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B4C65 - Battle of the Dead
🕑 Added 2024-11-19 01:00:04 +0000 UTCPower thrummed within Tyron. Every fibre of his being was awash with it. His personal reservoir of magick boomed like an ocean, crashing against the confines of his soul with the fury of a hurricane.
And he could sense all of it. Almost like he had been granted a sixth sense, Perceive Magick gave him… an extra sensory organ tuned only to the ebb and flow of arcane energy. When he raised his hands and began to form sigils, he could feel the power move with a clarity he had never experienced before, sense it flow and change as he enforced his will, shaping it into something new.
He was so enraptured with this sensation he found it difficult to focus on the unfolding battle in front of him.
Wights, revenants and his strongest skeletons, backed by the massive Bone Giants he had constructed, assaulted the now-open gates. Disciplined ranks of highly trained, high-level Soldiers, Archers and Mages held the line, refusing to give ground to his undead army.
That simply wouldn’t do.
Once again, Tyron raised his hands and began to bend reality to his will. Magick flowed like a river as he spoke the words of power, using every ounce of skill and potency he could muster. He poured all of it into the spell he was crafting.
From his feet, a grey mist began to spread. It spread rapidly, blossoming outwards into a circle with him at the centre. The mist wasn’t real, but a construct formed of magick, and he had to constantly supply more energy to maintain it, but once it reached the defensive line, its effects became known.
Men cried out in pain and anger as the mist, no more than a few centimetres high, began to drift around their feet. As they did so, the small pockets of the mist that touched them became tinged with red light, and began to drift towards Tyron, rather than away from him.
When these small patches of mist reached him, they flowed into his flesh, and he felt the invigorating energy they contained merge with his own.
The Field of Death. A spell he hadn’t employed much, but had taken the time to study. It would steal away the life force of the living and bring it to him, so long as it was active.
With a sharp breath, he began to enact another of his new abilities. Placing a hand on his chest, he sensed his own life, the vitality that infused his body, and began to burn it. With a constitution as absurdly robust as his own, Tyron’s life force was a roaring flame, a great bonfire that would sustain him through inhuman levels of punishment and deprivation, but he had another use for it now.
As he sacrificed his own life, it changed form, turning into magick and flowing into the raging reservoir within him.
In a detached manner, he examined the torrent of magick within him. All around, his minions were drawing on his power. The mages of the tower continued to rain down magick upon him, but Tyron was protected by the dozens of skeletal mages he had created for the specific purpose of shielding him. At the front, his Bone Giants, wights, revenants and basic minions fought vigorously, draining yet more power. The Field of Death, the ever-flowing mist that gushed outwards from around his feet, also drew on his power.
Yet now he counteracted that loss, providing new energy, pouring in more and more magick as he consumed his own vitality to supply it.
When a third of his life force had been burned away, he stopped and took stock.
The mist continued to bring him small packets of healing, which suffused him and replenished his energy, but the Field of Death wasn’t paying for itself. The spell took all the life it stole and turned it into magick, but he was still running at a loss. Yet he felt that was likely due to the Skills being new and relatively low-levelled. When he grasped them better, they would cost less to cast and the ratio of life-to-magick would improve, allowing him to gain more from them.
For now, it was fine. The drain on his power was more than manageable. His minions continued to generate their own energy using the intricately crafted web of conduits that bound them together. In fact, with all of his minions finally gathered together in one place, Tyron was able to witness just how much death-aligned energy they were able to create between them.
His mind was cast back to that first moment when he had witnessed the tiny flecks of energy being passed between remains, growing ever so slightly each time. Gradually, that process would accelerate until the bodies were saturated, giving rise to wild undead. Now he witnessed that same process, but magnified several thousand times over.
Not only did his minions constantly draw in and convert ambient magick through the arrays he had built into them, they also generated death magick just by being around each other, passing that energy between them and growing it each time.
The end result was that the larger his horde grew, the more it would be capable of sustaining itself. The draw on his own reserves was much lower than he had expected, which meant he could spend more of his own power to tip the balance in his minions’ favour.
With a thought, Tyron commanded his minions, and they obeyed his will. All around the horde, the cauldrons were activated, spewing forth dense black mist suffused with death magick. In less than a minute, the entire avenue was covered in darkness, and Tyron shifted his position so the mages could no longer concentrate their fire on him.
If they persisted in targeting him, his minions would be the ones to lose the battle of attrition. To remain safe, he needed to hide from their sight and break into the tower before they could dispel the black mist again.
Reality shivered like a struck bell as he spoke once more, his hands flickering rapidly from one sigil to the next. More power flowed and the Shivering Curse took hold, blanketing the battlefield in a penetrating chill that pierced armour and flesh alike, getting straight to the bone.
The Magisters were coordinated, pushing back against his magick and doing all they could to alleviate the effects. Tyron tsked as he witnessed them nullifying the curse. They weren’t able to dispel it completely, not yet at least, but the Soldiers still holding at the front were able to ignore most of its effects.
