Chapter Text
The tide of battle pivoted heavily against the Seventh Overlord. Nero's tactic to methodically funnel and cut down the enemy became redundant as recent interventions of outside factors had been negatively immense for him.
The Attack of the Cave Troll - as Gnarl snarkily dubbed that particular moment - had smashed the Overlord's pre-established battlelines, forcing Nero and the Minions to pull back near the barracks. Though swiftly managing to set up a new line of defence, they were struggling against the reinvigorated assault of the Black Dogs.
The inspiring sight of the Black Dogs, the Troll and the "retreating" enemy had, without a doubt, rallied the Militia. Newly invigorated, they charged back into the fray, now determined to fight the enemy. The Minions stood firm against the renewed assault, inflicting numerous casualties upon the enemy, yet, they began to buckle against the assault.
Behind a battleline of Browns, Nero watched as his plans slowly crumbled, unfettered frustration and anger coursing through him and teeth gnashing against one other. Beneath him, the ritual circle pulsed brightly, signifying its readiness, yet, it refused to begin the reanimation process. It distresses the Overlord even more.
"Why won't it activate!?" Nero exclaimed. "We've fed the circle enough bodies. It should be resurrecting my friends right about now!"
"I'm not sure, sire!" Gnarl replied. "We must have missed something."
"What have we missed?! You said we've followed every word!"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out, sire. I need more time to read-."
"We don't have time for that now!" Nero exclaimed. In the distance several Minions were sent flying - courtesy of the Troll's swing. "We need to get the ritual working or we're all going to die!"
All around him, his Minions were slowly overwhelmed by the enemy's numbers. Though the Overlord's loyal compatriots held their ground with admirable ferocity and skill, it was a matter of time before it collapsed.
Nero stood his ground, fending off invasive attacks by Militia and Black Dog warriors. "I don't care what it takes, Gnarl!" Nero shouted over, tossing a slain Black Dog away, rammed Surtr straight into a Militia's stomach and bisected him.
"Get it fixed!"
Then, he swiftly beheaded a charging Satyr. Its headless corpse fell at his feet. He paid no heed to the wretched carcass, focusing his attention elsewhere. Three Black Dogs stood in front of the shed where Neira was hiding. They were trying to pry it open with their axes.
"Damnit!"
A heavy curse escaped his lips. He bolted towards the shed, cutting down Black Dogs and Militiamen in his wake. Just as the first man was about to breach the shed, Nero leapt towards him, cleaving the man's head and left arm clean from his corpse with a ferocious roar.
Startled by their friend's sudden demise, the others disregarded their goal of tearing down the shed door and lunged at his murderer. Nero could only snarl and assumed a defensive posture.
Not far off from the vexed Overlord was Khoros, his axe in an arc, separating the top half of Minions from their lower bodies as he led a charge that broke through one formation of Minions. His band of warriors charged with him, cutting down any Minions that crossed their paths, though their momentum was short-lived as a new group of Minions arrived to seal the wound in the lines.
Almira's second-in-command paused in his rampage, opting to analyse the battlefield before him. The battle now favoured the Black Dogs. Inch by inch, breach by breach, the enemy was overwhelmed by their numbers and ferocity. These goblin-like creatures would inevitably be routed or annihilated.
A surprising oddity that Khoros has found with these creatures is their refusal to surrender or retreat. Even a crippled could see their inevitable defeat. Their refusal to concede could mean only one thing.
The presence of a leader.
"If I could find them…" Khoros thought. His eyes scanned the battlefield much more sharply now.
Then, he found what he suspected to be their leader. An imposing figure in obsidian-colour armour wielding a flaming greatsword cut down two of his compatriots and grabbed and snapped the neck of another.
That is, without a doubt, the leader of these creatures. Khoros didn't expect their leader to be human. He expected something much uglier. That didn't matter now. What matters is killing them. Severing the head of the enemy will surely force them into a route.
The Satyr chuckled.
"And perhaps, it may serve as a special discount for some rare Twilight Elf slaves. They're getting exceedingly expensive day by day."
Tightly gripping his battle axe, the beastman marched towards the enemy. So engrossed in the slaughtering of the Black Dogs that Nero was unaware of the encroaching warrior.
