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B5 Chapter 58 - The Three Way Battle
🕑 Added 2025-09-05 04:42:05 +0000 UTCNote: Let me know how you feel about this one. I'm not especially satisfied with it.
When the magick descended, the sphere dissipated to reveal a more sizable undead horde within. Rather than stitched abominations, these were horrific, bat-like ghouls of varying sizes. With distended, fanged maws, smoking black claws and red eyes, Tyron almost felt they were some form of inferior vampire, flesh shaped creatures with a whiff of blood magick about them.
He was proven correct soon after as the largest individual, a hulking brute easily eight feet tall, ripped into its own flesh, coating its claws in fresh blood. A second later, it chanted a spell, shaping the blood into blades that extended its reach significantly. Without bothering to make any attempt at parley, the undead creature shrieked and pointed, its horde of beasts surging forward, hunched forms skittering across the dunes like a tide of rats.
Tyron watched carefully, keen to see who they attacked. If they went for his horde, he would need to leave immediately. If they attacked the crowned ghost, that would be ideal, giving him time to regroup and try to harvest some experience.
The charge of the pale-skinned creatures was fearsome to behold. Swift as a skeleton, they kept low, claws out, fangs gleaming in the darkness.
Tyron did not get his wish. At first he thought they were going to charge against the homonculi and his pulse quickened, but at the last second they swerved, crashing into both armies at the same time. Of course they did.
“Holy fucking shit! Tyron, we need to get the fuck out of here!” Dove cried.
He was being carried back towards the gate by a team of skeletons passing by the Necromancer's left. Thrashing as hard as he could to get free, Dove still somehow managed to roll his pelvis from side to side, sending the snake whipping through the air in huge arcs.
“Why?” Tyron called, eyes focused on the battle.
“Those fuckers are from Malasin! They’re going to take me and do unspeakable things to me! Not the good kind! We have to get out of here!”
“I’m not leaving after you went through all the trouble of bringing them here. We keep fighting.”
“It’s not like I wanted to! In point of fact, I very much didn’t fucking want to! In case you don’t remember, that prick scares the piss out of me, which should worry you because I don’t have a functioning bladder!”
“Maybe if you yell and scream less, they won’t notice you.”
Raising his hands, Tyron once again cast the Blessing of Bone. His minions were slowing down, and they certainly couldn’t afford to do that right now.
The crowned ghost had pulled back his smaller horde, giving the skeleton front line a reprieve from trying to bring down those hulking monstrosities, but it didn’t last long. When the ghouls charged in, it became readily apparent how agile and ferocious they were. Leaping and twisting through the air, they slashed out with their claws, leaving huge grooves in the bone shields wielded by the skeletons.
Slow to respond, the skeletons struggled to keep up, and his wights were forced to take control directly, helping to command the minions before they were overwhelmed. As the Blessing of Bone took hold, the movements of the skeletons became faster, but they didn’t get more coordinated or skillful.
To try and stem the bleeding, he continued to cast, his hands aching as he flashed through a barrage of sigils. Once again the rain of bone lances fell from above, and he managed to spike a few of the ghouls, but the bulk of the projectiles were dodged.
That spatial awareness, the quick reflexes!
It wasn’t right to have minion envy in the middle of a battle, but Tyron couldn’t help but wish his own skeletons were able to perform on that sort of level. Did these ghouls still have a flesh brain inside their heads, or were they operated by a construct, as his own were?
If his skeletons could dodge and move like that…
No, he couldn’t afford to get distracted. The battlelines continued to shift as the crowned ghost reappeared, preparing another spell. Tyron braced himself, but held back at the last moment. The wave of spirits was unleashed again, but not at his own horde this time. However, even as the spell raced towards the ghouls, the homonculi moved to reengage his skeletons.
Trying to have it both ways…
Tyron prepared more spells, raising up spears of bone from the ground, forming pillars, shattering the spectral bone, but he kept an eye on the largest ghoul. How would it counteract this magick that had given him so much trouble?
In answer to his question, it screeched, and in response all of the ghouls slashed at their own arms. At first he was confused, but a second later the cuts began to release a red mist that flowed through the air towards the onrushing tide of hungry spirits.
An offering of blood from the horde powered the spell, but it was the chief ghoul that shaped it, weaving the blood into a tornado of whirling, red death. With a flex of will, the undead mage split the magick, sending dozens of smaller whirlwinds outwards in an arc.
A second later, the spells clashed, creating a storm of flashing magick that warped the air and crackled audibly.
