Holy Knight Birsk led his men through the woods. He couldn't believe that that woman in the stupid hat from the sewers had caused so much damage. Yet Saint Kecam had access to the best oracles and they were never wrong. Still, the idea that some monster could wander into their holy lands, assassinate a lord in a public place like some filthy animal, cause a fire that burned down dozens of buildings and then simply continue West to kill another lord and ransack a village.

 

But now this Morgan was trapped between the Wildlands and his army. There would be no escape for her and they would make an example of her. Parade her through the streets to show how they dealt with heathens and heretics. Necromancers were a plague unto themselves but never had one caused so much trouble.

 

“How much farther ahead?” he asked his squire.

 

“Not long now, sir, they seem to be occupying one of our camps at the edge of the Wildlands,” his squire replied.

 

He nodded, he was eager for a battle and so were his men. Hunting monsters was what they did and they were experts at it. Birsk looked back at his men, they all wore the blazing colours of the Order and road the best horses. He himself enjoyed fighting on horseback, there was nothing that caused fear in his enemy's eyes quite like a charge.

 

His men were mostly made up of knights, eager for glory to advance to in rank. Several priests came along as well in order to provide aid if needed though it never was. Regardless Saint Kecan deemed it necessary.

 

Something suddenly whizzed by almost connecting with his helmet. He raised his hand to order his men to halt as his squire crumpled off his horse. More arrows flew from the trees pinging off armour and stabbing into horses. Cries of alarm rose as he and his men recognized the ambush for what it was.

 

His horse bucked as an arrow slammed into its neck before it took off running. Birsk jumped from his horse and landed on the ground drawing his sword. Two arrows pinged off his armor but he stood tall. These arrows could not penetrate plate armour, they were a nuisance at most. Only a danger to those unarmoured or the horses.

 

“Come out and fight in the name of Oysus!” he bellowed and raised his claymore. But there was nothing. Not even any more arrows. He turned back to his men now on high alert. There were several injuries through the gaps in armour but they could be healed. Only two had died, his squire, but he could be replaced, and a knight who had been unlucky to be hit in the eye. Anger boiled to the surface, of course, she would depend on such underhanded tactics.

 

They would have to bring his body, Saint Kecam would resurrect him if he was worthy. A priest laid a spell on him so he would not decay. The true casualties had been the horses, though the injured could be healed several were already dead and his own horse was long gone. A third of his men would now have to continue on foot. This wench would pay, he would make sure of it.

 

“With me men, the camp is in the distance now!” he bellowed as they continued. In the distance was a wooden wall… no that wasn't right. As they approached they saw crosses lining both sides of the road leading all the way to a gate between two walls. But the horrifying sight that had made everyone falter was the men nailed to the crosses. Dozens of Order knights were crucified, their dead bodies left up to rot in the afternoon sun.

 

This Morgan was a greater monster than he had realized. Making them walk past their dead comrades that she had strung up to die a slow and horrifying death. “Do not falter, men! The camp is within our sights. We must avenge our brethren!”

 

The roar he received in response was far less powerful than he would have liked. Granted even he could not see such horrors and be unscathed. A shiver of doubt ran through his mind but he shrugged it off. Saint Kecam would not have sent him on this mission unless Oysus himself willed it.

 

He picked up the pace of the march, they would not show fear to the enemy.

 

An explosion shook the ground as his men screamed and horses whinnied in panic. He turned to see several of the crucified men hopping off the crosses directly into his men. He braced, bringing up a magical barrier to protect himself as explosion after explosion after explosion battered against them. It felt like an eternity passed before the ringing in his ears became audible over the sound of silence.

 

He rose to his feet breathing heavily, he was battered but his skill had taken most of the damage. His men however were in rough shape, while they had managed to survive without life-threatening injuries. The priests, those who were adept at healing the injured, had been blown to bits.