He was within a few feet from the enemy leader now. A Black Dog hurdled himself at his prey whilst another attempted to skewer him. The black armoured warrior merely grabbed the first Black Dog's sword arm and sliced the second's throat.
He raised his axe high over his head, readily prepared to cleave the human in half-
*WHAM!*
Only for a flying Brown Minion to collide unexpectedly with the beastman's face. Khoros stumbled back, nearly dropping his weapon on his head in the process. He swiftly crushed the creature's windpipe.
Such a 'minute' distraction, gave ample time for Nero to finish off his opponents and to notice the beastman. Both stared at one another.
Within the blink of an eye, he was already upon him, bounding towards the young Overlord with his battle axe over his head.
Nero rolled to the side as the sharpened edge of the battle axe deeply buried itself into the ground. Swiftly returning to his feet, the young Overlord charged at his newest opponent, dragging Surtr behind him for a vicious upswing.
Khoros immediately jumped back, narrowly avoiding the scorching red tip of the blade. Following this, he rushed forward, his weapon swinging down with as much strength as possible. Nero swiftly managed to block with Surtr, though the force behind the swing did push him back a little.
"*Snort!* You are the dalcop fool who'd dare to attack us?"
"And if I am…?" Nero retorted, brandishing his blade. "What does that make you?"
Khoros snorted, seemingly amused by Nero's words. "I am Lady Almira's right hand, and you are my prize for her."
"Lady Almira?" Nero uttered in disgust. "You serve that thing? You highly underestimate me, beastman."
"Humph, bold words for a corpse. You have no idea who you're dealing with. Surrender and my Lady may gently treat you."
"Neither do you, and I decline your offer of surrender."
"Then death it is."
Slowly, they circled each other. Their grips on their respective weapons tightened almost painfully. Eyes locked on one another, refusing to break their stares.
Instantly, the space between them disappeared, weapons smashed against one another in a harsh, resounding clang.
Weapons locked, they pushed with all their might against one another, determined to overpower the other over this gruelling struggle.
Their strength seemed at least equal to any ordinary observer. Yet, Khoros was much stronger. With each swing of his axe, the beastman pushed the Seventh Overlord back.
Recognising the losing struggle, Nero quickly casts a small Abyssal enchantment between them. A small pillar of dark red fire erupted between the two combatants, ending their strength match.
The flames lasted for merely a few seconds, all the time needed for Khoroso to close the distance, his battle axe lashing out to cleave Nero's head from his shoulders.
Nero foresaw the move and blocked the move with his blade, spinning on his heel to elbow the beastman in the face.
Khoros staggered slightly. Regaining composure, he swung his axe at Nero's groyne. Hadn't Nero jumped a considerate distance away, he would have surely lost his jewels. The beastman's attack, however, did leave a small opening that Nero swiftly took advantage of; thrusting Surtr at Khoro's neck.
It would have been a fatal attack had it not been parried by the hilt of Khoro's battle axe.
Neither would come close to landing a critical strike. The battle axe would be dodged or parried, while the same would happen to Nero's sword. Soon, they quickly disengaged from themselves.
Nero stepped back, narrowly avoiding the battle axe cleaving into his skull, with only the weapon's tip scratching his helm.
"You're nimble...for a scrawny churl," scowled Khoros.
"And you're persistent," Nero answered annoyingly.
"Your resistance won't last. You will fall like this feeble invasion of yours."
"Bold words from a dead goat."
They launched towards the other, more determined than ever to strike the other down.
With a mighty cry, almost akin to laughter, Almira cleaved and butchered apart those who stood in her way. An entourage of Black Dogs followed behind, stabbing and slicing as they went.
Without restraint, she strode forward and with a swing of her axe, carved another three unfortunate Minions into bloody hewed cadavers.
"My lady, please slow down!" shouted a Black Dog. "We're gonna be stretched thin."
Almira laughed. "Nonsense! You have not to worry about these wandoughts!"
Their enemies fell apart, no match for the might of Black Dogs. Why should they even worry? How could they? They were fools for even daring to challenge them!
A Green Minion leapt about, stabbing its rusty blade into the backs of unsuspected Black Dogs. It leapt from a Black Dog at Almira, poised to stab her too, only to be met with an armoured fist that sent it flying back.
