’ll kill her. ”

“Haha… You might be crazier than me, youngin’. Fine, I like you kid. You have until the end of the epoch to kill the bitch. I’ll throw my full support behind you as long as you swear to the void.”

“Fine. I ...”

 

***

Light gathered around the dwarfs, rat-kin, and animals, their visions obscured by mist as a strange and complex circle formed underneath their feet, locking them in place. Every being including the non-combatants were swept up as a message appeared in their heads.

Transporting to Stone Village.

But Urist saw something a little different than the rest.

Stopping Time.

Transporting to Stone Village.

Objectives:

1. Required: Kill High Necromancer Malous before the ritual is complete.
2. Required: Fifty Percent of your forces must survive.
3. (Hidden) 
4. (Hidden) 
5. (Hidden) 
6. (Hidden) 

Notice: Death in the fragmented world does not mean true death.

Notice: All those killed in action will be transported to the hall of damned to be redeemed for the campaigns after rewards. 

Notice: Those not redeemed will be held until the next Event. If not redeemed upon completion of the next event, their souls will be destroyed. 

In a daze as the message branded into his mind, Urist barely noticed the cylinders rising and encasing him and the others within a wall of light. Outside of the cage of light, time began to slow down to the point that the wind, water, plants, animals and even sunlight seemed to freeze in place.

Then as the last being was sealed within the light, a tear in the fabric of space appeared above their home. As if drawn to the hole, the pods of light shot up towards it at an absurd speed. Strangely, nothing else in the base moved. The modes of light vanished within the hole, disappearing within moments.

With every living being in the village was gone, only silence was left behind.

***

How much time has passed? Has it only been a few moments or a few hours? 

Urist’s thoughts raced as the light around him faded away to reveal his surroundings. It took a bit of time before his eyes adjusted to see that he and his group were now standing in the middle of a simple village. He would have studied the buildings more closely if he hadn’t suddenly been surrounded by people wielding knives.

No, not people exactly. Why do they have fox ears and tails? Also why are they so heavily armed?

The fox-kin, as he dubbed them, were of varying sizes, but no taller than an average dwarf. Urist noticed that the parts of their skin that weren’t covered by fur clothing were covered in various scars or by warpaint, sometimes a mixture of both.

Studying the agitated lot, it took him a moment to see that there were in fact taller fox-kin further in the back, worn with age. 

Are these kids and elders? Where are the parents then? Does this mean that rescuing the adults is the hidden objective?

In the midst of his thoughts, one of the taller children wearing a bone necklace with feathers in his orange hair pointed at him with a bone dagger.

With cold eyes, the boy snarled, “For our parents, we will kill you invaders! Attack!”

The boy charged at Urist as soon as his words fell, not giving the dwarf a chance to say anything. Seeing him and a few other kids rush at him, Urist unsheathed his battle dagger.

“Subdue them!” 

Urist commanded as he prepared to parry the charge and tackle the kid to the ground. 

If I can subdue him I could hold him hostage and halt this needless battle. He’s just a kid, so this should be easy enough.

Having made up his mind, Urist readied himself. Seeing the invader take a stance to defend, the feather boy smiled coldly. As he was about to enter the Urist’s attack range, he vanished without a trace. 

Shocked, Urist suddenly felt the presence of imminent death from behind him. Sweat drenched his neck. Without hesitation, he dodged to the left and turned to see a dagger flash where his neck used to be.

Teleportation!

He dodged?! 

As such thoughts passed through their minds, Urist was the first to react. With his free hand he grabbed the feather boy’s legs while he was in mid air before slamming him down into the ground. The force of the slam dazed the boy and made him let go of his knife.

Leaping onto the boy’s back like a monkey, Urist grabbed onto his hair with his free hand and pulled up while placing his dagger on the boy’s neck.

This sudden clash and abrupt resolution stopped the fox-kin in their tracks, as they were unsure what to do with their leader captured.

Roaring like a deranged animal, the boy screamed, “Kill them! They killed our parents! As acting chief of the village, I order you to kill them al- ugh!”