Tyron blinked. That, that was a heck of a lot of power. For a moment he was tempted to try and bring out the siege spell he’d learned, but quickly dismissed the idea. He was far more likely to kill himself than anyone else if he tried something like that.
No, he would fight as best he could with what he had.
Tyron’s own archers and mages were hard at work, flinging arrows and spells at every target they thought they could hurt, but he had to keep his strongest demi-liches in reserve. If either of the other mages tried to attack him directly, he would need their support to survive. As exposed as he was atop his platform, he made an easy target, after all.
For the next few minutes, the battle settled into a three wind grind. Both mages were attacking him, and several times it looked as though his lines would become overwhelmed, but every time that happened, the two undead commanders would fiercely hammer their rival. If one of them looked as though they were going to defeat Tyron, the other would attack, refusing to allow their enemy to seize the prize.
The attrition on Tyron’s skeletal horde was significant. His bone giants had suffered terribly against the stitched behemoths, and he’d lost two already, while the rest were severely damaged. His skeletons, with the support of the revenants and wights, were doing as well as they could, but many were falling, too damaged to be repaired.
He could try and sacrifice his own life energy to heal them, but he was worried about how little of it he actually had left in him. Considering how he was feeling, he might just die before any significant repairs were done.
It wouldn’t be long now until they had to leave. The gate was fully powered, he could leave at any time, yet deep down, he didn’t want to.
He might be losing a dozen skeletons for every opponent brought down, but how well would the Unseen reward him for these efforts?
In the back of his mind, he couldn’t rid himself of the image of a golden boot crushing his skull against the ground.
If he didn’t want to be killed by the Empire, then he needed to take everything he could get, right here and now.
Summoning the last of his strength, Tyron once again lifted his hands. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, forming the words of power was harder than it had ever been before, but he persisted. Failure could not be tolerated.
It would be better to be dead.
Once again, he summoned a wave of power and let it roll out over the horde. His minions drank it in greedily, desperate for more magick after this drawn out battle.
Push, he commanded his wights. I need you to kill, it doesn’t count if I do it.
He could tell they didn’t like it, he was commanding them to take risks, but they had no choice in the matter. Obedience was all that was left for them.
The front line of the battle became even more chaotic as his minions drove forward, striking with abandon, his wights pushing closer to add their own strength to the fight. Tyron considered for a moment, then committed some of his demi-liches as well. There hadn’t been any sign of either opponent trying to attack him directly again, so he should take a calculated gamble.
Such a strange battle.
None of the combatants cried out in pain, or roared with anger and bloodlust. There were no screams, no groans of the wounded, only the clash of weapons, the screech of claws on bone, the heavy tread of the homonculi, and the total darkness overhead.
It was eerie, but that sense of strangeness washed over Tyron as he sharpened the last of his focus. The three way tug-of-war only remained even because both of his opponents were determined to keep each other in check. If he disrupted this delicate balance, he could be crushed in an instant.
Acting on instinct, he spoke once more, his words rocking the fabric of reality as he wove the Shivering Curse against the ghouls.
If they had blood in their veins, even if it were some sort of modified, semi-vampiric ichor, then perhaps they were vulnerable to the cold?
The spell completed, covering a wide area of the field in a blanket of suffocating cold. His skeletons were unaffected, as always, and but it may have been his imagination, but or maybe the ghouls were moving a little slower?
Interesting.
Any advantage he could get against the agile undead was more than welcome. However, it also created new problems. Perhaps the crowned ghost sensed the weakening of the ghouls, but whatever the reason, the homonculi pushed hard against his lines, driving against the skeletons and forcing them back. In a minute his line was starting to crumple, and he was forced to intervene, summoning pillars and bone spears to help relieve the pressure.
On it went, each of the three hordes wasting away, unable to gain a significant advantage against the others. For his part, Tyron wasn’t trying to find any sort of advantage, only to survive. His hands burned, his mouth felt numb and he could barely think straight any more. He realised he’d reached the very limits of his strength. Even if he wanted to stay longer, to sacrifice more of his horde to gain levels, the price would rapidly become too high to pay if he could no longer contribute.
Prepare to pull back. We’re leaving.
With a mental command, he ordered his minions to activate the gate and moved his platform backwards. He’d get as many of his undead through as he could, then shut it behind him.
In an instant, everything changed.
Both opposing forces immediately abandoned the struggle against each other and threw everything against Tyron’s horde. Even the massive ghoul, who had stayed out of the fighting so far, lunged forward like a wild beast.
The crowned ghost reappeared for the first time in a while, drawing magick into itself as it prepared to cast, hate and rage twisting its features.
Only then did Tyron realise his mistake.