"Keep moving forward, or be left behind!" Almira ordered. "Where's Khoros!? Did he run off again?"
"I don't see him, milady!" exclaimed a Black Dog, blocking an attack from a Brown Minion. "I last saw him on the walls!"
"That dalcop goat better not have got himself killed," Almira growled. "If he did, I'm gonna get Kin to resurrect him only to fuck him to death with my cock!"
"Commander Almira! Over there!" A Black Dog shouted, pointing in the direction of Khoros.
Looking over, Almira quickly spotted her mislaid second in command - who surprisingly - was fighting a black armoured figure wielding a flaming greatsword.
"I was not expecting something like that…" she muttered.
If she'd guess, the Black Knight that Khoros is fighting is the sole mastermind of this "invasion." The Black Dog commander expected some large, unsightly creature - like these gremlin look-alikes - to lead these monsters. Not something… Human to be precise.
"Whoever they are, they've made a huge blunder attacking us."
"Should we surround them?"
"What do you think you inbred CoxComb?"
"...Yes ma'am…" The soldier grumbled.
"Damn straight. Keep your distance and let them fight. It's been a while since Khoros got a proper fight."
She returned her gaze to the duel and smirked.
"What manner of face is underneath that helm, I wonder~?"
Egotistical boasting morphed into salacious conception. Her burning desire to know the identity of this lone armoured warrior is tainted by longing for corruption and violation of the flesh. A more deplorable reaction from the woman was the instant hardening of her… another weapon.
And the cascade of debauched thoughts that followed.
Thus, she eagerly observed the duel between Her lieutenant and the black armoured warrior, anticipating the outcome of their battle.
She has full confidence that Khoros will win the fight.
If not…well…that'll just make him weak anyway.
Nero blocked and counted each relentless blow with adamant dexterity. He tactically moved backwards, intending to bring his opponent to more favourable conditions to defeat him.
He ducks down, narrowly avoiding his head becoming separated from his shoulders, yet, the manoeuvre left him open to a harsh knee to his chest. He gasped in pain. His free hand instinctively covered the affected area. At the same time, Khoros grabbed Nero's face and threw him a short distance into a pile of discarded weapons next to an anvil.
The young Overlord quickly picked himself up, brandishing Surtr in time to repel another relenting swing by Khoros.
A flurry of precise swings assaulted Khoros, who blocked each deadly strike with his axe. The beastman was custodial as he was relentless, granting Nero no moment of respite or pause.
A swing went for Nero's right side, redirected at the last moment to go for his thigh. Nero narrowly parried the dirty move before rolling away. He kept rolling even as Khoros repeatedly slammed his battle axe at where he'd been for a split second.
Reaching the base of the anvil, Nero kicked himself up and threw himself over it, creating considerate space between him and the beastman. If Nero expected a brief moment of respite, he was disappointed. Khoros came barreling towards him, flinging the anvil aside. The act resulted in the unfortunate crushing of a Blue Minion.
The beastman raised his axe for a devastating arc. This time, Nero was ready. Falling onto one knee, he raised Surtr And took the entire brunt of Khoro's attack. Channelling his strength, he threw the Black Dog over his shoulders, hurling him into a discarded pile of weapons.
"Sire!"
"What is it, Gnarl!?"
"I believe I have discovered why the ritual isn't working."
"Explain."
"We've already met its other requirements. The last thing we need to do is-Look out, Sire!"
"!"
Nero jerked his head to the left, slightly avoiding having his skull skewered by a spear. Khoros came barrelling towards him and hurled another spear at Nero, who swiftly dodged the projectile away with Surtr.
Once again their weapons clashed. The tenacity of their attacks became magnified. Nero swung Surtr, arcs of flame spewing forth from each oscillation. Luckily, Khoros evaded every one of these attacks, however, a handful of Black Dogs and even some Minions weren't so lucky. Khoros would kick up the earth before him, launching dirt and dust at his opponent.
Despite wearing a helmet, Nero still instinctively shielded his eyes from the dust, though it left him vulnerable. Without warning, Khoros came charging towards him and tackled the stunned human to the ground, depriving him of his weapon.
"Sire!"
