The Cursed Assassin

A Kingdom Building LitRPG Adventure

Book 2 in the Revenant’s Revenge series

by Andrew Karevik

Revenant’s Revenge (Book 2)

Copyright © 2023 LitRPG Freaks

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Chapter 1

Death in the land of Renzetto was a curious but not entirely mysterious thing. Everyone knew two basic rules. The first was that everyone died. The second was that those who were pious went to the heavens and those who were impious went to hell. The rest was a great mystery and subject to much religion, debate and discussion amongst all kinds, learned men, scholars, priestesses and the great philosophers.

For peasants, those ‘unlearned’ in the ways of death, there was an additional rule, one that I had always found a great comfort in: death brings rest.

While the philosopher may like to talk endlessly about the great primordial soup that makes up all conscious mind, or as the priest of Lodan talks about how all souls are sent to where they truly deserve to be, the peasant is looking forward to an end to the backbreaking toil. Paradise? Hell? If I didn’t have to get up at the first crack of dawn every day to sweep, I’d consider whatever meager afterlife I received to be truly wondrous.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there was no rest to be found in death for the likes of me. For while my other peasant brethren were marching into restful oblivion, I had been murdered in the most dispassionate of ways – a foul nobleman was testing his sword in the streets – and as a result, the cosmic imbalances of the world drew forth my soul from whatever rest had been intended.

I rose again, breaking all of the rules in the process. This was my choice, perhaps the first one I had ever truly made, for it took the icy plunge of undeath to show me that true power is easy to accumulate when one ignores what the so-called Kings and Lords of the world create as their rules.

I am Velking Demoneyed, a revenant resurrected for the purpose of making my murderer’s life a living hell. And that task had only just begun!

Returning to life had been a whirlwind experience, one marred with a deep sense of Hunger, an urge to get revenge upon Eris Lanyer for his crime of testing a sword’s sharpness upon my neck. But in the process, I had realized it was not enough to simply take a life for a life. Being a peasant had been a miserable and unrelenting affair – the life of a noble was veritable heaven compared to that. To kill the man would simply send him along to his afterlife and I had no intention of risking whether the gods were truly just. After all, a ruler like him was allowed to walk free with their permission, was he not?

Destruction was easy to do, as the body of a revenant is a killing machine, a material undead creature able to climb, crawl and slip into total darkness in the blink of an eye. But I did not simply want to tear the man’s vessel apart. No, I wanted to destroy all that he had strived to create. And then? I was going to let him rebuild, only to take it all away once more.

This cyclic form of vengeance was deeply appealing to me and thus I had pledged servitude to the Monarch of Bones, a terrible demi-deity that exists in the Silvershade, a dark realm in between life and death – but one hidden or unknown to the gods.

With the Monarch’s endowment of power, I became a Twisted Peasant within his courts and rose up to that of my current Rank: Foul Nobleman. This had been my most recent achievement and with that rank came the power of speech, the ability to gloat before the humans I have so easily bested. This had been a vital step in establishing the first part of Eris Lanyer’s near-eternal torment: letting him know who I was and why he was being punished.

My first major foray into the human world had ended quite satisfyingly. I had generated a great deal of Discordance Shards by terrorizing the city of Tague and humiliated Eris in the process, convincing his allies to leave him for dead.

It would have been a pleasure to have leapt upon the trembling and terrified man, to rend his flesh to pieces as he stood alone before my great throne, but I was not the kind of man to eat a steak raw just because he was hungry. A good meal needed to be well seasoned, marinated and roasted to perfection. And what better seasoning than terror?

And so I, having captured Eris Lanyer singlehandedly, released the man, chasing after him like a hound dog, braying and barking in a mad display of pleasure and joy. This idiot had no clue I had been coming after him, he had no idea that his actions would bring about such terror to his life and thus I enjoyed the more immediate fear in his heart – all the while knowing there was much more to be had.

Now, the nobleman had ‘escaped’ from my clutches and had simply vanished from the face of the earth. He was hiding from me and in such a way that I could not find with the magics that I had available. Eris’ reputation as a martyr spread for a short time, but words of him resurfacing here and there had led to many people assuming he had bought his way out of the clutches of the ‘Royal Revenant’ (as I was called).

This had humiliated him and his reputation, leading the king to revoke his title as Lord of Tague and assign it to some other person. And thus my interest in my home city waned considerably – there was no reason to keep an eye there for now. Not until Eris reemerged.

I was content, for now, to rest and bide my time. The consequences of my attack on Tague had been extensive, though not unexpected.

The Order of the Central Star was removed entirely from Tague – and the Lodan pantheon! My actions had quite literally demoted a group of gods in the eyes of the mortals who served them. Makenna the Utmost Constellation, goddess of these star-fuckers had rescinded her hand from this chapter for their many sins, or so it was said, but the rest of the Lodanites were not impressed by this. An entire religion was shuffled off to the side, kicked out of Tague, because they could not deliver on their promise to destroy the undead menace.

With the sluggish and weak Central Star gone, a new band of Lodanites came to town – followers of Yoroth, wild and boisterous warrior-knights who loved getting into fights with the undead. They were far, far more efficient in forming a crusade and cleansing Tague’s surface of all major evils (though only striking at a few parts in the depths below the city, for the Yorothians were not unwise to poke sleeping bears).

Once Tague was purified and cleansed, the Parchment Woods – my main area of operation – became the target for a crusade. Peasants, priests and warriors alike armed up and marched through the woods at all hours of the day, fighting my ghouls and zombies. They killed any undead they could find, destroyed my portals and liberated all of my villages from my control.

This was to be expected. One does not show up unannounced, kick the ass of an entire city, and then not receive retribution. As long as no mortals passed into the portals to destroy my land, there would be no conflict from my part. I was content to wait, as long as it took, for the world to lower its head. Then I would return and bring terror once more to those who deserved it – the Kings, Queens and Nobles of the land who acted without thinking and deserved no quarter. This was the charge of the Monarch of Bones, as well as my own personal vendetta: to wage war on the living, to remind all great kings that Death is the True King and none are exempt from the icy hand. Those who chose to forget? They would have to contend with me.

Chapter 2

Six months had passed since the last crusade had ended. Yoroth, as a deity, was of short-temper and even shorter attention. There was little interest in keeping the fires burning if there was no one to smite and so, once the Parchment Woods were finally cleansed of all evils, the crusade ended.

The Burning Bell of Holy Fire – the artifact that had starting ringing since the beginning of this holy war – finally ceased its endless banging and thus ended the warding effect that prevented any undead from entering Tague. Yorath’s church packed up and moved elsewhere, leaving only their teachings to ensure the people would never again allow such undead power to build itself back up.

It was tempting to interfere after this was over, to undermine the church’s power for the sheer hell of it, but I had made a peace treaty with the king. I would not war on a human civilization for twelve years. More than that, I could not bring an army upon human lands during that time. I was free to enter the human world alone or with a few allies, if it pleased me, but until those twelve years were done, I was simply biding my time until I could bring as much as a single unit with me.

Twelve years aren’t much to an undead being, one would think…but each day was endless and miserably long, full of pain and agony. When pursuing after a singular goal, like humiliating and destroying Eris Lanyer, the pain was tolerable, but when milling about, waiting… it grew unbearable.

And as my pain grew, so did the frustration within my entire realm. The Veiled Kingdom, a demi-plane composed of undead, human cultists who served me and ogre beasts, was reactive to my state and, over time, the mood grew worse and worse, with normal human minds beginning to degrade. Skeletons were growing frenzied, attacking each other without cause, my goblin cohorts were becoming more jealous and cruel, and even Anna, my number two, was unusually tense and short with me.

This was not boredom. Something was happening to our entire realm because of my energies and I did not understand why this was. I had received so much Discordance from harming Eris and that should have been more than enough to give me something stabilizing but…things were degrading.

It was Sir Garen, of all people, who brought this to my attention. My Knightly Wight, as I called him, was responsible for reproduction of our ghoul lineage, generating as many wights as possible while ensuring they were all well trained and capable of fighting. Because of our restriction from entering human lands, he could not go out and convert.

Conversion, in this case, was killing and feasting on corpses. It was an extension of his vital function and was the reason I had created him. While Sir Garen had developed a personality – a combination of his body’s fragmented memories combined with a wandering cryptospirit’s sense of self – he was no free-willed. His concerns were therefore of great importance.

The ghoul knight found me on the balcony of Castle Fiege. I had trouble remembering what my old name had been, so much so that I had stopped trying to recall it. But recently, the naming of the castle had come up and I decided to solidify my human legacy by naming the castle after my old lineage. Why? I don’t know. Part of me…in some way, felt like I didn’t want to stop being Hector Fiege. I just didn’t want to be a pawn anymore. Hence my name change.

“What’s on your mind, sir?” Sir Garen asked as he approached, kneeling before me. He was wearing a complimentary armor outfit similar to mine, black and silver with a faceless helm. However, the bottom of the helm had been torn open, allowing the wight’s fanged jaws to jut out. All of the wights wore half-helms like this. “I sense confusion.”

“Nothing,” I muttered as I motioned for him to stand and follow me out onto the full balcony. There was plenty of space to observe the world below. It didn’t quite bring me pleasure to see the demi-plane continue to grow life and develop but I still enjoyed it on some intellectual level. “Just reflecting upon my namesake. I can’t, for the life of me, understand why I must keep my human name alive.”

“Memory serves for many things, one would guess,” Sir Garen replied. “Perhaps it is important for a reason you simply do not understand. A magical ritual necessity, perhaps, or maybe you are tied more to the name than you think. I would not dismiss these thoughts.”

“You’re just an automaton who wouldn’t do anything without being told to first,” I said.

“It doesn’t mean I can’t tell you to go fuck yourself while I obey,” he shot back. There was agitation in his voice. Pain and anger.

“What’s on your mind, Sir Garen?” I asked, reflecting the question back to him.

“Everyone continues to grow more agitated. Something is the matter and I do not know what it is,” Sir Garen said. “My body is starting to become disobedient to my spirit and my spirit is becoming angry and perplexed. I feel like lashing out at any moment. I have begun striking at my own men, simply to feel the sensation of harming something. They are beginning to act the same.”

“Madness has come to our camp?” I asked.

“The Hunger, perhaps,” Sir Garen replied. “You…you have not been pursuing revenge. It is the only thing I can think of. I agree that it is necessary for you to wait and bide your time to strike again but Eris Lanyer remains unfound. Until you are actively hunting him…I fear we may stay this ill. Or grow worse.”

“Anna had the same conclusion,” I said. “But I do not feel the Hunger. It usually has a presence within me, an urge for satiety that consumes everything in my mind, if I’m not careful. But ever since our victory, I have felt total control. This is not the Hunger.”

“Either way, we must exercise these energies, if for no other reason than to simply keep our people from going mad,” Sir Garen said. “Unleash us! Let us run wild for a few days.”

“This violates the terms of the agreement,” I said with a heavy sigh. “It would be my deepest and greatest pleasure to allow you all to leave for a week but I cannot even open another portal to this realm on a human land. There is a great magical seal upon this peace treaty, I feel it from the gods. They are blocking us from being able to violate it.”

The wight shook his head and clambered onto the balcony railing, mounting up so he was perched like a gargoyle. “It seems you have no free will then.”

“I suppose not,” I replied. “How long do I have until I lose you?”

“Weeks perhaps,” Sir Garen said.

“Before you go mad?”

“Before we all do,” he muttered. “Don’t think you aren’t going down with us. I’m connected to you. Everything happening to me is therefore happening to…”

The wight trailed off at that. I pondered the situation for a moment. “Perhaps there is someone who could answer these questions,” I replied. “Didn’t you say there was a vampire staying with us?”

“In the eastern wing, in fact,” Sir Garen said. He looked at me and shook his head again. “He seems to know something. Showed up a month ago, smirking and grinning like a fool with a secret. But hasn’t said a word to any of us.”

“This can’t be coincidental,” I said as I looked up at the windows where the east wing sat. That area was the guest quarters, for the dignitaries and such. Anna had fought hard to get a room for ambassadors and visitors, despite my objections that we wouldn’t be having such people over, and I suppose she was right on the matter. Someone had moved in and was enjoying our hospitality. As a result, we could get some much needed answers about this damnable unafterlife.

Chapter 3

Our guest was a rather enormous creature by the name of Zigfried. As a Greater Vampire, he was able to assume the form of a tremendous bat beast that was sitting in the library of the east wing, sitting upon a group of cushions while loudly devouring a corpse.

This vampire was nearly ten feet tall, with a fat, bloated grey body and a rather circular maw that allowed him to tear huge chunks out of the mangled body, fresh blood spurting everywhere as he bit. His beady red eyes narrowed in on me at once and I could see my faceless reflection in those eyes.

“Ohohoho, so he finally comes to find the answer to the question!” Zigfried chuckled as he took another loud bite, crunching bones and all of the corpse. The glistening red blood dribbled on the ground, gleaming with a tempting energy. There was vital essence within blood and any undead creature could drink it to enjoy the pleasure – but only a vampire could gain Discordance from it.

“Is your arrival fortuitous? Or are you here because you want something?” I asked as I approached, standing firm before the big creature.

“Actually, I’m hiding away from some rivals for a time,” he said. “Where do you think long-lived dead go when they vanish for centuries at a time? We find a random open demi-plane and pop in. Imagine my pleasure to find it was occupied by a fellow Corpseman! All the better, now no one will bother me.”

“What is plaguing me?”

“Other than poor taste, manners and hospitality?” Zigfried chuckled as he munched on a bone, cracking it open and slurping everything out in the most garish and hideous display. My stomach would have churned if it could. Why did this seem extra offensive today?

“I apologize, but it appears I and my fellows are not in our right mind,” I replied. “Something has gripped us, a malaise of sorts and it’s affecting my ability to reason. It’s a dim effort for now but…it’s amplifying with the others out there.”

“Malaise? No! Miasma? Yes!” the vampire said with a chuckle as he stretched his wings out for a moment. He seemed quite comfortable in his own body. Perhaps that was the benefit of serving Eskaton, one of the other Eight Below. This one was able to restore the old body and grant vampirism at will, something that made vampires far more frequent in the undead world than before.

“Miasma?” I repeated.

“When was the last time you generated Discordance?” the vampire asked. The mirth was gone and he was now in a quite instructive mode.

“Four months ago,” I said. “When the last of our Veiled Villages were liberated.”

“Therein is your problem. You see, an undead creature must subsist on Discordance Shards in order to continue. Otherwise, they could theoretically just eke out an existence without ever bothering anyone. This is not their purpose. The dark gods gave us these powers to cause Discordance and, without that lifeline, we wither. Death is not what happens, however. Madness? Feralicity? Oh yes, that is the fate of many an undead.”

“So this is how they become feral…” I muttered. “I see. Tell me then, would only a small amount work?”

“No, it is based on one’s current strength. Think of your influences and power as a single body. You have an entire demi-plane connected to you, you have servants and cultists. All are drawing from your Discordance. Your ‘body’ is therefore draining of its ‘nutrients’ much faster. And unlike mortal corpses which expire, you never will. Your faculties, however?” the vampire began to laugh at that, chuckling so heartily his entire body quaked. “You will become most amusing to me. I should stick around longer to see this degradation happen.”

“If you wish to see real amusement, I suggest you go to a cabaret show,” I replied. “I am in a bind here and a great one at that. How can one generate discordance without being on human lands? I cannot do it all myself, can I?”

“The answer to that is to leave the Human lands,” Zigfried said. “And enter into the undead world. Lepidonia is technically not the domain of the human gods but of the lycanthropes. Among these deities is Epheris, the Great Undertaker. He will be more than pleased to allow any undead upon his land.”

Lepidonia? The cosmopolitan lands of vampires and lycanthropes. A place where Banshees regulated the law between all parties. And a place full of counties and baronies that were no doubt home to great injustices. I could easily find revenge cases there.

“And I can bring my forces onto the land?” I asked.

The vampire frowned for a moment. “Technically you can, but you shouldn’t until you make yourself known. The Cursed Country is home to many great powers of the dead, all who have allegiances and alliances. There is plenty for a revenant like yourself to do there, of course. Discordance is always available wherever the undead gather and no doubt many would be pleased to offer you a portion of their power in exchange for your…abilities.”

“Abilities?” I asked. “Forgive my cluelessness but I truly am not keen as to the undead ways. My hope was to just live a more…human focused life.”

“Ah, no need to apologize, young pup. You are brand new to the world and there is much to learn,” the great vampire said. “I myself didn’t even learn to speak language until nearly 500 years of life. So consider yourself farther than many.

“Your abilities are rather in demand in…well, any world. You are able to bypass most natural forms of securities by using the Silvershade to enter and exit buildings – even consecrated ones. And beyond that, you are not beholden to any party within the Cursed Country. Lepidonia is an established power structure. An assassin of your caliber and skills…well, let’s just say that you would do well for yourself.”

“You are speaking of selling my services like some common soldier,” I growled.

“They will not pay you the wage of a common soldier,” he countered. “But a vast feast of discordance. Or, you could send your vast swathes of undead into the countryside and piss off every ghoul and mummy lord within a 200 mile radius. And guess what? Most folks are used to being terrorized in that part of the land, so say goodbye to your rather elegant tactics of spooking villagers without violence.”

“You seem rather…fascinated for a visitor of opportunity,” I remarked, crossing my arms.

“I am a scholar and postcognitator of many things,” Zigfried said, unperturbed by my own frustrations. “Looking into one’s past is easy to do. And I see a curious pattern in you that suggests you take the harder path, using terror to generate discordance instead of blanket violence. This will not work in that land. So either play their game and win some prizes, or keep losing your mind. The choice is yours.”

“It’s no choice at all, I suppose,” I replied. “You are most kind, I apologize for my terseness.”

“Hunger is a hard thing to deal with, I can empathize. In theory, I have never gone a day without a meal. And it shows.” Zigfried laughed, jiggling his great body. “Since you’ve not kicked me out or threatened me yet, I should think you are uninterested in proving anything to me. As such, I am uninterested in proving anything to you, except perhaps I am worthy of your time for a conversation every now and then.”

An interesting point raised. The vampire wanted company? “For what purpose?” I asked.

“No purpose at all, my revenant friend,” Zigfried said. “Your kind may have risen up to get some kind of revenge on existence but vampires? We rise so we may continue to enjoy the finer things in life. Alcohol, sex, conversation, games, all the vitae of life!”

“Who would want to have sex with…” I trailed off, gesturing to the massive bat beast.

He laughed. “I have many forms, friend. But even so! You just made a joke, did you not? A humorous observation? Is that not life? The rest of you Corpses are all so miserable and yet you don’t have to be. A vampire is no different than any other undead, other than the fact that we have connection to our bodies. Personality wise? We are all the same. It’s only the skullfaced like yourself that are so convinced to be humorless all the time.”

“What were you in life, pray tell?” I asked. “That you would be so merry in death?”

“I don’t count my life beginning until I was raised as a vampire,” Zigfried replied with a chuckle. “I was probably just a thrall, raised in captivity to be eaten. I don’t know. And I don’t care because the finer things are for the vampiric folk. And the select undead with refined taste. Mortals can’t truly appreciate anything, I mean why should they? They vanish in the blink of an eye. Undead on the other hand? We live forever and ever. Thus it is my opinion that vampires should be the dominant race someday.”

“An interesting political philosophy. I’m assuming your attempt to implement it is why you are in hiding?” I asked.

“Oh yes, every vampire agrees in the creation of a vast empire above ground – but no one agrees on the politics. And if we warred with each other outright, it would be fine, but no, it is all assassinations and machinations. We spend so much time plotting against ourselves it’s a wonder we’d ever dominate everything,” the vampire confessed. “But alas, I don’t mean to prattle on. My point is that if you are living only for revenge and Discordance, your mind is dull and weak. Even if you had energies to sharpen them…what good would they be? I mean for Eskalon’s sake, you’re wearing full armor to a friendly conversation in your own castle!”

“My clothes mean nothing to me. I feel them not,” I replied. “And going through the motions of taking them on and off seems…”

“Excessive? A waste of time? Friend, you are a wealthy man of power. Dress yourself however you please but for the love of all that is unholy, at least have people maintain your outfits. Especially if you want to present yourself to the Night Sun Ball.”

Chapter 4

The vampire Zigfried was extremely talkative and had gone to great lengths to teach me about the Cursed Country of Lepidonia and all of the various issues that it had. Famine was a big problem for the humans and this was killing off a large number of them in droves. In turn, the vampiric folk who preyed upon the smaller villages, never killing and only feeding, were running out of victims.

This had caused a lot of chaos in the undead world as various ranks all fought and vied to solve the issue. There were many factions, too many for Z, as he liked to be called, to explain but the gist of it was that the undead of Lepidionia viewed banner loyalty as more important than deity loyalty.

The Eight Below were a mostly silent pantheon who were operating in the shadows, blocked out by true gods and goddesses who were working to keep the Silvershade’s influence from expanding. For the undead to organize themselves according to which deity they served would make no sense if the number of worshippers never curried any additional favor. There was no reason to serve impotent gods and no one would rally around a silent image (no matter how much my ally Gallus would wish).

The Banners of the Cursed Court were far more valuable to the Lepidonian. These were six ‘ignoble’ houses formed by the Banshee long, long ago. Each of these houses had ranks, leaders and regulations, ensuring everyone played nicely with each other. No one shared resources, of course, but the Banners were made in order to ensure no one from a different faction entered the wrong territory.

Discordance was always in short supply, everyone needed it. And with the realization that a looming madness came to the entire dominion of an undead being, it meant that war would be inevitable without cooperation between the undead.

The Banshees of the County were the only ones able to sufficiently keep the peace. They had great power to compel all undead on their lands to obey in any capacity – something that could be grossly misused if they were interested in such a thing. But these strange and terribly beings were merely content to keep the vast undead swathes from overpowering the lycanthropic neighbors who were blessed by the Banshee goddess, Aegalla.

The werewolves, or Nightsun Worshippers, as they were called, had long ago adopted worship of Aegalla, gaining her favor enough to earn their very own Banner in Lepidonia. And Aegalla was no minor deity – she was worshipped far and wide by natural born lycanthropes, epileptics and those who were born with disabilities. Her power was not to heal but to empower those crippled with wondrous abilities, often granting the lame the power to walk via lycanthropy.

Many considered this a curse and spited the Nightsun Worshippers, throwing them out of society. And so Aegalla gave them another power, to survive the land. Claws, fangs and the strength of ten men.

There was an unfortunate side effect of such a gift, however. For Aegalla had not intended to cause contention with the mortal humans who had not received her gifts – she could not understand that people were castigating those who had received the Nightsun’s Touch. She merely heard their prayers and answered them, as best she could.

Those who were scorned all their lives, broken and feeble from birth, taunted and mocked and forced to beg in the streets…did not handle the sudden influx of power with grace. Fangs and claws along with the ability to run free led to a horrific event in their home country known as the Nightsun’s Red Run.

Was this revenge justified? As a revenant, I would say so. These people were granted the cures to their illnesses and were thrown out of their villages, condemned to die in the woods for no crime whatsoever. The homeland, long gone now, got what it rightfully deserved.

This isn’t to say they did what was good or right. Lycanthropes all over, a natural race born from Aegalla’s dalliances with Lodan, were condemned as bestial abominations, controlled by hunger and hatred. While these furfolk were once treated as no different than the common elf or orc by humans, that was no longer the case. Word of the Nightsun Worshippers spread like wildfire and within a hundred years, all lycanthrope achievement was destroyed and the people scattered to the winds.

Aegalla created the Banshees to give her people a home. Lodan didn’t give a damn about his half-born children (big surprise there) and so she looked to the cursed lands of Lepidonia as a place for the wayward werewolf, natural or blessed, to live. Using their power to curtail the undead, these Banshees established a civil court and the Banners, granting a Banner to each of the greatest undead force as well as to the lycanthropes.

A deal was made with the gods. Aegalla looked to Epheris, the Great Undertaker, for aid in this regard.

Epheris was part of Lodan’s pantheon but different from all of the other gods in that he was not aligned with the forces of good or evil. Rather, he was the one responsible for the collection of all dead spirits, placing them where they needed to go. It was an administrative job that no one envied – the vast amount of power required to sort through a day’s worth of souls made the position only available to the greatest of gods. Few wanted to waste their energies, save for Epheris.

Epheris was clever in that regard; he knew that caring for souls was a cumbersome task – but if he did so with kindness and understanding, he could earn the admiration of all mortals. Indeed, his strategy worked and the Neutral God became a household name in every major pantheon.

With the Sorter God position came the rights to own a land. That land became Lepidonia, where he graciously hosted Aegalla’s children, bringing all lycanthropes to unoccupied swamps and marshes.

Since Epheris was the god of the dead, the land itself was not considered to be under the human domain. I could bring my entire army onto Lepidonia if I liked. And perhaps one day I would – once I had an army to bring forth.

My necromantic abilities were limited by the ability to raise Twisted Monuments – physical ties to the land that directly increased my capacity to control hordes of the dead. When that damnable crusade rolled through the Parchment Woods, they dug up and destroyed every last monument I had built. This led to the immediate annihilation of my army, save for the ones I could control based on my rank.

Lepidonia seemed to be a land of opportunity thanks to the undead world status. There were indeed humans present, but these mortals knew their place somewhat.

The term Lepidonia had originally referred to the great city in the center of the marshy, swamplands of the dark country. Founded by a great human civilization, there had been a long period of stagnation, preventing them from expanding out into the rest of the unoccupied countryside. When the lycanthropes arrived, they quickly colonized anything that wasn’t secured.

How did the humans react? Not nearly as poorly as the vampiric counts who had arrived earlier – enjoying Epheris’ blessings and protections as they fed on the local population. The short of it is that many undead beings had all gotten the same idea as Aegalla’s children and most had arrived first. None were aware of each other until the werewolves showed up and the vampires went to war.

The Banshees stepped in and solved this, temporarily. Banners were distributed, territory shelled out and laws given as to what could be done to the humans in each district. A country was turned into a division of hunting grounds. But like any country, there were fertile grounds and poor ones. And every Banner fought constantly to find a way to get a leg up when it came to the Choosing of the Feeding Lands.

This ritual was the key to preventing total war between any dissatisfied party. At the end of every four years, a Night Sun would rise across the land, a terrible artifact of immense power that would feed the bodies of all starving undead for a single night. At the conclusion of this celestial event, the Banshees would parcel out the Feeding Lands to each Banner based on all manner of criteria.

Four years wasn’t a long time to an undead life. No one would go to war just to hold power for four short years. Instead, the Banners all fell back and began their machinations, playing chess against each other while the human civilization continued to grow and thrive, safe – somewhat.

According to Zigfried, recent changes in human patterns and such had caused a few of the more popular land distributions to be far less palatable. Starvation was becoming an issue amongst many of the factions and everyone was eager for a chance to earn better land. A revenant, a man without a country or a cause, could stand to make a fortune with the right party. After all, assassination wasn’t against the rules of the agreement.

This extensive explanation had persuaded me fully. I was wasting away in Castle Fiege with nothing to do. The Hunger wasn’t pushing me for some strange reason and so I was free to make my own choices. What better way to occupy the time than to meddle in the strange politics of the dead?

Chapter 5

The Night Sun would not rise for another year. But this did not mean the Ball wasn’t kept up as a yearly tradition. The Banners had held a decision that all introductions, declarations, alliances and dissolutions of such would be held in one long night in the Banshee’s mountainous castle. This was also the time when problems were aired, plots were made and assassination attempts happened.

To miss a single Night Sun Ball as a Banner Lord would be a tremendous embarrassment – one could expect their position to be destroyed rather quickly. Refusal to participate in any of the traditions was refusal to participate in all of them, thus allowing everyone to destroy the Banner Lord and take his possessions and cattle.

This all seemed terribly pointless to me. Why the dead should rise up, break free of their constraints and then immediately fall into bureaucracy was beyond me, but I suppose it was their natures. A revenant did not seem to move in packs like the rest of the undead world. Even wights, the loneliest of all undead, generated replicas that would develop divergent personalities over time. By default, the revenant stood alone. I wonder if I would find others like me at this strange ball.

I decided to be silent and careful about my entrance to this event. I would take only Sir Garen with me. Anna was a living being and thus I feared for her safety. There were no allies among the dead when it came to dealing with the living. They were always natural enemies on some level and I had to always be careful to keep the Cult separate from the dead they follow.

Zigfried had lamented not being able to come along, but he would be killed on sight for certain. He begged me not to mention his presence and offered me many more secrets if I complied. The man’s nervousness about being found out made me curious as to what he had done to earn such ire. Was he ambitious or idiotic? Incompetent or simply unlucky? I suppose time would tell.

Lepidonia was extremely far from Friedland and thus it was the perfect target to set up a temporary base – as well as a new portal. The only way to access the Veiled Kingdom as of now was to teleport directly into it and such a thing was impossible for any outsider to do. Even my own minions couldn’t teleport here without a planar rift, so I needed to open up a new portal so they could go back and forth as they pleased.

The old ghoul network was long gone and thus my first task was to find a spot in Lepidonia where I could hide a portal. In any other country, I would say this was an easy task, but here…not so much.

Burrowing could be risky. While it might be nice to build another cavern network where I could put the portal, there were too many ghouls within this cursed land to risk discovery. All it would take was one burrowing gravebeast or a talkative mole to expose my secret to the rest of the undead world.

Instead, my eyes fell upon none other than my old friend, Baron Adelbar.

This formerly wealthy Baron had been robbed blind by me and my ghoul friends, his estate easy to break into and his security thoroughly bested. We took all of his gold and, in the process, bankrupted the man. Now, he lived in squalor – the great manor abandoned and left for the vultures.

Without money to pay his guards, the Baron’s land was plundered and left for dead. Being so far from the actual city of Lepid meant that he was as good as dead if he stayed without protection, and so he and his people fled for safety.

Now the estate was full of bandits who were more than skilled at protecting themselves against the undead hordes. Wards were built around the entire manor and towers had been erected to give crossbowmen the ability to fire upon anything nearby. Underground, however? Completely undefended.

My old tunnels were still there and I was quick to find my way back to the vault I had initially robbed.

The thieves had done some work to repair the vault, patching up the hole with wood. A use of the passwall ability and I was on the other side with ease, finding a vast amount of valuables of all kinds scattered about.

“Looks like the thieves have been busy…” I muttered, glancing at all of the bags of gold. This was a bit of a setback, because I had been counting on this part of the manor to be completely abandoned. If there was nothing in here, no one would care if I collapsed the tunnel connecting the upstairs to the rest of the vault. They’d think it a mere accident, a fact of the manor’s disrepair and wouldn’t do anything to fix it.

Gold and jewels, however, meant that they’d be eager to dig it all up and thus discover my portal. Damn…if I killed these vultures more would just appear and, worse, it may be a signal to the rest of the undead world of my presence. The goal was to have a hidden portal…

“Whoah, what the fuck are you!” a man said as he sat up abruptly, causing tons of gold to slide aside. He had been buried beneath the mounds of coin and was rubbing his eyes.

“Shit!” I hissed. “Shut up before I kill you!”

“Yeesh, not so loud, I’ve been trying to sleep one off,” the man replied as he laid back down, shifting a little as he tried to make a pillow out of some coins.

He could understand me! That’s right, my rank had given me the gift of speech with mortals. Finally! And his reaction to my presence meant only one thing. He was used to the undead.

“What is your name?” I asked as I stood over the ruffian. He was a bearded fellow, soaked in liquor. He had smooth black skin, except for the large patches of white over his eye, hands and lips.

“Tucker,” he replied, covering his face with his hands to block me off. “And I’m trying to sleep on guard duty. Rob as much as you like, just don’t kill me or take so much that they’ll kill me. I think that’s really fair, considering I could just yell out.”

“You are quite the businessman,” I said. “Are you discrete as well?”

“That a sexual question? I am not your type,” he replied, opening one eye as he grinned at me. “What do you have in mind, oh shady monsterman?”

“Tell me what you wish first, what can I give to you to secure your loyalty in this matter?” I questioned, enjoying the fact that I could have an actual, real conversation with a human being. It felt incredible! There was no more reason for me to hiss and snarl, to kick and bite! I could finally negotiate with people and that would save me a considerable amount of headaches. And if the negotiations failed, I could kill them with such ease that…well, I always had the upper hand in the conversation. Perhaps I should deal with more mortals in these lands.

“I am a relatively simple man,” he replied. “Enough coin to keep me drunk, in a warm bed and safe from being shot with arrows.”

I waved a hand towards all of the treasure. “Is this enough?”

“I won’t sell out my fellow slummies,” the man explained as he sat up, no longer invested in returning to his slumber.

“Slummy?” I asked.

“Slummates,” he chuckled. “It’s a term for bandits who find abandoned manors and live in them until someone pays us to go away. We have a loose code but it’s still a code, nonetheless.”

A man who had integrity. That was useful. “Then perhaps I shall let them all live as payment?”

The fellow raised an eyebrow. “Odd to meet a ghoulie who thinks he can take a bunch of Lepidonians. You know that folks outside of the walls are pretty intense, right? There’s a reason I’m not panicking right now. I’ve had to fight nests of creatures like you.”