Even more than allowing their opponent to seize the prize, the one thing they absolutely wouldn’t tolerate was returning back to their masters empty- handed. In their eyes, it was better to work together and kill him, then fight over the scraps afterwards, than let him leave.
Cursing, he forced his hands up once more. His digits twitched and spasmed, the pain radiated up his forearms and pulsed in time with the thunder in his head. It didn’t matter, he had to cast.
Pillars of bone erupted from the ground, forming a solid wall that cut off some of his own skeletons, but created distance for the rest.
RUN, he commanded his wights, then turned and leapt from his platform. At least, he tried to leap, but he was so exhausted it was more like a fall. His minions were ready and waiting, catching him before he smashed into the ground and rushing toward the gate carrying his limp body between them.
A dignified exit it wasn’t, but it was better than dying.
Already his minions were starting to rush through the open gate. Dove was thrown through, Master Willhem made his escape along with his other most precious demi-liches. Through his minions, he could feel the front line being torn apart as the conduits frayed and vanished one by one.
His wall of pillars hadn’t held them back for long, and the wights were sacrificing regular minions to try and slow them further, giving the more advanced undead a better chance to retreat.
No longer able to contribute, Tyron felt his consciousness start to grow hazy without the pressure of the battle to hold him together.
That was the moment the ghoul leader leapt down from above.
Enormous, with pale grey skin and burning red eyes, it reached for him, fangs distended and cruel intelligence behind its gaze. His closest skeletons tried to strike it down, but their blades couldn’t penetrate its hide. Only a few metres away, the gate stood open, an image of a grassy field on the other side.
Tyron closed his eyes.
On silent wings, the wyvern swept down from above.
Comments
ManguKing
I wonder if I'm the only one that wants to de tyron doing kingdom building across realms. Including this dead realm
EEN
something that would have made me enjoy it more is maybe at least a couple lines of dialogue. maybe the 2 baddies chirping each other
Suastes Jiménez Miguel Angel
Personally, I don't see anything wrong with the writing of the chapter. I liked the battle; it could be better, though I'm not entirely sure how. Once again, Tyron pushes his limits beyond what's recommended. I have a feeling his uncle or Elsbeth is going to lecture him about this self-destructive behavior.
Suastes Jiménez Miguel Angel
Your opinion is one I agree with.
Adam
I like the chapter and believe it was written well aside from some small issues discussed in previous comments. After reading the next chapter in context with previous chapters in the land of the dead I just feel as though a more tangible epiphany or reward is missing. I understand that there was subconscious progress made with the soul melding/propagating orb but it just didn't hit enough with the risk/rewards of this trip. Tyron is so definitively deliberate that this trip just feels out of character without more direction and another bit of enlightenment during the last battle may even that out, if he were to maybe see a flow of control magic or stitching that made a new idea come together or something along those lines. Although if your plan from a story standpoint was to have Tyron just have made a blind mistake coming to the land of the dead to show how desperate he was and rethink his direction after then the current situation works very well.
Tomer Yud
I am so confused, maybe I skipped chapters? I need a reread lol
Tomer Yud
wait im confused, didnt dove betray tyron, poisoned him and escaped? now he is here and now he is suddenly here? 'Dove still somehow managed to roll his pelvis from side to side, sending the snake whipping through the air in huge arcs.' please shift delete this character, I really dont like him, he made me stop reading the first time around, only after a long break I got into the book again. still dont like him. probably one of my least favorite characters of all times. some characters make you hate them and thats the point, but I think with Dove, he is just not a good character to have in the book. should have let him die when he saved Tyron in the beginning and thats it.
CentaureHeart
I forgot but his whole Magick feedback loop of "death to life - life to Magick" doesn't work here. That's a significant drawback. Crazy chapter, thanks. I found nothing wrong with it. We can tell he's earning gains and yet he's still in the lowest position, it's only the three battle that's saving him, and even then it turns against him when he turns to flee, which makes sense. It's something easily overlooked so I don't think it's stupid to have forgotten about it.
Jo
I guess you’re looking for feedback. Hmm I never like when authors put something before the chapters, that undermine it. Maybe put it after? It was fine and thats alright with a serial. Anyway here’s some how I felt. Would be cool if there was more of price and goal other than survival. Maybe be take an enemy with him to study. Him slowly unearthing secrets from the enemy. He is just reacting now. Maybe setting up the wywern with foreshadowing? His outmatched but his fighting without a plan it seems. Well.. his there for experience, but I think we all want him to be the too smart for is own good kind of underdog. Always would like to jump into the minds of both enemies or more a dialogue between them. Btw really really like your stuff!