He is pinned. Vainly, Nero attempted to push the beastman off him but to no avail. His desperate actions did little to make him budge. An armoured knee pinned the Overlord in place, as Khoros raised his battle axe to bring a gory end to the human.
Nero panicked. Without hesitation, he resorted to a much more violent act of survival.
With his free hand, he swiftly jammed his thumb into the beast's eye and squeezed. Khoros howled in pain. He clutched his wounded left eye as blood oozed from his fingers. Though a brave desperate act, it did little to free Nero from the beastman's grip.
"Your death will only satisfy me now, vermin."
He raised his axe once more. However, it did distract it long enough for a Brown Minion to jump onto Khoros' head and stab a rusty knife into his left eye. The beastman howled painfully. He reached his free hand to grasp the invasive creature and crush the life out of it.
However, such a distraction was all that Nero needed.
In such few seconds they were allowed him to grasp for another weapon—a bloodied longsword belonging to some dead ugly pig thing. Mustering what strength he could out of his position, Nero swung the sword at Khoros.
"Insolent vermin! I'll-!"
He'd never had the chance to finish his words.
The last thing that Khoros would see and witness would be his prize cutting his head from his shoulders and the world suddenly shifting onto its side.
Khoros; Almira's right hand, is dead.
Nero shoved the corpse away and got up to his feet.
"To be honest, Sire, you could have called in some Minions to assist you earlier," Gnarl commented. Nero chose to ignore that and ask the old Minion his question.
"Gnarl! What do we need to do!?"
"According to the book, it appears we must offer something worthy out of the rest."
"What do you mean 'special?'"
"Like royal blood or a highly renowned commander. That's what we need, Sire."
"Where would we find someone like that here!?"
"I'm sure there's someone around who could fit the description, Sire. You just need to!"
Nero wouldn't have the chance to hear the rest of Gnarl's sentence. Someone abruptly grabbed the Overlord by his head and threw him a couple of feet away from the beastman's corpse. He crashed into the earth, his right arm taking the brunt of the impact. Before he had a chance to recuperate, his attacker delivered a swift yet devastating kick to his chest, followed by the end of her weapon harshly bashing his helm.
"Not again, Sire!"
Nero coughed up blood. The pain was agonising. An arm went to his chest, pain igniting from the lower part of his left side. Almira spared him no respite, slamming her foot again into his stomach. Nero fruitlessly fought back. He grabbed the commander's ankle, only for his hand to get stomped on by Almira's other foot.
He tried to put some distance between himself and his attacker, only to find the blunt end of her weapon bashed against his head once more and benumbing the fallen Overlord.
"Hang on, Sire, I'll-!"
"Gah?!"
Another pernicious kick was delivered to his stomach, more painful than the last one. His head, chest and abdomen burned with unignorable pain, yet he refused to bear the excruciation anymore.
As Almira was about to kick him again, the Overlord quickly grabbed her foot and pulled her to the ground. The move stunned the woman, allowing Nero ample time to spring back onto his feet.
Without a second thought, he thrusts Surtr forward, attempting to pierce the woman's chest. However, Almira anticipated the incoming attack and quickly rolled out of the way. The momentum of her roll enabled Almira to jump back up on her feet and brandish her battle axe. Nero was tempted to close the gapbut chose to step back. He needed to recuperate. Even if for only less than a minute.
"Humph, guess I was wrong. You aren't as tough as you look." Almira snarked. "You barely look the type to be a fighter."
"How accurate of you to describe my role." Nero shot back sarcastically. "Surprising that a Yald-blooded dog would have some mush left in your head. Guess your blood doesn't just go down after all."
Almira vented air from her nose, clearly irritated by the remark.
"Oh, how courteous of you to speak ill of me," A frightening grin appeared on her face. "You must be a dalcop, believing you can just come and take over this town. You have no idea who you're messing with?"
"Who'd ever want to conquer this abyss-forsaken place?"
"Why not? This town possesses indulgent privileges to exotic prizes of the North and Northeast. This is where the best treasures can be found. Not in the same league as the port city of Balrouni in terms of options, but we're getting there and it has been such fun sampling the exotics that come through here~"
Her body shuddered as an expressively lustful grin appeared on her face. It was as bright as day that the woman was getting off on her fantasies.
"What a disgusting animal, not a single ounce of shame or dignity in your words and actions."