“I am not any old ghoul,” I replied. I had opted to leave my helmet and armor behind as to keep my presence anonymous while scouting. “You will see that soon enough.”

“You willing to make a bet?” he asked, grinning at me. “Up top is one of the greatest bandits of our generation. If you can take him down, I’d be more than happy to serve you however you need.”

“I’m afraid I don’t do quests,” I replied as I speared the man through the head with my claw, killing him instantly. “You should have taken the money.”

I tossed the corpse aside and opened up the portal. A swarm of ghouls immediately emerged, heralding the arrival of Sir Garen.

“Raise him,” I said, pointing to the corpse. “And then convert the rest of the camp. Slow and quiet.”

Sir Garen nodded and immediately went to work, feasting on the corpse until it was infused with his negative energies. The newly born wight rose up, all memories of its former life gone. But the face it wore was still familiar and would be more than enough to get guards to lower their weapons.

The horde quietly dismounted the wooden panel that blocked the vault and were quick to devour the guards on the outside. Once again, Manor Adelbar was under siege from wights. This time, however, we were here to stay.

Chapter 6

Acquisition of the Damned! 2,000 Discordance Gained appeared in my vision once the last man – the champion who had been sleeping when caught by sixteen wights – died. The surge of energy was so intense that I could scarcely hold myself together, both physically and emotionally.

“Yes!” Sir Garen shouted suddenly as he entered my new quarters. I had selected the dungeon, deep in the earth, to serve as my temporary burrow. “Sir, do you feel it?

“The discordance shards,” I muttered. “There’s so much energy. I feel like I’m about to rip in half.”

“I feel like I’ve eaten a thousand souls,” Garen said. He seemed genuinely pleased. “Stability is coming in as well. My wights are falling into line and I can command them with ease now.”

“Good,” I said. “We’ll need to convert that discordance to raise a Twisted Monument at once, so I can start building up my forces again.”

“Is that ideal?” he asked.

“I’m afraid it’s far from it,” I replied. “But my hope was that the vault was abandoned. It was not. I’m not going to spend weeks searching for a safe spot to hide my portal, I’d rather carve out my territory quickly and get some kind of diplomatic immunity afterward.”

I had taken a risk in acquiring this territory. Now that we had been forced to kill the bandits and turn them into undead, we’d be on the map, sooner or later. Sir Garen and his ilk would have to stay behind to secure the damn portal, as Garen could telepathically alert me if something was going amiss.

It seems that I would be attending the Night Sun Ball alone. No matter, I would hopefully be able to blend in with the rest of the regular ghouls and get a survey of who was the most important. I only needed to curry the favor of one or two of the stronger Banners. The only trouble was figuring out who would be most receptive to my cause…and who would be willing to share their discordance.

Before I would attend the ball, however, I needed to raise a Twisted Monument. Thankfully, underground counted as upon mortal lands just as much as above ground, so I decided to build the monument right next to the portal.

Fidelio, my necromancer minion, had taught me the secret to raising these monuments up with magic, and with the stretch of my clawed hand, I was able to expend my Discordance Shards.

Twisted Monument Raised! appeared in my vision as four long bones emerged from the ground, converging together at the center. Sinew and flesh grew from the sides of the bones, turning the structure into a grotesque tent of living tissue.

The gold, silver and brass coins surrounding the monument flashed once, twice and then vanished in an instant!

Offering Accepted! Monument has reached Level 1!

Well, Fidelio hadn’t told me about this part…offerings?

Please Select the Monument’s Design:

Sickening Presence: Causes mortals to become extremely ill when around it. Wards holy avengers as well.

Miasmatic Rebounder: All undead within the area are nourished by the discordance this monument naturally generates. This has no effect on The Hunger.

Aware Mind: Monument gains self-awareness and can recall events that happen around it as well as give instructions to those who approach.

Lashing Presence: Monument grows damaging appendages that attack any non-ally within range.

Blackwind Sails: Absorbs a passive amount of Discordance and can be harvested in person.

Blackwind Sails looked to be the perfect compromise to my current situation…but at the same time, I did need to protect my territory. If my foes were able to break through Sir Garen’s men, the portal would be next. Lashing Presence might be far better to have in case of that kind of emergency.

A hard choice but I decided to take Lashing Presence. One couldn’t be too careful about securing one’s portal.

As I made the selection, the monument shifted and shuddered, changing from twisted flesh to a black, writhing mass of bubble-like skin. Long tendrils emerged from the bubbled body, whipping and smashing the ground in a display of might.

Impressive.

Monument has changed to: Brutal Monument

Offering Type: Iron

By leaving Iron artifacts, items and ore by the Monument, you will increase its Oppression score. Once its Oppression reaches 1,000, the Monument will increase in level and gain a new trait.

You have 1 Trait to select!

Commanding: Grants you an additional 10 Thralls.

Unholy: Monument cannot be affected by holy magic of equal or lower level.

Violent: Attacks become even stronger and grants the tendrils a Tearing Attack.

Suppression Field: Blocks all magic in the area, including your own.

Telepathic Siege: Monument gains a psychic attack.

I see…so if I collected offerings, I could make these monuments stronger. And if the Lashing Monument gave me better attacks, then it would mean the Blackwind Sails monument could grow stronger as well. I simply must secure permission to own some land here. Until then, however, best to make sure no one could challenge this one. Violent would be the perfect trait for the Monument!

Brutal Monument

Offering Score: 0/1,000

Level: 1

Command Bonus: +10 Thralls

Traits:

- Violent

Perfection. The twisting monument before me writhed and whipped its great tentacles, ready to break anything living in half. Furthermore, I could create a few more zombies to serve as my defenders of the property. We had plenty of orc bodies back at Castle Fiege…

After an hour of some work, I was able to expand the rest of my army before heading back to Lepidonia. With the Bleak Manor now established, it was time for me to make my appearance at the Night Sun Ball.

The event was a two-week long celebration of the arrival of the Night Sun, or discussion as to what would be done when the Sun arrives. Every Bannerlord brought only their advisors and most trusted councilors with them; it was forbidden to bring any army upon the castle grounds.

Finding the Banshee’s Castle was difficult and arduous for any who weren’t initiated. Powerful magics worked to conceal the location from the rest of the world and the undead mind would become especially addled moving into the mountainous passages, searching for the entrance. Only an invitation could grant one the clarity of mind needed to successfully enter the castle. Anyone else would never find the damn place.

So how would I find it? Theft, plain and simple. The invitations were physical items, envelopes with seals upon them. As long as one had paper in hand, they were perceived by the castle’s defenses as a friendly individual.

Who received such invitations? Bannerlords and their households. Every member received a letter at the beginning of the year, gifted by the Banshee’s skeletal ravens themselves. Most were collected and destroyed, as few members of the Banner were allowed to attend this great event, but one particular group sold off a few invitations to the general, mortal public.

Humans were not unaware of the great powers that lurked within the Cursed Lands of Lepidonia. Those within relied on making deals with the Banners in order to keep their lands safe. To a Lepidonian, undead death was a fact of life, the question was when it was going to come.

The old in the land were seen as the cattle and for good reason. A feeble old man could do very little to add to society. While this was abhorrent to the rest of the world, the elders of the Lepid Lands knew that there was no natural end for them. This was the cost of making society work, for if they did not volunteer themselves over at the end of their life, or when a great sickness overtook them, the entire human lands would be subjugated by one of the undead Banners – and then all would suffer.

The terms of these awful agreements, however, were constantly changing and there were many wheeling and dealing humans who wanted to leverage these types of things to their own benefit. If one could not succeed in human politics in the city of Lepid, they could find influence and power within the Banner Courts of the dead. Of course, those who did dealings with the undead, even those who did so for the sake of their country, were castigated and looked down upon. Only the Epheris priesthood could serve as the go-between for a King and the Banner Courts without causing a scene. Anything else would be seen as an attempt to use fiendish powers to advance one’s own agenda.

Thankfully there were many of these schemers in existence. The courts of Lepid were full of bastards who wanted power and were willing to sell other people’s souls to get them. The Banner Court of the Dreary Serpent was known for making deals with these schemers, granting them invitations to the ball where the true power players worked.

One particular man who found benefit in this sordid trade was a man who worked for the Arthur Temis Foundry, an extremely large store that sold magic items of all kinds. Fendar Gravedigger was the name he went by, and that was the kind of name that told you exactly the kind of person he was.

Fendar worked for Arthur Temis by day as a shopkeep and manager, running a storefront in a medium-sized human village. By night? He was a black market fence, dealing in stolen goods and selling things that were highly illegal. He was well known for having a stock of invitations and would sell them only to the highest bidder.

Since it was not a Black Sun Year, there was no real demand for the invitations, beyond one or two. It would be quite likely that he would have a surplus, though the greedy bastard was uninterested in lowering his prices. From what my vampire ally had told me, he was one of the few humans who had this kind of connection and his status working for a premier magical company (some would say the best in the land) gave him a sort of ‘immunity’ when it came to dealing with the law.

It was this immunity that made him a perfect target. The man was not fondly looked upon by the rest of society and only fiends and criminals dealt with him these days. The price of his disloyalty to mankind, however, had been well worth it, as his estate was grand and his belly was quite fat. Only the scummiest of men would serve him as a protector though, and thus I wasn’t terribly worried about his security. All he would have to do was hand me the envelope and everything would be fine. After all, I was able to speak and I’m sure he was quite reasonable to my kind…

Chapter 7

My supernatural abilities gave me such stealth that it was almost laughable evading the human guards. The storefront, known as the Hammer and Staff, was multi-leveled with dozens of guards armed to the teeth – but they were entirely blind to me for one reason: I could blend in with the shadows fully.

The moment I was covered in darkness, my entire body would become blacker than the night sky, even my silvery claws would become impossible to see. Merging with these shadows made it easy to walk right past these armored men and women, sparing them their lives and me the headache of dealing with an alert.

Occasionally a guard would have a torch out, but I could climb up the walls with ease, leaving very tiny little claw marks that were impossible to pick out of the woodwork without focusing – and these people were checked out completely. Who in their right mind would try to rob one of the most corrupt and powerful men in town?

My smell did not seem to bother people when I was sneaking about. This was good, because my body was indeed a rotting corpse and if I exuded any scents whatsoever, it would surely be noticed. Of course, if I had been cutting my way through bodies, getting blood and entrails upon myself, that would stink, but if I kept clean, I’d be a ghost in this place.

The fourth floor was where Gravedigger was working. The big man was sitting behind a large desk full of magical items, papers and crystals. He was reading a document with a magnifying glass, carefully analyzing the paper as I entered through the front door, whispering to the lock as it opened easily enough.

“That you, Grennich?” he asked without looking up. “Sandwich time, am I right?”

“Not quite,” I said, sitting in the large armchair across from his desk. My raspy voice caught his attention immediately.

Fendar Gravedigger put the magnifying glass down and gazed up at me in surprise and horror. “H-how did you get past my guards?”

“I can move without being seen,” I replied. “Now, I am not here to do you any harm. I am seeking an invitation to the Banshee’s castle. It has come to my attention that you have a few lying around. Would you be kind enough to spare me one?”

My sudden appearance spoke loud and clear to the terrified merchant. The big man quickly dug into his vest pocket and produced a small letter. “H-here, take it!”

A smart man to keep the letters on him. I’m sure they were worth far more than their weight in gold.

“You are most kind,” I said, reaching out to grab the letter. As soon as the paper made contact with my hand, a burst of white energy flashed out and next thing I knew, I was sailing across the room, crashing hard into the thick wooden walls that resisted breaking.

A field of energy wrapped over me faster than I could react and, try as I might, I could do nothing to prevent complete and utter darkness overtaking me.

“Are you really so dense to think you’d be the first ghoul to think he could strongarm me?” the man asked with a laugh before everything went dark and silent.

I was still conscious. Was this death? Had I been killed by my foolishness? What had I done wrong? I suppose…I suppose my stupidity was in thinking that I could easily take down the owner of a magic shop without him throwing some kind of spell my way…but at the same time, my antimagic shell should have absorbed it.

Pain and agony continued as I floated in darkness. I felt as if I were still in my body; this was definitely not sleep or unconsciousness. There was no sweet release from sensation – even for a moment. If I were physically dead, I was still in my undead state. Perhaps I just needed to wait to revive in my Barrow Tomb…provided it hadn’t been found. Doubtful though. I hid it far, far from any prying mind.

Eventually the world returned to me in a flash, the darkness vanished and I was suddenly accosted by intense pain on all sides.

I was in a large cage with silver bars and a silver floor. The energy wasn’t strong enough to kill me but it was disrupting my body and I was in pure agony. Upon my right wrist was a silver bracelet – my anti-holy artifact somehow pried off while I was ‘out’.

“The hell am I?” I muttered as I gazed out through the bars. I was in a smoky underground room with dozens of men and women standing around, staring at me with mild curiosity.

A long metal pole struck the bars, as if to wake me up.

“Behold, ladies and gentlejerks,” Fendar shouted from his position below my cage. I was on a wooden platform, raised up to show the rest of these ruffians…well, I suppose they were looking at me like merchandise. “A ghoul with the power of mortal speech! It is incredibly naïve, idiotic and easy to control with the most basic of undead charms!”

The crowd murmured, more people coming around. It appeared as if I were in a market of some kind, an underground place with all sorts of booths displaying items and weapons. It was hard to see through the hazy smoke.

“Clearly well built, intelligent and armed with brilliant claws able to puncture through steel and more importantly, skull!” Fendar continued to bark, selling me like I was a cabbage on the side of the road.

I tried to move towards the bars but the silver repelled me at once. I couldn’t unfurl my claws either, my hands were bonded together by leather straps, weaved in such a way as to make it so I couldn’t even bend them.

This was quite the trap. And yet, Fendar proved true to his namesake, for he had dug his own grave. Killing me in self-defense was one thing, but treating me like merchandise? He would quickly find out this was the worst possible decision he could have made. Kill me? I would not have sought revenge but this? This was an insult to my sense of self and that could not be ignored.

My heart began to beat! Fendar. Fendar. Fendar. A new…revenge? Yes! It was a new Hunger, a strong compulsion to slay this man and laugh at his misfortune. Would I gain discordance for the deed? Did I care? No, I had to break free and get my revenge!

“It’s just snarling and standing there,” a man said. “Make it speak.”

“Speak!” Fendar demanded as he rapped his cane against the cage.

I merely glowered at him.

He produced a small metal token, no wider than a fist, and raised it up to me. The token had the symbol of none other than the Monarch of Bones.

“Speak under oath! Speak!” the salesman demanded as he pushed the object in my direction.

“Fuck off,” my voice croaked.

The crowd ‘ooed’ at that as the compelled speech continued. “I am a thinking being, let me out at once or I will…”

“Bow!” the man demanded. And I could not resist, the powerful token forcing me to comply.

“Anyone can have an undead servant,” Fendar explained to the people as I sank to my knees. The pain…the pain of the silver was gone! “But with a Compulsion Coin like I have here, you can control intelligent ones! This ghoul is worth a tencrown for sure but I could be willing to practically give these little coins away for say… a tencoin?”

This caused the people to murmur with excitement as they crowded around a booth where an attendant was selling these items.

As the man continued to extol the virtues of owning me or his coins, I realized that the compulsion power of the token was somehow overriding the silver effect. I did not know why but this meant my muscles weren’t separating from each other anymore. A little bit of struggle and my claws were free from their bonds.

I could not dig a claw beneath the banglet around my wrist, no matter how hard I tried. The man’s pitch was continuing as he was still hyping up the benefits of the coin in hand. He had no idea the magic of one countered the magic of the other.

My flesh mattered not to me. A single swipe of my claws severed my left wrist and, with the severance, my powers came back to me at once.

“Say, why’d he do that?” someone in the back asked, pointing to me just as I looked up at the crowd.

All eyes were upon me; they were curious as to if I were doing a trick. I suppose I would show them one to remember.

The salesman wasn’t paying attention, however, for someone had come up to ask him a personal question and he, keeping the talisman up in the air, did not notice that I was able to grasp the bars with one hand.

Passwall activated and, at once, I was on the other side, completely free.

A woman screamed and the crowd dispersed, fleeing in all directions to escape from the mad ghoul that had broken free.

Fendar wasn’t fast enough. I noticed that upon his wrist – and the wrist of all in attendance – was the same magic blocker that I had been wearing. He was peacebonded! This was a black market that he did not own and thus he had no chance of using any magical items to save him.

I kicked him in the back hard, throwing him forward a few feet. However, six heavily armored soldiers rushed to intercept me, raising their halberds up high.

Six men with polearms, tipped in silver, were in between me and my target, their weapons ready to slay me at a moment’s notice. However, I could see and smell the fear in their hearts; they were employees, criminals at that, who wanted nothing more than to go home. I could tear them to pieces…but I might not survive this fight with only one arm.

“I do not want to harm anyone other than the man who caged me,” I barked out to the group. “Surely you do not wish to die for him?”

Fendar, having time to get back up, pressed out from the group of soldiers and raised the token once more. “Bow before me!”

“I think not,” I replied. I could resist the control easily enough – it was the bracelet that had given him leverage over me and the silver had weakened my ability to fend off the token’s power.

My show of strength was enough to convince the guards to step aside. They lowered their weapons and moved away.

“Fuck you, Fendar,” one of them spat. “You told us this would be a safe gig.”

“You’re the one who dug this grave,” another said as they started to walk off.

“Ten crowns each!” he bellowed. “If I survive!”

Damn it all! Four of them spun around at once, their ears perked up at the sound of coin coming their direction. The other two didn’t feel their lives were that disposable and kept going, which I suppose left more for the survivors…if they were going to survive, that is.

Chapter 8

Polearms made my regular tactics much more difficult. Normally, I just closed the distance and began slashing my target to pieces, but these soldiers were not idiots. They knew how to handle the undead and had closed in tight together, making a formation that could skewer me at any approach.

There was no anti-magic field, however, and it seemed that these people were wearing quite mundane armor. For an employer who sold magical arms and armor, Fendar seemed to be a bit of a cheap bastard when it came to equipping his own men. A shame.

I could cast five spells per day thanks to my carapace and my Necromancer Lord rank. They cost no shards and were easy to activate. Best use them all now.

Carbon Copy was an excellent choice. At once, my flesh tore itself from me and a fully formed revenant split off, looking identical to me. It glistened with silver energy as it mentally took a command to make a wild charge straight into the fight.

At the same time, I created a shadow replica of myself to run to the other side of the enemy, thus making it appear as if I had split into three.

“He’s replicating!” someone shouted as they readied for my charge.

I ran forward as well, activating my reinforced leg grafting abilities. This gave me a twenty foot leap and, with a simple spring, I was high in the air above my opponents.

Four men, three targets to choose from, it was a difficult decision on their part. Two fell for the false one at the last moment, swinging their halberds down hard only to strike thin air. One kept his pike up towards me and the other hesitated too long and my Carbon Copy was upon him.

The replica was identical to me physically – with the exception that he couldn’t do spells or use my abilities. He was still a fierce fighter and as he came in on the outside of the polearm, he closed the distance and dug his claws hard into the chest of the exposed fighter.

As I fell towards the earth, I cast Wither upon the man trying to fend me off. Purple streams of corrupting energy coursed out of my fingertips and they wrapped around the fellow, draining him of his essence so fast that there was nothing but empty armor and a clattering polearm by the time I landed.

The other two recovered fast enough to swing into me and my copy, but we both were able to block the attacks with our claws. Steel struck silver bone and we were both upon them in an instant, pressing in and ignoring the kicks and punches that came our way. Pain was nothing and within a matter of seconds, we had torn the screaming men to pieces.

Three spells burnt. I turned around to see that Fendar was hiding, poorly, behind a bunch of crates. The rest of the market had cleared out – no one was interested in sticking their necks out for this man. A shame that he hadn’t made more friends, it might have bought him a few more hours of life.

My carbon copy went first. It seized the man and dragged him before me, absorbing the few meager kicks and punches that the man threw at him in useless resistance.

My replica tossed Fendar before me and pressed his foot upon the side of his head in order to keep him still. A clawed talon rested on his temple, waiting for permission to kill him.

And yet…this was a humiliation all unto its own. The man had been betrayed by so many people, allies who promised to stay by his side always, guards who had been trained for this exact sort of issue abandoning the posts…he was only thinking of revenge. His last moments, his heart beat out the words of all the names who had betrayed him. It would be…far more discordant to let him go. But I suppose that depended upon his cooperation.

“I made no threats when I arrived at your office,” I said as I squatted beside the helpless merchant. “I merely asked for what I felt was due. You, on the other hand, decided to turn this into a whole….mess. You have sorely delayed me and I am half tempted to kill you right now.”

“I have an envelope! I never keep it on me, but I can tell you where one is buried,” he hissed. “I swear that I am not lying!”

“I don’t think you are,” I agreed. My replica faded at once as the spell expired but the man stayed dutifully on the ground. It seemed that he knew his place. “But I’m still not inclined to let you live by any means.”

“Please! Please! I’ll give you anything you want!”

“I wanted the invitation,” I muttered. “But I will tell you what. If you tell me how those tokens work, those Coins of Command or whatever you called them, I may let you live. May.”

“It’s how we Lepidonians survive!” Fendar cried. “They are called Compulsion Coins because the undead simply cannot defy them when exposed to silver.”

“Why?”

“Because they bear the likeness of the Monarch of Bones,” he explained. “And he may always command the lesser dead.”

So it wasn’t linked to my own fealty to the monarch. This was a power he had over all.

“Do you worship such a god?” I asked.

“Nonsense, I am a Lodanite,” he said. “There is nothing to be had worshipping a dead god. These artifacts don’t require fealty, just possession. And no, before you ask, they are unable to be used by the undead.”

“Very well,” I said. “What do you intend to do if I release you?”

“Forget all about you!” he said.

“What,” I asked as I knelt down beside him, coming face to face. “Do you intend to do when I release you?”

The man stared into my eyes for a moment. I wonder what he saw for there was a terrible fear upon his face, followed by understanding. “I intend to find and kill every last guard and ally who abandoned me this night. There are far more than you think.”

“Then go,” I said. “After you have told me where I may find this invitation…”

Chapter 9

Setting Revenge in Motion! 1,200 Discordance Shards gained! appeared in my vision well after I had retrieved the invitation. It would seem that the merchant had begun to get his revenge and in the process, was starting to fuel me with more power.

It was quite obvious that the lands here were different when it came to Discordance. The regular things that generated terror wouldn’t work as well and the amounts were quite lower than what I felt I would be getting back in my homeland. No wonder the undead were all in such fierce competition with each other.

Still, some power was better than none. With my recent advancement in Rank, I had been granted an additional powerset known as Statecraft. These abilities would be extremely important when making deals with the Bannerlords and their lackeys…

Statecraft

Treaties: A Treaty is an agreement between two or more undead parties. When a treaty is agreed upon, both parties receive a prime benefit and a secondary benefit for as long as the relationship is maintained. Breaking the agreement or taking negative actions against each other causes the effects to immediately end. Each Treaty must be purchased with Shards at the time of the agreement.

Cost: 500 Shards Each

Cordial Agreement: Sets basic terms. Once the terms are completed, allows one party to transfer a sum of Discordance to the other.

Non-Aggression Pact I: Both parties agree that they shall not intentionally harm or cause harm to each other. As long as this pact is maintained, receive 2 of the following benefits:

Expanded Dominion: Gain +10 Minions, +20 Thralls and + 1 Lieutenant

Unholy Unification: Your resistance to Warding is doubled

Spell Sharing: Gain + 4 Spells per Day

Impressive Strength: Grants the Unnatural Strength trait to all undead Thralls

Token of Allegiance: Gain an item from the interested party. Displaying this item to any member of the party’s allies will cause them to know you are a friend. Conversely, you may imbue a Token, allowing all of your minions to perceive the wielder as an ally.

Diplomatic Stratagems: Stratagems are temporary mental boosts that grant you the ability to conduct yourself as needed during diplomacy. Each Stratagem lasts for one hour. You may only have one Stratagem activated at one time. You may activate these one per day per Dark Devotion rank.

Cost: 1,000 Shards Each

Careful Conversation: You may read surface thoughts of a target while speaking to them. They are not aware of this and the effect is not psychic.

Unparalleled Aggression: When you utter threats, your target understands your exact abilities and capacity to carry them out. You will not need to repeat yourself.

Friendly Aura: Exude an aura that charms all undead. A charmed undead regards you as friendly as long as you do not harm them. Strong undead will know they are being charmed but cannot resist unless aggression takes place. You may only charm one undead per Dark Devotion rank.

Powerful stuff…unfortunately a bit too expensive for now. While Careful Conversation would give me everything I would need in order to navigate the political world of the Banshee’s castle, the cost was too high. I needed both Non-Aggression Pact and Cordial Agreement in order to make proper deals. These were the exact things that would allow me to buy the land of the Bleak Manor as well as begin setting up contracts for all sorts of deals. Assassination for discordance? There was something almost…almost thrilling to that idea.

Odd to even feel anything close to an old human feeling. But yes, I suppose I was thrilled at the idea of becoming an otherworldly assassin, striking any for the highest bidder. Was that…an ambition of mine in life? No, that would be foolish…maybe an envy or awe?

Try as I might, it was getting harder to suppress these extra feelings. What were they? I do not know.

Instead of suppression, I went to distraction, pre-purchasing the two abilities and watching as my character sheet transformed before my eyes.

Velking – Necromancer Lord of Monarchs –

Dark Devotion Rank: 3

Discordance Shards: 200

Twisted Monuments: 1

Thralls: 40/40

Minions: 20/20

Lieutenants: 2 (1 free slot)

Demi-Plane Location: Veiled Kingdom

Abilities:

Blackened Claws: Enhance your claws with negative energy, dealing magic damage.

Undead Absorption: Repair your injuries by slaying an existing undead creature or digging up a grave containing the bones of a warrior slain in combat.

The Eyes of a Hunter: Increase your vision to thirty feet for one hour.

Unholy Affinity I: Ignore the repelling effects of non-enchanted holy symbols, prayers and consecration zones absent of the truly devout.

Human Heart: Suppress a Frenzy or your Hunger for ten minutes.

Shadow Door: Creates a portal that allows you to pass through a wall, to the other side up to a range of 1 mile (Cost: 1,000 Shards)

Revenant’s Replica: Form a copy of yourself that will follow a mental plan that you give it. This replica cannot affect anything on the material realm, but will appear as the real you to all who look upon it (Cost: 1,250 Shards)

Bloodhound: Your sense of smell can now track a scent for ten days.

Knock: You may unlock all mundane locks with a whisper.

Shadowskin: When touching entirely shadow, your body blackens to match the darkness.

Face of Vengeance: Contort your face to appear as a victim of target’s darkest sin. Lasts for 10 minutes.

Reinforced Leg Grafting: Gain a 20 ft vertical leap for two minutes.

Control Undead: Once per day per Rank you may attempt to dominate an undead creature’s mind and seize control of it. The strength and willpower of the target determines the success of the ability. If successful, the undead loses all personality and becomes a thrall, but keeps its special abilities.

Cryptosummoning: Summon spirits of the dead.

Wail of the Banshee: Stuns all within 100 feet.

Drain Lifeforce: Consumes the remaining energy from a living target and restores you to full health. If the target is slain by the spell, they automatically become a zombie thrall.

Ghoul’s Touch: Your ghoulish heritage finally manifests. You gain a paralyzing touch ability that you may activate at will. When a target is struck by your touch attack, they may attempt to resist the paralysis, if so, they are rendered immune to its effects for seven days. If they succumb to the dark magic, they are unable to move, talk or act for a full hour. (This ability functions separately from paralyzing bite, as that action always works).

Exoskeletal Development:

Unhallowed Husk: Draws unholy energy into the body, granting the ability to counteract holy wards and divine attacks.

Spell Stitching: Magic threads are used to stitch your body together, adding +2 to the number of spells you may cast per day.

Demon Eyes:

Perfect Vision: Has perfect vision up to 2 miles

Heat Vision: Can see heat sources up to 60 feet.

Minion Blessings:

Gravetongue: Followers are able to converse with you.

Blood Feast: Injuries increase their combat prowess whenever blood is drawn.

Known Spells:

Heal Undead

Animate Corpse

Wither

Raise Wight

Summon Spirit

Soul Trap

Carbon Copy

Detonate

Treaties:

None Active

Pending:

1 Non-Aggression Pact

1 Cordial Agreement

Things were looking quite nice, though I was still growing a bit stale in my powers. I needed stronger armor, better attack speed and such. Too much focus on everything except combat had given me enough versatility for now. My new priority was to improve my martial capabilities to where I could confidently charge silver-wielding warriors without needing clever tricks.

Once I had finished my statecraft work and reviewed my abilities, I moved on with the mission, making my way to the Banshee castle deep within the mountains that separated Lepidonia from my homeland.

The map included in the invitation was easy enough to follow and it took me less than three hours to find the place. It was a few days into the ball already. I was late due to that damnable delay but no one seemed to care about my arrival. No one but the ticket taker.

A ghastly being appeared at the front of the gates to the great brick castle. The red volcanic stone of the mountain had been cut into bricks, making a huge crimson castle with four towers, their golden spires towering ahead.

“Revenant, present thy ticket!” the green specter cried as it flickered in and out of reality before me.

“Of course,” I said, raising the envelope high. It flared with a green fire for a moment and I worried that there would be some kind of problem but the ghost was satisfied.

“You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Harm no one, for you are not a Bannerman.”

“Understood,” I agreed, walking past the creature as the great wooden gates opened wide, revealing the interior of a vast courtyard that contained the sea of the undead.

If my eyes could widen, they would have at such a sight. Never had I seen so many strange beings all congregating together in peace and harmony.

There were tall humanoids that were bat beasts of some sort, with long wings where their arms should be, their hunched backs giving them the appearance of gargoyles. Vampires of the Sorien Clan, elders who had taken on the form of the ancient bats of the first generation – though not always by choice.

Their immense age caused them to lose power over their shapeshifting magic, leaving them in these withered yet sturdy bodies. Sorien vampires were well known for being the most violent and brutal, the only race of vampire able to actually drink the blood of other vampires – something that made them great adjudicators in the vampire community. For the most part, the Sorien Clan represented the various interests of the vampire clans scattered throughout the Cursed Lands.

The opposing clan, containing those who were able to successful resist the Sorien’s rather aggressive acquisition tactics, was known as the Lifeseekers. These vampires were in court as well; they were regular humans at first glance, though their boney wrists and clumsy walk indicated that they weren’t terribly skilled at holding this shape.

The Lifeseekers were a coalition of vampires who ‘sought life’ by banding together so they could survive against the Sorien expansion. It was a bloody war – one only ended by the arrival of the werewolves so long ago.

The Soriens and the Lifeseekers openly held contempt for each other and it was in this struggle that I was hoping to find some work. All I needed to do was ascertain which side would be the most profitable to join.

As I entered the courtyard, a gangly skeleton with wide hips and bow legs came walking up to me, his feet shaking the ground with each step he took. He was nearly eight feet tall and towered over me.

“Greetings, sire,” the skeleton said as it bent down, reaching its spindly arms around to place his hands upon my shoulders. “I do not think you belong here.”

The fingers dug deep into my body. I looked up into his eyeholes and saw nothing but a dark void of necromantic energy…and an intelligent spirit within.

“And I do not think you are supposed to be inside of that body,” I replied. “You are intelligent, yes? How?”

“I was animated long ago, by The Necromantic League,” he said.

Ah, the closest thing to a ‘human interest’ within the courts. The Necromantic League was the more mystical side of the Bannerlords; they were a vast conglomerate of spellcasters, alchemists and cultists who trafficked with dark gods. Rumor had it they were taking the biggest beating these days and were standing to lose the most. They might be willing to pay quite a bit to have a chance at retaking the throne…

“Then you should consider me a friend as well,” I said, “for I too am a necromancer. I have come to find friends here and you…you seem like a friendly type of fellow.”

The skeleton stared at me for a moment before he released his grip and stood up. “Come then,” he said. “A revenant is always welcome at the table.”

So he was testing me. Interesting.

No one seemed to notice me other than Gargello, as his name turned out to be, for they were deep into their discussions. Ghost, ghast and ghoul alike all stood together, speaking and whispering to each other, glancing at one another across the rooms and hallways of the castle, wondering what each were saying.

Chapter 10

The Necromantic League had its own wing, full of all sorts of animated horrors. Skeletons, knights of death, wights and ghouls were all gathered in the corner of the library, sorting through the various books that were available.

There were many tables in this vast archive and I could see hundreds of specters of all colors, blue, green and white, flying above, having conversations of their own. Sometimes I could even spot a mortal human flying amongst the group, sitting at a phantasmal table as if this were an everyday occurrence.

My regular peasant mind was bewildered at the sight of so many harmonious undead acting like…well, like humans, really. They were talking, laughing, sharing information and studying at the tables together. Some were mortals chatting with skeletons as if it were nothing.

“I sense disturbance in you,” Gargello said as he put a hand on my shoulder once more. This one was far less firm. “Do you fear us harming you?

“I simply am having trouble understanding how…how all of this works,” I said. “Everyone behaving. All of these monsters…sapient and salient.”