Urist shoved the boy’s face into the ground to shut him up, and turned to the group of kids staring at him with murderous intent. 

Urist cleared his throat and opened his mouth, filled with righteous fury, “We’re not invaders. In fact, I’d say we’re here to help. So if you could all sheath your weapons, we can have a nice, civil chat. Or your ‘chieftain’ here might be… manhandled.”

Urist had hoped to disarm them with words, but instead saw their bloodthirst increase, the whole lot seemingly ready to jump on their group within a moment.

Seeing the fuse about to be lit, Urist’s mind began to race. Gotta be fucking kidding me. As soon as we appear we’re attacked? How do we come to an understanding? Do we really have to hurt these kids?

As he was about to give the order to subdue them, a voice rang out behind the crowd.

“All of you stray your hand! They are not our enemy!”

The group of kids turned to the voice, still pointing their daggers at Urist’s group, who were ready to throw down at any time.

Urist looked over and began to study the new arrival . He was old and wrinkled with one dead milky eye and lifeless red hair. He had lost most of his teeth and yet wore elaborate furs filled with and decorations. Clearly, compared to the children around him, he seemed to stand at a higher position in this village. 

Seeing all the attention drawn to him, the old man started talking again while pointing at Urist's group.

“Look at them! Even if they suddenly appeared, do you see any of those bone people in their group? Heck, even their clothing doesn’t match those detestable robes. Also, they don’t smell of that foul rotting stench. Have you youngsters become so enraged that you can’t tell criminals and innocents apart? I expected more out of you, Sage. I know that you lost your father, but your mother might sti--” 

Full of rage, the boy below Urist pressed against his hand roared at the elder, “You don’t know shit old man! When I get out of this fucker’s grasp I’m going to gut you! Then I’ll--”

“Disable.”

When Urist spoke the line, mana flashed in his hand. In mere moments Sage’s head fell powerlessly to the ground as he became paralyzed.

Getting up from the powerless boy, Urist coughed into his hand, “Excuse me, Elder, for using magic on the boy. He’ll be able to move around in a few hours after it wears off, but I assure you we mean no harm. Can you tell them to sheath their weapons? We’ll do the same and hopefully, we can talk over a cup of tea about why we’re here. How does that sound?”

Staring at the limp Sage that still had eyes full of anger, the Elder shook his head in disappointment, “Although it should be the chieftain's decision, since she is indisposed, as the head elder I’ll accept your offer in her place. Children, please sheath your weapons for now so we can talk.”

Urist only half listened, still stuck on the fact that the person below him wasn’t a boy but rather a young girl.

 

Part 2 - Poisoned Honey

 

With a truce established and the disabled young chieftain dragged away, both parties relaxed and lowered their weapons. WIth both groups pacified, the Elder suggested that as a good show of faith that the dwarven leader could come have a chat at his house. Naturally, Urist went forth and accepted under the condition that Ubel and Vlad were allowed to come as well. 

The Elder mulled over it for a bit before agreeing to the terms. As they went to talk Urist left Ubel in charge to watch over everyone and make sure they didn't do anything that could cause needless bloodshed.

Unicy sent a death glare towards Urist’s fading back as she began ordering the troops to make camp and rest. On the other side, the elderly fox-kin ordered a young female fox-kin with white hair and a cold stare to corral the youngsters to keep them in line while he and Urist’s group talked. 

As the two groups had an uneasy staring contest, the four men Urist, Vlad, Ubel, and the elderly fox-kin headed behind closed doors, sat down and began their discussion.

The air was tense. Although fighting hadn’t broken out, with the exception of Sage getting manhandled, it was hard for a peaceful air to invade. The group sat in silence for a moment before Ubel began speaking, “Hello, elder…”

Coughing, the old man interrupted, “Old Crimson will do fine. I’m sorry about how our young chieftain has acted against you, visitors. With you appearing so suddenly and with the bone people having just left yesterday, we’ve all been on edge.”

“Bone people?” Asked the confused Vlad.