She merely scoffed in response. "Dignity? Shame? Don't care for any of that. Why should I be some stringent stuck-up bogtrotter when I could do whatever the fuck I want? There's a lot more fun and pleasure in letting go than having a stick up your arse. I can enlighten you on such unchained entertainment."
Almira licked her lips, a wicked grin manifesting on her lips as she brandished her axe. "Once you're on your knees, beaten, broken and a mewling but-fag begging like that one toy I broke many nights ago."
"Ugh! Her vulgarity is too much, Sire! That's not being evil at all…"
"Just animal talk I know…the standards of evil may have…severely regressed over the years, Gnarl…"
"Bah! How impudent! Another justifiable reason that these charlatans of evils must be destroyed!"
"Least we agree on something, Gnarl."
Nero raised his weapon, only to stop midway as pain ignited on his right side.
"You're injured, Sire. I would advise on treating your wounds."
"And how would I-oh…that particular method. I should be able to heal myself. I still have enough Mana for that. Also, we won't have to find that important person now. She's…adequate for the ritual."
"Oh…She's the Commander of the town's military!?"
"Unfortunately, yes...didn't I tell you about this?"
"You have, Sire. What you haven't done was describe what she looks like."
"Ah, My mistake then. Anyways. A couple of Minions should be enough to distract her."
The timing of the end of their conversation was also the exact moment that both Nero and Almira charged one another. Almira had taken several steps forward when three Browns hurled themselves at the unsuspecting warrior.
The unforeseen attack by the Minions swiftly enabled Nero to close the gap. With a ferocious cry, he swung his blade, aiming to sever her head from her shoulders. Impressively, despite being distracted, she dodged the impending slash with her axe, following up with an armoured boot to his stomach. Nero stumbled back, clutching his stomach, blocking and countering more of Almira's relentless attacks.
Nevertheless, a Brown Minion managed to find a small opening in her armour - between the joints that protected her shoulder - and drove his knife into it. The chainmail beneath did its job protecting her shoulder from the dull blade. But it did little to stop her from feeling it.
"Fucking Churl!"
Spitefully, she seized the perpetrating Brown Minion, hurling them at a recuperating Nero, who miraculously caught the screaming projectile. However, as she did this, two more Browns jumped onto Almira's back, joining their comrades in poking and prodding their target.
Whilst Almira dealt with the Browns - by crushing them in her hands - Nero would use this opportunity to heal some of his wounds. Luckily, Almira sped up that process for him.
"Muggins, right?"
The Brown enthusiastically nodded.
"Well…sorry for this."
Dark energy flowed from Nero's hands, imbuing the excited Minion with power. Then, he'd proceed to crush the Minion in his hands. The accumulated energy quickly returned to Nero and healed his wounds.
"Ghh! Think one of my ribs just pulled itself back into place!" Nero hissed in pain. He picked up another Minion - another Brown named Odd - and repeated the same process.
By the time Almira finished crushing the last Minion, Nero could heal his injuries.
"How dull…You've healed yourself."
"Taking someone by surprise is an even drearier act," he brandished Surtr. "As expected of an honourless cur."
Their battle resumed after that. Their hands furiously flourishing their weapons at one another. Both are determined to subjugate the other, inflicting minor wounds against each other as they fight.
One way or another, they were solely determined to win.
Nero was able to lock his weapon with Almira's, keeping it in a deadlock for a short while. Long enough for more Browns to leap onto her back.
Becoming even more vexatious, Almira was forced to parry not just an opportunistic opponent, but flounder and throw the nefarious Minions off her back. Their helpless prodding and stabbing aggravated her even further.
Furiously, she caught a rustic dagger that could have taken an eye away, and with a roar threw the offending Green Minion from her shoulder. She'd then knock another Green, hanging from her left arm, and stomped on a Brown, who had fallen from her back.
Yet, Nero kept summoning more and more Minions to surround her.
Slowly but surely, her combat efficacy was being bogged down, to the point that she could barely lift her axe to deflect Nero's blows, allowing the Overlord was able to land uncontested scorching slashes on her armour and cheek.
"That's it sire! Keep doing it!"
The Overlord summoned more Minions to his side, weighing her down even further with their mass. Despite the numerous of them, they could still poke and prod the enraged warrior and hinder her movements.