“That is the power of our League. We are the elite few who have transcended death in a way the mortal mind cannot comprehend,” Gargello replied as we walked to a table where a few humans were sitting. These were middle-aged men, bearded and wearing deep purple robes. Golden symbols were inscribed across the robes and I could see the magical energies flair up as I grew nearby. It could sense me.

“I suppose I must have stumbled into such a transcendent gift,” I muttered as I took my seat across from the three men. Gargello squatted beside me, giving the appearance as if he were sitting as well.

“Greetings,” the man in the middle said, pulling down the hood of his robe to reveal a balding head and a terrible case of pox across his face. “I am Plaguebrother Ammon, Gargello has told us that you have just arrived to the Banshee’s court. Let me be the first to welcome you.”

“I thank you for the cordiality,” I said. “But I am not looking for conversation, so if you would humor me in getting right to the point?”

Ammon grinned. “I like you revenants because of how urgent you always are. Never a dull moment and never a long one either. Let me guess, you are searching for ways to generate Discordance and you’ve realized the Cursed Lands is full of opportunity, yes?”

“Indeed I have,” I replied.

“You and every other asshole out there, listen, bonehead – sorry Gargello, listen revenant, you don’t just get to walk into a place like this and get work by virtue of having an invitation. Anyone without a moral compass can acquire one of these things, that is not the hard part. The hard part is proving to a room full of expert mages that it would be much better for us to work with you rather than say…enslave you.”

I glanced up to see that the entire room was looking at me. Everyone was prepared to attack should he give the word. I placed both of my hands on the table, showing off my claws. “I did not come here to fight but to discuss things in a gentlemanly manner. If you wish to resort to brutish tactics, I shall simply allow this copy to die and go find the aid of some other group.”

This was a bluff, I was not operating a fake copy of myself but they wouldn’t know that. Any sufficiently good magic was equally able to hide itself from other magic, right?

Ammon frowned and pondered the thought. “You seem terribly confident about that. You are quite in control. No snarling, no hissing. No threats even…interesting.”

Another test. This was growing irksome. I dug my claws into the wooden table and curled them inwards, causing the most wretched scraping sound in the process. All of the humans at the table covered their ears to avoid the pain of hearing it.

“You have officially worn my patience out,” I said. “You mentioned no threats? I am not a specimen or an apprentice to be tested. Here is my threat. Either deal with me as an equal or deal with me as an enemy.”

The plaguebrother threw his hands up in the air in surrender. “Alright, alright. Take a breather, I was just pushing a little. Frankly, I thought you might be an assassin after me.”

“That is not the case,” I said. “Though it may be, should you not secure my services.”

Ammon chuckled and smiled at that, leaning over to listen to one of the other mages as he whispered something. My ears could pick it up but the language was foreign to me. Shielded speech, a clever trick.

“We may be amenable to working with a revenant for some contract killings,” he said after nodding at his companions. “But nothing political.”

“I loathe politics,” I said. “Whatever gets me fed.”

“All the better,” Ammon chuckled. He certainly had a smarmy, laughing attitude about him. I didn’t feel anger too much these days but he certainly had a flair for conjuring it. The way he always laughed at his own words, so breathlessly, wheezing as if he said the funniest joke without making any attempt at humor…well, I sense that perhaps I was feeling the urge for revenge from his comrades.

The third man spoke up. He had kept his robe over his face and seemed deeply bored – almost mechanical in the delivery of his words. “One of the greatest troubles the Necromantic League deals with is when a high-ranking member gives in to the Hunger or the Miasma gets to him. Putting that member down and recollecting their accumulated Discordance is very important and yet, we cannot trust any of our own men to go out and do the deed. For in doing so—”

Ammon interrupted. “They’ll just rip and run, is what he’s saying. A low ranker kills a high ranker, he gets all of the power. Then he asks why give it all back to the council, as is required.”

“Then we have another problem on our hands,” the other finished, visibly irritated at this lack of decorum from the other. He folded his hands together tightly as he continued. “Because it simply creates a cycle. You revenants are useful in that way, for you are beholden to no one and you can make those contracts…right?”

My decision to take Statecraft was paying off in spades here. This was the perfect arrangement. “Indeed, I have the power to set conditions of transference of discordance,” I said. “As well as the ability to create a non-aggression pact. We won’t have one without the other.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” the more sensible man replied. “I am Targen, by the way.”

“I don’t need a name,” I said.

“Works for me,” Targen replied. “There’s a high enough chance you won’t return anyway. These are not easy targets. If they were, we’d be able to mop them up with our own assets. But the highest rank necromancer here is nothing compared to the weakest feral with discordance within their bones. It is unlike anything you have ever seen.”

“And you wish total destruction?”

“Indeed, disposal of the corpses as well,” Targen said. “The only question is whether we can trust you. I am not convinced simply because you are well behaved. No one comes to the court without an agenda. Tell me, revenant, why are you here?”

“Simply put, I am biding my time until I can return to my homelands to terrorize my target,” I explained. “My revenge is…complicated.”

“The longer you go, the worse it will get,” Ammon warned. “Kill the bastard while you can, before you decide to turn him immortal so you can torture him forever! Never works out!”

“What my companion means to say is that your mind is twisted by default, you shouldn’t trust it to make sound decisions. A revenant is best served by getting a full and immediate vengeance by slaying your target,” Targen quietly explained.

“You think my mind is twisted?”

“You are never in full control of your senses. This is why you need necromancers like us,” Targen explained. “We mortals keep you grounded. Think of us as your advisors in the nature of material things. We are not driven by the Hunger and so we can always think with a clear head. You would do well to join us and serve out your revenge under our guidance.”

He paused for a moment. “But I know you will refuse. Your kind always does. Still, it’s only fair for you to know there is an alternative.”

“I am uninterested in any path beyond my own,” I explained. “If you do not know if you can trust me, you must know that I am equally unsure if I can trust you. Let us not waste our time with trust, something so intangible it is nothing anyway. Let us use my contracts to secure an agreement and should it work out, you will agree to a non-aggression pact.”

“That’s a big leap…” Targen said. “To enter into work with people who could easily harm you.”

“You could do so now anyway,” I replied. “There are no protections here for me.”

“That is true…” Targen said as he stroked his beard. “Velking, I surmise.”

“You are correct in the matter,” I said, surprised that he would know of my reputation. Or even that I had a reputation at all. I had figured the bards would be commissioned to run my name into the dirt.

“There was some conjecture as to where you’d turn up. Never thought it would be in the cursed land. Very well, I think I am willing to extend a test contract out. Fulfill it and you will be granted 2% of the Discordance earned from the slaying.”

Ammon breathlessly wheezed at that but I didn’t care. “I accept the deal,” I said.

“What kind of man doesn’t negotiate a deal this lucrative?” Ammon asked, unable to contain his bewilderment anymore.”

“The kind of man who knows when he is being afforded an opportunity, and the one who knows what 100% of 0 is,” I harshly replied.

Chapter 11

The arrangement was made easily enough. The Contract was simple. I was to find and annihilate a necromancer who had unsuccessfully transferred his mind into a Bulwark Abomination. The stipulations were that I would transfer 98% of the total discordance earned from not only the kill but all activities related to the kill as well. This would ensure that the Necromantic League received all the Discordance they believed themselves to be due.

Pre-purchasing the contract made setting the terms as easy as a simple matter of will. I sent an agreement over to Gargello – the attendant who would be monitoring my progress.

It turned out that the group of men sitting at the table were all servants to Gargello; the great skeleton had been given independence long ago and had a great deal of power. He could use Discordance and thus he had power over the other, mortal mages. This was how every group in the League functioned, in little ‘pods’ as they called them.

Each pod contained one Dead Lord and six to ten necromancers who served them. Most of the time, these were mortal beings who wanted the secret to immortality. The easiest way to live forever on the material plane was through undead resurrection and thus the Dead Lords had the sway that gave them tremendous power. They could give undeath to those who craved it most – as it was quite difficult for one to resurrect themselves (something apparently I had taken for granted!).

I was given a tour of the Necromantic League’s wing before a ghastly wail echoed throughout the entire castle, indicating that there was something happening in the ballroom.

“Ah, finally,” Ammon said. “I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“You will see,” Targen said as he finished his lecture on the league’s power structure before turning the tour party around to head to the ballroom.

The wailing continued for quite some time and I seemed to know exactly how to get to the source of it, despite never having stepped a foot in this castle before.

“Whuh? I’m up, I’m up,” a familiar, infernal voice muttered from within.

“Hixim?” I asked within myself. The demon had long been dormant, so much so I had almost forgotten about his existence. He had given me the power to see clearly and for that I was eternally grateful…yet his personality was somewhat grating. The demon had the urge to tempt me constantly and I’ll be damned (perhaps literally) if he wasn’t able to convince me sometimes.

“Yup, I’m here. That wail woke me,” he said. “The hell kind of situation did you get yourself into?”

“It’s a long story, you should be able to read my mind,” I said. “Why have you been so silent?”

“You ran out of discordance, dumbass. You think I live here rent-free? I need it in order to function. As a collector demon, my whole job is to consume and spew out large amounts of Discordance Shards, but I’m used to going long times without it. Long, long times. The best way to survive is to go dormant, hibernate in a sense.”

“You could have warned me,” I said as we reached the ballroom.

The room was full of a splendor I had never seen before. Great pillars made of marble were raised up high, mosaics were cut into the ground, creating all manner of interesting colors and patterns. The ballroom was wide and open, complete with a full band in the back – all crimson ghosts who played without end!

There was a great banshee, immense and skeletal standing in the center of the ballroom, her body engulfed in green fire. She wore an old, frayed wedding dress that may have been white at one time, but now it was nothing but grey upon grey.

“Yeah, well I passed out without realizing it, so sorry,” Hixim fussed. “I don’t like this place at all.”

“Just watch for threats,” I said, gathering in a circle around the great, ghastly woman. Was it the same banshee I had met once before? Perhaps it was.

“This evening’s entertainment is a rather simple but enjoyable one,” the banshee wailed, her voice almost agonizing to hear. The music ceased at once as all eyes fell upon the woman. “I have procured a single villager, to boil alive.”

The entire room cheered. Everyone except for me.

There was a loud ka-klang followed by the groaning and grinding of gears as a secret compartment in the ceiling opened up, revealing a cage. As it slowly lowered down, I could see a trembling old man trapped within. He was terrified out of his mind.

The banshee waved a hand to where the cage was dangling and, at once, a great pot of water appeared. “Suffering is gourmet and I cannot deprive my guests of their pleasure!” she cried, laughing hysterically as the man begged and pleaded.

“What in the absolute fuck?” I muttered, watching in horror as the man realized what was awaiting him. He would be lowered into the cauldron and boiled alive, slowly and painfully.

He begged in all manner of languages but the people only laughed. Anger struck me and it struck me hard.

“Easy boy,” Hixim warned. “Can’t have you getting yourself killed in here. Especially over a human.”

Before I knew what I was doing, I reached a hand out and cast Wither, striking the old man and killing him at once. The spell drained his life force but there was barely a thimble’s worth of discordance. A great hush fell across the crowd as everyone turned to look at me.

“I apologize,” I said coldly. “I thought you said we could eat.”

Jeers and boos came my way, screams and taunts, people calling me a ‘human-fucker’ and a ‘mortal lover’. The entire crowd was disgusted and I found myself needing to make an exit at once, hurriedly taking my leave before the Banshee, who seemed more amused than anything, could declare me as the replacement course.

“You just had to ruin a good thing,” Hixim said. “You know we would have gotten a taste of that man’s sufferings, more than what you did.”

“Shut up,” I growled. Now was not the time for the demon’s input. Why couldn’t he have stayed asleep for just a bit longer?

Once I reached the antechamber, the crowd seemed to cool down. No one pursued after me, no one except for Targen.

“Oh, good,” I said, once I realized who it was. “Listen—”

“No, you listen!” the man snapped. “That was an embarrassment. If you hadn’t made a contract, I would terminate your allegiance right now. I don’t know what in the fuck that was, but make no mistake, you do not impress the humans by sparing one of them. We are not like them. Just because I wear the flesh of a man doesn’t mean I am the same as the others who wear the same skin. I will become greater. They are nothing. Do you understand?”

It seemed he misunderstood my gesture. I would not hurry to correct him.

“I apologize,” I said. “I understood that to be yet another test.”

The man paused at this and considered it. “I suppose I will be able to run with that. Very well, Velking. I’ll clean up your mess here but you best get the hell out of this place. Handle the contract and if you should return, if, I will consider working with you further. But…no more human sympathizing, understood?”

“Clear as crystal,” I said.

Chapter 12

I returned to the Bleak Manor as quickly as I could, my faux pas costing me more than just my social graces. I had made an ass of myself in front of everyone and yet, for some reason, I did not regret the decision.

What was going on with me? Something had fundamentally changed within my heart and I wasn’t as bound to the savage hunger and madness that lurked within this ghoulish frame. The undead mind within me, the ‘twisted’ thing didn’t seem to be particularly twisted these days. Was I becoming good? A strange thought and an unwelcome one at that.

Sir Garen was pleased to see me. He reported that we had not been discovered by any party yet and things were looking safe and sound for now. I told him to bring the entire army into the vault, just in case. I had shown myself off as weak and there was going to be hell to pay because of it.

After I debriefed the Ignoble Knight on his tasks, I retreated to the upper attic of the manor, a great sloped area that had a window that overlooked the entire region. I found myself standing by the stained glass, staring out at the world in silence and confusion. What was happening to me indeed?

“You seem out of sorts,” a voice softly said. It was not Hixim’s, however, nor did it belong to anything living. I turned around to see a ghoul standing across from me, somehow having made it up the stairs without me hearing or smelling him. Long claws stuck out of his fingers, silvery weapons that could easily rend flesh, steel and anything in between.

“A revenant?” I asked, preparing for a fight immediately. Had I raised one on accident? Had one of my murders, my slayings led to the creation of something like myself?

“No reason to raise your claws, friend,” the man said as he walked a few inches forward, putting up a hand gently. “I am not here to fight you. I’m here to help.”

“I’ve never met another revenant…” I said, slowly walking towards him. He backed up at this and I found myself circling around him slowly. He matched my pace and we sized each other up. Even our gait was the same. “What are we?”

“An abomination to some,” the man said as he tapped on his forehead. “And a mechanism of justice for others.” He tapped on the amulet hanging from his neck. I recognized the symbol as being that of the Central Star and yet, it was missing the usual 12 spires that formed the ‘star’ of the symbol. There were only 6 points on this one.

“You’re a holy man?” I asked.

“As best I can be,” he replied. “The Central Star broke a long time ago because of revenants. We defy the doctrines that undead are always evil. Because we have the power of satisfaction. It confuses everyone. And I couldn’t help but notice by the way you saved a human sacrifice in a room full of monsters…you could probably use some answers.”

I nodded my head. “What are you selling?”

“Not peace or happiness,” he said with a wry chuckle. “Just purpose. Function. The Smiting Star left his constellation because he did not agree with their condemnation of the revenants. Likewise there was a church split over this. The Central Star won the public’s heart with the high church and shiny slogans, but the Smiters? They’re the ones committed to true justice.

“A Revenant is justice personified. You are an avatar of the law when the law cannot touch someone. It is a great and evil sin to get in the way of justice being dealt out by the gods. And make no mistake, you are not an abomination. You are a tool of the gods.”

“I would rather not be a tool for anyone,” I replied. “I would rather be my own man.”

“That is not our lot in unlife,” he swiftly answered. “And you know that. The Hunger, Miasma, the Eight Below, the Gods…everything rules over the undead. But…it’s not clear who exactly is in charge of Revenants. And more so, it’s not clear why they remain even after getting moderate revenge. But what is clear is the concept of satisfaction.”

“Yes, you said that before,” I said. “I’m guessing it’s related to my revenge scheme?”

The man slowly nodded. “Now, this is a working theory, so please do not hold it as truth beyond all truth. Discordance is the net amount of negative energy you introduce into the world, but Satisfaction is the amount of energy you gain from achieving revenge. Not just your own, but revenge for others as well. This is where our unique abilities come in.

“The more satisfaction you receive, the more salient you become. However, you also become far more connected to your own intelligence and psyche as well. Your human psyche. Your plot to destroy Eris Lanyer is going quite well and in that, you are getting stronger.”

“So you’re saying the more revenge I get, the more human I become?” I asked. “The more self-control I possess?”

“Sort of. See you are a lawful being, so you see things in terms of justice, right and wrong. There’s no good and evil beyond keeping everyone on the same level playing field. The only trouble is the world is not a level playing field and it never will be. You can’t just kill a king because he does something evil or immoral. It would cause anarchy. So there’s a tension here,” the revenant explained. “Between the world’s need for justice to be blind and the world’s need for our leaders and rulers to be able to at least pass power down before getting killed, you represent a deadly philosophy. But a necessary one. The rulers should fear the gods. And you are the mechanism of that fear.”

I crossed my arms. “So what? I should join your shitty church?”

“Church?” the revenant laughed. “I’m not here to recruit you for that.”

He tossed a coin to me. It spun in the air and catching it was as easy as simply reaching out to grab it. The thing felt burning hot in my hand but I could still hold onto it. It only occurred to me that this could be a trap after the fact. Damn my peasant urge to simply accept something handed towards me!

I looked down to see the six pointed star along with a grim specter, pushing a skeleton finger to his lips in the sign of silence.

“We’re assassins. But our targets give us satisfaction. You can choose to play in the mud with the naughty little boys and girls in the Crimson Castle or you can continue down your path and grow in self-control. The more satisfaction you can gather for yourself, the better off you will be. And you can know that the people we target are indeed those who deserve it. You will not be watching old men boiled alive for entertainment.”

“But you’re an arm of the church, are you not?”

“Not officially,” he replied. “Our organization is a splinter from a splinter. Plausible deniability on the church’s end and they would sooner have us dead than anyone know the truth.”

“And Discordance?” I asked.

“As much as you’ll ever need. That’s the other benefit. It’s an easy way to gain power. As long as you’re following a contract, you can still operate on human lands. Consequently…there are a few targets here on the cursed land that you could go after.”

I pondered this for a moment. “It is a very bold strategy to reveal yourself to me,” I said. “I could just as easily try and kill you.”

“You could,” he agreed. “But I thought you were looking for work. Take the coin to the abandoned Lodanite temple in West Albrook. A ferryman will accept it and take you to where the contracts are found.”

“And there will be other revenants there?”

“Our kind…doesn’t play well with each other,” the man said. “I’m afraid to even tell you my name, lest you know how to search for me.”

“We can cannibalize each other, can’t we?” I asked.

“A full transfer of discordance, no loss whatsoever, when you kill one of us,” he replied without missing a beat. “So you can imagine what me and my kin are giving up when we extend this offer to you, rather than simply kill you on the spot.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “Very much so.”

There was silence between us for a moment as I considered this opportunity in front of me. “Answer me this, before I make a decision,” I asked. “Can you sleep?”

The man looked at me with dull, broken eyes. “You know the answer to that.”

Chapter 13

I scuttered along the side of the road, making my way to the target’s home. Well, what was left of his home. There were many questions in my head, questions about what the path going forward would look like.

The Smiting Star was not an attractive offer for a plethora of reasons. Being hired by self-righteous jackasses who thought they were so clever having their cake and eating it too sounded like a miserable situation.

They were hypocritical for their actions. There was no way of getting around it. To hide one’s face while their hands were doing the dirty work is what allowed tyrants to rise in the first place. In fact, I might even wonder if perhaps these ‘targets’ were just enemies of the church. How would I know?

I had tried asking Fidelio about satisfaction but he knew nothing of the topic. It seemed somewhat like a fabrication, since there was no mechanism within the Silvershade, nor was there any kind of indication that I had this additional resource. It seemed to be either a fabrication or something unavailable to the likes of me.

Hixim, however, had some thoughts on the subject. The damn idiot didn’t bother piping up until we got on the trail of our target – the wandering Bulwark Abomination that had the panicked, insane mind of a mage with near-unlimited power.

“I sense great unease within you,” Hixim said, initiating a deep voice in my mind. “What is the trouble?”

“You know damn well the trouble,” I said. “I’m trying to get established and now this whole Smiting Star business has thrown a wrench in the works.”

“How so?”

“How so? I can’t allow them to live if I don’t join them. They will strike me down if I refuse, so it’s only a matter of time before I must contend with my fellow revenants. This makes me wonder if the path I’ve chosen is a lesser one.”

“You’re asking which is the greater? Working for the undead or working for the church who despises the undead?” Hixim asked.

“No,” I said, stopping before a huge crater in the ground. In terms of hunting, a Bulwark Abomination was going to be rather easy to find. Killing it was going to be the hard part. “I’m trying to determine which path is more lucrative. I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of gaining enough power to slay the Smiting star entirely.”

“Like it works that way,” Hix said. “You’re an idiot if you think this is anything other than the church’s attempt to keep redeeming you. Remember that Chester fella? He was all weird about revenants too. I’ll bet his philosophies come from this faction.”

“That would make sense,” I agreed. “Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that. But at the same time…discordance is discordance.”

“I say we play them both. Take every contract, get as powerful as possible and then enslave all of reality! Ascend to a god! Become both the winner and the loser of the game by knocking the board and eating all the pieces!” the demon gleefully screamed in my mind.

“Why must you make things infinitely harder?” I asked as I made it to the hill where the wreckage was leading towards. At the top of the hill was a huge, gnarled oak tree, its body long withered by decay and exhaustion.

Red and green mushrooms grew from the bark of the great tree, littering the entire area with fungi. A gigantic, multi-armed beast was squatting down at the roots of the gigantic trunk, eating away at the mushrooms.

“I hope you know those things only make the undead more insane,” Hixim warned. “Seriously, even the mushrooms in the cursed land are dangerous to most people.”

The Abomination was a wretched creature, a huge body made out of corpses stitched together, its arms and legs made out of the limbs of some particularly nasty beast. With four lion-like legs, it was able to prowl and with its dozens of arms, it could grab anything and everything, shoving it into the central ‘maw’ of the body.

Fused to the back of the Bulwark Abomination was a man in deep purple robes, identical to that of the Necromantic League. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head and his mouth was spouting pure gibberish as he waved his arms up and down in a wild frenzy, clearly unable to control the beast.

“Hmmmm,” I said, looking at the anatomy of the thing. Hixim’s eyes gave me perfect vision from up to two miles away. I could examine this for some time before forming a strategy. “Looks like his source of power is still visible. What do you reckon would happen if I were to sever the Abomination from the mage?”

“I think it would probably kill them both very quickly,” Hixim said. “Only trouble is getting close enough to cut it in two. Also the other trouble is getting a neat enough attack in…”

What to do? I had two options before me, I could prepare and lay out a trap, maybe even use a few of my minions to aid me here, or I could charge in and fight. This wasn’t a case of revenge and so I had no compulsions driving me. There was no Hunger.

In some way, the idea of staying like this appealed to me. After all, it would be a lot easier to do contracts if I could think ahead and plan, instead of just charging forward blindly.

A spell would do the trick here, I think. Summon Spirit, to be exact.

Cryptosummoning was quite different from the other kinds of summoning in the worlds. Pulling cryptospirits out of the threads between reality, the thick overlap of ether known as the Planar Wall, brought out all number of strange and interesting creatures. Many of them weren’t mortal spirits – in fact, one could argue that mortals made up the minority of the universe, since there were billions of these spirits that inhabited a single layer between just one plane.

Cryptospirits were dead things, spirits without souls, and thus they were undead. With my Deadspeaker Rod, I had the power to not only conjure such things, but to also bind them to bodies or force them to serve my will.

Slinking down the other side of the hill, away from the wandering abomination, I hurriedly activated the rod, raising the skulled scepter upwards and channeling the negative energies until two bright lights flared from the skull.

A lanky orange being appeared before me, its arms and legs made up of long flowing ribbons that pulsed back and forth, moving in place like a stream. The creature was not humanoid in the least.

“You have brought me forth,” the cryptospirit said. “I was not a live thing. Why bother me?”

“You are a dead thing,” I replied. “And thus you are in my domain of control. But I would be just as pleased to release you from this place should you aid me.”

“Aid you?” it repeated. I could sense it attempting to flare its energies out as it flew around me in a circle, turning slightly translucent as it moved. “You pry me. Do you not wish to make demands of me as well?”

“I make no demands to you,” I said. “If you wish to truly return to whence you came from, so be it.”

“But I was not before I came here,” it replied. “I think you have given me life.”

The spirit swirled around me for a few moments before it came to a conclusion. “I do not like it. Now die!”

The being turned into a solid burst of fire, his entire body accumulating into a great fiery figure that swung its massive hands towards me at once.

I raised the Deadspeaker Rod high, allowing the negative energy within my own self to surge through the connection. The spirit froze in midair, unable to move.

“You were not given life but unlife,” I replied. “And in death, all serve. Do as I demand and I will free you or give you as you please.”

“What can I please?” it asked as it formed a massive flaming skull above me. “For I was not and now I am. But the idea of being not seems…unattractive.”

“Many share your feelings, hence why we persist as long as we can,” I explained to the spirit. “Follow me then and I shall keep you alive and nourished with much energy.”

It would be easier to negotiate than to waste energy on a battle of wills. This creature was more confused than anything.

“A name,” it said. “Yes, give me a name, speak the words out loud so that I may attach to the timber and vibration, to the movement of the air that happens when breath pours from the lungs.”

“I have no lungs, nor breath,” I said. “But I speak words aloud all the same. But if you wish it, so I will give you a name. You are a wild spirit, made of fiery elements and conjured for the purpose of destroying a great enemy. Thus I shall call you, Agaro, aggressive and burning.”

“Agaro” the spirit repeated as it began to form a more familiar, humanoid shape. He landed on the ground across from me, his entire body streaming with red and orange ether as he finalized into that of a faceless, featureless human body. Eyes and a mouth formed, though they were crude manipulations of the swirling energy within him, as opposed to organic pieces. “Yes, I am Agaro. What do you wish of me, master?”

Taming the Elements! 20 Discordance Gained! appeared in my vision. Damn this land was starving. Good thing there was a big feast up ahead…

Chapter 14

Agaro was an elemental spirit, meaning he could easily transition between the astral and material plane. This meant he could blink in and out of existence, making for an excellent harasser. On my command, he would appear and begin throwing attack after attack upon the Bulwark Abomination. The beast would predictably try to violently thrash him, only to see Agaro vanish.

I was situated in silence atop a high tree overlooking the small village that had once been home to more than a few chunks of rubble. With my excellent eyes, it was everything I would need to watch how this creature acted. I was not foolish enough to think that having a single spirit as an ally would help me overpower such a beast. I needed to know how this thing functioned and how it attacked. What better way to test it than to use a free spirit that could blink in and out of existence?

Agaro found the abomination, known once in the previous life as The Great Yim, having recently decimated a village, now eating more of those undead-enraging mushrooms that it seemed to seek out. I wonder if they would have any value to a being such as myself…after all, alchemy could make any poison into a potion. As well as the reverse.

The great beast was hunched over a cluster of fallen tree branches, ripping through the bark as it hungrily devoured the mushrooms with all of its arms, stuffing them into its mouth. The babbling man on the back, the actual Yim, was completely unaware of the world.

To test Yim’s visual acuity and whether the host was aware or not, I had Agaro manifest from behind, silently and without flaring up his energies.

The burning spirit appeared as I directed mentally – for the Deadspeaker Rod gave me the power to send suggestions and orders telepathically – and hovered, waiting. Yim seemed to grow salient for a moment, his eyes rolling forward out from the back of his head.

“Er, what?” he said. “Who are you? Help! Help!”

At once the Bulwark Abomination the man was attached to became enraged and wild, spinning around and charging forward on all arms, smashing through the earth with each step. Agaro was already gone.

In an instant, the spirit was above the gargantuan undead beast. He opened his palms and released a torrent of burning fire. The flames did nothing to bother the Abomination. They may as well have just been rays of light. Hell, actual sunshine could probably hurt it more.

“Not a good sign,” Hixim grumbled as we watched the spirit throw a few more fire attacks, zipping through the air as he fired burst and bolt of flame into the beast. Nothing harmed it. The creature was impervious to all magical attacks.

But it was certainly distracted! The damned creature was like a hound attacking a butterfly, leaping and swinging, chasing and thrashing, only to achieve nothing. It couldn’t hurt Agaro either.

“Keep up the pressure,” I ordered. “Let’s see if this thing has an energy limit…”

Time in the Land of the Dead was not a big deal. The sun’s light was never harsh enough to make me uncomfortable and there would be no one for miles upon miles. Lepidonia was mostly composed of large swatches of formerly occupied land. It would be some time before anyone knew that this village was destroyed and so I wasn’t worried about any kind of interference.

Thus I was free to continue experimenting and observing my target. Yim was mighty and seemingly immune to the strongest fires Agaro could put out, but he was single-minded. I had sent a replica to feign attacking him, to see how Yim would handle switching between two targets, but the beast could barely change its attention.

Visual data didn’t bother the beast as much as direct attacks and it always moved after whatever struck it last. I had raised a few corpses of the villagers to serve as fodder to continue testing and, indeed, Yim would tolerate the direct presence of anything around him as long as he was under assault.

Even though Agaro’s bursts of flames did little to harm the beast, it was still an attack and thus could kite the creature along while I came up for the real strike.

By the third day, I was ready.

Carbon Copy would give me a quick and efficient ally, able to use all of my attacks and coordinate perfectly with me in every step. Perhaps it would be in my best interest to find a way to make this spell permanent, as opposed to lasting a single hour.

I would have preferred to have Sir Garen and some wights but it was risky bringing undead out into foreign lands. I didn’t know where the Banners were staked, nor did I know everyone’s territory. Bringing ‘troops’ into another’s realm might get me in hot water – especially since I had made such a fool of myself at the Castle.

For now, it would just be me, myself and Hix, though the demon had gone dormant again. It was a shame, as I didn’t mind having the second set of eyes within me. Would be nice to get a heads up in case I was distracted.

Raising the Deadspeaker Rod, I conjured forth Agaro and rushed forward, silently moving along with my identical counterpart.

The flaming spirit appeared above the wandering Bulwark; the beast had made its way down a hill and the higher ground would give me a better advantage in my rush. At once, fire came pouring down upon the great Yim and he roared and trudged after the spirit, just as I had anticipated.

My twin and I ran alongside each other, our long claws stretched out and ready to slash through the squirming and spasming body of the mage that had animated this horrific creature.

The closer I got, the more titanic the creature seemed to become. Its mass was composed of hundreds of corpses, all carefully stitched together to form an exoskeleton that would protect the dozens of arms and claws that would unfurl from the ‘belly’ of the creature. Its trunk-like legs continued stomping forward, ignorant to my approach.

The actual man, Yim himself, was keenly aware of my existence and began screaming and calling for help.

“I am helping,” I muttered as I leapt into the air at the same time as my copy did. We both landed on the back of the immense undead monster in unison, one set of claws stabbing hard into the creature’s torso so we could hang from it.

Instantly, the bulwark swung in a circle to try and attack us but the fire raining from above made him forget our presence in an instant.

Hanging from the bleeding back of the brute, I examined the ‘stitching’ (for lack of a better word) that had fused the mortal to the undead creature. Flesh and undead corpse were easy to distinguish at this distance and in a matter of seconds, I had my attack lined up.

On the other side, my clone did the same, preparing to strike as I did. We had to do this perfectly…one…two…

Three! Blade met flesh as my claws cut through the body as hard as they could.

The man screamed a hideous scream at first but fell free from the body, landing on the ground hard.

“I…I’m free?” he gasped, looking at his hands. “I’m free! Hahah! Yes, and now I shall rule over this pitiable land—”

His words were interrupted as the undead beast swung around and stomped on him, crushing the mage into a fine paste.

“Typical necromancer’s ending,” Hix chuckled to me.

As the man was mashed, a burst of brilliant purple energy surged into the body of the great bulwark. It let out a throaty and hideous shriek and at once its arms began to throb and burst into greater masses of flesh.

Before my eyes, the already titanic Abomination grew almost double in size, the long arms growing into grotesque tree-trunk sized weapons. I tried to scatter out of the way but so many limbs were bursting out of the abomination’s stomach that there was no way I could flee in time.

My legs were seized by the beast’s many hands and I was wrenched high into the air, tossed like a ragdoll, spinning out of control.

“Woahhhhh,” Hix shouted. “Below! Below!”

I slashed wildly in vain to try and fend off the huge swathe of black tentacles that were bursting out of the head of the undead monstrosity. The whole thing was swelling up and becoming a bulbous mess, a concoction of arms and legs that were growing more abstract with each passing second.

My clone was torn to pieces in seconds and I, too, would have suffered the same fate had it not been for my ability to quickly sever my own feet, falling out of the beast’s grasp.

I fell in between the bulbous masses of the great monster as the unbridled energy continued to infuse within it, transforming the beast into a tree-sized abomination.

“Well, everyone’s definitely going to notice you didn’t kill it,” Hix said as I watched the agitated beast begin to stomp towards my dutiful Agaro, who had begun attacking once more. The flames did nothing but the undead monster was still dumb as hell. It quickly followed after the blinking apparition, leaving me safely behind.

“That was not expected,” I said, looking at my stumps. Usually this was the part where my adventure ended until I was able to find another undead corpse to absorb, although the mass of my enemy was so great, I could probably just use my claws to traverse across its back.