Between his skeletal mages and the Magisters, it was clear who was superior, and Tyron knew that despite all he was capable of, he wasn’t enough to tip the scales by himself.
With the demi-liches he could now create, he would be able to rectify this deficiency and bring enough magickal firepower to his army to hold their own against large numbers of trained mages. For now, he knew he would have to continue to pour out his reserves and hope it would be enough to prevent his skeletons from being overwhelmed.
Now that he was hidden from sight, the Magisters in the towers had taken up two separate tasks. The first was attempting to break the mist and expose him once more, but they were contending not with a single spell, but a constant outpouring of energy from the cauldron constructs. To win, they would need to throw more energy at the mist than his cauldrons were providing, which would be difficult.
The other half had taken to providing spell support to the battle at the gates. Beams of glaring red light, shards of crystalline energy that shattered just over the horde, bolts of malevolent energy, all of it rained down on his minions in a constant barrage that disrupted his front line and damaged his undead, reducing their effectiveness.
This wouldn’t do.
Tyron utilised another of his new abilities. He chanted the words and formed the sigils, extending his hands out over the horde before him, and felt the spell take effect. Once again, his life force began to burn, but this time, it wasn’t turned into magick; instead, it flowed out of him and over his army. Whenever it passed over a skeleton who had suffered damage, it flowed into them, his vitality consumed to reforge their bones and repair their weave.
As he cut off the spell, he staggered to one side, clutching at his chest. Flesh to Bone was just what he had hoped for, but draining himself of so much life was a less than pleasant experience. Even using as much vitality as he had, he was far from repairing all the damage his undead had already sustained, especially at the front.
Still, his minions were better positioned now. More of his skeletal mages had moved to the front to help shield the undead, and more of his shield-bearing minions were in position to defend their brethren.
Drained of life, Tyron knew he had to keep pushing, so he didn’t stop. Gathering himself again, he cast Death Blades, empowering the weapons of his army. When that was done, he began to hurl offensive magick into the fray.
Bone Lances and Death’s Fists began to flow, one after another as he employed the dual casting technique, words tripping from his tongue so rapidly they were almost indistinguishable from one another. Many of his spells were deflected or blocked, but many others weren’t. Every time he caused damage, a little bit of life energy would meld with his own, gradually healing him and replenishing his reserves.
Tyron’s skeletons outnumbered the defenders by ten to one or more, but the weight of those numbers didn’t matter so long as they had to fight into the relatively narrow gateway. The Soldiers and Magisters clearly realised the same, since they seemed determined to hold the passage, no matter the sacrifice. Despite pushing hard, his undead hadn’t been able to dislodge the enemy, and the battle had stalled. It was becoming a waiting game. He would eventually be able to grind down the defenders. With his superior numbers and unrelenting undead, it was only a matter of time. It didn’t matter if every Soldier took down five skeletons before succumbing, there would still be a horde standing at the end.
Yet could Tyron afford to wait that long? He was under no illusions that the entirety of the forces in Kenmor were present within the Red Tower, far from it. Eventually, the ghosts he had created to act as a distraction would be dealt with and the Duke would collapse on him like an iron fist. In fact, if Tyron didn’t breach the tower, the Duke wouldn’t even have to. The Gold-ranked Slayers would be driven to do the job for him, and he had no chance of standing against them.
Decisively, Tyron turned towards the arch of bone that stood behind him, striding up to the great door and pulling it open once more.
“You’re needed,” he called inside, before stepping back to allow space.
The sound of shuffling, then heavy footsteps, the dull grind of bone on bone as something within approached the door.
“I didn’t think you wanted us to come out this early,” an eerie, surreal voice stated.
“I didn’t,” Tyron replied, flatly, “but needs must.”
From within, a wight emerged, glowing spirit flesh bound to their still visible skeleton within, yet this one was different from the others. Clad head to foot in layers of dense, black bone armour, this undead was the most heavily armoured of his servants by far. Such a weight of armour would make a minion ungainly under normal circumstances, but for this particular wight, it wouldn’t matter so much.
As his undead emerged, so too did the reins in their hand, followed by the ghastly, skeletal form of an undead horse. The form of the equine burned with purple light, indicating the soul of the animal still existed, moulded into the frame. It too was bound in heavy bone plating, a powerful array bound into its ribcage feeding power to the entire form.
Once the mount was clear of the door, the wight reached up and climbed into the saddle, then silently directed the skeletal horse to move, making way for those that came behind.
There were ten altogether. Not an overwhelming number, but each had taken a lot of time to put together, and a considerable amount of resources. Only the first was a wight, but the rest were all revenants. Tyron had hoped to use them as a surprise for later conflicts, but he needed them now.
As his fellow undead mounted up behind him, the wight took in the sight of the unfolding battle and the grand tower rising before them.
“Magisters,” he stated flatly. “You already have me killing nobles.”
“Yours was always a life of service, Captain Janus,” Tyron replied, his tone cold, “you have merely swapped one master for another. What you defended in life, I will have you destroy in death.”