Rushing forward once more, taking advantage of her small distraction with a Minion, he landed a successful yet non-lethal sword strike that burned a portion of her shoulder plate and chainmail off and nearly melted her arm off.
Almira screamed in pain, unable to even raise a hand to clutch her burning wound.
Nero spun on his foot, swinging Surtr around with all his might, in a strenuous conclusive decapitation of Almira's head. With this one, final strike, he would fulfill the ritual's demands and bring back his legion.
However, he underestimated Almira's resilience.
In blind, raging defiance, much to Nero's shock, Almira lounged at Nero mid-swing and with all her strength, delivered a brutal punch to his face. The world spun for Nero, Surtr slipping from his grasp as collapsed onto his back.
"Sire!"
Nero attempted to get up, to defend himself, but the vulgar woman was already upon him. Firstly, slamming a boot onto his right shoulder, pinning the Overlord in place, then slamming her elbow onto his helm again stunning him.
Her relentlessness didn't stop.
A strong blow impacted his helm, and then another, and another. Desperately, Nero swung a left hook at Almira, however, due to the awkward angle, he could only strike her shoulder. This, in turn, prompted Almira to bash his chest with a fist.
She punches him over and over again, heedless of the Minions harassing her. Even with the Minions - seeing their Master in dire trouble - increasingly frantic attacks, it did little to deter her. Rather, it only made her more furious and vicious.
She slammed her left fist onto his helm, then grabbed and threw Minion away with her right. Repeating this cycle, periodically switching her hand's actions with the other
With one, final roar, she grabbed the last Minion from her back and bludgeoned them onto Nero's head. The impact, unfortunately, turned the Minion's head into a bloody mess.
Afterwards, Almira's actions ceased. Hands clenched into fists. Exhalations are heavy and ragged. Slowly, she removed her fists from Nero's helm and tightly grasped her hands around his neck.
"-Sire! Sire! Get up Sire! Sire!"
"Humph, not tough now, aren't you?" she snarked heavily, managing a smug yet angry smirk.
She held the Overlord up to eye level, who levelled a spiteful glare at her. Removing a hand from his neck, she took off his helmet and tossed it to the side.
"You!"
Nero growled.
Almira barked a laugh. "What a comical turn of events. Who would have thought it would be you of all people?"
"..."
"The other day… you were there just to scout us out? Wasn't it?"
When he didn't respond she simply slammed his head against the ground.
"Ghh!"
"Since you're not bothered to speak, I'll take your silence as a yes."
"You thought that you could defeat us? That you could defeat me? Who'd birth such a scoffed like you?"
Nero scoffed.
"W-who knows… as if I'd tell you everything."
"Oh, there are ways of making defiant churls like you talk…"
"You dare?"
"Oh, I most certainly would~!" she laughed, getting close to his face. "After all, you wouldn't be the first I've turned into a cum licking fag, though…"
She levelled a malicious smirk at him. "You didinterrupt my fun and that orgy show I planned tonight..."
She pondered, almost thoughtlessly.
"You know what? I think killing you would be better than making you my bitch. You did ruin my planned fun after all."
Slowly and with sadistic glee, she tightened her grip around Nero's neck. His hands immediately reached up to hers, distributing as much strength as he could in thwarting her strangling.
"Tis a shame though… you did have a nice ass," she shrugged. "Though I suppose I'm not gonna lose anything if I just kill you."
Her grip gradually tightened, but not enough to snap Nero's neck. No, she was going to make him die a slow, agonising and sufferable death. She was going to relish every last moment of his dying breath. Nero's actions become more frantic and desperate. He bashed his hands against her grip, trying desperately to free himself.
"Ghh!...GHH!"
But his efforts were futile. He's helpless against her. Even lacking enough Mana for a simple infernal spell. His vision slowly weakened as the edges of his vision darkened.
He was running out of options as much as he was running out of life.
"Can't…breathe…! Must…do…something!"
"-master…Master!"
It was a small cry. Faint but notably audible to the dying Overlord.
He glanced to his left and was surprised to find a Brown Minion - Grub, he believes his name to be - dragging himself towards him. His left leg was mangled whilst his right was gone. Yet, the Minion was still able to muster enough strength to crawl towards him, solely driven to protect his Master.