Before I could do anything, however, there came from above a great, high-pitched whine. A colossal column of flames came from nowhere and overtook the still growing monstrosity, bathing it in fire. I had to avert my eyes for a moment, so great was the brightness of the fire.

“Even more unexpected,” I said, once I was able to directly look at the site.

A colossal burst of magical energy had completely annihilated the monster. Agaro flew down to report.

“My lord,” he said. “Fire erupted from within the monster and destroyed it utterly.”

“See, rookie move,” Hix muttered to the spirit. “You should have claimed credit for the kill!”

The fire spirit ignored the demon or perhaps didn’t hear him. I suppose that was for the best, because I didn’t want Hix speaking to just anyone without permission.

“Wait,” I said, holding a clawed hand up. “From within? I saw the fire come from above.”

We all looked at the great heap of rapidly decaying corpse. It was withered and burnt to a crisp, tree-like in its size though falling apart into chunks of broken flesh and bone. Something was wrong here…there was no transfer of Discordance…

My senses dialed in and focused on what was ahead. I could smell something nearby. Soot, ash and lots, lots of perfume oil…noxious stuff but oil all the same.

“Behind us, dumbass,” Hixim murmured.

I spun around to see a triad of women standing upon the hill I had ascended down. They were humans, dressed in burgundy robes. Two of them had shaggy, mottled hair that looked as if they were attempting to replicate the dreadlock style that was quite popular with the sailor folk, though they had not the expertise as the coast men did.

These two looked as if they were in charge – the third one was a young bald girl in a threadbare gown that could not possibly keep a human warm in this weather. She was maybe in her twenties compared to the forty and fifty year old ladies that were…chained to her.

Indeed, the young woman wore two sets of chains around both ankles, one connected to each witch’s hip.

“A spellchain,” Hixim explained as I stared off with these strangers. They had their hands up and were staring at me warily. “That young girl in the back is their charge system, they drain her magic and lifeforce when they run out of spells. Easy way to cut them off is to stab her in the heart.”

“These are witches,” I said. “Why do I know this?”

“The witch commands the undead realm but naturally. They mingle with spirits and such,” Hixim said. “Given the power by birth in order to maintain the careful balance between the material world and the astral plane. Of course, only the suckers served. The smart ones, like these bad bitches up here, realized they could simply force spirits to do as they wanted and thus became gods unto themselves.”

“These do not look like gods to me,” I said.

“Yeah, but they’re living, so be fucking careful,” the demon warned with a sternness that I had never experienced before. It was like the warning was so real that I could almost feel it reverberate in my entire being. “These women have power that undead do not. Surely you’ve heard the stories of how witches liked to fuck and get fucked by the devil, yes?”

“We had a nice witch on our corner who made herbal tonics for bad stomachs and gave grassroot lollies to the kids,” I muttered. “Hardly a whore of the underworld.”

“I’m not saying it’s true, but I am saying that they command powers over the spirits that are concerning. And you’re a spirit, so you should be concerned.”

“And you’re a devil, aren’t you? Shouldn’t this be your lucky day?” I asked.

“Depends on whether these ladies want to seduce or simply take control. And judging from their stance, I don’t think they’re here for a booty call.”

Chapter 15

Scavengers! That’s what these witches were. Whether they truly were in league with fiendish powers and able to command whatever they wished over me, it didn’t matter. I had been in the middle of killing that giant beast and they had swooped in to steal the Discordance. And that meant these people deserved a piece of my mind.

Hixim was too terrified to even function. He shut himself in and said that he’d only speak under the most immediate of duress. The demon begged me not to mention him for fear they would bottle him up. I was almost tempted to ask if they’d do me the favor – I had eyes, I no longer needed his snark. Such a suggestion would perhaps keep him in line.

The threesome up ahead stood at the pinnacle of the hill and merely stared down at me. They had been just as unaware of my presence as I theirs. The two prime witches, standing in front of the slave-girl, had their hands raised and were in the process of weaving all sorts of tremendous spells to fend off an attack from me.

These women were higher up on the food chain. Beyond a necromancer even. They had a natural ability that my own mind warned me about the moment I began to approach. The spells they could sling would be incredibly powerful and I might be compelled to do things against my will, should they win. I would not be destroyed in a fight – I’d be subsumed.

Best to try and handle things diplomatically. After all, they seduced great powers, right? I was a power great, and so perhaps they could ally with me.

I approached the base of the hill and gazed up at them. “It would appear we have been hunting the same deer,” I said.

The tallest one, whose face was covered with triangular tattoos of all sorts, sneered at me. “Deer? That was clearly an elk!”

The other laughed. “This one is angry! He thinks we’ve taken what is his.”

The chained one in the back merely looked down at the ground, trying her best to ignore everything. I could hear the gentle beat of revenge upon her heart. So many names. All women who owned her. She was certainly a slave and not an initiate. Perhaps she could do well with an introduction into vengeance.

“Now he thinks about our welp!” the tattooed one, Glenvara – I knew – said. “What is it, little revenant? Why do you come up to bother us so?”

“We do not bother you,” Asanga cackled. She was shorter and was missing her right breast – something quite obvious from how full the rest of her body was. Had it been cut off? “So why not extend the same courtesy to us?”

“I am on contract work, I am afraid,” I explained. “That great beast was slotted for destruction on behalf of a client. And I must return the Discordance gained from slaying it. You would not have been able to destroy the beast without me severing the necromancer attached—”

“Yes! He was utterly immune to our powers until you softened him up!” Glenvara said, clasping her hands together. “You aided us splendidly.”

“And now does the little doggie want a reward?” Asanga asked.

“This little doggie has a big, angry master,” I replied, keeping calm. There was no reason to be mad at their words. They were probably just trying to manipulate me into reacting in some manner. “And I’d rather not deal with him. Would you be so kind as to return what was rightfully mine?”

The pair looked at each other, worry across their face. This was not feigned or comedic. “Why not simply come charging at us, with hunger and madness in your heart?” Asanga asked, dropping her playful and crone like tone. Turned out she spoke quite normally. “Why speak at all?”

“For I am not a mere undead but a revenant and one with a great power,” I said. “I have come to this land to find food for myself. But I recognize that I am a stranger, I will not act rashly. If you have some right to hunt on these grounds, I apologize for breaching it.”

“He’s strong alright. Must be a freshie,” Asanga whispered to Glenvara, her voice so low that she probably thought I couldn’t hear it.

“Brand new, out of the ground, full of power…” Glenvara said. “Think he’ll struggle?”

“The mouse always struggles when devoured by the great snake,” Asanga chuckled. “But it makes no difference.”

“You think I can’t hear you?” I asked, crossing my arms. The pair stiffened and they both glanced down at me.

“And what of it?” they shouted back.

“Run,” Hixim muttered. “Get the hell out of there before it’s too late.”

I threw my hands up and extended my razor sharp claws. “If you wish to fight, let us fight. I could use the exercise.”

“How are you going to run on stumps?” the demon asked. “Walking is hard for you.”

“They’re on a hill,” I replied. “I can climb up with my claws and attack from the ground.”

“Ah yes, the old ‘legless’ offense,” Hix replied as he faded away, going back into his dormant state. “Have fun getting murdered. Dumbass.”

Ignoring the demon, I waited for the women to take their action. They too seemed to hesitate. At least, the two in the front hesitated.

From behind, the slave-girl made eye contact with me directly. The bald woman was battered and beaten, her tattoos freshly given and clearly infected. Her body was wasting away and the gown that covered her was more of a burlap sack than clothing. Yet in spite of her weakness, I could see that her trembling hands were holding her chains tightly…like a garrote.

“You dare defy me!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs, throwing my hands up high. This caused the pair to instinctively begin to weave their spells of defense, losing all focus on what was behind them.

The slave leaped onto Asanga’s back, wrapping the chain around the witch’s neck while using her legs to lock around the woman’s hips. At the same time, I rushed forward, scuttering as fast as I could. Without feet I couldn’t run, but it hardly mattered since the hill was steep enough that my claws let me scurry upwards with ease.

“You, bitch!” Glenvara cried as she turned to see her ally being choked to death on the ground. She had a powerful spell to cast, for certain, but not enough time. Not enough time to stop the three inch claw from pressing its way all through her right temple as I leapt up beside her.

The witch stiffened as my blade pierced her brain. She stopped moving entirely and simply grew limp. This was not an unexpected reaction; I knew the exact spot to stab that caused everything to cease at once. An easy killing blow.

I tossed the woman’s corpse aside and knelt down beside the blue-faced witch who was still fighting for her life.

“I’m sure there’s some kind of metaphor here,” I said, gently scraping a claw across Asanga’s forehead. “About the chains we forge in life, but I’d rather deal in concretes.”

The slave did not relent her pressure, squeezing the chain as hard as she could. I managed to slip a claw beneath the chain around the witch’s neck, holding it at bay. This was interesting. Normally I couldn’t interfere with revenge…but this slave hadn’t been acting to get revenge. She had been trying to help me, perhaps as the vehicle for reprisal.

“Humans can’t absorb Discordance, we just catch it in bottles,” Asanga hissed. She had tears in her eyes, though I think they might be product of the squeezing of her esophagus. “Please, we have a transfer bottle, just break it and it’ll be yours. Please, please master, let me—”

I released my claw from the chain and at once the slave returned to killing her. “Let her live…if you wish,” I said, grinning as I began to feel the revenge surging from the young girl.

The bald slave took no pleasure in her act. Once she heard she was free to do as she wanted, she twisted the witch’s head until there was an awful crack. Then, ribcages were cut open to ensure their spirits were released for good. A terrible ritual and one that suggested that this young woman may not have been a hapless victim after all.

As the witches were desecrated, I turned my attention to the witch-bottles that were scattered around the camp they had erected. Dozens of little blue bottles, with rounded bottoms and high necks, were lined up on a table, glowing with energy.

“Jackpot!” Hixim said. “Now you know why I was so scared. They can capture any spiritual energy, even discordance.”

“Seems they couldn’t capture my alliance quickly enough,” I said as I walked up to a particularly large bottle. It was distinct from the rest – a large black container, made of ceramics as opposed to glass. A strange symbol was painted atop the front of the container in yellow; it was a gangly snake with a tail made of three lion heads. A symbol of Epheris, the Great Undertaker.

The jar almost throbbed with energy as I put my hands on it.

“I hope there’s cookies,” Hix chuckled as I gently uncorked the wide-mouth jar. A flash of energy surged out at once and I fell onto my back.

220,000 Discordance Shards Gained! appeared in my vision as I thrashed and rolled around on the ground, the excess energy almost completely overwhelming me.

“Hold! Hold together!” Hixim advised. “The power is an illusion, you are still you, you are still you!”

Thousands of lifetimes rushed through my mind. Hundreds of people that I had never met, fighting, talking, laughing and crying. They were killing all sorts of things and being killed by the hundreds, only to rise back up and continue fighting, this time in torment.

My eyes flared for a moment and I could see a continual stream of spirits passing through my vision. This was an illusion lasting only for a second but it was truly wondrous to behold.

“What was that?” I asked, rubbing my forehead as I sat up, the sensation slowly burning away.

“Distilled Discordance,” the demon said. “You’re supposed to drink from the stuff slowly, like open the jar take a sip and then close it.”

“I feel brand new,” I replied, looking at my hands.

“Yeah, well don’t be too excited, you gotta give 98% of that back,” Hix said. “The rest of these jars, however…”

We both grew silent as we glanced at the rest of these witch bottles. “Surely they can’t all be full of Discordance?”

“It’s not like the witches can use it themselves. They pour it into their soups or tattoos, I think,” Hix replied.

“We use them to make brews,” a voice from behind said. I turned to see the gangly slave girl standing across from me. Her wrists were incredibly bloody and she looked almost on the verge of death. “If you raise my corpse, I will retain my knowledge and can serve you.”

“Your corpse?” I asked. “I have no intention of harming you. Move along.”

The woman looked at me with a weariness in her eyes that spoke quite strongly. She was not long for this world. “I was an apprentice once,” she explained. “But was the weakest of the litter. I didn’t delight in cruelty or sadism for its own sake and so…they made me their slave to carry spells and such. My conclave would never take me back and so I am dead already. Let me at least have some power. Please.”

“Surely you can’t go find a living elsewhere?” I asked. “Forgive me for refusing the gift of your corpse but life isn’t so difficult for someone with magical abilities.”

“I have no power. They took everything from me. I can only generate spells,” she said, tears filling up her eyes. “I have nothing. I was resigned to serving forever but…I can’t just be on my own. I don’t know this land. I don’t know anything. I’m just a stupid slave who was too weak to resist the powers of the others. Just let me be your slave. Turn me into a pile of bones, a pile that feels nothing! Let me serve and be free of this pain.”

“You said you have a conclave,” I murmured. “More witches?”

“Yes, sir, we operate under the Banner of the Lycanthropes, so the western passage is safe for us,” she said.

“And you could take me to them?”

Her eyes went wide. “If you meant to murder them all, it would not go well, sir. You caught those two after they had cast a great spell and thus were out of their energies. Without my surprise attack…you may have been in more trouble than you could have accounted for.”

“Hah, that’s a fancy way for calling you a lil bitch,” Hix said. “I like this girl. Let’s keep her.”

That was a refreshing amount of honesty. Being a horrifying undead overlord had made finding feedback…difficult. Even Anna the Fallen Star, as much as she was direct with me, fawned a little too much. Fidelio on the other hand, despised me enough to give me reasonable counterpoints to my opinion but I couldn’t trust him long term. Maybe adding a third human voice into the mix would be helpful.

“You speak freely and without fear of my wrath.”

“I am not afraid of death, sir. It’s living I despise,” she said, lowering her head.

“Undeath is not a gift but a curse,” I said. “I can raise a body but binding a once mortal spirit? That denies them their rest in the afterlife and I will do no such thing.”

“What afterlife is there for me?” she asked. “Hmm? I was no evil creature, just a girl who liked to run and frolic and dance with strange creatures in the woods. It wasn’t my fault that they were demons and they took so much from the world…but the gods care little. Contracts are what matters. A child signs a contract, they have no choice in their mind, but all law entities see it as valid.”

“Sounds like she met a Faun,” Hix said. I could sense a little bit of distress in him. “You know, I tend to fall on the lawful axis of things but I understand concepts like consent when it comes to contracts. Fauns…they tend to get kids to sign documents and well…contracts in the magical world hook into the body. They get roots in. By the time the youth is old enough to know better…yeah, it’s a shit deal.”

“Why do you sound sympathetic?” I asked.

“Because I’m evil, not an asshole,” he starkly replied. “There’s a difference. One can do awful things while also keeping to a more lawful way of being. It doesn’t mean you’re a good person, it just means you’re decent. Politeness is not ethics but is important.”

I rubbed my forehead. This demon was constantly screaming at me to destroy all of creation and become a god but was offended by impoliteness in contract law? Perhaps this woman would be able to put him in a bottle before he gave me a permanent migraine.

“I will not kill you,” I said to the slave. “But you are a witch, are you not?”

“I am,” she said.

“Then I would be willing to take you into my service, alive. Perhaps you could assist me in approaching this conclave of witches,” I replied. “For this land is foreign to me as well and I could use some allies.”

“How does one intend to make allies when they have killed two of the favorite witches?” the girl asked me.

“That is for you to figure out,” I said. With a swipe, I cut the chains from her wrists, freeing her.

She rubbed the deep grooves in her skin where the iron bands had made their near-permanent impression. The skin was blackened and scarred, filthy from a lifetime of being uncleaned.

“W-what? Just like that?” she said, frowning. “You can’t just give me something. What do you want?”

“I told you what I wanted,” I said, picking up one of the smaller bottles. It had a heart painted on it.

“Useless,” she said, pointing to it.

I put it back down. “You seem to be the one wanting something more from me. Either join me or leave, I don’t much care which you pick.”

The woman stared at me with the utmost curiosity. “I have never met an undead that can reason like you. Would you have killed those women had I not intervened?”

“I would have tried to work it out, though something told me they would not have given me an easy time,” I replied. “You may call me Lord Velking, by the way.”

“Oh, I am er…” she trailed off. “They mostly called me welp but I think I had a name…”

“I would suggest picking a new name,” I said, holding up a bottle that she nodded at. Uncorking it, I immediately received 100 Discordance. Not a small amount, I suppose.

“Moira,” she said after a minute. “Yes, I like that name.”

“Suits you,” I said. “Now, Moira, are you going to follow me? Or do you wish to make your own way? I do not want to keep repeating myself.”

Chapter 16

Moira ended up following me like a puppy dog, even though she wasn’t interested in still being ‘alive’. I thought it tasteless to reject the beauty of life but I wasn’t about to lecture an enslaved mortal who had been tortured for most of her life.

Mutilation was part of the Algroven Witches’ initiation. By removing pieces of a body, one could increase the amount of spells they could cast per day. These were sacrifices to the great demon goddess, Alagov, who was said to gather these parts and sew them to her own body. Later on, some covens learned that she’d accept others’ body parts as well – as long as the human host was still alive.

And thus Moira was descended upon like a pack of hounds by the stronger witches. She suffered from a great amount of loss, fingers, toes, both of her breasts and her ears. Her right hand was the most functional out of the two though she could still pick things up with her left.

I must admit that I found this tale to be quite horrifying. Doubly so when I found what happened to male victims. My intention to find this group and ally with them or seek out their help in some way ended the moment I learned of such inhumane practices. These witches were all attempting to shed their mortality – not by killing their flesh but by descending into demonic depravity.

Such an idea was something I couldn’t stomach. Perhaps it was the ‘human’ part of me or maybe it was just my lawful sense of decency, like Hix, but I would not seek out such horrific folks for aid.

Part of me was tempted to visit them and dispense some justice. After all, there would be many slaves who no doubt dreamt about murder all day. To break in and free them would generate a great deal of revenge…but at the same time, how many were just on the losing end of a system they had been planning to take advantage of?

Was Moira some poor, hapless creature like she posited? Or had she been hoping to get control over another witch too? No, I don’t think so. This woman was without ambition. She was so broken she’d prefer undeath to life. A harsh condition and not one brought about by evil planning. An ambitious woman would use the death of her masters to get ahead. But she merely tagged along after me, saying nothing and clasping her now freed wrists. It was almost like the freedom was uncomfortable.

With the surprise destruction of my target (though I was the reason those witches were able to kill it) my job was completed and it was time to return to the Crimson Castle.

Targen was still going to be working there. It turned out that while the official meetings happened for about two weeks a year, to celebrate the Night Sun, all Banners held offices inside of the castle for the entirety of the year.

This was good, because I felt it best to wait until the two weeks had passed to return to see the Necromancer’s League. The majority of the dead were gone now and only a skeleton crew (not a pun) remained as security. The halls of the great castle were empty and vast, and the spirits didn’t even care about invitations. It seemed that being able to find the Banshee’s home during the off-season was good enough to be allowed to wander without being bothered.

I found Targen in his clerk’s office, where he often did paperwork. For all the supposed talk of the glamor and glory of being a master necromancer, in league with powerful undead forces, these humans certainly were stuck with the short end of the stick when it came to doing all the drudge work.

The necromancer was sitting behind a desk made out of bones. Dozens of skeletal arms were sticking out of the desk, working on paperwork as well, signing documents and sorting papers. At least the man had some help, though he was certainly writing more than the desk.

“Aha! He returns!” Targen said, looking up at me. “The human-hugger is here.”

Memories of the swollen, blue face of the strangled witch flashed through my mind. “Strangulation is certainly one form of hug,” I replied. “And that is what I had done to the last witch that tried to defy me.”

The middle-aged man grinned. “I take it that you were successful in your work?”

“Indeed,” I said. “I am prepared to surrender over the Discordance. But before I do so, I want to discuss my future.”

“You made an ass out of yourself in a way that few could hope to achieve. Even the tricksters were offended,” Targen dryly replied. “And that’s difficult to do. I don’t know what to make of this. On one hand, you’re a Revenant and you tend to be annoyed at lack of justice. But on the other hand…something tells me you did so because you’re more of a human at heart.”

“I was a human once,” I said. “As you are right now. You may grow irate at the idea of being a mortal but you are. And I do not think you cease to be one the moment you become undead. It is inescapable.”

“Perhaps, but I shall shake my fist at the gods no matter what,” Targen explained. “And I shall find a way to defy them. As for you…I suppose I would like a further test of loyalty. Something to prove you aren’t some bleeding heart who’s found his way—”

The man’s words were interrupted as I dashed towards him in an instant, thrusting my claw right beneath his throat. He tried to get off a spell but the burst of magic from his hands was easily absorbed by my carapace.

“If I were a bleeding heart, why would I let you live?” I asked, digging the blade into his throat, though not piercing it. “Ammon is an asshole for certain but he would not make the same mistake as you. And I do not think one meager necromancer’s life is worth throwing away a relationship with a revenant, something far harder to come by.”

The man stiffened at that, gritting his teeth. “Damn you’re fast.”

“Faster than death itself,” I said. “Hence why I outran it.”

Having made my point, I retracted my claws and sat down across from the man. “Point well taken,” Targen said. “Though I’m less afraid of your wrath and more afraid of what would happen to this organization should Ammon be left as the point man.”

“A non-aggression pact,” I said. “I want to know I’m safe on your lands.”

“Out of the question,” he replied. “You won’t be safe anywhere after behaving like that in the courts. Frankly, the only reason people don’t bother you now is because you’re an unknown element and no one knows how strong you are. The fact that you took down one of our biggest targets without a sweat…well, that’s something.”

“Reputation truly matters that much here?” I asked.

“Indeed. It is the only thing that we truly have to go by,” Targen explained. “Perhaps the Banshee would be willing to restitute your image before everyone. Until then, I don’t think I can do business beyond contracts.”

How was I going to secure the Bleak Manor if every Banner saw me as a weak target?

“Maybe you should switch teams,” Hix said. “Take the Smiting Star for a ride. They have contracts and you aren’t a walking joke.”

I didn’t reply to the demon, but considered the prospect for a moment. “Very well,” I said. “I have offers elsewhere. If you have people who can so easily take down a thing like Yim, I’m sure you could employ them at any time you wish. I am transferring the Discordance now.”

Contract Completed appeared in my vision as the Discordance rapidly began to transfer from my body to a place unknown. It certainly didn’t surge towards Targen. 4,500 Discordance Gained from Transaction!

And with that, I stood and made my way for the door.

“Wait!” Targen shouted. “Come now, you don’t…come on, let’s be civil here. There’s a lot of work to be had.”

“You mean work that you need done,” I replied, looking back at him. “The Cursed Country is full of opportunity. You think I have no other offers? You intend to make me grovel for work? Hardly the case.”

The necromancer clerk hesitated as he pondered his plan over. With a deep sigh, he spoke. “One more job. If you pull it off well, I’ll agree to a non-aggro pact.”

“And a guarantee of safety,” I said. “I have property that is without a Banner.”

“Two agreements for one job?”

“If you keep haggling as if I were a cabbage merchant, the price will go up to three,” I replied.

The necromancer frowned but reflected to himself for a moment. “Well, I suppose if you don’t come back, I could promise you anything you like. And if you do come back…the price would be well worth it.”

“What do you have for me?”

Targen’s face darkened as he went back and forth for a moment. “Well, I suppose I should be honest with you. It occurs to me that while the League is uninterested in allying with you… I could always use a friend. One with your skills too. My Dead Lord has always been good to me but he is partial to another, a wretched woman by the name of Hesha the Dredger. She crossed the Opaque Boundary years ago and lords it over the rest of us.”

“The what?”

“The Opaque Boundary,” the necromancer repeated. “It’s the veil between life and death. We don’t think of unlife as the afterlife but as simply pushing beyond the Boundary.”

“So she achieved undeath and now is the favorite because of it?” I asked.

“Indeed. She’s consequently the one who is most displeased with your ‘humanity’. So eliminating her would remove the barrier in your life and mine at the same time.”

“Seems a bit…conflicted,” I said. “If I were to be caught or seen, you’d be implicated.”

“Who cares about that?” Targen laughed. “A play on one’s life is to be expected in this field. If successful, I shall be commended.”

What an idiotic sentiment. An entire organization dedicated to achieving a goal together – pitting the underlings against each other. They should be devouring the world, not each other. “Targen, your League has lessened itself greatly in my eyes,” I said. “For what is to be said about an animal that eats its own limbs?”

“You speak like someone who thinks there’s an unlimited amount of power for everyone,” Targen replied, tapping on the desk as he looked at me without blinking. “Perhaps for the good guys there’s unlimited magic and energy to go around but we’re in the depths here. Cannibalism and incineration, my friend. In this hell, you’re either eaten or turned to mulch if you aren’t quick enough.”

Why was that familiar? And why did it seem to ring even more true than before?

Chapter 17

The Bleak Manor was radiant with a kind of energy that I had not seen before. The infusion of Discordance from my contract had extended to my entire estate and the whole area was actually glowing with a pale green energy. The moon hung high above the land, giving an extra eerie feeling to the evening.

4,500 Discordance Shards were not a small amount. Not when it had been so long since I had a surplus able to improve my abilities. With my next target selected, there was plenty of incentive for me to spend my points in a way that would improve my assassination skills. Especially if I’d be gaining close to the same amount of shards each time.

My body was the biggest issue right now. Severing limbs had become a useful strategy for me more than once now and I needed a faster way to regenerate them beyond raising a corpse and then absorbing its power. This was strictly too cumbersome to be practical. I would need to focus more on my Corpsecrafting powers.

Fortunately, my recent Dark Devotion increase had unlocked access to the first Advanced Corpsecrafting section, which was markedly different from the basics. There were sections for each aspect of my body now and I had the kind of overview that a necromancer would be deeply envious of.

Advanced Corpsecrafting Rank I

Purchase an area to infuse it with Discordance. Once infused, you will be able to purchase sub-upgrades for these areas. These upgrades are persistent and last for as long as this vessel remains

Claws:

Infusion Cost: 1,000

Striking a Holy Target causes their aura to be disrupted

Unlocks the Bladefire Ability Branch

Carapace

Infusion Cost: 2,500

Gain 1 Additional Carapace Evolution

Unlocks the Unhallowed Shell Branch

Physique

Infusion Cost: 3,000

You gain Damage Resistance to all silver attacks

Unlocks the Transmogrification Branch

Ghoul Abilities

Infusion Cost: 500

You gain 1 additional use of every per day ability

Unlocks the Ghoulish Touch Branch

So I needed to infuse the abilities before I could unlock the new branches. Yet another frustrating block in the way of getting what I needed.

Physique unlocked Transmogrification. That sounded like something that could be used to regrow my limbs. It was a costly infusion but the damage resistance would be useful to have as well. Silver was one of my biggest weaknesses (that I had found so far) and the Lepidonian people were armed to the teeth with it due to the presence of so many foul things.

Purchasing the Physique infusion caused my body to immediately become alight with energy as a new menu opened up before me.

Physique Infused with Discordance! You have unlocked the Transmogrification Ability Branch. Transmogrification allows for you to actively transform your body with Discordance, holding different ‘forms’ and ‘stances’ that grant you different bonuses. In addition, you have gained the Undead Reconstruction Trait.

Undead Reconstruction: Once per day, you may change your form to a wraith, skeleton or ghoul (current form) for 9 minutes. Your original form is restored to full structure and health upon reverting.

Transmogrification

Forms: A Form is a physical change that persists as long as you trigger it. Purchasing a Form is permanent but you may only have one type of Form active at any time.

Cost: 1,000 Shards

Viper Spines: Your body produces six paralyzing spines made out of bone that can fire out at any given time. These spines can be moved anywhere on the body at will and can extend up to one foot.

Loping Arms: Your arms become mutated and overgrown, allowing you to use them to run and leap great heights. Furthermore, each arm becomes heavily reinforced and capable of crushing a fully armored knight in seconds.

Mimicry I: For 90 seconds, change your features to imitate a human. This form may be held but causes immense damage if one’s will is not strong enough.

Stances: A Stance is a mental change that activates for 10 minutes, granting you additional abilities, insights and attack types.

Cost: 500 Shards

Total War: All thoughts fade and what remains is an engine made for war. Your reflexes are significantly increased, your claw strikes always strike the weakest points and you are immune to being Turned.

Precognition Slip: Your ‘top’ half of the spirit submerges a few seconds into the future, informing your body of what is to come. As long as you remain undamaged, you will be able to see a few seconds into the future during the fight. This only works during combat.

Empty Void: Your mind becomes incredibly dense and impossible for those around to bend or control. Furthermore, you gain a basic Mind Control attack that if used successfully on a mortal, converts them into a Minion. This can be used at-will during the duration of the Stance.

Undead Reconstruction! Exactly what I was looking for. It would let me rebuild myself after fights…plus the ability to turn into a skeleton or wraith was somewhat interesting. I wonder what the mechanical benefits of such a transformation would be. Wraith made sense, for I could pass through anything material, such as the walls of castles…making it very easy for penetration missions.

The rest of the sub-branches were interesting as well. Precognition Slip and Viper Spines especially caught my eye. The ability to grow poisonous, paralyzing spines would work quite well with the rest of my paralytic abilities and I could use something to add insult to injury when diving into close quarter combat. After all, I could keep the spines inside until the time was right.

As for Precognition Slip, well, seeing the future would be worth any price. 500 Discordance was a steal in my opinion.

It may be irresponsible to spend everything that one gets as quick as they get it, but unlife was an arms race and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be ready for anything.

Just as I thought the word ‘damn’, a blood curdling cry rose up from outside of the Bleak Manor. Looks like the Banshee was here, and judging by the way my legs were forcing me to march to visit, it wasn’t going to be a friendly social call.

Chapter 18

My entire army, all sixteen wights and four skeletons, had assembled themselves in the ruined courtyard of the manor. They were all standing at attention, saluting the great coach made of black iron and burning green fire.

No doubt my people had been compulsed to stand in line, but thankfully I was not impressed so intensely. The Banshee only wanted me to visit her carriage, not herald her arrival like a chump. I suppose I should be thankful of that.

“You made her mad,” a quiet voice murmured beside me.

I glanced down to see Moira, dressed in the traditional cultist robes of the Cult of the Veil, dark purple with silver streaks running circular patterns in profane ways. She was shuffling alongside me, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

“You can hear the Banshee?”

Moira pointed to her missing ears. “I can’t hear much of anything besides her without my spells. Woke me up in the middle of a dead sleep. You know what she said, right?”

“You can translate?” I asked. This little tag-along was about to become quite valuable if this were the case.

“Oh yeah,” Moira chuckled. “Big time.”

“Do you wish to expound?” I growled. The witch’s battered and beaten persona had hidden away that she was a rather calm and snarky individual, quite at ease being around the world of the dead. This was in stark contrast to Anna who always shuddered around corpses and tried her hardest not to take offense at certain actions. I got the feeling that Moira wouldn’t object to anything.

“You want the literal or the condensed?” she asked, making an annoying smacking sound with her lips as we walked.

“Literal,” I hissed as we approached the great carriage.

“Little, little worm, come out and speak to the great Spider and perhaps she will not eat you and the rest of the worms that came up from the soil when I began to cleanse it with blood and fury,” Moira said.

“That last part? What?”

“Banshees speak in pronouncements. She’s going to kill everyone here except for you if you don’t meet with her,” Moira calmly explained.

I glanced at Sir Garen. He was really the most important one out of the bunch. Losing him would kill all of my wights everywhere. Besides, I liked Garen! He was just starting to develop an interesting personality.

“Are Banshees legalistic?”

“No, not in the least,” Moira said. “She wants to make a deal.”

“I don’t like threats…”

“I wouldn’t say the Banshee threatens anyone, because we are all alive at her behest,” the witch explained. “She’s the closest thing to a goddess the undead get.”

“You are full of knowledge, aren’t you?” I asked, stopping a few feet away from the great black chariot.

There were six undead horses, all skeletal, hitched to the wagon. The stagecoach was huge by carriage standards, with an extended middle that had doors on both sides. I had never seen a vehicle so big up close.

It was clear that the perspective was changing as I grew closer. The carriage seemed to loom above me and the world around faded. Even Moira vanished, leaving nothing but shadow…shadow and the carriage.

A door swung open and a skeletal hand poked out curling inwards, motioning for me to enter. If I could have nervously swallowed, I would have. I had been confident up until Moira had mumbled about this entity being the closest thing to a goddess…and I still owed that demi-goddess a favor!

I clambered into the big carriage, only to realize it had grown ten times its size by the time I was upon the cushions (now landscape.) Above I could see the vast spectral image of the Banshee, the burning bride, forever encased in a tattered dress to represent the sorrow of those left at the altar. Green fire covered her entirely as she loomed above, her immense size making it quite clear that she saw me as less than an ant.

I said nothing at first. I didn’t know what to say to her. I merely stood at attention and looked up at her.

She too was silent. We kept this up for quite some time until, finally, she broke first.

“Oh, enough! Power play and struggles are for another day. I’m here, little Fly, because you are breaking more than a few rules…but you’re a little Revvie so my heart is soft for your kind. I want to give you a chance to explain not your past but your future. What ills you have done are more amusing to me than anything so far, so do not think you are on trial.”