 

Very real fear tickled down his neck. A third of his men lay dead and half were injured. Still, they had to continue, Morgan could not be left alive, not after this. She was just one woman even if she puppeted the dead. “Heal yourselves, men! The gates are just ahead. We will burn the witch at the stake for this! If we are to die, we die with glory and we take the monsters with us!”

I watched from the wooden palisade as the explosions wracked the approaching army. It all worked perfectly. As if the psychological damage of crucifixion wasn't bad enough, add suicide bombers. 

 

The diches had been dug, no cavalry would be charging into the camp. Still, when Birsk and his soldiers arrived I wasn't sure if we would win. He still outnumbered us and his knights wielded holy magic. I could see them right now healing each other from their injuries. My only hope was I had sufficiently exhausted them enough so that my undead would win in the end. After all, those that died joined the Legion of the Damned.

 

I hopped down the ladder and turned to Nimue. “They're almost here, are the civilians safe?”

 

Nimue nodded. Usota had left with the naga and our villagers after the archer’s ambush. I had sent Jackal with them, as much as he wanted to fight he was not ready. Tiss refused to leave which I was somewhat glad for, we needed to talk when this was done but until then we were still okay.

 

“Get ready with your zombies,” I told her. I activated [Return to the Grave] and moments later hands burst forth from the ground as my zombies arose. I only summoned those that would be useful in a fight. The spellcasters and archers from the camp I had raised myself as they were rarer than someone able to use a sword.

 

Nimue had armed her zombies with what the camp had which gave them all partial armour and descent weapons. Still, our troops were not as well equipped as our enemies. I sent my zombies back into the camp so they could attack once the enemies were funnelling through and blocked by Nimue and her zombies.

 

I glanced over at Tiss who was practically shaking, “go with them, stay safe.”

 

“Y-you too,” she replied and hurried after the ranged troops. As I watched her leave I wanted to say something more but there was nothing to say. Not at a time like this. The battle was upon us. Strangely I wasn't entirely invigorated by the fight to come, I was equally terrified. I was going to fight a trained army of holy warriors.

 

The hooves of horses galloped across the dirt as the enemy approached, their battle cry in the air. Their charge faltered before the sound of horses involved in a high-speed collision rang through the air. They were at the diches. 

 

As soldiers ran through the gate there were no horses among them and Nimue and her forces charged to meet them. It was happening. I ran back, putting space between me and the enemy as they began to flood in. Nimue and her troops surrounded the gate, blocking the way for the enemy as they slashed and stabbed. Blasts of holy energy lit the air as the battle commenced and people screamed. I wielded balls of green flame flinging them at anyone I could find. Unfortunately, everyone was dressed in Order colours and telling the zombies apart from the living was surprisingly difficult.

 

We were successfully pushing the infantry back but something felt off and the longer this went on the more and more worried I became. This couldn't be all of them.

 

I heard the horse moments before it collided with me and I managed to jump away as the cavalry rode by taking a swing at me. More and more mounted soldiers followed and I cursed myself for being so stupid.

 

“Attack!” I ordered our spellcasters and archers.

 

The palisade was only wooden and the moat didn't go all the way around. With everyone in the front, there was no way to realize what they were doing until it was done. The cavalry slammed into the back of Nimue’s forces.

 

I activated [Imbue Nightmare] on a horse causing it to buck sending the rider flying as the horse ran. A knight turned his attention to me and charged as I flung green flames into his. His shield glowed with holy light as he brought it up but I was aiming for his horse.

 

He went flying as the horse screeched and I was on top of him before he could react, pulling up his helmet and slamming my dagger into his eye. I placed my hand against him and activated [Bone Plating], his face bulged outward as his bones pierced the flesh before crawling over me. I was horrified but moments later I was in a full suit of bone armour.

 

I could move freely and though I had no idea what looked like, I knew it was terrifying. The armour even accommodated and protected my other arms. It was like a flexible suit of armour. Like a really fucked up iron man.