An idea began formulating within his desiccating mind. A last act of defiance, that could drastically turn events around.
He may, just may have enough mana for it.
With one hand, desperately preventing Almira's grip from crushing his throat completely, he reached out to Grub with the other. Sensing just what his Master wanted, Grubs reached out with his hand. Their fingers were but a few centimetres from each other. If they could, just even touch their fingers.
"Oh?" Almira had finally taken notice. "What's this? Are you trying to reach out and hold hands with this…thing?" She questioned mockingly.
Forlornly, Nero stretched out his arm to Grubs, even moving his upper body just to reach him.
"How amusing! It's almost like you're lovers in a way! Honestly, is this the best that you can do?"
Almira laughed.
"It's just pathetic looking at this…though this is just comical to look at. I suppose I can let you hold hands before you die."
She relented a bit, enabling Nero to reach over and touch Grub's hand. Unbeknownst to her, however, this was exactly what Nero wanted, as he discharged the last vestiges of mana he possessed into the Minion.
"Awhh, how pathetic. Now, can you die already?"
"N-no…" Nero respired, throwing a recusant stare at her. "-ou ar-e dead."
"Hah! And how do you suppose you'll-?!"
Almirqa wouldn't be given the chance to finish her rant. Summoning the remainder of his strength into his arm, Nero slammed Grubbed - charged with dark energy - into Almira's face. The effect was instantaneous.
A destructive magical explosion kindled from the point of contact. It was so sudden and loud, akin to a thunderclap, with the explosive sound even lagging behind the blast. The combustive power was immense, a misestimation on Nero's part, that it threw Almira from the Overlord's body with her front armour becoming charred and dented whilst parts of her elegant face - her nose, left cheek and her eye - were severely mangled and bloodied.
Her defaced, tarnished body bludgeoned a group of Black Dogs before colliding against a cobblestone wall. Moreover, the force produced by the explosive had also knocked many combatants - Black Dogs and Minions - to the ground.
Silence submerged the battlefield, if only for a brief moment before the sounds of weapons and death resumed.
Almira gnashed her teeth in excruciating pain. Somehow, the Commander of the Black Dogs remained conscious after taking the full brunt of the explosion. She attempted to move - only able to shift her right left arm to her lap. A glance to her right revealed her right harm had also sustained substantial damage.
"Ghh!"
With no other option, Almira used her left arm to balance herself whilst agonisingly pulling herself up. The pain excruciating from her injuries nearly forced her back down, however, she was able to maintain her composure.
"Fucking bastard…! F-fucking piece of shit! Fuck! When I get my hands on him…!"
She scanned the battlefield, finding no signs of her opponent.
"WHERE ARE YOU!?"
"Right here"
Almira, almost frenetically, pivoted around and came face to face with a very furious Nero. For a moment, a look of fear briefly appeared on her face and disappeared just as Nero's right hand tightly grasped her neck and hoisted her up.
Like Almira, Nero didn't emerge unscathed from the explosion, however, his injuries weren't as serious as his nemesis. Except for his left hand being rendered unusable and a burnt lesion on his face, his Overlord armour had shielded him from the magical blast, though segments of the frontal armour had become dented.
Almira could only snarl at Nero, who only tightened his grip on her neck.
"You…are nothing." panted Nero. "You…are but an unrestrained animal to be put down. Just like your rotten ilk."
He slowly increased his grip, prompting Almira, in desperation, to hit him with her sole functioning arm.
"!"
"You have taken everything from me. My friends, my loved ones. All for your own degenerate schemes and desecration. Just as you've taken everything from me, I will take what you have created and burn it to the ground. Judas is just the start. When I am finished, there will be nothing left of the Black Dogs. No one shall remember you. No one."
"Now die."
*Crack!*
…
…
...
What followed was blinding hellish red.
An odd silence settled around the runic circle. Though the cacophonies of battle cries, weapons clashing and blood spilling polluted its surroundings, disturbingly, there was an odd period of silence in that little corner.
It was for only a brief moment.