“Ah, you don’t know? The bone people are those that twist and taint the dead for their own gain.”

“Okay, but why did they come?” 

“Because if you haven’t noticed, Vlad, all the adults are gone. Let me take a guess, the ‘bone people’ took them all.” Stated Ubel.

At the mention of the adults being taken the old man flinched and his eyes burned with anger.

“It is as you say young man… The adults of our village have been taken in exchange for the lives of the children and elderly. If I was in my prime, I could’ve toyed with those oversized corpses.”The old grayed fox-kin said, his face filled with pain and frustration. 

Pushing up his glasses, Ubel's face suddenly became grim, “Large corpses? Don’t tell me they are...”

“Yes, it is as you fear young man. Large bone men controlled by those monsters that stink of decay.”

“Is that the only powerful force?”

“No, they have legions of undead wielding powerful armaments that make loud noises before some metal object is fired. Thanks to such a weapon, Sage's father, our strongest warrior in the village died, and...”

Urist, Ubel, and Vlads' faces became grim as the elder described the enemy's forces, from weakest to strongest. Tens of thousands of undead infantry wielding strange sticks, controller skeletons, necromancy initiates, necromancers, core necromancers, are bone men, and finally the head necromancer, Malous. 

“That isn’t all. That sick bastard Malous has taken all the men and women of our village between 16 and 40 to use for his ritual to become a lich and escape mortality.” old man Crimson growled with a shadow over his face, his hands clenched in fury. 

Having heard old man Crimson's detailed list of the enemy forces and Malous’s plans the three dwarfs had different reactions.

Urist leaned back into his chair, wanting to scream at the absurd difficulty of this event. Vlad was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to collect much blood thanks to all the undead, and Ubel was massaging his forehead, muttering under his breath before abruptly looking at the elder. 

“Why did they only want the adults? Why not also the elderly and children? How will Malous use your people to achieve lichdom? How long before the ritual is completed? Where is the main base?”

Old Crimson forced each word out from between gritted teeth, “If they had the ability to do so they would’ve taken us all. But if you hadn’t noticed, Sage showed you one of our tribe’s two innate abilities, the blessing of the void. It allows those blessed with it to move within the void, and unless the one using it is held in place by another being, they are free to go wherever they wish.”

“And what of the other ability?” Ubel asked casually. 

“The blessing of a strong physique. If only I was in my prime, I could’ve...” 

Old Crimson paused to point in a certain direction. The three dwarfs looked over to see a large rock embedded in the ground. It had to weigh at least ten tons.

“I’d be able to lift that rock easily and throw it at least a hundred meters. If I had the power of my youth, I could’ve prevented all of this.”

His voice filled with regret as he kept pouring out his soul.

“Although those blessed with the void could’ve escaped easily, our lady chieftain, my daughter, struck an accord despite her grief and rage. She signed an oath of blood, tied with powerful magic, that the adults would sacrifice themselves as long as the children and us old farts were not harmed, captured, or touched in any way. Oh my poor daughter...”

The old man, who had been keeping together well enough, finally cracked as tears began to slide down his cheeks.

Suddenly he grabbed Urist’s hand, “We weren’t strong enough to save our people. But you, travelers, no, young heroes, must have the power to save our people from the fate of death! If Malous isn’t stopped soon then my daughter and our people will have their life forces stolen to achieve his goal!”

Feeling the man's trembling hands and looking at his snot-nosed expression, Urist was about to accept this old man's plea- 

“Wait.” Ubel’s hand shot out in front of Urist, turning his attention to him.

“What is it, Ubel? We should help them. After all, it is part of the reason we’re here.” Urist questioned.

“As you placed me in command here, I wanna ask a few more things before deciding.”

With an eye twitch, Urist gritted his teeth, “Fine.”

Pulling his hand back, Ubel rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands.

“Tell me, Old Crimson. What’s in it for us? Do you have gold?”

“No.”

“Do you have any treasure you can give us?”

“We… we do not.”

“Do you have some powerful magic you could teach us?”

Old Crimson gashed his teeth, “I’m sorry, all our magic is innate.”