“How am I to address you?” I asked, keeping my head down.

The Banshee laughed heartily. “If only you had been this respectful when I had first met you! But alas, you just saw me as ‘another dead’! If only you knew! I suppose I should be humbled by it but I was more baffled than anything.”

This was…a rather chatty creature. She went on for some time, rattling about nothing for as long as I would allow it. Eventually I brought the conversation back to her name.

“You were saying your name or title?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. I am The Banshee of Lepidonia County as many call me, but I prefer the term the Countess.”

That little tidbit caused quite a few overheard conversations to make sense. Whispers about loyalty to the Countess weren’t about people discussing politics, it was a way to disclose loyalty to the Banshee.

“I see, Countess. If you wish for me to speak about my future, I will happily do so. But I am under the impression that you seek to harm my guards here. Would you be kind enough to spare them?”

“I am never kind,” she replied. “And I will not spare any of them. Not even Sir Garen, the one whom you love.”

That caused a bit of anger to rise through me. Even though I was barely an inch tall compared to this giant, I almost wanted to take a swipe. “What ill have I done to you, that you would take this away from me?”

“You do not protest that you love Garen?”

“I created him, did I not? And he is growing a personality, is he not?” I replied, thinking these thoughts out loud for the first time, solidifying them. “He’s like a brother in a way. Hewn from my own cloth.”

“Not a son? At least you aren’t weird about it,” the Banshee laughed, her voice echoing so hard that I felt my molecules threaten to tear themselves apart. “I suppose I should not start any blood feuds, so I will spare your paltry Garen.”

I wish I could say that I felt relief but such an emotion wasn’t there anymore. Rather I felt the loss of anger as the relief itself, even though it wasn’t quite comforting as how it had been when I was alive.

“I thank you. You ask my future? It doesn’t involve this land beyond what Discordance I can squeeze from it. My mission and purpose lie back in the King’s Country, in Renzetto, specifically Friedland. I’m just killing time – and targets – until I am allowed to return,” I explained, sitting down, despite how odd it looked. My feet were miles from the edge of the surface, so I could just awkwardly recline. The point was to show that I wasn’t put off by this immense difference in proportions, because frankly, I wasn’t. I could just turn into a wraith and fly off if I needed to!

“I see. So you killed those witches and took a thrall because…”

“They attacked me first and that damned Moira took me as her thrall because I cannot get rid of her,” I grumbled.

The Banshee laughed at this, a little softer than before. “And this land you have secured? Raised a Monument to yourself?”

“Camping, I promise,” I said. “Everything will be cleaned up and put back the way it was when we’re done.”

The tension in the room was draining rapidly and as that occurred, so did our proportions reach equality. I grew and she shrank until we were two normal sized humanoids sitting across from each other in a rather spacious carriage.

“You are honorable in your intent,” she murmured. “Because you truly will leave this land that you’ve secured. Even though it gives you power.”

“I have no need for power,” I said. “Unless it gets me what I want.”

“In that case, I suppose I can help you with that,” the Banshee said. “For a little Revvie like you can be quite handy to a Banshee. Especially when you’re on such thin ice with the Banners…how would you like to become my favorite?”

If I could swallow out of nervousness, I would have. Something about the word ‘favorite’ physically filled me with dread.

“What would that entail, madame?”

“What if I were to tell you there is one big worm in this whole land, one that I don’t like one bit,” the Banshee explained. “But he is not like the others. Every Banner has hosts and servants, people to share the Discordance. He? He keeps it all to himself. A great emperor of nothing, the Bankrupt Eidolon, has sat upon my land for thousands of years, feasting upon the powers and giving nothing back. He will pay me no heed.”

“Does not your deity give you power over them? Smite him,” I said.

“I am no deity and the one who created me has given me only the power to keep checks and balances. The Gluttonous Emperor breaks no law. Violates no treaty. Makes no oath and as such keeps none. He rests in stilted silence, collecting all the power he wishes while the lesser Banners squabble and fight. I know there will be a day when that great worm will rise up and take everything by storm, ignoring the Night Sun Ball and then…my reign ends. For the undead world is just one colossal game of Queen of the Hill and if he can topple me…well, he takes the crown.”

I took this in for a moment. Even something as powerful and divinely oriented as the Banshee lived in a state of fear? Worry about her own position and safety? Nothing really was different on the other side, was it?

“So what do you propose?” I asked.

“Infiltration, assessment and assassination,” the Banshee calmly said. “There’s a technicality that allows you to do as you please to him. Join his Banner. Subterfuge was always allowed because it lets me place my pawns where I want them. These idiots think themselves so clever when they realize they can steal from one another, kill and plot, thinking I never considered making the rules apply internally. Little do they know, that such a thing generates Discordance for me! Their chaos is mine and I revel in it.”

“You’re showing me your whole hand here,” I said. “What is it that you’re really after?”

The Banshee chuckled, clattering her skeletal teeth together. “You are a troublemaker, yes, but a very useful one. I simply seek to move you from one area of trouble to another. Long term? Leave the League alone, they will not give you anything worthwhile besides the work you seek. And I’m sure you will have plenty of work with the Lone Bannerman.”

“Right up until I kill him,” I mused. “Seems like a risky proposition.”

“It is suicide, plain and simple, but if you can survive a few more jobs in the Cursed Land, I think you should be well suited to handle the Hive.”

“The Hive?” I repeated.

“Oh yes, it is his citadel and source of power. A great building, crafted eons ago by the gods themselves, some say. Submerged into the earth due to some tragedy, the Great Worm discovered this lair and all the power that it brought. Now it is his kingdom. Entering will be…dangerous, if you aren’t prepared.”

“So get in, earn his trust, figure out how to kill him and take him down…” I mused. “I really am becoming the assassin I had never dreamt of.”

“Little Revvies are so useful,” she replied. “Let us discuss terms. If you agree to leave mortals on this land alone – save for those who you target for work and those who target you – as well as try and slay Lorgar, I will grant you his Banner for the duration of your stay.”

“Wait, a whole Banner?” I gasped. “Wouldn’t that piss everyone else off?”

“Indeed! Handing it to a total stranger shall create quite the stir. They may even revolt against the system and allow me to cleanse the land of their idiocy and pettiness. My powers are nothing like they can imagine. I would relish a chance to get my Banners back and redistribute them.”

“And you will allow me to keep this manor for my stay as well?” I asked.

“Such a trifling request, yes, the land you stay in is safe until you displease me,” she replied. “Are we in agreement? Shall you serve me in this way?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Good boy.”

Chapter 19

Moira had never heard of the Hive nor of anyone named Lorgar. I didn’t want to ask around too much, for fear of raising suspicion…though this was the Lone Bannerman. He didn’t share his power with anyone else so who would be there to report my actions?

The directions to the Hive were burned into my brain but I decided to hold off on just venturing in. I had a contract to fulfill and in doing so, I’d be able to earn enough Discordance to keep infusing my form. Maybe when I was fully infused I could consider going in there. It wasn’t like my undead boss was in any rush. She said she’d check back in a few thousand years and it hadn’t been a joke, so I suppose I had the time.

In the meantime, Hesha the Dredger was on my mind, because she was my latest contract. A powerful necromancer who had managed to reach undeath in life, a rare feat. She was the favorite of the Dead Lord because of this fact and often enjoyed special privileges that the rest were envious of. Privately, every league necromancer wanted her dead and so there were more than a few people rooting for me.

Targen was a thorough man in his prep-work. Since he had determined to make a play against one of his allies, he was all-in. He had provided me with a dossier full of everything I would need to know in order to take her down. We were working together on this job, since if I failed, it would easily be traced back to him. Divination came cheap and easy in the land of the dead (corpses tell no lies).

Hesha the Dredger was named so because she had a habit of pulling corpses from bodies of water. The Marshes of Rillin were full of strangulation willows and drowning roots that claimed hundreds of hapless victims every year. It was there that she often worked, bringing forth anything she could find from the waters, forging them into Sunken Nightmares as she called them, odd blends of flotsam, marsh life and undead material.

These terrible monsters wandered the Marshes relentlessly, killing victims who were unlucky enough to wander into her territory. They were her source of power and security, but like all raised undead, were extremely limited in intelligence. They could serve but not think. And that meant they’d be useless to protect her.

Hesha herself resided in a great treehouse overlooking the deepest part of the marsh, with a balcony directly over the water. It was here that she held court, assembling her followers and cult worshippers in skiff boats so they could hear her lectures. Though, from what Targen detailed in his letters, her lectures were really just thinly veiled boasting sessions in which she claimed supremacy over all other necromancers.

This was all part for the course for a regular necromancer. They always started cults and raised monsters in their territory. Hesha’s sin, in this case, was what she did to offend Targen specifically.

The pair had been in a fierce rivalry over a theory of raising a greater zombie, one able to not simply repel silver but heal from it, and both had fundamentally different approaches. One could imagine Targen’s surprise when he discovered that his research had been stolen one morning. All of it gone in the blink of an eye.

Of course, Hesha stole the work. But more brazenly, she claimed the theory was her own, that she had worked for years on it and thus was worthy of great praise when the spell finally worked. And for a necromancer to claim he was being ‘ripped off’ was quite embarrassing. It was the equivalent of saying ‘I let you win’ while all the while knowing you certainly didn’t.

Hesha the Dredger’s nickname had a double irony. She had a way of dredging lost documents, books and papers that had all belonged to her comrades at one point. Her power grew by leaps and bounds, because she was climbing on the shoulders of everyone else to get to such a great height. And with that power? She only bragged.

It seemed to me that Targen wouldn’t have cared if Hesha had shared the goods. Sure, she stole from him but they were all shady in that manner. Giving something back would at least show a desire to cooperate. But no, all Hesha did was take. Take, take, take. And now it was time for Targen to take something back.

There was certainly a delicious element of revenge in this job. I would be vindicating a great number of people and as such, I’d gain more Discordance. Then onto…onto the next job where I seek even more power…

My thoughts slowed as I reflected on this. What was my purpose here? Get power for its own sake? No, that wasn’t quite right…there had to be something more, right?

Despair crept up within my heart and my body as I reviewed the documents Targen had given me. This was pointless, wasn’t it? The satisfaction of the kill would bring so little to me other than joy for a few seconds and then…onto the next bit of business. Was it even joy? No, it was smug satisfaction, a sick kind of gloating. There was no fulfillment within me…no pleasure. No happiness. Just pain and misery.

This needed to be fixed before I could just move on. There had to be some kind of relief out there, something that gave an undead a sense of ease or at least the delusion of it for a few hours. It was like there was a gnawing at my stomach that only grew worse with each accomplishment. The more I achieved, the harder things felt.

I suppose that in life one sees a priest about these sorts of things. A witch would be the closest equivalent for the unlife.

This was the reason I had sought Moira out late in the evening. She was in her study – a large library that had mostly been torched by the bandit squatters – overseeing the repairs of the infrastructure by ordering the skeletons to perform complex tasks.

This was her specialty, it seemed. Her power as an Algroven Witch gave her the ability to transfer skills and concepts to undead beings, streaming ideas into their minds and temporarily giving them enough saliency to perform difficult tasks.

It was impressive to see the normally idiotic skeletons holding boards in place while others hammered on them, working with the skill that one would normally see in a mason. They were putting up the corner section of the roof that had collapsed and seemed to be quite adept at working with heights – as they just stood atop each other and walked in perfect unison.

“Your quarters are coming along well,” I said, watching for the telltale sign of stiffening from fear…but there was none.

Moira turned to look at me and smiled. She was not disconcerted by my presence in the least. That was of small comfort, I suppose. “Ah, my Lord, it’s good to see you. Yes, I was able to find a few dead spirits wandering around, day laborers and military engineers and the like. Sending them into these bodies to do the work was easy enough and they appreciate being sent on afterward. This is the natural function of the witch…one I would have preferred to do had I not been sorely tricked.”

“Passing lives onto the next?” I asked. “What do you gain from it?”

“Satisfaction from doing right, I guess. Pleasure from doing some good in this world. I guess that’s my weakness, I do like to do good. All those vile women had to convince me that evil was the better way. A lot of good it did them, for it is evil to betray one’s comrades when their backs are turned, isn’t it?”

“Expedient, perhaps,” I said. “I don’t know if it’s evil. But I am not here to listen to you babble, Moira. I have tolerated your presence purely because you will not go away and because I see some slight use. Now it’s time for you to prove it or pack your things.”

“Work?” Moira asked, her expression growing more surprised than upset. “I hadn’t thought myself to be of any value whatsoever…”

“That remains to be seen. Now, I am going to ask you this with the utmost sincerity and I wish for a thorough answer,” I said, bracing internally for the bad news. “Is there any way for me to experience sensation again?”

The witch looked at me and slowly nodded. She rubbed her bald head – I could see little sprouts of hair were starting to grow and it looked as if she were not going to shave it anytime soon. “A common request of the witch, honestly. But you won’t like the answer.”

“There is one?”

“There’s always an answer, sire,” Moira replied as she gestured towards a bench sitting across from the collapsed fireplace. With a wave of a hand, the books and clutter surrounding the area skittered aside and she sat, inviting me to sit beside her. I opted to stand. We were not going to become friends over this and I didn’t want her to think us as ‘chums’ of any kind.

When she realized I was resolute she continued. “Well, it’s like this. You’re dead and without a soul. That’s why you are so miserable. When you died, the ‘you’ that was Velking before, was split in half.”

“Hector,” I said.

“Ah, great! You remember your old name,” Moira exclaimed with excitement that showed she had more than an academic curiosity in this subject. Interesting…

“So Hector was hewn in half, soul goes to the gods and spirit is dispersed since it’s mostly just made up of astral energy that has no use in the upper or lower planes. Except in your case, things went awry because Hector was murdered in cold blood by a deviant who delighted in it. I assume, that’s how most Revenants are born. Anyway, Hector’s soul dies because of the awful act of murder but the spirit intervened! And that’s where you came in. You are the spirit of Hector’s body, indwelling his body. You are not Hector. And you never were.”

“Nonsense, I have his memories,” I said. “No, I mean I have my memories.”

“I am merely explaining things in terms of metaphysics, Captain,” Moira explained. “Soul without spirit is useless and spirit without soul is mindless. You are essentially the last throe of death of a man’s mind, his final attempt to preserve his self before oblivion. Because of this, you are a husk, indwelling a corpse full of rage and hate. You are sick because you have no soul.”

“No soul but a spirit…” I muttered, looking at my hands. “So I am…not Hector?”

“Did you wish to be him? Or did you fundamentally cut himself off from your own mind?” she asked.

“My first instinct was to never think of him again…” I confessed.

Moira nodded and spoke softly. “You are Hector in the sense that you were born with him and you were there at his death. However…this isn’t to say he’s gone. Certain…things can restore a portion of the soul. Indwelling Spirits like yourself...” she trailed off and nervously brushed her robe. “I fear my lord will grow enraged at what I will suggest.”

“Perhaps but you will say it anyway,” I said, motioning for her to continue. I took a knee, so as to not be standing over her.

“There are methods to restore the soul-spark and in doing so it grants you a tremendous amount of…well, I don’t want to say ‘humanity’ but…”

“It’s the path to redemption is what you’re talking about,” I said.

“No!” she was quick to reply, throwing her hands up in protest. “Not redemption! See, a loose spirit with a soul is something that can’t be eaten or compelled. By anything.”

Those words hung in the air for a minute as I considered them. “Not even the gods?”

“Not even the gods,” Moira replied. I could see the nervousness on her lips for she was trembling as she brought this up. “D-do you understand?”

“I fear I don’t…” I said, looking at her as I rose and crossed my arms.

“Idiot,” Hixim chuckled. “What do you call a being that can’t be killed, destroyed and can in fact kill and destroy?”

“A god,” I muttered. “You are talking about a path to godhood.”

“Yes,” Moira said. “It’s the big secret. An actualized soul infused with a powerful spirit is able to resist the demands of any deity or demon. And with that comes the ability to stand up to them or stand with them in their titanic battle against whichever force they battle. You, I would guess, are moving towards the path of Order since you inherently seek justice.”

“So why aren’t there hundreds of gods?” I asked. “Well, hundreds more than we already have? If it were as easy as being murdered and then coming back…”

I trailed off as I looked at the incredulous expression on her face. “Easy?” she repeated. “The path to reawakening your soul generates a tiny spark. It’s enough to give you that sensation of feeling you so desperately want but also enough to catch the attention of those who eat souls for a living.”

“I thought you said the actualized soul couldn’t be eaten?”

“You must regrow your soul in completion before you can fuse together,” Moira replied. “And that will attract predators like ants at a picnic. The benefits are greater power than you could possibly dream of. The downside is that you will most likely not survive longer than a few seconds after you gain your first soul surge.”

“She’s right,” Hixim added. “Tempters are usually alerted first and then it’s just a matter of time before a devourer gets there.”

“So to become a god, one must be strong enough to already be a god,” I mused.

“In a sense,” Moira said. “Although one must always beg the question, what is the difference between a god and a supremely powerful being?”

Immortality seemed to be the answer. And that was a long, long ways away. But hey, I had the time to kill, right?

Chapter 20

The discovery of the soul recovery process was a major breakthrough in my despair. While every other undead creature seemed to be obsessed with forwarding their petty goals, stabbing one another for meager amounts of Discordance, I would be moving towards my new goal: independence.

Godhood sounded like another scam, if you were to ask me. I’m supposed to open a realm and answer prayers? Dote on my followers? Smite my enemies? Nonsense. But immortality and freedom from this undead curse? That was what I wanted.

Soul restoration would give me Hector back, or perhaps it would simply put me in tune with Hector more, I don’t know, but either way, it would give me a stronger sense of stability and put me on the path to immortality and freedom. Though, it seemed such a power was like striking a match in the darkness; all cruel and hungry things would see me. Good things, I suppose, would seek after me as well, since I was certainly not on the side of the ‘heroes’.

In a way it was like the entire world, the entire cosmos was beset against me the moment I gained my soul back. Though, how was that any different from the rest of my lives, undead or otherwise?

Everyone feasts on the weakest one in the room and it seems that there’s always something stronger out there. I had to prepare for the end now, otherwise I would be destroyed before I could truly achieve my goals. Gallus and Fidelio had both taught me such lessons – Gallus had told me explicitly that I should be prepared for death many times in this unlife and Fidelio had taught me by example that destruction can find one in a moment’s notice.

My preparations had been to seek immortality through all the conventional means…but such routes required me to run about and search for the aid of those who had no reason to give away their secrets. Deals and bargains, contracts and payments, that was my future if I wanted to find true immortality through lichdom…but now? Now I could make my own way.

In the short term, none of my plans changed. I still needed Discordance and doing these assassination jobs were a great way to occupy my mind – the Miasma didn’t seem to bother me when on the job – but after I had gotten what I wanted from these organizations? I’d turn against them to get even more.

The Banshee, the Smiting Star, even the Necromancer’s League, they were all old powers with every reason to manipulate a revenant into doing their bidding. My work would only serve to empower each of these factions. This was not properly balanced in my favor, for ultimately they would seek to dispose of me – consuming me in the hopes of gaining what other Discordance I had gained during my adventures.

There was to be no bones about it. If one revenant could be hired to kill all these targets, another revenant could easily be contracted to take me out. Thus I should begin to plan the demise of all my employers – perhaps with the exception of the Banshee. She had not incensed me nor did I see any reason for her to double-cross me save for her own amusement. Though, I should be prepared to take her down as well.

My reward was to be a Banner for taking down the Worm of the Hive, but I was under no delusions about what that actually meant. Open season on me and my territory. Why would any of these strangers respect me when I came from a foreign land and had no respect for their ways? This would cause no revolt, just a unified war – against me. This spoke to the treachery of the Countess, for no doubt she would allow them to destroy me with delight.

Though was this just paranoia on my part? Was I plotting against these parties when they paid me no more mind than any other employee? It’s hard to tell what was or was not insanity in this undead state and even more so in this world.

The answer to this question wasn’t any different from any other answer, really. It didn’t matter if they were all plotting against me; without power, I would be useless to fight back. I needed to focus on aggregating as much discordance as possible and that meant opening up my prospects.

Disposing of Hesha the Dredger would grant me more of an in-road with the Necromancer’s League and I could hopefully find more work with them. Afterward, I was going to find the Smiting Star’s operations and begin to take on jobs, doubling my intake of energy. This should give me everything I needed to infuse my entire body and thus make me strong enough to take on Lorgar’s Hive…after I cleaned up all the loose ends on the surface.

The Smiting Star in particular was going to be an excellent target of opportunity. They would no doubt be expecting me to double cross them, but I doubt they were expecting an all-out assault. I would randomly finish a contract and then annihilate the entire headquarters in a single afternoon, then hunt down the revenants who were part of this organization, taking their discordance with me as I eliminated them. A complicated plan but one that would give me at least a fighting chance in these cursed lands.

With this decided, I turned my attention to the Marshes of Rillin, where Hesha the Dredger resided.

Most of my research had indicated the easiest way to take her down was an all-out siege. Stealth would work against mortal targets for certain, but this woman was undead so it wasn’t like I could catch her napping. Fast, hard and without relent, that would be the easiest way to strike. Overwhelming force in lieu of any kind of strategy worked best against mages, in my opinion. In addition, my new Precognition ability would give me a fantastic edge in the fight. I’d be able to respond to her spells well before she cast them.

The marshlands were quite waterlogged from the rainy weather that only seemed to affect that specific area. The eternal flow of steady rain from above caused the waters to move like a river, all leading towards one center – the great treehouse where Hesha worked.

I had been expecting to see something akin to the treehouses of the elven folks, large circular buildings that hung from the branches, secured via tethers to the ground and connected with rope bridges. However, this was not the case.

The treehouse was made out of brick and had been fused into the tree itself, cutting off the top of the trunk and replacing it with a profane building covered in thorns and skulls. Black blood oozed out of the tips of these thorns. The windows were few and frosted, impossible to see through even with my vision.

“A brick house?” I mused. “An odd thing to put up in a tree.”

“It’s the kind of bricks she’s using,” Hixim pointed out. “There’s salt in them. Keeps demon folk out. Though won’t bother you a bit.”

Perhaps I could collapse the building atop her. Though would that really kill a demilich? Best to just smash in and try and cut her to pieces before she gets a single spell off.

“You’re one brazen son of a bitch, you know that?” Hix said as I began to climb up the side of the great tree. There were no guards around, no lights either. With the shadows upon my body, I was completely invisible, blending in perfectly with the darkness. “No scouting, no planning, just running in to die.”

“Divination is a favorite of the magician, isn’t it?” I asked. “The worst plan is the one they won’t have divined.”

“I think you’re just lazy,” Hix replied. “And you’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

“Care to make a wager?”

“Feh, I never bet against the house,” the demon grumbled as he faded back into darkness. Fair enough.

My claws dug into the salt-brick as I made it to the actual house part of the treehouse. These were reinforced with magic and my claws struggled to pierce through, making it harder for me to climb. I was forced to more or less ‘scamper’ up, getting relatively few handholds, though if I kept moving I was able to stay upward.

My claws found wood finally, the frame of one of the windows! This was it. No going back after this. If I could breathe, I would have taken a deep breath before I activated Precognition Slip. It was time to take down a demilich.

Chapter 21

I crashed through the glass and rolled forward, easily getting back on my feet. I was in a library of some sort. At once, fourteen beams of energy came surging towards me from all directions and I was vaporized in an instant.

“Gah!” I coughed, realizing what had just occurred. None of that had happened…yet. My precognition had been so strong it was like I was really there. This was going to take some getting used to…

I smashed through the glass and laid flat on the ground, not getting up. I heard the sound of the energy beams begin to charge instantly, the defenses ready to fire off in a split second. Fortunately, my reflexes were faster – I waited a beat and then leapt back up with all my might, dodging as the beams of energy struck the floor, blasting a crater the size of a horse into the wooden planks.

Every few seconds the energy beams struck me and I died, only for me to quickly adjust my movements and dash out of the way. Slipping in and out of the future was getting easier as I made it to the door and into what I thought was one of the hallways.

It turned out that the treehouse was one large, flat structure with very few doors leading to others rooms. I had not entered a hall but rather a vast laboratory complete with dozens of tables filled to the brim with foul smelling alchemical ingredients, books and potions.

Standing before a great statue of a multi-armed beast-woman was a withered husk of a woman, adorned in skulls and thorns. Her shaggy hair was wispy and thin, reminiscent of that of a ghoul, greyed and white from the passage from life to undeath.

Hesha the Dredger turned to face me, rather surprised. Before I could dash forward to strike, she held a hand up.

“Wait, please! This is a dangerous and unstable place,” she said. “Slay me if you wish but let us take this outside.”

A brief flash of a massive explosion overtaking the entire building – myself and Hesha included, came to my mind as I saw a few seconds forward, a missed spell strike a potion and everything going to pot.

I snarled but found myself refusing to charge forward. “Very well,” I said, gesturing towards the door to the entrance. “After you.”

The urge to run her down was intense as she turned her back to me but I was rebuffed by a deep sense of…respect? Restraint? What was it? No, no it was my sporting ethos. It was unfair to strike after she had given fair warning about the dangers of the laboratory. Further evidence that I aligned much deeper towards a lawful behavior…something she undoubtedly knew how to exploit.

Hesha walked slowly towards the door, taking full advantage of this time to plead her case. “Is there any chance I can purchase your services instead, Revenant?”

“None,” I said, waiting for her to open the door. This delay was enough to justify me striking instantly and without hesitation. No glimpse of the future told me any dangers were ahead.

“I can pay you much better than whatever my rival has offered, plus I make many magical items, things I would be more than pleased to gift you,” the woman said. Despite being undead, she sounded still quite human. I suppose that was why she was a demi, instead of a full, lich.

I briefly considered playing both sides against each other but that sounded…exhausting and unnecessary. I would kill her now and Targen eventually. “I’m afraid you better spend your last few seconds praying to whatever cruel god will receive your soul,” I said.

“As should you,” she warned as she reached the door.

The moment the entrance was cracked open, I charged, lunging into Hesha’s back and stabbing a hundred times with my claws while we fell out of the tall treehouse.

“You bastard!” she shrieked, wrestling with me in vain as I landed atop her and dug both my claws deep, deep into her eye sockets. At once, Hesha ceased moving. She was dead.

“Not so hard, was it?” I muttered, shifting my weight off of the woman’s rather sturdy skull. The body jerked as I tried to pull my claws out, shuddering spasmodically…with laughter.

Hesha opened her mouth wide and laughed, the blades in her head doing nothing of note to her. “Did…did you really think you could just stab me in the brain? My darling revenant, why would a corpse have a brain? And why would it need one to function?”

She reached up and seized my wrists at once, holding me against her head as a horrid schlurking sound heralded the sudden protrusion of four additional limbs, all bestial and grotesque, from her body. I struggled to free myself from her iron grasp but failed miserably as the arms all grabbed me and began to yank in different directions.

Instinctively, and perhaps before I was actually grabbed (it was getting harder to tell the difference between the future and the present the longer the ability went on) I activated my Transmogrification Ability, transforming into a wraith.

At once, my entire body was light and free. No sense of weight enveloped me, no sense of touch either. Just a frozen breeze washing over me as I became immaterial and slightly blue.

“Woah, hey what the fuck man!” Hixim screamed as I flew upwards, easily escaping the attacks of the demi-lich. “You just changed shape?”

“Yes, I can do that now,” I said, flying into the tree to cut off the woman’s line of sight.

“Interesting…I think I can empower that,” the demon said. “Shapechanging is easy to augment. You haven’t been investing in your eyes lately, so maybe throw me some discordance and see what works?”

“Now is not the time to upsell me on your services,” I said, continuing my ascent upwards. Being a wraith felt…better than being a ghoul. Or maybe it was just different. Less painful. I don’t know, it was just a nice change from my usual shape.

I made it up into the necromancer’s laboratory and found the item I was looking for. The red potion with the fat neck and the short base had been struck in my vision and that had caused everything to explode around me. Throwing this down at the woman from above would be not only expedient, but quite satisfying as well. A shame I could only keep this form for nine minutes.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Hix said as he watched me swipe uselessly at the bottle. “You don’t know how to lift things?”

“Just need to focus,” I said. Being a wraith did not come instinctively to me. It was just as confusing as being a ghoul and, in many ways, more so since I was missing all forms of sense.

“You’re a ghost, you don’t pick stuff up, you possess them,” the demon chided.

Possession? Interesting…I thrust my hand into the bottle and I found myself able to lift it easily.

“I see,” I said, examining the jar as I let it float upwards. “It’s all about connection.”

With more focus, I was able to place myself entirely ‘inside’ of this potion; my perspective changing its location but my senses remaining unchanged.

Like a drunken sailor, I bobbed and danced forward, lurching across the air as I worked my way towards the open door. Below, I could hear the frustrated shouts of Hesha.

“You interrupt my day and then run at the first sign of trouble?” she bellowed. “At least have the courtesy to die the same day you try to kill me!”

With that, I up and tossed ‘myself’ out of the building, the mystery potion flying along with me. As soon as the bottle was above her, I released myself from the possession and watched as gravity, that harsh mistress, took over my job for me.

“Aha!” she shouted, looking up and firing a bolt of magic right as the potion reached terminal velocity. I could see, for the briefest second, recognition that she had screwed up, as the purple bolt of energy struck the potion.

The explosion overtook the entire area, cleansing just about every branch, tree and root in the area with the exception of the treehouse. I was safe from my height and no debris could touch me, thanks to my incorporeal state.

Once the smoke faded, there remained a scarred, charred and extremely harrowed woman. She was staggering left and right, trying to get control of her senses.

“Trick,” Hix warned. “Don’t be a sucker.”

“I know,” I said, despite the fact that I was about to dive down and try and finish the job. I held off and waited patiently, hiding while Hesha continued to feign her injuries. Eventually, she realized it wasn’t working and stabilized herself with a spell.

The necromancer walked in a circle, searching for any sign of me but I kept phasing into trees, hiding so her spiritual sight wouldn’t catch me.

“I’m not dead,” she cried out. “And I won’t die without taking you with me! My offer still stands, all you’ve done is irritate me. End this now.”

“As you wish,” I muttered, diving out of the trees and materializing instantly, returning to my healthy revenant form. With a single slash, I struck her hard and landed on the ground, expertly avoiding her attempts to fend me off with her extra limbs.

“You idiot, you can’t…” she started to say but too late, she realized what I had done.

Hesha was a lich. And every lich had a phylactery, the thing necessary to keep their spirits alive and regenerative. After I had dropped that bomb upon her, my acute vision had noticed something particular. One of the skull necklaces on her neck, identical to all the others, she had quickly grabbed to check on immediately after the explosion. Why would that necklace, out of all them, be her favorite unless it was quite vital?

The skull necklace had been the target of my strike. I didn’t aim for the heavy silver chain, but for the single little latch that had been designed to enable her to connect the talisman to the rest of her ensemble. An unarmored piece that I picked out with my superior vision the moment she touched it.

The little skull fell onto the ground and Hesha stared at me. “You…” she started to say before she turned to dust instantly.

“Demi-lich,” I said, looking at the pile of necklaces she had left behind. “Can’t survive without a phylactery for even a second.”

“Wait, that was your whole plan?” Hix said. “Hope to find her phylactery?”

“I think it was,” I said. “Though…I must admit, it didn’t really make sense until now. It’s like I know some things about the dead that…that’s deep inside. Instinctive almost.”

“Weird, let’s see if she has any good crap,” the demon replied, letting my thought slide off easily enough. He didn’t care one bit about my own exploration of the revenant soul…or at least, the spirit. Though, I couldn’t help but wonder…what would his reaction be after I gained my soul back?

Chapter 22

A Sudden End to a Stilted Reign! 100,000 Discordance has been gained! appeared in my vision as I passed through the portal. It was time to return to Castle Fiege for a brief respite – and to figure out if I had truly killed Hesha.

I had collected the skull-shaped phylactery and brought it to my chief necromancer’s laboratory. Fidelio’s mood was grim and miserable, as per the usual, but that was nothing new. The man’s irritation with being undead was rather rich, due to the fact that he had prepared his whole life to make this transition, only to find out how awful it was.

The man’s body was a skeleton for now. He was equally displeased with his new form but had no other options for recourse without my permission. And I saw no reason to give him what he wanted, for Fidelio was a treacherous bastard who had easily deserved destruction at my hands. His resurrection was more or less a temporary convenience for me and he had to convince me to keep him.

At least the necromancer was well aware of this and had started to give me the respect I was due, though his bitter sarcasm never ebbed, not even towards his master.

“Ah, I see our Lord and King has arrived,” he said, voice dryer than his bones. Fidelio was adorned in the traditional robes of our cult, though he covered his head with a hood as well, in order to conceal his skull. “What news do you have from abroad?”

I tossed the charm on the table in front of him. “Recognize this?”

“A cousin of mine? One much more diminutive?” he guessed as he examined the little skull. “No…a phylactery. Someone’s been a busy assassin…”

The necromancer quickly scuttled to a cabinet where he produced a few different tools, including a strange circular disk with a series of lenses in the center. He placed the disk on its side, pulling out a little stand from the bottom so he could magnify the skull beneath it.