The runes glowed brighter and brighter, almost like a blazing fire. Spilt ichor conjoined into streams of crimson, circulating from the circle through the streets before deeply permeating the earth. What was once rich, fertile brown soil was stained with blood, mutating it into an unnatural reddish colour. A miasma clouded the air and polluted it with a strong rustic scent. Its hellish red colour was as disturbing to look at, as it is a crime to nature.
The abnormality intensified, like the crescendo to a grand opera.
The runes burned a red hot, transforming into a beacon that illuminated the night sky with a scarlet shine that made the world look like a hellscape. Unholy screeching echoed across the night, horrific visages of demonic faces and screaming mouths sprang from the darkness. All those who witnessed such sights went mad.
Clouds of red began to form and screeching could be heard and seen for miles; from the highest peaks to the deepest mines, it rang through the hearts, souls, and bones of all who witnessed the eldritch phenomenon.
And just as it happened…it stopped.
The sky returned to its starry void, the screams replaced by the panicked songs of birds and corvids and the howling winds. The runes vanished, leaving a barren blackened circle where it had once been carved.
There was no noise; no blades clashing, no cries and screams…only an eerie silence followed by the whispers of the damned…
Then there was a rumble—a small tremor, barely noticeable.
The quakes became more and more obvious and violent. Thousands of insects emerged from the earth and beneath rocks and crevices. Even rats ran in panic at what was coming.
Something violently shot up from the earth.
A black armoured hand emerged.
Then another and another…
Thousands and thousands of decaying armoured hands rose from the earth. Then, they crawled up from the dirt, revealing themselves to Judas's confused and terrified residents.
They were once the most celebrated mercenary force of the Seven Shields and beyond—a proud and disciplined force of heroes and champions. Clad in the shiniest of armours, adorned with the finest linen and equipped with the best weapons money could buy. Their helms, plumed in a fine crimson, became the sole symbol of their fame, glory, and battle prowess.
Nero envisioned a triumphant return of his proud and noble Myrmidons. His friends and comrades returned to the realm of the living, ready to deliver righteous judgment upon the Black Dogs.
It is…possibly for the best that Nero remained unconscious after the ritual's completion.
For what stood before the residents of Judas weren't the proud, noble warriors he would have remembered.
Tarnished travesties stood in their place. Once pristine, russet armour seared black by the fires of betrayal. Smooth linen and fine crimson plumes are tattered and ruined. Spikes, horns protruding weapons and arrows engrained upon their warped armour; an unholy side effect of their resurrection. Sparks of embers flickered and danced sporadically between branded metal, bone and rotten flesh and where their eyes burned red with malice.
These weren't the same heroic warriors of the past, who had served alongside Nero, nor the proudly disciplined mercenaries that a very small few - Black Dogs and Citizens - remembered. The rest simply and fearfully stepped back.
These revenant constructs of undead flesh, blackened armour and ember eyes were nothing they'd ever seen.
And it terrified them.
The undead warriors merely gazed at them, their crimson eyes piercing the depths of their souls, bearing nothing but a deep-rooted craving for vengeance and destruction.
Vengeance for their betrayal, against those they once called allies and comrades. Retribution has consumed their very souls, an unbound desire for vengeful justice.
And they will see it satisfied.
"AUGGHH!"
A pitiful shriek abruptly pierced the air. Those present, to their horror, witnessed a middle-aged man skewered by a spear wielded by one of these undead aberrations. The man's screams were agonising. Slowly and viciously, he was lowered, the barbed and rotten shaft mangled and tainted his flesh. The man's life expired soon after reaching the end of the weapon.
The scream and the sight, for those fortunate enough to witness it, was the spark that reignited the chaos and raised it to new heights.
The streets became alive with the citizens' fears and panic. They were running, pushing and trampling upon one another. Self-preservation - whether for themselves or their material treasures - was the sole singular notion within their fear-stricken minds.
The Myrmidons, heedless of the rampant babel, synchronically formed a wall of singed metal and long, jagged spears. Synchronically, they marched forward, slaughtering all who stood in their path, whether they were innocent or guilty.
Screams of dying animals filled the burning, burgundy sky. The absolute destruction of the town was visible as far as the eye could see.
From the White Citadel of Ken to the boisterous port of Balrouni. From the cold, impenetrable capital of Dragundaala to the icy fjords of Nordland.
The entirety of Serenus could visibly see the devastation of Judas.
And the advent of a new power.