“Then… the only thing you can offer is your life. If we help you, you must swear that all fox-kin in this village will become citizens of our Dwarven Kingdom. You will work when we tell you, hunt when we tell you, and you will fight and die when we tell you.”

“Y-you want us to be slaves?! I would rather die than subject my people to those conditions!” Full of anger the old man slammed the table, making deep imprints in the wood. 

“Yes Ubel, you go too far with those demands.” Urist somberly scowled.

Ubel just stared at them with his classic dead fish eyes before giving a faint chuckle.

“Too far? What do they have to offer us other than their lives? No gold, no treasure, no secrets? We’re not doing charity work here Urist, this is war. And with what we’re up against we need all the manpower we can get. Giant moving bone mechas, guns, and legions of undead against our group of 300 combatants? On top of being on a time limit, it’s nearly impossible for anyone here other than me to give us a sliver of a chance for even a pyrrhic victory.”

“That might be true but you can’t make them slaves. You can’t treat them in such regard.”

“Slaves? No, they won’t be slaves. They will be part of the kingdom as citizens. What gave you the impression that they will be slaves?”

Before Urist could open his mouth to retort he felt some kick him in the leg. Turning towards the direction, Vlad gave him a look to be silent. Bewildered at why Vlad was acting in such a way, he almost didn’t pay attention to what Old Crimson was saying.

“Not slaves, but citizens under your kingdom… Are you telling the truth, general?”

The old man, once a proud warrior that had the respect of his village, was now at his wits end and hung his head low in defeat. Seeing such an expression, Ubel knew that his silver tongue had made this old froggie submit.

With an oily gin that freaked out even Urist, Ubel held out his hand, “If you agree to become citizens under our kingdom, I assure you we’ll do our best to rescue those captured.”

“E-even... M-my daughter?” The old man dry heaved the response as his trembling hand reached out to the devil.

“Even your daughter,” Ubel replied with a voice filled with poison honey.

“Then… we will submit to you if you help us.” In defeat, the old man grasped Ubel’s hand. The deal was struck.

With the agreement made Ubel sneered inwardly. Hook, line, and sinker. This old man is too easy. To give up their worth as just mere citizens and not demand anything. Asking too much before asking something sensible really does wonders.

Keeping his sickening grin on his face, Ubel kept talking, “Then, let’s talk about our war.”

 

PSE - Lay of the land Part 3 - Scouting

 

“The first order of business: sending a co-op with our hunters and some of your teleporting fox-kin to scout the undead. We’ll also have them draw out a map of their scouted areas. Old Crimson, I’m sure your village knows the area very well.”

Nodding his head and stroking his beard, Old Crimson agreed, “Indeed, we know the lay of the land and will be able to support your scouting.”

“Good, now go out and pick out some reliable youngins. Vlad, I want you to go and give the order to the hunters to prepare for the scouting mission. Also tell Reaver to lend some wolves to squad two so they can move faster. Next, inform the mages to fortify the area. I don’t want us to be caught with our pants down. After the orders are passed out, come back.”

With Old Crimson and Vlad leaving the house to deal with Ubel’s commands, Ubel wiped the strange smile off his face, returning to his usual expressionless self.

Turning to Urist he began to talk, “You did good there, playing the goodie two shoes made it much easier to take them under command. Although if Vlad didn’t stop you, you could’ve made a mess of the negotiations.”

Urist just sneered, “That wasn’t a negotiation. You strong-armed that old man into submission.”

“It’s my job to be hated after all. I’m married to War and Death. With those pawns under my command, I could maybe turn this utter hopelessness of a campaign into something winnable.”

Urist didn’t retort and just slid back into his chair, “Agreed, this difficulty is too high. We have nothing but melee and magicians but they have legions of the undead with guns, and those undead are backed by skeleton mechas and necromancers with unknown power. That’s not even counting what other tricks they might have up their sleeves.”