The magnification showed a great amount of detail on the charm. Little bumps were etched into the grooves of the bone, carefully chaining together various magical scripts. So exquisite was the detail that even my own vision hadn’t noticed little gems studded into the object.

“Ahhhhh, I see, I see all,” Fidelio muttered as he unfolded another lens, causing the picture to magnify even more.

Dim little lights were glowing within the eyes of the skull. Faint, purple light that flickered with what felt like hatred.

“She’s still alive?” I asked.

“She was dead the moment she did this to herself,” Fidelio replied, dutiful as ever to take advantage of a technicality in wording. “But a fraction of her soul is inside.”

“Soul?” I repeated.

“Liches store their souls in phylacteries, demi-liches only manage to squeak out a little portion in their passing. It’s an impatient thing, in my opinion, to take this option, for one cannot go from a demi to a full lich,” the necromancer explained as he produced a small hammer from his robe pocket.

With the most gentle of motions, Fidelio placed the hammer against the skull and tapped it. The whole hammer began to buzz violently, warping and falling apart in his hands.

“Silver warded…” he murmured as he fumbled through his pockets looking for other tools. “Oh yes, she’s absolutely coming back.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Now is a very…relative term,” the man said as he looked up at me with his empty eye sockets. “The amount of time it will take her to return to life will vary. It could be a week, a decade. Never, if she fucked up the ritual. But I suppose that all depends on us not smashing this with a bigger hammer after we’re done examining it.”

“And what of her soul?”

“Extinguished, sent to the astral plane and scattered into thousands of shards,” Fidelio said. “Such is the fate of all who play the dread game and lose. Immortality is the biggest prize there is and there are no awards for coming in second. Just a worst fate than if you had never started.”

“Can you contain her, should she regenerate quickly?” I asked. An idea was coming to mind.

“Indeed, a lich reborn is weaker than an actual newborn and far easier to—”

“I get the point,” I said, motioning for him to move on. A vile man if ever there was. “Then I want you to contain this phylactery and make sure that Hesha understands she needs to stay ‘dead’ until such time as I’m ready for her to come back.”

“I’m afraid I am missing my lord’s point entirely. You killed her, only to change your mind?” Fidelio asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“I owe you no explanations,” I replied. “Though, I will say that I have some machinations that she may find valuable. More so than the Discordance I have stolen from her. Though, if she is uninterested in cooperation…”

“Your point is well taken, she shall be handled,” Fidelio said, saluting me. “And yet, if you would be so kind as to indulge me?”

I was tempted to indulge his head from his spine. But I couldn’t push too hard on him, I needed his help in this situation and I didn’t want to give him more motivation to turn against me (though his Minion status would prevent him from doing so without me being alerted).

“Very well. The Necromancer’s League hired me to kill her and yet, I find myself uninterested in truly advancing my employer’s cause. I’d rather move the chess board around a bit and killing this pawn might not be for the best.”

Fidelio clattered his teeth together at the sound of this. “The League? You’re doing business with the League?”

“Indeed. Are you familiar?” I asked, sitting on the stool across from the table. There was no purpose to do this beyond simply imitating what humans did when in for the long haul. Fidelio leaned against the table, eager to gossip.

“Yes, enough so to know that you’re playing chess against a bunch of people playing checkers,” he said.

That came as a surprise. “Do tell.”

“They’re a joke of an organization, the token human group that the Banner invited in order to ensure mortals were always serving the dead,” he explained. “Most necromancers from other countries look at them with disdain because they sacrifice that which is most important: their independence. They are slaves to their Dead Lord, barking like pets and doing tricks in the hopes of getting what they so desperately crave. They are weak and worse, arrogant.”

“That’s a rich irony coming from a man like you,” I said with a curt laugh.

“Every necromancer is going to be arrogant in some way, that you can count on,” Fidelio said. “But they are arrogant because they think their masters will protect them. They are fodder. Pure and simple. No matter how much they leap, no matter how many tricks they perform, they will never get what they want. It’s simply too valuable for a Dead Lord to ever give away.”

“Like a religion without the gods,” I mused.

“Indeed, though you get far more spells from their research than any deity,” Fidelio countered. “But still, I would suggest you take full advantage of them. The mortals, I mean. Leave the Dead Lords alone and they will merely view your antics as amusing.”

A valuable piece of advice. “Consider me impressed, Fidelio. You needn’t have that offered that.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed. “But I have hitched my wagon to you and at the very least…well, I’m still alive. So I’m doing far, far better than even the League’s best demi-lich.”

Chapter 23

Anna the Fallen Star stood across from me, listening as I finished recounting my tale to her. I was sitting upon my vast throne in the great Throne Room, enjoying (as much as I could anyway) the safety and solitude of my position.

The paladin looked rather concerned at my story. Unlike Fidelio, she was not excited at the prospect of my challenging every organization I was working for and she was quick to let me know.

“Sire,” she protested as soon as I finished. “With all due respect, don’t you think you’re biting off way too much here? Three factions all wanting you to work for them is fine, but turning your ire against them? It seems self-destructive.”

“You are used to people playing nice,” I replied, tapping my claws against the arms of my chair. “Employers pay their employees and everyone shakes hands at the end of the day. That is not the case here with these people. They will destroy me the moment it is expedient and thus I must anticipate it and act accordingly.”

“You’ve always relied on me to give you a clear point of view,” Anna said, putting a hand up. “And this is one of those moments, sir. You are acting with paranoia and madness. No rational person would declare war on Banners.”

“It’s less of a war and more of a concentrated effort…” I trailed off as Anna crossed her arms. “I see what you are saying. And I understand it appears mad…but you don’t know these people like I do. They are cruel and contemptuous at best and undermining at worst. I must be prepared to destroy them first.”

The woman slowly nodded. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “I suppose I do not like it, but I must accept this is how your kind works. Though it makes no sense to devour one another, you will do so anyway. What do you wish of me?”

“Your counsel on the matter,” I said. “How should I lay siege to the Smiting Star?”

Anna paced back and forth in place for a moment as she pondered this. Eventually she sat in her throne beside me and sighed. “Your report about them troubles me the most. An arm of the church designed to assassinate high value targets? Such a thing would never have been sanctioned by anyone even close to moral. I suspect it is a trap.”

“I do not,” I said. “Revenants do not lie very well or easily. The one I met dealt with me quite honorably and I do not expect there to be any trouble with working with the organization – at first. But after a few jobs? I expect them to terminate me.”

“Then why take the work?”

“Why does anyone do a job? I need the money,” I said with a wry laugh.

Anna did not smile at that. “My lord seems to think this is easier than he considers. The Smiting Star are holy warriors. You are automatically at a disadvantage.”

“Why? Because holy harms me? Last I checked, unholy power harms them equally so,” I replied. “It is a stalemate in power. The difficulty lies in destroying the headquarters before the other revenants are able to react.”

This caught the Fallen Star’s attention; she turned to look at me more and tilted her head. “Headquarters?”

I produced the small token I had been given, the coin with their symbol. Anna took it from me and gazed intently for a few moments, shuddering after a while. I wonder what she’d make of Moira.

“If I give this to a man in a warehouse, I shall be brought to their station within Lepidonia,” I explained. “And I’ve pondered this for some time. They are a break-away organization with very few ties to the official church. Their resources must be concentrated in one or two areas. I will establish a relationship with these people, determine where their main headquarters is and then, when the time is right, we shall lay siege. Traditionally. A portal inside the building and troops on the ground. The Banners won’t care about this in the least.”

Anna considered this, still gazing at the token. “How deep does this darkness go?” she whispered, more to herself than anyone.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at me, tears welling in her eyes. “I can handle being on the wrong side. I can handle the crimes we do and the evils we sustain. But…why is it that every time my church is involved, there seems to be a darker side I was unaware of? What is the point of siding with the good if they…they did things like this?”

“Not everything is so black and white,” I replied. “You should know that by now, my dear Anna. The reality is that these men think they are doing good.”

“I don’t see how any could employ the undead and call it good. Let alone assassinate people,” she growled. A darkness had come across her face now, the tears quickly being replaced with hatred. A fiercer side of the woman for sure. “If there is one sin that must be punished, Lord Velking, I believe it is hypocrisy. If you find their headquarters, I will handle the siege.”

The tone in her voice indicated that this was much more of a promise than anything. A strange crusade to take up – turning her wrath against some lunatic fringe group – but I suppose she had her own issues and angers to work out. I could feel the urge for revenge pressing against her heart, beating impossibly hard as she strained over these thoughts. The anger of what that awful man had done to her had been awakened by this hypocrisy and now all she could see was red.

“Will you be able to do this rationally?” I asked.

“There is nothing rational about your plan,” she curtly said. “But I will exact great vengeance upon them for their lies. If you will allow it, of course.”

“You had me at vengeance, my dear friend,” I replied, patting her gently on the shoulder. The shudder that followed was quite telling of how comfortable she was around me. I suppose she was just going to have to get used to it – just like the cold truth.

Chapter 24

West Albrook was my destination. A bleak town under the Lycanthrope Banner, Albrook was full of glassy-eyed peasants who seemed to go about their duties without a single care in the world – nor a single reaction to what was around them.

They were pale people, though their bodies were tanned from long hours of toil in the sun. This particular part of Lepidonia was more of a valley than a swampland and thus there were no trees for miles. Their pink eyes indicated they weren’t quite human.

“Thralls,” Moira said as she shuffled beside me.

“Hmmm?” I asked, surprised at her words. I kept forgetting that she was with me – a suitable guide for traveling within the Cursed Lands but one who was utterly silent except for the random utterances she would make. She also had the most insufferable habit of reading signposts and advertisements out loud.

“Lycanthropes farm humans and humans farm food,” she explained. “They trade the human cattle at auctions and such. These humans are all owned. Be cautious when dealing with them, for they are property of lupine things that can shed their flesh at a moment’s notice.”

“You know, for a land full of werewolves, I have yet to see one in the wild,” I said. “At the castle, sure, but out here? Never.”

“You’re surrounded by them, friend,” a man said as he approached. He was not a thrall like the rest. He was a dark skinned man with a bald head and a huge earring with a pearl dangling from it. “What brings you to West Albrook?”

Moira shuffled behind me instantly. “His musk,” she hissed. “Can you smell it?”

I could. It was not particularly offensive, considering the majority of the odors my highly sensitive nose took in on a daily basis but it was distinct from well…every other scent around me. “I take it you are in charge?”

“They call my kind the Alpha Wolf because they don’t understand how packs work,” he said, reaching a hand out to shake mine. “But you can just call me Woofers.”

“I am not going to call you that.”

The man burst out laughing and slapped his knee. “Oh could you imagine? I’m Langley Otto, steward of this here cattle ranch. Albrook is Banner Land so, unless you have business here, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I do not wish to disrespect your people,” I said, bowing slightly to the man. “I am seeking the abandoned Lodanite Temple. I am here on business.”

I hoped the word would mean something to him. It did not.

“Pilgrim, eh?” he said. “No reason for me to interrupt a dead man on his holy journey. But I’ve got to peacebond you while you’re here.”

“You do that and those Revenants will fuck you up the moment they see you,” Hix warned.

“I’m not an idiot,” I emoted back. I turned my attention to the lycanthrope before me. “My business might be dangerous but I pose no harm to your people or your cattle.” If I could shiver, I would have. This was quite offensive but the humans looked so far gone they had no idea what or where they were.

“Hmmm,” Langley said as he closed one eye and stared at me hard for a moment. “Okay.”

Just like that? I looked at him suspiciously and he laughed.

“I’m just a sheriff, I’m not here to start trouble. Your kind wanders in every now and then and you behave as long as I don’t poke at you so…” Langley trailed off. “If I have your word that you won’t harm anyone of my people, you can go without peacebonding.”

There was something strange about hearing him say ‘word’. It almost rang out to me with an intensity that I couldn’t understand right away. There was a thickness to the language, a sturdiness to the word that appealed so deeply to me. Everything felt…right for just a second.

“You have my word,” I hurriedly said, shaking his hand once more. A surge of energy pulsed through me as the words Oath Given appeared in my vision. Curious, what did that mean? And why did it feel so damn good? Good? Yes! Yes it felt good! More than the absence of pain it was pleasure for only the briefest second.

“You okay friend? I’ve never seen a ghoul go pale…” Langley muttered as he tilted his head, gazing at me with his other eye.

“It’s nothing,” I replied. This was not nothing…but as fast as the sensation had appeared it was gone. I was bound, however, by my word. I could cause no trouble here.

The werewolf in disguise let me be and I made my way towards the great Lodanite temple in the distance. I had been under the impression that this would be an unassuming warehouse, but to my surprise, it was a crumbling citadel, a circular building that once stood tall.

Most of the tower had collapsed in on itself, but an impressive side was still holding firm, stretching nearly twenty feet into the sky. I could see dozens of windows lining the sides of this great building, all stained glass showing the various deities of the Lodanite faith.

Lodan was the great constellation keeper, the orderer of the cosmos and the greatest god that the world had ever seen. His pantheon had single-handedly pushed back the forces of chaos from the land, forming the human worlds in ways that would echo forever.

He was a warrior god at heart, one who knew how to win the hearts of humans and gain their admiration – through bashing in the skulls of evil, mortal and deity alike. He was a champion, at least that is what the churches said, and his power would be granted to any who called upon him with a pure heart.

I had my doubts about such a claim. Lodanites as a whole were hierarchical to a fault, extremely focused on expunging evil at the expense of human lives or comfort and, worst of all, greedy as hell. The opulence of their buildings, even an old one like this, was not lost on the poor folk. Of course, Lodan never preached aestheticism, so the gold chain wearing priests would say.

In life I had no opinions on Lodan beyond the basic curse of “Lodan bash yer brains in.” The gods were in their heavens managing the world, the priests managed the gods and I managed the shit-filled streets of a town that never stopped bustling. There was no room in my head or heart for the things above, not when the world below was so miserable and cold.

This, I suppose, was impiety. Perhaps one of the reasons I ended up damned in the way I am. Though, it wasn’t like I ever spited the gods. I simply paid them the same regard they paid me: none. Perhaps I should have at least made a few sacrifices here and there though…some tithes may have avoided this whole mess.

I reached the base of the temple where a tall, faceless ghoul was waiting for me. He was gangly, with blackened, thorn-like legs that jutted into the ground. His palms were long and lanky, pale and fleshy. They extended towards me as the faceless entity wheezed in my direction.

“I think that’s the toll man,” Moira said.

“What an astute observation, truly you are indispensable,” I dryly replied, producing the coin and looking at it. The symbol of the Smiting Star burned – not too painfully but enough to make me consider what I was about to get myself into. For a split second. There was no time for navel gazing in this world, there was only the quick and the dead. Well, permanently dead.

“If I don’t return in six hours…” I said, trailing off as I looked at my guide.

Moira was chewing on a root of some kind, smacking her lips as she stared at the horrible thing with mild amusement. “I’ll summon the portal and bring in the reinforcements,” she finished for me. “Just like you’ve repeated no less than six times now. I’m not incompetent, just weak.”

“You know, you say that you’re weak and yet I’ve seen you use magic, walk these lands without fear and stand unblinking across from such horrors as this…” I said, glancing at her curiously. “What exactly are you afraid of in these lands?”

“Being alone, Captain,” she replied without missing a beat. She gnawed on the root with an almost animal-like intensity for a moment. “I’ve been chained to people for the last decade of my life. The idea of being alone for even a minute makes me sick.”

An odd thing to say considering I was about to leave Moira by her lonesome for a few hours. Was she being overdramatic about this? Something wasn’t adding up about the way she spoke but I couldn’t tell if she were being dishonest with me or if she were just glib, speaking without really thinking about what her words meant.

Either way, I departed from the odd witch and handed the coin to the faceless guardian. The beast wheezed as he examined the coin, holding it inches away from his head. After a moment of analysis, he turned and gestured with two long fingers for me to follow and wandered to the right-hand side, going around the building.

I followed after him, descending down a long slope of stairs leading into a basement where the sound of running water was quite obvious.

We were not entering the temple at all, but were rather going underneath, into an underground river that flowed in a cavern from below. My guide led me to a long gondola boat where he boarded and motioned for me to enter as well.

As I climbed aboard the boat, the creature wheezed and kicked us off with his thorn-leg, then dipped a hand in the water to use as a paddle. We went opposite of the temple, deeper into the recesses of the underground cavern, cruising along in darkness until eventually we reached a small dock.

The wooden dock was connected to marble flooring that led into an alcove, about as wide as the citadel above.

There were a few pillars made of pure stone in the center of the alcove, holding the entire place up and I took note of the beams and other structures. This was indeed a man-made area and not something carved out by nature or magic. A few magical explosives could easily take this entire thing down…though there wasn’t much to destroy from the looks of it.

The alcove was divided into three parts; a series of booths that had swirling purple portals in them, a large blackboard and a small armory, mostly composed of weapon racks and ammunition barrels.

My wheezing guide brought us to the end of the dock and stopped the boat, motioning for me to depart. He said nothing and there was no one to receive me.

I climbed onto the dock and looked out ahead. There was a large wooden sign, barely hanging onto the post it had been hammered into, that read: No Revenant Shall Speak to Another While Here. Review Contracts, Take Pledge Tokens and Enter Portal. Any misbehavior or acts of unholiness will be responded to with immediate purgation.

Hmmm. Interesting. I suppose it would make sense to keep us far apart from each other. It didn’t seem like this place would give me any information whatsoever about the actual organization. Damn. Oh well, I suppose I’d have to dig deeper and find out their headquarters, perhaps after I gained some trust.

I approached the large blackboard that hung in the back of the cavern. This part of the alcove was long and flat, with the board taking up most of the space on the wall. A huge skull had been carved out of stone in the center of the board and two purple gems glowed menacingly, indicating that I’d most likely be incinerated by them if I tried anything stupid.

I suppose I shouldn’t have expected this to be easy. As I examined the board, a burning sensation washed across me and the eyes in the skull lit up.

“You are a Revenant,” the skull spoke, its jaw slowly moving up and down, grinding as it worked. “And you have come here for the purpose of doing justice on behalf of the Smiting Star. Gaze upon the board and see what may be offered. When you are prepared, take a token from beneath the board and place it into my mouth.”

My view began to shift as the board became full of information that hadn’t been there previously. I could see dozens of names and contracts, still images of men and women with targets clearly floating above their heads. A fascinating illusion.

Contract Board Connection Established! You may now accept Contracts at no cost to yourself! appeared in my vision. Well that was handy. Let’s see what cleaning work was available for the street sweeper…

Target Name: Sir Regish of Locksley

Location: Lepidonia City

Assessment: Sir Regish is a fugitive knight from the city of Polianta. His crimes involve arson, murder, theft, rape and pillage of the King’s Land. His most egregious crime was the beheading of a Lodanite priestess who dared condemn him for his actions. He is an exceptionally skilled melee fighter, relying upon twin hammers to deal blows to armored enemies with ease.

Payment: 1,200 Discordance Shards

Target Name: Kayleigh Sandservant

Location: The Desert Dunes of Harnov

Assessment: This target is extremely dangerous. A church leader in the Central Star’s eastern offices, Kayleigh has spent the last two decades developing a human trafficking network, shipping acolytes across the countryside under false pretenses, using them for forced labor. Currently she has sway over an entire fortress that believes her life to be under severe threat from fabricated enemies. In truth, she is using church assets to protect herself from justice and extradition.

Payment: 2,000 Discordance Shards

Bonus: Harm no one other than the target and receive an additional 1,000 Discordance.

Target Name: Takosh Lumi

Location: Tague

Assessment: A hospital overseer, Takosh has spent the last four years carefully infiltrating the Holy Ward of St. Attha for the purposes of introducing a vile plague into the general population through policy and procedures. His careful mismanagement has led to the discovery that he worships a plague deity far too late. Removing him from his post will cause a significant controversy, so someone needs to make this go away, quietly and quickly.

Payment: 1,500 Discordance Shards

Target Name: Luhannison the Fat

Location: North Brunso Ocean

Assessment: A merchant of extreme wealth and power, Luhannison has spent a career profiteering off of war while selling faulty arms and armor to the government. His latest venture, however, selling ships to civilians on long settlement journeys has attracted attention due to the fact that all ships sold are struck by pirates. Divination has revealed he has been selling maps of these routes to pirates and splitting the profits and thus has been condemned for execution.

Payment: 2,000 Discordance Shards

The last target was in the ocean? Interesting. These were all interesting jobs, and there were dozens more like them, all with different scumbags who needed to be taught a lesson. A permanent one. These jobs were tantalizing, tempting me with all manner of challenge and best of all: no guilt.

It was strange to think of one’s self as guilty but indeed, the trouble with being undead was the constant sense of guilt, emptiness and pain. The feeling that something was always wrong, something gnawing away at my stomach was perpetual and I existed mostly in a state of always feeling off. It was not pleasant.

The idea of doing some work that actually gave me satisfaction, that liberated me temporarily from these feelings of pain and suffering, even if only for a split second, was deeply satisfying. So much so that I began to quickly rethink most of my plans.

“So easily you wash back and forth,” Hix commented. “Tossed to and fro like a boat on the waters. Tisk tisk.”

“What are you talking about?”

“One moment of thinking about doing some good and you’re already softening on your stance on wrecking these people?” Hixim asked.

“You have no idea what it means to feel a lapse in this pain,” I said.

“I suppose you’re right. Demons aren’t particularly tortured lots,” my tempting eyes said. “But at the same time, don’t get your eyes off the prize buddy. These people are just a means to an end. The pleasure you feel is just temporary. It’ll always fade. They’ll keep dangling it over you until it drives you mad.”

“They?” I asked.

“The gods, of course. Proper divine forces that dispense the good juice that you’re so craving right now. Where do you think it comes from? Good begats good and evil evil, you know? So any time you get that good and holy feeling…”

“It’s the gods attempting to reward me?” I asked. “Seduce me?”

“More like their attempt to string you along. If the gods were truly that generous, you’d think they would let the feelings last longer than a few seconds. But it’s like wine, more potent even, since it gives you hope. They get you nice and drunk for a moment and then…” he trailed off as I came to the conclusion out loud.

“I want more and more, thus distracting me from my own goals,” I said. “Though a counterpoint, if this gives me a greater level of pleasure than anything I could hope to achieve on my own, why bother doing anything else?”

“Spoken like a true wino,” Hix chuckled. “It’s all about what you want in the long term, my friend.”

That was a good point. Did I want to bend over backwards in order to gain just a scant moment of pleasure? I guess it all depended if I could figure some way out of this undead predicament without having to bend the knee to any god or necromancer king.

Forgetting about all of that for a moment, I turned my attention to the coins hanging from the blackboard. They were medallions, thin red ribbons tied to pegs beneath each job listed. Pulling a token from the board meant I’d be taking the job.

I glanced at the portals off to the left-hand side. They were to be used? It made sense why the locations were so general on the map. Perhaps these tokens would let me go directly to where my target was last seen?

The only question was, what job to take? They were all the same to me, more or less, so I suppose I should go with the one with the highest potential. That would be in the deserts, with Kayleigh as my target. 2,000 Discordance was nothing to laugh at and if I was able to get in and get out cleanly, it would be an additional thousand. Not bad in the least, especially since my target was a human.

Without a second thought, I grabbed the token and yanked it from the board. A flash of red energy washed over me for a brief second as I took hold of it. Contract Accepted. Target Acquired! Portals are Calibrating…

Behind, I could hear a swooshing sound as the portals began to change their destination, their colors shifting to blue, to purple and then finally to red.

“You have made your choice,” the statue spoke. “Place the coin in my mouth to activate the teleportation mechanic. When your target is slain, you shall be recalled within thirty seconds.”

Recalled? Well…this certainly wasn’t a small operation. Color me quite impressed.

I approached the skull statue and placed the coin in its mouth just as it demanded. The jaw slowly shut itself and the eyes glowed bright red for a moment before becoming dim and purple once more.

“Destination has been connected,” the skull said. “Enter the Portal when you are prepared.”

Just like that? Seemed rather simple. This pointed to the Smiting Star having quite a bit of resources when it came to building infrastructure. Or perhaps this was just a very old organization, one enjoying the power that came with age? Hard to make an evaluation when all I knew of these people was that they were just as paranoid as me.

“I just want to point out,” Hix said as I approached one of the portals. The swirling oval displayed a dune on the other side. “There’s a huge chance this is a trap. You go through that and you might be zapped.”

“Doubtful,” I said. “A contract can’t be interfered with or made in bad faith.”

“All faith is bad faith, baby,” Hixim said as I took the plunge – zipping across time and space in a matter of seconds.

Chapter 25

The teleportation was instant and exceptionally jarring. My mind and body were unable to process the sudden change in senses around me and I was blinded for a moment, overwhelmed by the sound, sight and smell of the dunes around me.

The harsh desert wind was blowing hard, scattering dust everywhere as I burrowed downward to escape the heat of the sun. It was so much worse here!

As I tunneled down, the darkness washed over me and I felt far less pain. This kind of landscape meant it would be impossible to travel during the day. Fair enough, I suppose. I worked best at night.

I nestled down and made my burrow for the afternoon, hollowing it out enough for my whole body. There was downtime to be expected and thus I turned my attentions to infusing my body further – my last contract had yielded quite a bit of Discordance – 2,000 to be exact.

Advanced Corpsecrafting Rank I

Purchase an area to infuse it with Discordance. Once infused, you will be able to purchase sub-upgrades for these areas. These upgrades are persistent and last for as long as this vessel remains

Claws:

Infusion Cost: 1,000

Striking a Holy Target causes their aura to be disrupted

Unlocks the Bladefire Ability Branch

Carapace

Infusion Cost: 2,500

Gain 1 Additional Carapace Evolution

Unlocks the Unhallowed Shell Branch

Ghoul Abilities

Infusion Cost: 500

You gain 1 additional use of every per day ability

Unlocks the Ghoulish Touch Branch

Three branches left to infuse but not enough to get Carapace quite yet. Better claws, however, would give me a leg up in case this target was magically armored in any way. I could use the other thousand to purchase from the Bladefire branch…

Claws Infused with Discordance! You have unlocked the Bladefire Ability Branch. Your attacks now carry an unholy aura that disrupts holy energies of equal strength. There are two sub-branches of Bladefire: Strikes and Qualities. Strikes are attacks that must be intentionally triggered, while Qualities are persistent.

Strikes:

These abilities disperse your Unholy Aura when you activate them. Your Aura recovers after thirty seconds.

Cost: 250 Discordance Each

Feral Swipe: A triple-claw attack that rends foes in half.

Burning Claw: Ignites enemies on magical fire when struck.

Lethal Puncture: A stab attack that automatically targets the vitals of the enemy.

Qualities:

When a Quality is selected, your Claws permanently acquire those bonuses.

Cost: 750 Discordance Each

Extra Aura: You gain 2 Additional Auric Charges.

Bonebreaker: Your claws gain a force impact modifier.

Parrying Edge: Grow a slight hook on the edge of your middle claw, allowing you to catch weapons on them.

With 1,000 points left, I had enough to purchase one of each. How convenient…hmmm…Feral Swipe looked quite strong, vivisection was often a powerful tool of intimidation. Combined with Bonebreaker, I’d be able to hit with the force of a warhammer – with the swiftness of simple hand weapons.

I wish I could say such deliberations took more than a few seconds but I had spent my Discordance as fast as I had received it and the transaction was over instantly. Thus I would find myself waiting in the depths of the warm sands, letting the time pass…

Eventually I burrowed to the surface to find the cool of the night to greet me. The moon hung high above the long, windswept dunes, its full shape foreboding in a way. In the distance, I could see a great fortress made of white stone that seemed to glisten in the moonlight.

The walls were tall and forbidding for outsiders; they were perfectly smooth, carefully cut as to prevent anyone determined from being able to climb it up without some serious gear. Though these efforts would be thwarted anyway for the tops of the walls were covered in razor sharp wiring that was bent out in such a way that anyone coming close would certainly be mangled.

Certainly the mark of a paranoid individual, expecting the end to come their way any time. I couldn’t see any guards manning the parapets, though there were sniper towers everywhere, large circular spires with slots for mounted crossbows to extend and fire with ease. The affixed nature of the mounted weapons meant they’d more or less be able to fire without recoil and thus hit their targets quite accurately.

A flickering around the wall caught my attention as I drew closer to the fortress. A magical shield as well? With concentration, I could vaguely see the outline of the energy field.

So much for just burrowing through. Magical fields could easily wrap in a circle around this wall, meaning that digging wouldn’t do much. I’d need some way to break through the magical barrier without raising alarms.

A bell began to ring as I lay atop the tallest dune in the area, informing that an hour had passed by. In the distance, I could see various lights begin to move up and down the stairwells of the sniper towers. Guards were being changed out. If ever there was a time to take advantage of getting into the city, now would be it. The only question was how to bypass this shield…

I scuttered up to the flimsy blue field of energy and flicked it with a claw. There was a pop-hiss! that sounded the moment I touched the shimmering magic, forcing my hand to fall back at once. I half-expected to hear a comment from Hix, but the demon didn’t say a word. Good, I didn’t need his chatter right now.

Would sand move through? I picked up a clump and tossed it. The cloud dispersed through the energy field without a struggle.

Grinning, I came up with a plan. I thrust my hands into the ground a few inches before the energy field and began to push with all of my might. This caused the earth to raise upwards as I scooped the dirt into a neat pile on the other side. After a few minutes, I had made a small barricade out of sand, able to simply add to the pile by shoving more from the other side.

Once finished, I activated my passwall ability, Shadowdoor. This created a portal through both sides of a wall and that little barrier counted! Instantly, I was on the other side of the force field, no worse for wear.

Field Navigator! 250 Discordance Gained! appeared in my vision. What? Oh, that’s right! I wasn’t in the cursed lands right now, that meant there was plenty of Discordance to be had! This made the Smiting Star’s jobs even more attractive than before. Devastatingly so, actually. I could probably make an extra thousand with incidentals this way!

Shaking the thoughts of discordance gain aside, I stabbed my claws into the wall and began to effortlessly scale it up. Having used my passwall ability already, I was out of luck with the actual wall but I didn’t mind climbing upwards. Having a bird’s-eye view of whatever was on the other side of the fortress would be quite helpful, plus I could take out the guards—

“Dumbass, you’ll waste the bonus if you hurt anyone other than the target,” Hix warned. Aha! So he was listening in!

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I said. It was pointless to complain about his tone when addressing me, we were more or less the same now, so I looked at him more like an ur-conscience than anything else. Squabbling with my own mind made no sense.

Resisting my urge to slay all of these fools, I merely scampered up the wall, careful not to leave too big of a mark with my claw. Learning how to move up smooth surfaces was getting easier, especially with my latest infusion. I could feel the auric energy of the Bladefire within my claws simmering with each clack against the wall.

The barbed wire did nothing to bother my skin. Sure, it hurt like hell but every waking moment was pain and so there was no particular reason to care about its effects. No magic was infused within the wiring and so I crawled through without a problem.

A guard was standing on the rampart across from me, in the process of lighting a pipe when our eyes met. He stiffened at once and I could see from his chainmail and plain leather jerkin that he was no church warrior, just a regular working man.

“I’m here to kill your employer,” I calmy said. “And you can guess from how I look that it won’t be terribly difficult.”

The man nodded at that and immediately dropped his pipe and his bow to the ground. “Please, sir, I’m just a night watchman, I didn’t even want this shift!”

“Chuck him from the wall and let him savor every last terrifying moment until death!” Hix screamed at me. So much for his helpful advice.

I took a pair of manacles from the man’s belt and hooked one foot to his leg so he wouldn’t be able to climb down. “You shout out,” I said. “Make an alarm or tell anyone, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to kill everyone you know and love. Understood?”

“Quiet as a church mouse!” the man promised as he accepted me gagging him. Before I could get the rope in his mouth, however he added. “Though, if’n you’re interested in some intel I might be persuaded to change sides…”

Chapter 26

Evil and opportunism seemed to go hand in hand. While on the side of ‘good’ or perhaps neutral, I had never particularly thought of all the things that violence could get me. Now that I was on the other side of death, with knives for hands, I was learning that lack of morals creates a wide spectrum of opportunities for everyone – as long as they were missing scruples.

Take Felger for instance. This semi-toothed brute of a man had been hired for the cheapest coin possible – a big mistake considering Kayleigh’s church branch enjoyed wearing all manner of finery. Lodanites lived and died by their fashion sense, it would seem, and Felger didn’t care for being bossed around by gilded folk.

This made his eagerness to betray his employer and get his hands on these treasures quite great. So eager, in fact, it seemed to reflect a sentiment that existed inside of the camp.

Fort Bracessetori had once been a military outpost way out in the desert for who knows what reason, but over the last few years it had fallen into disrepair. Kayleigh, herself, not the church, had purchased the fortress from the government and had intended to make it a church citadel. However, upon arriving, she and her priests simply took over the village garrison, kicked out all of the villagers and locked everything down.

The military goons who had been left behind, those too poor or of too low a rank to leave with their company, had been hired by the dozen by Kayleigh, promised all manner of good food, drink and leisure now that there was no town to worry about. Just priests and they were all well behaved, right?

Apparently, this was not the case. The guard unit was posted nearly 24/7 on wall detail while the priesthood and their assistants lived it up in the main palace. Conjured food for the guards, imported cheeses for the ruling class.