“Do I have a choice?” the wight said, eerie tone filled with bitterness.
“You already made your choice. You didn’t want to fade out of existence, so now, you serve.”
Comments
Rayold 0
reading this arc it becomes clear to me why some classes are forbidden)
KopiCAT
Not even a little? Really? The Nobles also hurt people as a means to an end. That end being total dominion over others. Besides, why should the "why" matter? Do you think the people of this city being slaughtered by ghosts think he's better then the Nobles? No they don't. He's worse actually. The Nobles didn't kill them, HE did. You can certainly argue he's not AS BAD. But to say he's not even a LITTLE like them at all? That's bullshit coping and making excuses because you got main character bias. Besides, he isn't even doing all this to save anyone. He doesn't care. He just wants the Nobles to die miserably because of what they did to his parents. So you can not use the "a noble goal" as an excuse for the atrocities he performs. He kills innocent for the sake of revenge. Anything good that might result of that is incidental and has nothing to with what he wants. He is indeed not as bad as the Nobles. But he's only a couple of steps away from being as bad or worse.
Rahsheem Reid
Yeah agreed
DrDankness
You do realize that the people he is fighting against were literally mass killing off their own people right? Sure he has unintentionally affected innocents but he isnt even close to as evil as the people he is fighting against. At most he is a revenge driven anti-hero but to say he is the same as the nobles or divines is ridiculous.
DrDankness
Lol this reminds me of how he uses the immortals
CentaureHeart
There are a billion things Tyron could have studied. He could have studied shield magic, enhancing magic, he could have more spells to throw around... He can't do everything.
Hamish Gamma
The stones of the tower are probably protected against direct manipulation by stuff like earth magic
Kain
Not even a little like the people he’s destroying. Ty will hurt innocence as a means to an end, that end being the destruction of and elimination of people who see enslaving and abusing the average person as an end in and of itself, and actually not even an end really just recreation that they enjoy. His reasons may be selfish, revenge, and his means distasteful, willing to sacrifice anyone to get it done. But the end result, eliminating the divine and all their holier than though slave owning progeny, is well worth fighting for and could* result in a much better world to live in for the average person. He’s certainly not a hero but he’s a much less malignant monster than the ones he’s hunting.
Rahsheem Reid
This whole Ty is just like the people he set out against is bullshit.
lenkite
Now, this is why I had wished Tyron had studied [Earth Magic] as a backup school. He could have deconstructed that gateway. Many fantasy necromancers study Earth/Stone magic - so that they can laugh when assaulting Fortresses. Also he needs to develop [Shadows] - spirits that can infiltrate the backlines. This head-on, brute-force skeletor assault is a bit unimaginative. We have all read about deadly Necromancers whose creatures strike and then disappear into the floor and ground. Hell we all have fought shadows in most RPG's - they are a pain with the stuns and teleports to the squishies.
McMax
He already released a "kraken" sort of.
McMax
Heavy calvary are always badass. Otherwise they aren't heavy calvary.
Rahsheem Reid
Damn RinoZ loves a bad ass Calvary for sure.
David Janjic
He is not even REMOTELY as evil as the nobles lol. What are you guys smoking. Not to mention the Divines who literally enslaved WHOLE of humanity that remains. Tyron is without discussion a MUCH lesser evil. Much, much, much lesser. Like, he didn't even reach the amount of evil done by a lesser noble house in the province, let alone the combined evil deeds of the whole empire, it's nobility and the divines.
Conspirant
You can’t flip the table by playing within the rules. He’s a freedom fighter
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Gopard
Yep he is now basically as evil as the nobles or divines ever where kind of... It remains to be seen if he will be able to stop this trend after the conflict is done in parts or if he will need to be put down as just another evil tyrant toppling a different Tyrant to rule himself.
chasethemoonlyte
TFTC
Derek Zoolander
Tyron is channeling the spirit of Davy Jones.
Sean Hibbitt
Thanks for the chapter
McMax
"Now you serve" Tyron is becoming the evil he has set out to destroy. Or is it the people he seeks to destroy just happen to be evil, that he would of destroyed them even if they were good. Ah well it matters little, death will come for them either way.
Wolve
TFTC
Andrew
Thank you!
John goode
I am loving this thanks RinoZ
GoGoGinger
He’s come a long way from desecrating some zombie in a family tomb 🥲
sri kalyan mulukutla
Death knights are here 🤩
CentaureHeart
Cool! Didn't think we would see Death Knights this volume!
Buck
Good start to the battle so far! TFTC!
Lucas Gulick
If he manages to collect the bodies from this battle he's going to have a vast supply of mage and high level warrior corpses. This could the foundation of the true army he builds to take the capital
braeden winstead
Awesome chapter as always!
Stereotypical Canadian
Thanks for the chapter, when will Chrysalis update for BOTD tier?
kev mil
Tyftc
J-OC
More the hoard hungers for more (pretty please)