Pushing his glasses up, Ubel stared at the ceiling, “Correct, if we don’t handle this well it’ll end up a total wipeout. Although we don't have to worry about dying permanently here, we can logically deduce that those who do die will remember the experience. And those who die might resent us for throwing them into the grinder. It could, in the worst-case scenario, destabilize the already fragile power balance. 

“Which wouldn’t have been the worst case if those three freaks didn’t show up. At any time they could try to seize power and perhaps cause a civil war. Maybe not Snorri, but those two that reek of blood could pull something here and affect your prestige with the rest of the population.”

Leaning back in his chair he continued, “Honestly Urist, we’re walking on a tightrope here with no time to breathe. With Volt as one of our strongest and most loyal warriors in meditation, we’re fighting an uphill battle. If we make a mistake, this house of cards could be blown away in a flash.”

Wishing he could have a smoke right about now, Urist leaned forward with his hands on the table.

“So what do we do?”

Looking at his outstretched hand, Ubel began to list off a few options, “If I had the time and the resources, I’d do a few things. Assassinate the necromancers to cut the undead from their strings, holy bombardments, hit and run tactics... The list of things we could plan if only we had the options. Alas, there's only one thing we can do since we’re on the clock.”

“And that is?”

“Gather info, locate VIPs, locate top targets, and aim for a one day victory by blitzkrieg.”

***

Riding on her white tiger, Rex, Reaver offhandedly shot, “So squirt, you know the area pretty well? Ubel gave us a day to scout, so we’ll be counting on you.”

The fur-clad youth held onto the seat strapped to the white tiger, fearful yet still managing to squeak out a few words, “Y-yes, my father often took me out to teach me how to hunt. Out of all of my kin, except for the elders, I’m the most knowledgeable of the lay of the land. A-Although could we ride… a l-little more smoothly?”

Scruffing up the fox-kins hair while using her other hand to hold the reins, a thing the crafters had spent some time on, Reaver laughed, “No can do, short stack. We’re on the clock! You wanna save your dad and everyone, right? Wanna be a hero of the village?”

Her words provoked the fear out of the fox-kin and caused his eyes to sharpen.

Gritting his teeth he replied, “I’ll bear it for my father and mother. I would be an unfilial son if I didn’t lay my life on the line! And I’m not called short stack, my name is Orion!”

“Yah, yah, show that grit on the battlefield. This is just a simple scouting mission. Hey Blink, how's Saera holding up?”

Wincing at his name being called, Blink gave her a death glare. 

“She has only thrown up twice. Seems fine now.”

Saera didn’t respond to the mention of her name, only keeping her eyes wide, taking in the sights and mumbling about demons under her breath.

“Oh come on Saera, we’re halfway done with the mapping. It isn't that bad riding a wolf, right?” Poked Reaver, trying to lighten the mood.

Saera’s mumbling stopped and her bloodshot eyes turned towards Reaver's direction.

She tilted her head and her pale lips parted, “Shut the fuck up.”

The hunters instantly grew silent.

***

Meanwhile, as the hunters explored, in a castle made out of bone deep within enemy territory, a figure sat on his throne, alone with his thoughts.

He wore jet black heavy armor that seemed plain and unadorned. His facial features were youthful and contrasted his long ashen hair. Although he appeared to be a young man, his bedeviled yellow eyes carried a primal ancientness that hinted he had lived for countless years. 

Using one of his two right hands as a rest for his chin, he tapped rhythmically with his other three hands.

Click, click, click. His fingers moved unnaturally, almost mechanically. 

How has it come to this? For me, a great necromancer, to be mere fodder for the gods… No, devils are a more fitting name for them. They took away my chance at immortality and now dangle it in front of me as a false hope. How could I have fallen this far when I had everything in the world? I was supposed to be an immortal, a god that ruled over all within my reach.

Amid his thoughts, he heard a knock.

Awoken from his pondering, Malous stopped taping his chair.

"You may enter."

Given permission, a man with sunken eyes and cracked skin covered in black veins opened the door.

Seeing the man Malous smiled, “Ah Robert, my most trusted friend. What brings you to my chambers? Shouldn’t you be readying the spell so I may ascend and free us from this accursed place?”