To make things worse, Felger and his lot were unable to leave. They had discussed abandoning their job early on, as the promises weren’t being fulfilled beyond token amounts of promissory gold. However, Kayleigh had refused to give them supplies to leave, thus trapping them. This was a remote desert, there was nowhere to go for hundreds of miles. The perfect place to keep a workforce…until they snapped, that is.

This was all to say that I found a willing and eager ally in Felger. His excitement was difficult to contain once he began to realize that I was indeed on the side of evil. Most of his chatter was related to the payday but I was starting to see a bigger picture. One that was a far better arrangement than a mere bonus payment of a thousand discordance shards.

I had no idea where I was geographically but I knew one thing: this was a place the gods would not notice if it was wiped off the face of the earth. Killing Kayleigh and her entire ilk would do the world a favor and it would be doubtful that anyone would realize something so drastic had occurred for quite some time.

I could install Felger and his crew as owners and rulers of this fortress. And on the inside? I could put a new Twisted Monument, one they could maintain and sacrifice to regularly in order to increase its power. Yes, that would make me much stronger, wouldn’t it? Blackwind Sails would generate more discordance than merely running around doing jobs…

Besides, it would be an excellent way to decimate my old enemy, the Central Star. These were all priests and priestesses of that pesky faith. While they were technically kicked out of the Lodanite pantheon and of Tague for their failures recently, this didn’t mean they weren’t still aligned with the good order of the cosmos. They were still on the side of rightness and thus deserved destruction for the sheer hell of it.

A few quick abductions of Felger’s men confirmed his story. They were so pissed that half offered to join me before I could even finish my initial threats against them. By the end of the evening, I had managed to recruit nearly thirty men and women, all who were more than happy to follow Felger’s lead.

During this time, I was able to gather all of the intel I needed. Kayleigh had locked herself in her spacious palace, along with her honor guard and three other priests who seemed to be quite elite. They were armored, armed and alert at all times. Some say that they used charms and spells to stay awake at all hours of the night, a very dangerous practice as I understood.

The mortal frame couldn’t escape the laws of nature and one of those laws was that sleep must be had no matter what. The way around that was to use magic to supplant the physical need while simply ignoring the mental needs. This led to the mind slowly deteriorating, all the while consistently believing that it was doing just fine, since the rest of the body was receiving magical replenishment.

This all pointed to signs that my target and her ilk would probably be quite unstable. They were desperate to avoid being taken in for their crimes – human trafficking was a capital offense and one that would have them tossed in unmarked graves in no man’s land as well. I would have to be careful in how I disposed of them.

The outer guards were all composed of Felger and his men. Inside of the palace, there would be a higher caliber of warrior waiting for me – Divine Blades.

Not to be confused with paladins, Divine Blades were mercenaries, those who had learned to surf the tides of divine magic in a way that most mortals were envious of. Unlike the holy rollers of the paladonic orders, Divine Bladesmen were unaffiliated with any god or deity, instead simply using divine magic like a sorcerer or mage used arcane sources. Their method of channeling their power into their blades made them especially handy for killing undead. And their neutral status made them popular with necromancers and church alike for their ability to clean up vast fields of walking corpses.

These fighters were few but well compensated for their work and enjoyed the same status as the rest of the priesthood. Their presence indicated that Kayleigh was expecting a visit from the Smiting Star – or perhaps the Central Star, so many constellations that could be coming her way.

The Divine Blades were useful because they looked like they were the good guys but their divine powers gave them the ability to offset holy attacks and even absorb them. This made them very efficient paladin-killers and priest smiters. They would not be easy to fight in any capacity.

Thankfully, I didn’t need to fight them. Four men versus thirty was fairly simple math. It would be doubtful they’d even fight back if it was clear this was just a power struggle. Mercenaries were not well known for their loyalty in tough situations and if they were threatened with the loss of their cushy situation, it may spell doom for the priests of the fortress.

The camp moved quickly once the news spread about the mutiny. There were fifty priests locked within the palace and only four of them were of any level. Most of the clergy were attendants, merely enjoying the extra status their servanthood gave them. They, too, would not put up a fight.

A note was handed to the captain of the Divine Blades. It read a simple list of demands and an explanation that the entire building was surrounded by heavily armored soldiers who were none too happy about their living conditions. In favor of preserving life, however, they were more interested in having a sit-down with Kayleigh and her retinue.

This false pretense would keep a massacre from occurring. And no doubt the priestess would be eager to try and resolve the complaints without bloodshed – for every loss meant she had one less body to protect her when the piper came to collect his due.

Little did she know that I would be the one sitting across from her in the meeting room. If possible, I’d slay her and her honor guard and that would be all required from me. Otherwise, it would be all out war and chaos – not something I was afraid of but overall would be less useful to my goals. The cleaner I could make this, the easier things would be in the long run.

The reaction to the letter was predictable. A quick meeting between the Divine Blades followed by a series of loud, angry shouts from the center of the palace. Kayleigh was displeased with the situation but no amount of screaming from her would dissuade the men she had put in this dangerous place.

A meeting was agreed upon, though in an area far from neutral: a rock garden. Only Kayleigh and her honor guard would be allowed in the garden; Felger was expected to go in alone. The Divine Blades had wanted to mediate but the head priestess wouldn’t hear of it. This matter was to be resolved in utter solitude.

Of course, Felger wasn’t stupid. He knew as well as any that she would try to murder him. That’s why he wasn’t going in. I was.

I was wrapped heavily in leather bandages as to conceal my wounds, and a helmet was placed upon my head, along with a chainmail coif around my neck. By the time they were finished dressing me, I looked identical to any garrison guard – at least from a distance.

Up close it was a different story, as nothing could hide my ghoulish face other than simply keeping my head down. Did the Divine Blades notice this deception? I think they did. But were they wise enough to simply play along as opposed to risking my wrath? It seemed they were. A blood-minimal coup was preferable to risking anything further. All I had to do was stab the target, kill her guards and then everything would be mine.

And yet, something was bothering the back of my mind. A gnawing feeling that I was doing something wrong, that I was approaching this from some bad angle. What was it? My mind drifted back to what the skull had told me before I left. Thirty seconds after slaying my target, I’d be teleported back. Shit. That meant I’d have to figure out where the hell…fuck me. This was why the Smiting Star had their setup the way they did. To stop jackasses like me from obviously taking power. Get in and get out without a clue as to the actual geographic location of my target. No way of finding my way back without a portal and they’d find it instantly.

Damn, all of my plans evaporated as I settled down across from my target, a rather gaunt and sickly woman adorned in the vestiges of someone clearly expecting Armageddon.

Kayleigh Sandservant wore a tall crowned hat that had four spires on the top of it, each spire alight with a different color holy flame; red, green, purple and gold. These fires occasionally swapped places as she moved her head, tilting it in curiosity at the sight of me. Behind her stood the honor guard, four paladin-priest hybrids armed with warhammers and carrying burning silver talismans upon their breasts, meant to repel anything undead. They were prepared to fight me, spread out in the garden in a way that would prevent me from taking them all down in a single blow. A shame.

We were sitting in the rock garden, an indeterminable place made up of ordinary sand and smooth stones that scattered the area. These stones were wide as an ox, black and white, and were flat enough to walk across without a problem. Some of the rocks were curved upwards slightly, as to provide seating for those who wished to recline.

An intermediary rock sat in between us, a black polished stone with two glasses and a large basin of wine.

“I suppose I won’t be needing this,” she said, gesturing to the wine cups as she pushed them both aside. “Though I’m curious why you haven’t struck yet.” Her voice was restrained and cautious, but on the verge of panic. I had caught her unawares and she was compensating poorly by trying to play calm. The pounding of her heart and scent of terror, however, were a dead giveaway.

“Do you know who I work for?” I asked. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to find more information on these bastards.

“I do,” Kayleigh replied. She swallowed hard and folded her hands in her lap. “And you know who I work for?”

“That I do not, nor do I care,” I said. “Tell me, Sandservant, who are the Smiting Star?”

“They are hypocrisy and horror, all rolled into one,” the woman replied. She fidgeted for a moment and tried to relax once she realized I was in it for the long haul. With a nervous gulp of wine, she continued. “The Smiting Star are a radical organization, labeled heretics by anyone with half a brain. But they fucking do the job no one else is willing to do. Hence why I’ve locked down hard here. Hence why you’re here.”

Nervous sweat poured down her brow as she continued. “I don’t know what you want from me. You somehow managed to get control of my guards and that means I’m dead one way or another. The church wants me extradited, the law would happily have me killed in the streets and even my damnable trade partners have withdrawn any support. Dug my grave and now they expect me to lay in it.”

I put up a hand to stop her chatter. “How many seconds of your life are you willing to purchase?”

“As many as I can afford,” she replied without hesitation. Her trembling stopped at that moment as she leaned forward, interested. “What’s your price?”

“I wish to raise a Twisted Monument here, a powerful artifact that shall give me more energy than killing you would provide,” I said. “Substantially more. The Smiting Star has…restraints that make this arrangement less than desirable. If you would tend to the monument, I would be willing to let you live for as long as it takes the Star to send my replacement.”

A deep burning began to settle upon my chest, like a heavy weight. The contract was trying to compel me to act but it wasn’t terribly strong. Something was amiss but I didn’t know what. I could resist this? Yes! I could. With ease, I could violate this contract. Breaking it was a mere matter of will…

Contract Disrupted! Recall Spell Failed! appeared in my vision as purple energy started to fizzle around me for a moment. The paladins all raised their weapons defensively but upon seeing I was calm, they did nothing else.

“What an odd decision,” Kayleigh said. “You know they’ll come after you for this, right?”

“If they can’t take you down, why should I fear them?” I said. In truth, I was after something bigger here. A chance to get my own foothold in no-man’s land, a Blacksail Monument that could drain thousands of discordance per month, increasing my ability to survive in the Cursed Lands tenfold.

The cleric considered this for a time. “I must admit, bargaining was the last thing I was prepared to do,” she admitted. “However, it is far more preferable to death.”

The woman waved a hand and her guards stood down, dispersing and retreating to corners of the stone garden. They looked relieved.

It occurred to me how hilarious it would be to simply reach out and kill the woman now that her guard was quite literally down. However, the contract was already disrupted. I had no impetus to do her harm. Not when there was far more power to be gained from her loyalties.

“So tell me, what is your decision?” I asked. “Death now or in a few months?”

“Months?” she chortled. “You think the Star is that slow? No doubt your replacement is on his way now.”

“Then I suppose we should come to a conclusion quickly,” I said. “And perhaps I could intercept on your behalf.”

The sound of sizzling in the air seemed to accompany my words. A hit squad most certainly was arriving – I could sense them!

Chapter 27

The sudden appearance of three armored revenants didn’t catch us by surprise but it certainly caught us before we could make a deal.

A burst of yellow electricity struck through the sunroof of the garden and, about thirty feet away, three figures struck the ground with startling intensity. Glass shattered upon their arrival and the sands scattered across the entire garden, covering us in a fine coat of dust and rock shrapnel.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to open with a simple bargaining position: if I die I cannot negotiate!” the priestess shouted as she dove into the sands like a coward. So much for being a high ranking cleric in the church.

The three revenants, all armed with claws identical to my own (though their weapons were glowing with a holy aura), turned in unison towards me and pointed.

“You have breached the Smiting Star’s contract, Revenant!” they all uttered in perfect harmony. “And thus your life is forfeit. Your shell, however, is ours to command. Kneel and receive the Sealing Brand, dulling your mind forever and ever. Otherwise, you shall be destroyed utterly.”

I showed them the one claw that counts as a reply. They did not register this whatsoever.

“Looks like they’re a bunch of spooks,” Hix whispered to me. “Undead without brains.”

No intelligence? Interesting. I should be able to take full advantage of that with my Control Undead ability. I could use it once per rank, right? Three Ranks, three Revenants. All under my dominion…though, I should wear them down first. Push their energies and force them to focus on defensive combat long enough to waste their protective magic. Then at the right time, I’d seize all three.

Once it was clear I wouldn’t be accepting their meager offer of surrender, the three raised their blades and charged in perfect unison. Their actions were one, perfectly precise and so synchronized that their every step was together.

These ballet fighters ran at me, blades flashing wildly as they assaulted with everything they had. I merely backed up, dancing across the sands, my blades blocking each slash they could throw my way. They were incredibly fast but I suffered no exhaustion from their efforts, for my reinforced claws had the force of hammers and thus I could easily offset the strength of their attacks.

Each strike bounced off each other, clanging loudly as the guards surrounding us began to cast all manner of spell – against me!

“What treachery is this?” I shouted as beams of red, black and orange struck my body.

For a moment, everything felt hideously wretched and then…a strength that surpassed anything I had ever felt before came over me. It was a sickening power, something bubonic and bubbling from within but it was power all the same!

My arms radiated with unholy power and I found myself able to channel this into my Bladefire. My claws became alight with green flames while the energy surged through me. My first block was so powerful that it shattered the claws of the attacker, my second piercing his skull with ease – though this did nothing.

It didn’t matter. I pulled my claw back faster than I could register striking anyway, the supernatural energy pushing my body to its absolute limits and beyond. Three more strikes, each one so fast that it was like time was slowing down for me. All I had to do was reach out and in a matter of seconds – less than seconds, I had slashed the arms off of one, leaving him defenseless.

The other two didn’t lose their stride and they flanked me on both sides, stabbing up and down as I was forced to stand sideways, one claw fending on each side. The enervation of the clerics had given me the celerity of mind to analyze their attacks well ahead of when they were coming – and that was without my precognitive abilities!

A crucial sidestep allowed me to throw off their rhythm, only for a split second but this was more than enough time to hack the leg of one and throw a kick into the other’s chest, knocking him backwards.

A pirouette led to the severance of the stumbling, one-legged revenant’s head, though this was not lethal. The body continued fighting without a problem, balancing expertly on one foot and leaning forward, using its stump and other hand to serve as a counterweight so it could remain upright.

The other one fell to the ground and was smashed to pieces with a sledgehammer – one of the guards had rushed up to finish the job, his hammer surging with eldritch might. The entire body of the revenant vaporized at once, leaving only two behind.

The armless revenant burst forward at me and tackled my body with his torso, the thrust of his propulsion knocking me hard into the ground. I slid a few feet back, slashing and kicking to try and get him off; he was biting into my body hard and I could feel the paralytic energies of the ghoul try to overtake me – for only the briefest of seconds. My own energies drank it up easily enough; the mindless thing had no real reasoning beyond using every ability it had at its disposal.

This one I was able to kill myself by thrusting my claws up into his chest and simply ripping him in half. As his torso fell apart, chunks of grey and blackened flesh falling out, he burst into ethereal energy.

Consumption of the Dead! 500 Discordance Gained! Your Hunger Has Intensified!

I didn’t have time to process this, for by the time the word appeared, a blade was slamming towards my head. I narrowly dodged, worming to the side as the one-legged revenant attempted to dive bomb atop me, spearing the ground inches away from my skull.

He had fallen atop me and I had caught him with my knees, readying to throw him up into the air. Our eyes met and for a moment I could see all that was within this beast. He was completely a skeleton, a husk with no mind whatsoever. He didn’t even register that he was wounded. Not worth converting to my side.

I kicked hard, tossing the ghoul into the air. Activating my leg grafts, I sprang upwards, slashing wildly. My flaming blades easily tore through the body of the creature and it broke apart. More Fuel for the Fire! 500 Discordance Gained! Your Hunger Has Intensified!

Time stopped for a moment. Everything around me became grey and still. The guards, who had been in the middle of casting more buff spells, hung their arms in midair, lifeless and without motion. Kayleigh Sandservant was eating the very sand she was supposed to be serving, unable to look up or say a word. I could see her eyes were without sparkle or shine. Time had completely frozen around me.

I hung in midair, in perfect stasis. Words in deep red appeared in front of me. Your Hunger knows no bounds! You have gained an Obsession! Obsessions are compulsions that must be followed when the circumstances present themselves. You cannot defy your obsession.

Obsession: Solitary Madness

Your reflection has become strangely conversative. When faced with a direct mirror made from silver, you must speak with your reflection until it has become satisfied with the conversation. Violent attacks will disrupt this but you must return to the conversation.

Just like that, I was condemned to a strange new horror in this unlife. Obsession with a mirror? I suppose it made some sense with my constant inner dialogue. Fear began to rise in me as the world returned to normal, time unfreezing just as quickly as it had stilled.

I landed on the ground just a few feet away from the cowering Kayleigh. “You killed them?” she whispered.

I didn’t answer right away, because I was nervously glancing around for a mirror. I could see a few reflective surfaces, the glass on the few window panes that hadn’t been shattered or coated with sand, and my image seemed to mock me. My stomach, or whatever you called it now, was wrenched with terror. Even the thought of a mirror filled me with dread and anticipation.

“Now!” Kayleigh shouted.

In my distraction, I hadn’t noticed that the four guards had surrounded me. They all struck me at once with a beam of negative energy that was supposed to harm me in some way, but I merely soaked it up with my anti-magic carapace. Finally, that damned thing worked! A flash of my blades and the paladins were dead, leaving the terrified cleric on the ground.

“W-what? How? Those were my best men!” she cried out, scooting back as she tried to crawl away from me. I simply walked towards her.

“They buffed me, remember?” I said. “Just because they ended their spells didn’t mean the effects were over. It seems that you should know that sort of thing before trying to double cross someone.”

“Y-you can’t blame me for trying, right?” she squeaked, closing her eyes tightly as she anticipated the end.

I squatted down beside her and brushed her cheek with my claw, cutting the flesh enough to scar her for life. “That’s your free betrayal,” I said. “Seems our lot just has to get this out of our bones, so be it. Will you serve me now?”

As the blood dripped down her throat, Kayleigh opened one eye. “You aren’t mad?”

“Oh, I’m furious,” I replied. “But in the cosmic scale of things I’m angry at…you are dead last.”

Chapter 28

“I don’t understand,” the corrupt cleric said as she shuffled alongside me. She was chained now, bound with irons and forced to wear simple rags that were humiliating. Kayleigh would be her name no more, for she was a Minion of mine now. Instead, I simply called her Sandrake, a combination of her last name and the mandrake, a bitter herb famed for its association with fools and scholars alike. She did not care for the name and that made it all the better.

The sealing ritual was fast and easy to do, ensuring we would be mentally linked from now on. Sandrake would not be able to move against me without my knowledge, and frankly I doubted she would ever try again.

The woman had been on her last legs, using every last resource and item at her disposal to ensure her survival. Unlike the necromancer who seemed to cling to unlife as a means of survival, she clinged to barter and trade, relying on her savvy with negotiations to earn her lot in life.

Having come up inside the Central Star church as a wunderkind, Sandrake had proven her ability to lead, teach and tend to the needs of the congregation so effortlessly that they awarded her an office of Head Clerk early on. From there, she began to establish contacts all over Renzetto, in the various provinces and states of Lapensa and the far-off continent of Olovana, for the purpose of sending missionaries and relief workers out to do the important jobs of the church.

It was here that Sandrake discovered something interesting about the acolytes who were sent to work at various disaster relief sites and poorhouses: they never questioned why they were working. They never complained about the long hours. They ate little, slept little and tried to take as few resources as possible, all for the purpose of contributing to the common good. Since these workers trusted the Central Star to send them where they were needed, they gave it their all.

And so the woman began to send them to job contracts in remote sites; labor mines, work camps and even military hospitals. These contracts paid in gold, asked no questions about where the workers came from and more importantly, made sure the workers couldn’t leave until the jobs were done. Once finished? The acolytes were immediately transferred to a new worksite, under false pretenses.

Those hapless victims never had a chance after they left their home, for they would never again interact with a single legitimate member of the church. Everything was paperwork and letters. All forgeries, all expertly explaining why the gods needed someone to build a summer palace for no pay. Quarrelers were disciplined and disappeared.

In twenty years, Sandrake had earned millions of gold and amassed herself enough power to build her fortress. Once it was completed, however, things with a particular client went sour. In her arrogance, she had begun outsourcing more ‘volunteers’ to more ambitious projects, including one sponsored by a prominent Lodanite who immediately noticed something wrong with the workers. Three interviews broke the entire affair. Up until three weeks ago, she had been off the map entirely. Now, she was one of the most wanted people in the country.

I don’t know what was more impressive: the depths of her evils or the fact that she could do all of that while still alive. It took the horror of undeath and the massive realization of the injustice of the universe for me to lose my sense of morality, what could possibly have convinced her to do something so particularly heinous?

“I don’t understand,” Sandrake repeated as we made our way to the top of the palace to overlook the rest of the fortress. News had spread of a shift in power and that the coup was a success. The men were instructed to take whatever they wanted and leave. Many needed to be convinced to carry more than a handful of golden chains. “Why are you letting them all leave?”

We stopped at the balcony of the tallest spire in the palace. We could see a perfect view of not only the fortress but also of the desert ahead. In the distance I could see a great ocean, stirring from a storm that was not too far off the coast.

“Because they were miserable here and I do not take pleasure in seeing working men suffer,” I replied.

“I was led to believe your kind was wretched and miserable at all times,” she scoffed, leaning against the railing and looking out.

“It is true, but that does not mean I will lash out meaninglessly at others. These men did right by me and even the Divine Blades were smart enough to steer clear. Let them have whatever they wish. Those who remain will be motivated by more than material gain or desperation. And those who turn around to come back? They will be craving something even more,” I explained. “But why should I explain myself to you?”

I grabbed her by the back of the head and lifted her up, carrying her over the balcony in the process. She yelped and wriggled, unable to do anything other than simply struggle.

“What is the meaning of this? I said I’d do whatever you wanted, I changed my name!” Sandrake cried out.

I merely let her hang over the air for a moment, pondering what I would do. How easy it would be to drop her and let her become like me. To make her suffer for her crimes while still serving. Mortality was a gift and she had squandered it.

“Tell me, woman,” I said as I swayed her a little, eliciting a deeper whine of agitation from her. “Why did you do all of these horrid things? It is one thing to steal or murder, to take when hungry or when jealous or full of rage…but to calculate from a desk such horrors? To enslave man with ease, under false pretenses of the most foul of kinds. Taking relief workers devoted to good? What made you do this? Tell me.”

Sandrake sighed. “You…think I’m alone in this? A lot of eyes had to shut for me to do what I have done in this lifetime, Revenant. No one ever asked where the money for their operations came from. No orphanage built ever suffered from a lack of food because of my failings. This world is full of cruelty and hunger, people devouring each other at any chance they get…so why not take the opportunity when it comes your way? What more darkness can be added into this world, hmm? If not me, someone else would come along. You speak of doing good, but isn’t the greatest good one’s own? Wealth gives you everything. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Even now, we’re speaking because I had the wealth to hire a vast army to protect me. Wealth that came from the suffering of so, so many. But if not at my hands, it would be at someone else’s. Besides, it wasn’t as bad as everyone says. They had food, shelter and a warm bed. That’s better than most.”

Her honesty was shocking. I was tempted to drop her and let her see what horror awaited her now that she was in my clutches, and yet. Something was beating in her heart, something that was seeking revenge on a deep level. Her hatred wasn’t towards a person or group but to all of mankind. Sandrake hated humanity and wanted revenge upon it. Thus, she was able to shed her own in order to get what she craved.

“Why?” I asked, considering this new information as it came to my mind in a flash of energy and emotion. “Why do you want revenge so badly?”

“Revenge,” the woman chuckled. “Yes, that’s a good word for it. Revenge. It’s like every time I take something for myself, I get to curse all of creation for being set against me. If you must know, I grew up starving on the streets. I was kidnapped and forced into bloodsport at an early age. The church freed me and took me in. Healed me, gave me an education and everything. But it was too late. I had already seen what humans do to each other. I mean, have you ever…” she trailed off. “No, it’s pointless to compare suffering with a dead thing. If you want to know why, the answer is, I’ve seen what people become when they grow up. They’re better off working themselves to death under the delusion they’re helping rather than anything else.”

“Hey, who made you the judge of the living?” Hix grumbled as he stirred within me. “Why you dangling this bitch?”

“I’m weighing whether to convert her to undeath like Fidelio,” I replied. “Her crimes are great.”

“So? That’s awesome! Evil people are our people, man,” the demon quickly said. “You can’t just kill them because you don’t like their philosophy. It’s not like you’re any better.”

That stung. “I am better,” I said. “I seek justice with my actions. My choices restore cosmic balance. There is order in what I do.”

“Pishaw,” Hixim chuckled. “You’re a ghoul with an ego that’s getting out of control. You’re just mad because something in your past life is incensed at this woman’s actions. Hector would be mad, right? But what about Velking? Hmm? Necromancer Lord? Would he care about something as petty as slavery?”

“What’s your dog in this fight?” I asked. “Contrarian or are you trying to help me? I can never quite tell.”

“I’m always trying to help, dumbass,” the demon said. “My dog, as you call it, is this: don’t waste resources. Life to unlife is a huge transition of resources. Spellcasters lose a lot of their juice. And don’t forget that your kind is insane. Just because you are in ‘control’ doesn’t mean you are in control. I mean, think about how many times you have changed sides in the last week.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want to fight the Smiting Star, then you think about joining them and then you suddenly try to usurp them entirely without any planning,” Hix lectured. I could hear a seriousness in his tone that normally wasn’t there. “They send a little feeler squad to test your reflexes and skill, figure out it’ll be easier to take you down later and then you don’t even think about it. You just go right on to judging some idiot woman for crimes that quite literally don’t matter because they are in the past. You’re acting like a drunk. And now you’ve got an obsession because of it.”

Anna, too, had mentioned some concerns about the stability of my planning. But just because I was ambitious didn’t mean I was insane. Did it? Or were they just naysayers?

“Look, I’m new to being attached to the undead mind, but I can see some strange things are going on,” Hixim continued. “But it also seems like whatever I say is going to be twisted in some way as well, so ask yourself this: if this is a great idea, would you still do it in 24 hours? What’s the harm in waiting, right?”

This made sense to me. Justice delayed was still justice. If anything, the dread of judgment would add to the pleasure of the kill…hmmm, maybe Hix was right. Better wait.

I pulled the woman up and dropped her onto the ground. “You’ve earned a stay of execution,” I said. “But don’t think we are done yet.”

Sandrake merely looked up at me with confusion. “You seem rather erratic. Is everything okay?”

“See? Even the scrub notices,” my tempter whispered as he returned to his sleeping state.

“I’m fine,” I said, looking away for a moment to collect myself. What was going on?

The sudden sound of crackling interrupted my moment of self-reflection. It was a familiar sound, one belonging to the revenant hit squad right before they had arrived. I turned around to see that there was one revenant, appearing with lightning and crashing through the sunroof.

More? Interesting. I could use the Discordance.

“Ready your spells, woman,” I said, raising my hands.

“Spells? I’m a desk clerk,” she replied as she dodged behind me. “Clergy and Cleric are different terms and they are not interchangeable.”

Damn, just my luck.

I raised my claws up high to threaten the stranger’s life but he kept his blades down. “Calm yourself,” he said. “I am not here to strike you down. To break a contract is rare but it is the sign of an extraordinarily strong will. You have fallen prey to the Hunger in a deep and insidious way. You think only of how to aggregate power but you only take what’s in front of you.”

“Is that so?” I asked.

“It is,” he replied. “You are not the first to break a contract but you are the first newbie. Consider us impressed. This woman’s sentence is meted out by your decision to hang her above that balcony. Torture is forbidden, execution must be carried out swiftly and without cruelty. You have failed to do that and so the Smiting Star has lost its claim to this kill. The contract has been dissolved for good. However, upon seeing you choose to spare her, it indicates that your madness must have subsided. We are willing to extend a hand of forgiveness, as is the custom for when the Hunger gets the best of us.”

Hixim’s laughter was deafening, even though it was within my own mind. “Holy shit, can you believe that? My advice made the good guys lose! If you killed her, they’d have jumped you by the hundreds! They think you’re on the path to redemption! What a bunch of idiots!”

“Take it, you goon,” the woman clinging to my ankle for dear life hissed. “Second chances are a brass a dozen with these kinds.”

Chapter 29

Somehow I managed to have my cake and eat it too. My erratic swaying between allegiances had inexplicably earned me the forgiveness for biting the hand that feeds, a new fortress under my command and a new minion – who was of no magical potential whatsoever.

With my ‘torture’ of Sandrake, I had accidentally disrupted the validity of the contract. Since these were the supposed good guys, they operated under a moral code and thus could not harm her after what had been done. They did not care what became of the fortress or anything beyond the dispersion of justice.

There would be trouble down the line for Turncoat’s Refuge. Since allegiances had switched more than a few times within such a place, I felt it an apt name. Bandits, traitors and outlaws would be welcome to come to the Refuge and find good company.

Keeping Sandrake alive had imparted no magical knowledge to me but the woman was an administrative maven, to say the least. She had a categorical understanding of every political, economic and sociological layout in the desert region of Harnov. So much so that I was convinced in half an afternoon that sparing her was the most logical thing to do. Justice would have to wait. But rest assured, it would come for her in some way. Perhaps one of her slaves would find her and exact violent revenge. If that were the case…hmmm, yes, I could give them everything she had owned. A fitting end and reward.

Ultimately, I learned that our particular spot in the desert was well known to smugglers. Sandrake had built this fortress so oceanic pirates and traders could import fresh foods to ensure the population always had luxuries to eat and more importantly, to trade.

Gold was of little value to smugglers and pirates. These were thieves and outlaws in lands that had nowhere to go; there were no villages around and wandering merchants were exceptionally rare in the desert. Food and water, therefore, was the primary currency of the desert folk and things like fresh fish were exceptionally treasured.

The ultimate goal of Fort Turncoat, before my arrival, had been to establish a trade relationship with a pirate faction that would be able to bring fresh men and arms, as well as whatever goods they were able to procure during their travels. Merchants, too, would come and settle, establishing a black market handling money changing and making monetary transactions. They would pay quite a fortune in both goods and gold to Sandrake for the privilege of sitting safely inside of the walls and even more for access to the palace.

This was a self-sustaining system. Sandrake had no interest in building anything beyond what she had already enacted; her life’s work had been to create this little empire, as she called it. Food, water and supplies would always flow in, but nothing was meant to flow out. No exports, just imports. People were welcome to stay but not for long.

By having as little impact as possible in the desert, Turncoat’s Refuge would not attract the attention of any warlords or kings. Better yet, being a neutral place for those looking for weapons would make the fortress indispensable to the local nomads who often sought to raid and siege monstrous locations.

That was the big draw of the desert, apparently. Tunneling worms long ago had burrowed complex caves that later on became entire ecosystems, infested with monsters, treasure and all the things that came along with it. Nomads were often made up of hearty folk who liked to plunder such places, sometimes for the treasure but often for the cultural bragging rights.

The Sandwalkers, as they were known, had no political aspirations and so lived in harmony with the few castles and cities that existed in Harnov. Any establishment that gave water for free was known as friends to the Sandwalkers and thus they would be engaged with in civil matters like trade and exchanging of secrets.

I had to give the woman credit, she had worked quite hard to build a remote paradise for herself. Had I not come along, she might have had a chance. Especially considering how weak those ‘feeler’ revenants had been.

Something didn’t add up about that whole situation. Revenants rarely worked together; binding them into unintelligent husks and sending them to work in tandem meant there was only one mind fighting me. One mind with three bodies, all equal in power to my own…they should have been able to get the upper hand. But even without the buffs from my temporary cleric allies, I had many more advantages than them.

Why would they intentionally waste resources trying to test me? It made no sense. These were not mercenary thugs. They were calculated. If they wanted to test me, they would have done so in some other, less wasteful way. No, the Smiting Star was afraid of me. That could be the only conclusion.

I was stronger than the other revenants. Strong enough to break a contract as well. Perhaps it was because of how much time I’d spent in the world outside of their influence, or maybe it was because I had something they didn’t. Either way, it was enough to convince them to stay their hand and attempt to rehabilitate me instead.

Their offer was accepted rather quickly and I was given instructions that I would be summoned soon, to speak with a human in charge of ‘helping’ me deal with my madness. I eagerly accepted the free counseling, knowing full well that the more cognizant I would become, the stronger I’d be. In the end, that would give me the strength to take them down for good. Besides, having a human instructor would give me a link to the organization in a meaningful way. I could probably pluck a hair and get something to provide me with divinatory connections to his home organization.

Overall, I had earned 4,200 Discordance from my antics in the desert. Establishing a base of power had been an ambitious move but it had earned me enough energy to establish a new Twisted Monument. My actions had paid off and now it was time to reap the benefits.

How long would the fortress last? I don’t know. Sandrake would be tasked with keeping it above water, so to speak, but it seemed that evil, while extensive, was always temporary upon the world. The trick was to build roots deep into the ground, that way when the weeds are pulled, the true power remains below.

Thus a new Ghoul Network was born, dug out deep beneath the lands of sand. A portal was placed and guards were raised at the entrance to ensure no one would bother us. We were connected back to accessible land once more, since my conquest had made this area unholy and thus outside of the control of the gods of law and order. Irony at its finest.