 

I closed my visor and rose to my feet. Unfortunately animating a zombie without bones would make movement impossible but it would work as a bomb. Activating [Corpse Bomb] I looked around. I fired a bolt of green energy at a knight getting his attention. I fired a few more at him which he blocked with his shield. He predictably charged with his sword raised and I jumped out of the way, firing a bolt of green flame at the corpse as his horse reached it. The blast knocked me off my feet but sent the man flying through the air over the palisade. It was amazing.

 

Something slammed into me, sending me through the air and crashing into the ground. The armour cracked yet I wasn't hurt by the blow. I pushed myself up, thankful that bone was so light despite its magical strength.

 

None other than Holy Knight Birsk sat atop a pristine white horse. It was almost painful to the eyes how white and gold everything about him was.

 

“Morgan the necromancer, I am going to take much pleasure in killing you. In the name of Oysus I will purge your filth from these lands until not a speck of your corruption remains,” he growled and charged. 

 

“Fancy words, I’ll make sure it's etched on your gravestone,” I replied, trying to project confidence I very much was not feeling right now.

 

Wielding a claymore one-handed could not have been effective but it seemed to work for him. I jumped to my feet and rolled out of the way of his sword. My armour couldn't survive a second hit like that, not without more bone to repair it.

 

I sent green flame after the horse but it was deflected by some kind of barrier. Well, this was very bad. I was crouched on the ground in front of a paladin twice my size on a massive horse wielding a giant sword. And my magic couldn't even affect him.

 

I reached out to my ranged troops to get them to help me except there was only silence. They had been destroyed, all of them. And Tiss had been with them. Panic rushed through me as I sprang to my feet and ran towards the tents. My own fear made me stupid as Birsk easily caught up as I took another hit making me crumple to the ground.

 

This was exactly what I had been worried about, one on one I was at a massive disadvantage. But I had no choice, I had to kill him. As Birks turned to begin another charge I activated [Imbue Nightmare] on him, I doubted it would work but I just needed a second of distraction as I lunged towards the horse, my hands rippling with green energy as grabbed onto it. 

 

The horse whinnied with agony and bucked but I held on as its flesh decayed. Birks held on as well, unwilling to be dismounted. I activated [Bone Plating], actively repairing my armour as the horse died before I channelled all my magic into a single corpse bomb. The red thobbing changed to a miniature sun as I was forced to look away. As the explosion hit I couldn't feel anything at all. It was just blinding white and pain before I slammed into something.

 

I whimpered and pulled against the thing around me. It tore away and I found myself wrapped up in a tent. There was a crater where we had been with bits of horse splattered apart and no sign of Birsk. I groaned and forced myself to move. My body was in tatters, the plating having saved my life. Still, it was impossible to move. I needed to eat.

 

Something metal fell from the sky slamming into the ground with a painful crunch not too far from me.

 

[Level Up!]

 

[Level Up!]

 

I laughed, it was Birsk. The explosion had sent him into the air, and I was now level 10. I crawled towards his smoking corpse. His armour had fuzed to his flesh but I managed to tear enough away that I could reach the cooked tasty insides. The moment I could I ran towards the tents. 

 

“Tiss!” I screamed as I dodged corpses and knights in combat with zombies. Arriving on the other side of the camp I stopped. It was a massacre, dead littered the floor. All the ranged troops had been cut down with no one to defend them, and no sign of Tiss.

 

I kept looking my desperation building until I eventually found her. Hidden between two tents, her back up against the palisade and a sword pinning her to it through her chest. Tiss was dead, slumped forward in a messy attempt to mimic the crucifixion of the soldiers. Tiss was dead.

 

As the battle came to a close Nimue roared with victory but I couldn't move. I had won the battle but lost everything. I had failed her, no… I had caused this. There was no one else to blame, I had no idea who had done this. Tiss was dead and it was all my fault.