Bowing his head, Robert replied with a wheezing voice, “My apologies milord, I wished to inform you that there seems to be some activity in the fox-kin village. Should we investigate it to make sure they’re not planning on going back on the blood oath?”

Malous frowned, “My friend, aren’t we closer than just mere lord and retainer? We’ve known each other for so long yet I’ve never heard you call me with such coldness.”

Realizing his mistake, Robert lowered his head slightly in a bow, “I’m sorry mil-- Malous, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

Seeing his good friend catch himself, Malous didn’t press further, “It’s fine as long as you remember. Don’t worry about the invaders, like those before them we’ll have no problem. Just focus on the ritual and leave defense to the undead.”

Feeling pleased with himself Malous leaned back in his chair, waiting for Robert to excuse himself.

“But, Malous… we’ve never had invaders here. In fact, I don’t remember-”

Being questioned, Malous’ previously calm expression instantly turned fiendish. His eyes filled with rage and confusion, he growled at Robert, “Did I stutter, Robert? Leave now, before you exhaust my patience.”

Scared out of his wits, Robert bowed once more, “Yes sir, right away si-”

Filled with an unknown rage Malous lashed out, forming a fist of magic that slammed into the ground right in front of Robert. The bone floor cracked and Robert rushed towards the door, closing it without a sound.

Meanwhile, Malous was breathing heavily, hands trembling as his rage gave way to more confusion.

Looking at his hands deeply, he wondered.

Why did I just lash out towards my best friend? What is wro-

Just as he began to ponder his outbreak, his bright eyes clouded over before clearing up in a mere instant.

Malous moved to use one of his two right hands as a crutch, while he began to tap rhythmically with his other three hands.

Click, click, click. His fingers moved unnaturally, almost mechanically. 

How has it come to this? For me, a great necromancer, to be mere fodder for the gods…

***

Time passed, and by late afternoon Urist’s forces had finished setting up decent fortifications. It would be hard for an army of a few thousand to take this position if Ubel used all his forces inside wisely. Even Old Crimson felt amazed at the dwarven ingenuity. Still, he couldn’t feel confident that the wall would hold back the countless monsters made of bones. Ubel didn’t go assure him, as he was working hard with his wind mage subordinates to gather information from the hunter teams. They had given him much information on the lay of the land, and were currently heading back with their drawn-out maps.

Although he couldn’t make a finely detailed plan without a map before him, Ubel had already begun to form the basics of his plot.

Two hundred and forty-two children, of those one hundred and ten can hold a spear and join a combat force. Out of the elders there are only fifty of the one hundred and seven capable of any form of fighting. Old Crimson said we have about 641 adults to rescue and from the scouting information, there are thirty-two outposts making up the magic formation. 

We can assume that each outpost holds at least twenty adults and that the bone castle holds Old Crimson’s daughter. Is the number a coincidence, or set by an outside force? No matter, the hunters outdid themselves in gathering information.

Using a combination of earth and wind magic they were able to sense the total number of opponents based on shape alone. Each base has four hundred and twenty or so humanoid figures, with each having at least one large humanoid figure. We can assume that each outpost holds a bone mecha, meaning that known common combatants for the outposts are about 12,800 skeletons and 32 mechas.

Unfortunately, there’s a magic barrier around the castle, preventing a passive scan from penetrating and gaining more information. So we’ll have an unknown variable of castle forces, but there shouldn't be many since they should be spread out to protect the magic formation. At most, the elite troops should be stationed as a response team.

Man.

Leaning back in his chair Ubel's mouth formed a thin smile.

What a shit scenario. But still not as bad as when I met Death. Good times. Luckily I've fought a few necromancers before. Although these ones are more advanced, they still have the same flaws. I have to treat Joy to a drink later for confirming it.

Without it, we wouldn't have such an opening.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted his musing.

"Come in."

Opening the door, a messenger slightly bowed his head, "Sir, the hunters have returned."

"Good, tell them to see me."

Edited by: KuroYousei