I decided to raise the monument in the center of the fortress square, so that everyone could see its power and glory over them. The familiar commands came up as I stretched my hand out to raise the level zero monument. The treasure offerings, all from Sandrake’s personal collection, were accepted instantly and the Monument was raised to Level 2, allowing me to choose not only the basic Blackwind Sails but some Traits as well.

Monument has changed to: Blackwind Sails

You Have Gained +10 Minions Capacity!

Harvesting: At the end of every lunar cycle, you may harvest anywhere between 100 to 500 Discordance. Can hold up to 12 cycles at once.

Offering Type: Jewelry. Leaving jewelry, golden items and rare clothing by the Monument will increase its Consumption score. Once its Consumption reaches 1,000, the Monument will increase in level and gain a new trait. This does not increase the discordance generated.

You have 2 Traits to select!

Usurping Force: Spellcasters in the area gain one less spell per day. Generates an additional 100 Discordance per cycle, per Spellcaster affected.

Deathbed Consumption: Those that die in the area lose their ability to resurrect or return in spirit. Generates 500 Discordance per spirit consumed.

Remote Harvesting: You may harvest mentally once per lunar cycle.

Expanded Offerings: Select a new type of item as an additional offering.

Regenerative Roots: Monument gains tendrils that slowly take root into the land. If the monument is destroyed after the tendrils take full hold (3-6 lunar cycles), the Monument will regenerate itself. This reduces the Monument level by 1, if it reaches zero, it will be permanently destroyed.

Healing Presence: Undead within the area are restored limbs and sensory systems.

Blackwind Current Adjustment I: Increases Discordance generated by 200 per Lunar Cycle.

Remote Harvesting and Regenerative Roots were perfect. I didn’t have time to constantly be visiting this place in order to gain my energy each month. And the ability for the monument to rebuild itself over time would be priceless.

This cost me 2,000 of my Discordance gained but was well worth it. In fact, so pleased was I with this arrangement that I decided to build another Blackwind Sails monument, this time deep in the ghoul network. This one, we only had enough jewelry to get to level 1, so I took Remote Harvest again. This meant that each month, I was now generating a minimum of 200 shards and a maximum of 1,000. This would pay for itself rapidly. In fact, I should look into acquiring more material goods, jewels and such.

A tax was levied on the Fortress as well. Sandrake’s job would be to tend to both monuments, providing weekly sacrifices so they could grow in their Consumption level. Hopefully a few months of trade with pirate folk should procure such luxuries to raise each threefold. I suppose time would have to tell.

There was a lot of management to do within Turncoat’s Refuge, but that would be for Sandrake and Anna to handle. I didn’t trust the clerk alone with such power, setting up a Cult of the Veil chapter here would be useful for a number of reasons – keeping tabs on her being one of them. Anna would whip the fortress into shape, ensure everything was perfectly safe and most importantly, make sure the power structure was always in my favor. Besides, it would give the woman something to do, as she had grown utterly bored and stale within the throne room of Castle Fiege.

My time in the desert was well spent. I gained a tremendous advantage, though it seemed I took a few risks in the process. In the end, it worked out but there was no guarantee that things would be better the next time. I might need to look into more options to provide stability to this mind of mine. It seemed that the threats of being undead were everywhere one looked, up, down, out and in. Perhaps I could eliminate the issues on the inside or at the very least lessen them. Doing so would give me the finest tool necessary to destroy my enemies: my wits.

Chapter 30

The sensation of being summoned was not new but it certainly was annoying. One moment I was walking alongside Anna, telling her of what the Cult’s priorities should be and the next, I was being ripped through both time and space. There was no choice here, no ability to resist the summon. It was so fundamentally compelling that I almost felt relief at the sense of going through the teleportation process.

I fell through a great maw of black and purple energy for a few moments, seeing strange visions of stars and sealess oceans of color as I passed through rift after rift. Eventually I landed in a dark room with a lit fireplace.

Sitting in the corner, at a rounded table, was an old man, probably in his late eighties, with trembling fingers and a wispy mustache. He smoked incredibly small cigarettes, puffing through them so quickly that replacement was a constant effort. A nervous tic almost.

My eyes fell down at once to see there was no summoning circle beneath me. No binds. No salt or chains, nothing to repel me from charging straight at him. And yet, I found his angry features, furrowed brow and deep frown, to be of interest. His heart hammered with an intensity that I had not known in mortals. Justice, it screamed. Justice must prevail. Odd.

The old man looked up at me. “About time you got here. You gonna kill me or what?”

“No,” I said, sitting at the table across from him. He snickered as he tossed his old cigarette butt into the fire, swiftly drawing a new one.

“Good, a waste of everyone’s time if you were feral. You’re not and I know it. Idiots, all of them,” the man muttered, more to himself than me. As he smoked up a chimney, he stared at me with harshness in his eyes. “So, out with it. What do you want?”

“You’re the one who summoned me,” I said.

“Everyone wants something, no?” he huffed. “You are a very strong revenant. One of the strongest I’ve seen in a long time. You know why?”

“Because deep down I’m special on the inside?” I dryly said.

The old man laughed at that and slapped the table hard. “Well, alright! You’ve got a humor to you, that’s good. You’re a tough bastard because you’re new. Revenants don’t come up but once or twice in a generation unless there’s a war going on. And wartime revenants are so weak and single minded, most of the time no one notices they’re undead until they get killed a second time in the field.”

“You’d think with how everyone knows about me, my kind would be in every crack and crevice,” I said.

“Revenants are easy to mistake and easier to blame. So-and-so died mysteriously? Revenant, clearly. Nighttime strangler? Obviously a revenant getting revenge. Boogeymen for the magically informed,” the man replied. He tossed another butt into the fire and paused to pick up a knife, as to cut a few more cigarettes in half. I couldn’t help but notice the severe trembling in his fingers; it was a wonder the man was able to cut anything with such shaky hands.

“I see,” I said, glancing around the rest of the room for the first time. We were…we were not on land. Outside, I could see nothing but the swirling mists of purple energy. A demi-plane? No, this place wasn’t demi. It was a real plane, just not the ones I knew of.

“I don’t think you do,” the stranger replied with a curt laugh. “Because if you did, you’d be telling me what you want. Instead, you sit here, staring in silence.”

“If you know I’m a revenant then you know I want revenge,” I said.

“Bah, you know what I mean,” he replied, wagging a wobbly finger at me. “What do you want?”

“To destroy the Smiting Star,” I said. It wasn’t compulsion that led me to confess this, but rather agitation. If he was so insistent on getting to know what I ‘wanted’ then so be it. I would tell him a pleasure I had been harboring more and more. “I wish to rise up, smash them to pieces, after taking all of their contracts and Discordance.”

The old man grinned widely, his pearly white perfect and gleaming. “You don’t say? Every revenant ever brought into the organization almost immediately starts planning its downfall. Without fail.”

“Glad to know we’re a consistent undead people,” I said.

“Let me put my cards on the table, since you were so kind to lay yours out,” the old man continued as he put his still burning cigarette behind his ear. “I am a demi-god. Born of the Smiting Star and a very talented mortal musician, I was given the gift of justice from my father. As such, I have spent the better part of my existence seeking justice in this world. But…I am not human. Not mortal. Even a portion of godhood gives one a perspective that others simply do not have. Dispensing justice, politics be damned, is my only concern.”

“So you founded this organization?” I asked.

“I did. You revenants exist for a reason and I thought to put your ilk to work. And yet, you always buck against the system. Every time,” he mused. “Do you see the paradox yet?”

“Your system is unjust by nature?” I asked.

“Indeed. I am not a reactionary by any means, progress must be made if true justice is to be dispensed in this world. So I allowed this experiment to progress for some time in the hopes I would see a change.”

“I am guessing you did not.”

“No. Demi-godhood has limits and intense ones. I cannot see past my own influences and they are tiny. The Smiting Star led to fractures in a relatively strong church and the results have not been good. We are small and weak. If you mean to truly set yourself against us, you will succeed.”

“A strange thing for a godspawn to confess,” I said. “Could you not crush me with your might right now?”

“Ah yes, the intense might of administrative blindness to authority,” the man bemoaned. “The Smiting Star is an administrator power; he gave me little more than intense motivations and a few abilities. The hammer of justice is for Lodan’s favorites.”

“So, tell me. Are you afraid of me destroying them? Or do you wish for it to accelerate?” I asked.

The demigod laughed at that and took the cigarette from behind his ear. It had somehow remained lit during this entire conversation and he began to puff on it once more. “That’s a question I do not have an answer to. Ending the experiment means cleaning up everything, including the mortals who have made it happen. That is the only true justice that can be done.”

“And you cannot simply make that call?” I pressed. “Say the word, give me some power and I will do as you wish.”

“And then you’ll come for me, because you automatically know my order is unjust in some way,” he said, immediately picking up on the idea that was forming in the back of my mind. “That is why I don’t give the order. Something is amiss. Greatly so. And I just don’t know what.”

“So what do you wish of me then? Why bring me here and tell me all of these things? Am I to make the decision for you? Because you will hate me for what I say,” I replied.

“No,” the man said. “Not in the least. I want you to know the predicament. Because you’re an outsider and you’ve got a strong will, I want to know your opinion. As a revenant, what do your senses tell you? About this organization, about me? I could never confess such things to my inner circle, they would be terrified of the repercussions. You could give me insight.”

“And thus you ask me what I want,” I said. “I see. In that case, you know what I want. Discordance.”

“As a neutral power, I cannot give you that,” he said. “But perhaps you could be tempted with a permanent Boon? As a demigod I can provide a certain number of them to those I favor. It can be withdrawn at any time but I doubt we’ll come to blows.”

This seemed interesting. Consulting wasn’t a bad idea, especially if it would get me more work in the future. But I best ask Hix his opinion on this.

“What do you want?” the demon asked as I stirred him mentally. “Something’s interfering with my head, I can’t think.”

“Demigods and boons,” I asked quickly. “Is there anything to beware?”

“Not unless they’re tricksters, but tricksters would lie about not being tricksters, so you have to assume they’re all tricksters,” Hix said. “Are you following?’

“Vaguely,” I replied, listening as the demon’s speech dulled down. Being in this realm was interfering with his conscious mind. Perhaps I should visit here more often.

“Consulting your little friend?” the demigod asked with a laugh. “Sorry but I don’t like demons, so he’s going to have a little headache. Are you worried I’ll betray you?”

“You just admitted to wanting to clear house, a betrayal of your entire organization,” I said. “So, yes.”

The old man slowly nodded. “Mhmm, I see. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I give my word that I will not betray you without telling you first. That seems fair, no?”

“As fair as any,” I replied with a shrug. “Advice for a boon.”

“Speak and you shall be given,” he answered with a grin.

“The first thing that comes to mind as to why your organization is hated by revenants is because being undead is a curse. Everyone talks about whether or not we’re a natural mechanism of justice or whatnot, but from the moment I came into unlife, I have been in pain and agony. Physical, emotional, psychological, it’s excruciating. Every second there is no relief, except when focused on fighting, hunting or revenge. Discordance gives something akin to pleasure and so…so it becomes an obsession,” I explained. “So you are not relying on stable creatures to do good for you. You are taking advantage of frenzied beasts and dangling brief moments of pleasure over their head. Why shouldn’t they kill you?”

“Truly, you speak eloquently,” the demi-deity said. “So your state is wretched. I see. What else?”

“My next guess is that my targets are cherry-picked by ambitious church members who wish to rise in the ranks. Perhaps they aren’t exactly targeting innocent people, but the mere act of passing judgment of who lives and dies gives them the power to choose who moves up and down in the world. You only understand justice, so you do not see how easy it is to move the law like a chess piece on the table for one’s advantage.”

The old man grinned even wider. “There are too many opportunities for those who make the contracts. Yes, that would make sense. Anything else?”

“I think that is sufficient to work with,” I replied. “For now you can investigate these matters on your own. I am no detective, sir.”

“A shame, you have quite the insight,” the man said as he put out the cigarette on the table, digging it into the wood hard. “If I could remove the undead condition of the revenant, would you accept it? Transition to perhaps a different type of spirit or entity?”

The very idea made my body burn with rage. “No,” I sternly growled. “Such an action undermines my core. I exist to get revenge, I cannot give up my ‘self’, so to speak.”

“You cannot give up yourself,” the man echoed, nodding as if I had said something sage. “Fascinating. I suspect I will have to solve the undead problem a different way. The pain and misery, if that were gone, would you behave differently?”

An interesting question. “Not something I can answer, I suppose. But I will say that if you could improve my living state, I would be grateful enough to serve in whatever capacity you could need. Sleep would be ideal. For that is the thing I crave more than anything.”

“Yes, I recount that you asked Nathaniel if he slept. I thought it odd at the time, but I understand your desire. Freedom from the pain you feel, even if it is unawareness, yes?”

I nodded.

“I can promise nothing in that regard, but perhaps I could seek out some answers. Find out a way to solve this problem. Perhaps then things will settle for my assassins. Until then, I will begin some inquiries and seek out the truth about the men who make the contracts. You have done well, sir. I am pleased with your behavior and your words. Select a Boon of Justice,” the demigod said as he finished smoking before waving a hand.

A bright flash of blue words washed across my vision. Orphio the Affected has granted you a Boon. Select one from below. Boons last as long as you maintain a positive relationship with this being.

Single-Minded Motion: When moving towards your Target, your movement speed and reflexes are doubled so that you may engage them. Ends after one attack against Target. Has a cooldown time of 30 seconds.

Clear Vision: You may see as a normal human does. (This purges the effect of the demonic presence within you and refunds your Discordance spent on any enhancements to the eyes.)

Informative Whispers: When hearing Revenge upon the heart of a mortal, you may learn more of their pain.

Three choices, but only one that really caught my attention. Single-Minded Motion would give me the ability to get in and out of fights rather quickly. My assassination skills were top notch, focusing more on them would only improve my chances of survival against my biggest target. Each kill gave me more strength, so it only made sense to keep investing. Besides, as much as I poked fun, Hix was a valuable member of my team, I could never give him up.

I selected the boon and, at once, I could feel the power surge within me. It wasn’t an unfamiliar power at all, not a strange new sense. Instead, it was the age-old feeling of justice coming to life. I was connected to this being in some way. Or perhaps he was connected to me? Either way, the boon was immediate and familiar, like an old memory coming back into light after all this time.

“Pleased?” the old man asked. “I knew you’d pick the good one.”

“Indeed I am,” I replied, looking at my claws. I felt…almost good. Almost.

“Wonderful,” Orphio said. He rubbed his hands together. “Now then, let’s talk about your punishment for all these wicked crimes, hmm?”

“What?”

My arms and legs suddenly began to pull themselves outwards as I was lifted high into the air. There was no pain but I was locked in place, forming an ‘X’ with my body as I dangled above the table. The force was unlike anything I had felt before – it was not like demonic or evil power. This was righteous, holy and strong, firm and steadfast. Above all, it was in control, complete and total. I was powerless to even struggle.

“I’ve got a target in mind,” Orphio explained as he rolled up another cigarette, producing the ingredients out of thin air as he worked. “A nasty one. He’s a real piece of work. A Tigronis who came to human civilizations for the purpose of working a banking job. It was part of a cultural ritual, to learn other economic systems and gain money for the Tigronis pack back home. He excelled and became a state appointed financier.”

“Then he helped himself to the goodies?” I asked with a groan.

The old man laughed. “Nope. Murdered a state official in cold blood, split his stomach wide open with a bladed-spear they call the ‘gantala’. There was a dinner function, he showed up in full tribal regalia, warpaint included and his gantala in tow. They allowed him to keep his weapon, for all assumed his dress was the highest standard from his home lands. The people, state officials such as clerks and paper pushers, couldn’t fathom he was there for war.

“He leapt down on the table and gutted some poor sap during the appetizers. A moneylender by the name of Syckl. Syckl had done nothing to earn this man’s ire other than mere professional rivalry. The Tigronis, Krukah, had murdered him deliberately, for he had hated the man and wanted all to see it. He did not flee justice that night, he left and killed his way out. None who stood against him survived.”

“Madness? Or perhaps some cultural problem?” I asked.

“What culture would be okay with such a behavior?” Orphio replied as he shook his head. “His pack was just as horrified but they could not simply send him away; he is the equivalent of a king in Tigronis lands. He wanted to kill and knew he could get away with it. So he did and now runs in freedom with his people. But all is not well. Many are praying to the gods for illness to come and take his life. The plague gods sent me a little memo with the request that I see it done, since I owe a few favors.”

Memo? Favors? Being divine sounded awfully clerical…though I suppose that made some level of sense. “And so you wish for me to go hunt him?”

Orphio nodded. “I will for you to. Not wish. For you have no rights, little Revenant. You are but a cog in a great machine. An unexplained cog, but still one all the same. And I am the greater wheel, when I turn, you turn. Understand?”

“I have no choice but to,” I replied. “For you know that I yearn to be free of such a control.”

“Then do not break a contract again, no matter who you work for be it mortal or spirit. Justice is blind.”

“It seems to me,” I said,” that justice seems intent on gouging its own eyes out so it can’t see the reality of things.”

The old man ignored that and stood up, shoving the table aside as he rose to a height nearly three times that of a normal human. His gigantic form glowed with a blue-purple energy that seemed to permeate the entire area now. “You are not wrong,” he said. “I will address these questions. But my question to you is, do you accept this as punishment and not betrayal?”

“To be sent on a job?” I said. “Hardly a punishment.”

“I am not sending you in to scout, scope and slay,” Orphio replied with a sick grin. He lit a cigarette the size of my head with a finger. “I’m sending you in to fight him and his entire pride. At once.”

“What? You madman, why would you do that?”

“Trial by combat and for my own amusement. If you survive, you will be pronounced innocent of your crimes against the Star. You may resume your activities within the organization as long as you play nice with the other revenants. Otherwise, you lose everything you’ve worked for and have to start from scratch. Don’t think I am unaware of your ability to return to unlife. I simply don’t care. Now, do you accept this punishment?”

“What if I say no?”

The old man smirked. “I did promise to warn you about my betrayal, didn’t I?”

Chapter 31

I was being hurtled through time and space once more, this time moving through a green hazy world that was slowly becoming more and more like grasslands as I fell. Ultimately, I agreed to Orphio’s terms, the madman would no doubt send me down regardless of what I said, so I may as well stand to gain from it.

Was I angry? Not as much as I thought I would be. As I landed in the midst of a pack of huge, tiger-like humanoids, all I could think about was the challenge. Fighting a warrior king with feral ferocity would be legendary. And the Discordance generated from killing him? Wait, would there be discordance? Surely there must be. If not, I would certainly be adding Orphio to my ever-expanding list.

The Tigronis here were different from the one I had sitting around in my castle, languishing a slow and miserable life. They had upper bodies like that of a humanoid; arms, torso and throat, but with the head of a lion with great, shaggy manes. They had a second torso, conjoined like that of a centaur, except they were clearly of lion origin. Upon six powerful legs they stood, their claws pronounced and ready to be used as weapons.

There were eight of them in total and I was surrounded. Most of them were young, with their stripes barely coming in, for they mostly resembled more of a lion than a tiger, their fur yellow and fangs pronounced. They were bare-chested, with pauldrons on their right side, though that looked more ceremonial than functionary. Painted across their steel cut torsos were slashes of red that glowed with magical energy.

Long spears, with flat, wide blades on both ends rested upon their backs. The famed gantala, capable of being wielded in close and long range with ease by these people. Smaller gantalas rested in quivers hanging from the haunches of each beast, able to easily be grabbed by their allies in case of artillery maneuvers. This was indeed a war party and one capable of defending itself.

As I hit the ground, the dirt and dust of the grassy plains came up, obscuring everything for a moment. In the next second, I was completely surrounded, my enemies having drawn their spear-blades and readying to strike at me. They were held back by a huge, bright orange Tigronis who was undoubtedly my target.

“Intruder,” Krukah said, his deep voice so low that I could practically feel the rumbling in my body. “Why have you come to my lands?”

I looked up at the massive beast; he was easily twice the size of the rest of his people, standing at nearly 12 feet in height. He wore full sizes gantalas in his quiver, treating them as if they were merely for throwing. His heart was calm and still, absent of any desire for revenge. There was no hatred in him. He was merely…cold and calculating. Different from the many hearts I had met before. There was nothing behind him, nothing but…what? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that he was unlike the rest. His motives were disconnected from his emotions. Everything he did was on purpose and with estimation.

“You, good sir,” I said, bowing slightly to him. He was a king after all. “Are a murderer and have been judged to be worthy of execution. I am here to carry that process out. Shall we fight honorably?”

I raised my claws to show I was not unsporting. No reason to massacre his subjects if it could be avoided. Especially since they were so damn big.

Krukah looked at me with his piercing yellow eyes. He blinked a few times and sighed. “Surely you must be joking. This is what the humans send after me? A little corpse? Leave me be, I have no time for such antics.”

The bastard turned around and started to walk off. The entire pride motioned to follow. “Coward!” I was compulsed to shout. The words leapt out of my mouth and I could hear Hix hooting with laughter. Orphio wanted a big fight and he was going to get one. Damn, it would have been so easy to let him slink off and then wait to take him out later.

Krukah stopped at that. He lowered his head deeply and sighed. “Are you so idiotic that you would press me?”

“I fear the decision is not mine to make,” I confessed. “Let us fight one on one, spare your people.”

The pack leader turned around and nodded. “Men, stand down.”

There was no protest from the silent warriors. They spread out and formed a circle around the two of us. Good to see the man had honor.

Once everyone was in place, I raised my claws once more. Krukah spoke. “May I speak the ceremonial prayer of war?”

I did not roll my eyes, though it would have been appropriate. “If you wish.”

The lion-man grinned widely at me. “Now,” he said.

In an instant, I was being pelted with gantalas, the long blade-spears thrown with surprising speed and efficiency. They missed as I leapt out of the way, falling back just in time to avoid a surprise charge from the Krukah. The bastard had no honor, he was setting me up for an ambush!

I fell backwards, spear-blades striking the ground around me as I dodged and rolled, scuttering and crawling out of the way. These fighters were fast and they kept the pressure up with their weapons, never relenting from throwing. Four in the back had formed an artillery line and were throwing while the other four were flanking me, running alongside as they threw their weapons at me.

I dashed and dodged as I was forced to run alongside the pack. This was an interesting hunting tactic; they were forcing me to move, herding me somewhere. I couldn’t let them lead me towards more pack members.

At the turn of a heel, I activated my leg grafts and leapt high into the air, sailing back towards where I had come from. Three spears missed me as I changed directions and I managed to twist in midair to avoid the fourth from striking my head. Their accuracy wasn’t quite…

In an instant, I realized what they had done. Their spears hadn’t missed me at all, they were aiming for the ground I was falling towards. I could do nothing for I was already on my side, falling from my mid-air dodge. The double-end of the spears meant that the full force of gravity was going to be skewering me as I landed.

There was nothing I could do other than brace for it, my realization came too late. The blades punctured straight through my armor and my body, locking me in place. I was stuck through like a pig.

Dozens of gantalas came flying towards my now paralyzed body, their accuracy perfect. However, I was able to activate my Transmogriphication ability, quickly changing states to that of a wraith. I flew upwards, effortlessly escaping the damage. This was my one free pass, I couldn’t make any more mistakes.

What should I do? I couldn’t cast any spells, could I? Hard to tell what wraiths were capable of…interesting, they didn’t see me.

As I drifted above the pack, I realized they had no awareness of me whatsoever. These were not spellcasters by nature. Pure warriors, driven by warrior instinct and training but no senses beyond that of the material. Interesting…perhaps I could use this.

I had tried possessing a jar before and it had worked quite well. What about an entire creature? What’s the harm, driving him mad?

My target’s will would undoubtedly be too strong to tamper with, so I aimed for the smallest of the group. Extending my hand forward, I thrust it into the being’s head and in an instant, I was standing inside of a great, vast hallway.

“What…where am I?” I asked as I looked forward at the empty space before me. I was in a huge doorway of some kind and light was coming in from the other side of the door. This lasted only for a moment, I blinked and I was back to the real world. Yet something was different now…I could see…fewer colors.

Titling my head left to right, I realized that I was in control of this Tigronis’ body. I staggered forward, like a drunk man attempting to navigate down the street.

“Witchcraft!” Krukah shouted as he spun around to face my host’s body. The others all looked with concern and fear as their comrade wobbled and bucked. The host did not like me and wanted me out.

“Hix, how do I get control?” I hissed as I tried to assert more dominance over the body, only to flail my hind legs in a spasmodic fit.

There was no answer. His mind was being suppressed by that damned demigod. Oh well, perhaps I could swing this around.

I lurched towards the Tigronis King and he predictably replied by slashing a huge clawed hand at me, cutting my stomach open in a single blow. Quickly, I dropped out of the body and returned to my regular form above them, dive bombing towards the next smallest target.

This one had no chance, I was far faster than he could react. My claws found brain and quickly punctured through his head. I landed on the ground, keeping my hands on the corpse. It was unbearably heavy but with some heft I was able to throw the body towards the group that had gathered to aid their now dying ally.

I cast Detonate Corpse as the body landed in the center and the explosion washed over them all. Limbs, legs, eyes and guts fell all over as the weakest of the Tigronis were eliminated. 500 Discordance Gained! appeared in my vision as I quickly dashed towards one of the stragglers who had managed to pull himself out of the mess in one piece.

Before I could get to him, however, Krukah interrupted, landing in between my old target and I. He had not been affected by the explosion. I could see his fur was unsinged and there were no burn marks upon his body. A powerful frame to endure such an attack or perhaps a sign of some level of magical aid.

The great beast grabbed at my head with his long hand but I slashed with incredible speed, taking brief advantage of my new Boon. The speed was so startling that he didn’t register the loss of the limb until he swung a stump at me, setting himself up for a skewering attack as I leapt up into his gut.

My claws dug hard into his flesh and he screamed in pain, grabbing me by the back of the head with his good hand and throwing me off. I took quite a few chunks with me, but unfortunately I had not been able to pierce his thick hide beyond the skin.

Krukah grabbed his bleeding stomach as three other Tigronis warriors came up from behind him, holding their spears high to threaten me. They were returning to attack formation. The leader king grunted for a moment as he looked at his stump and then looked back at me.

I had rolled onto my feet and was readying for another strike, waiting the thirty seconds for my Boon to reset. The extra speed lasted all the way up until the strike hit, and that meant I could get another good blow in: this time aiming for something far more vital.

“Well?” the tigerman shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice almost shaky and hoarse. He was afraid now. “Come on then!”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” I said, pointing to his bleeding injury. “Do you?”

“Charge!” the leader screamed as he threw his stump forward. The three Tigronis warriors…hesitated. They balked at this and looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

“We must retreat,” one said.

“He will pursue, we must fight to the last breath,” Krukah shouted back.

“He will pursue…you,” another replied. The other three looked at the corpses of their comrades and at me.

Slowly, they fell back and walked off. Their leader howled and screamed but they would not return. A common thing to see at the end of one’s life, no matter how powerful. I suppose I should be prepared to see everyone abandon me as well.

Chapter 32

The great Tigronis balked as he realized the severity of the situation. While he was a mighty being, I could see there was fear in his eyes that drove him into a wild frenzy. He was a cornered animal and would not back down without a fight. Glad to see he’d at least go down with dignity.

The massive beast charged, roaring curses and swinging his blade spear at me, causing the weapon to fan out in a circular manner. The spin of his weapon made it impossible to approach easily, covering every inch in front of him as he advanced. It was impressive how he could do that one-handed.

It wasn’t until he got closer that I noticed the spear was animated, floating in front of him and spinning itself as a shield. A clever tool, but ultimately useless, as I was far faster than it was able to react, all thanks to my handy new Boon.

The flow of motion was almost impossible to control but by the most instinctual of decisions, I charged forward, in between the blades as they swung, somehow faster than its rotation. The great legs of the beast before me were tempting and I activated my new Triple Strike ability.

My speed accelerated, I felt almost out of body, like I was a wraith again, with how fast I was moving. My claws aligned themselves perfectly and slashed three times, hacking the two front legs from Krukah.

He roared in pain and he fell forward, crashing atop me with his whole body. I don’t know if this was a reaction or an attack but I took the opportunity to begin clawing through his torso, as fast as I could. His carapace was thick but not nearly thick enough at this distance. It was almost like burrowing, in a gruesome way.

In the process of slashing, I activated my Ghoul Touch ability, remembering my target wasn’t magical or undead in anyway, thus able to receive the paralytic powers of my wretched heritage. The creature stiffened at once and my claws found a pair of beating hearts. In an instant, he was gone.

Target Slain! appeared in my vision. 2,500 Discordance Gained! Returning in 30 seconds…

Just like that? It was over? I shoved the corpse aside and climbed up to see that the large body was indeed dead as a doorknob. His fate had been sealed when I had paralyzed him and nothing could have saved him as such a close range.

A shame, if I had more time, I could raise such an impressive specimen. The grips of teleportation overcame me for a brief moment, though this was less invasive than before. In an instant, I was standing right next to Anna, who was merely staring out at the Blacksails Monument.

“Back so soon?” she asked with a curt laugh.

“How long was I indisposed?” I asked, looking around in a haze. I suppose Orphio had nothing else to say to me after I had finished the job. That boon…it worked wonders. The man threw me into the ring for his entertainment, sure, but I had survived. What could I have done better in that fight? More magic, I think, would have helped cover the gap, but otherwise it went quite well.

“Three days,” Anna replied. “You somehow managed to catch me right where you were.”

“Expert timing is the mark of a true assassin,” I answered as I leaned against the railing, looking at the great monument in the center of the fortress.

The Blacksails didn’t look exactly like sails. Rather it was a huge sphere of dark energy that coalesced in a center, slowly growing as the hours passed. I could see the Discordance Shards forming within. Actual crystalline structures. Fascinating.

Beneath the dark circle was an altar for offerings, as well as a few men wearing the traditional Cult of the Veil Robes. They were in the middle of giving some kind of speech to a few curious mercenaries who had remained.

“Anything you wish to report?” Anna asked. “Before you rush off to hunt some more?”

“You know me well,” I replied. “Tell me, what is the Veil doing down there?”

“Spreading the word, sir,” she said with a grin. “You’re quite popular with the common man.”

“The word?” I repeated. “I’m not interested in seeing this become a religion.”

“No, not your words, my liege,” Anna laughed. “The word about what the Veil has to offer. Protection from the law, power over the oppressor, strength for the weak. It’s good stuff.”

“You make it sound like we’re the good guys,” I mused.

“Everyone wants to believe they are the heroes in their own story, it’s the only way that we can function. Otherwise we’re just insignificant specks in the annals of time.”

Was this true? Was I the hero in my own story as well? No, I had no delusions about what or who I was. Especially now that I had learned more about my original soul’s state and its death. I was a non-being, a specter. Truly, I was undead in every sense of the word. “Perhaps to the living,” I replied after taking a moment to think this out. “But once you cross over, things become considerably more black and white.”

“So you say, but all I have seen from you is the deepest shade of gray imaginable,” Anna replied. “Who do you serve? Hmm? At the end of the day, what’s the plan?”

“Beyond revenge?” I emptily asked as I stared into the void, wondering how much power it had right now. “That I do not know. But I do know that I am subject to great and terrible forces that can change their opinions on a whim and it is my goal to break free. But on the subject of whims…I must admit that my sanity is compromised.”

That caused the woman to stand up straight. She turned to look at me with equal parts concern and confusion. “Sir?”

“You know what I am speaking of,” I pressed. “My mind is addled and subject to strange whims and moods that I cannot control so easily. I must find a way to stabilize myself before I make a decision that could destroy everything we’ve worked so hard for.”

Anna nodded eagerly. “It’s good to hear that you’ve come to your senses, sir. What do you wish of me?”

“We must solve my sanity quickly and with precision. I cannot trust Fidelio to handle it nor do I think Moira to be of capable experience with such matters. You and you alone, my Fallen Star, are the one who can bring clarity to my mind.”

“Normally men who say that are trying to get my trousers off,” Anna laughed.

I stared at her blankly. She coughed and cleared her throat. “Sorry, sir, I’ve been around a lot of mortals here. They are a crude lot and I was a soldier, you know?”

How much envy I was filled with at this moment! To feel laughter, even the idea of physical love…it made me incensed with hatred. Something in the back of my mind was burning intensely. An anger beyond all angers…

“That’s Hector’s anger,” Hixim whispered to me. “Don’t follow it. Leave it be and return to the discussion of the mind. You were never alive, you cannot be jealous of her smile. It was never yours to begin with…”

The anger was so strong…but it was a link. A link to something within me. Why did the demon want me to avoid following it? In fact, if he hadn’t mentioned this at all, I might not have thought about it. But, perhaps I should look within. Follow this source to this ‘Hector…’

“Idiot, this is how you go back to your soul. You ready to be restored?” Hix countered. “Regression is not progression yet. Yet, being the keyword. What, you really think I’m going to try and sink this ship? This bilge rat can’t flee to the ocean, I’d be devoured alive. I am not against you, please get that through your unbelievably thick skull.”

This lecture managed to knock me out of my stupor and I shook my head. “No, I just thought paladins weren’t allowed to make dirty jokes,” I said.

“New order, new rules,” she replied. “You’ll never guess what the veil’s opinions on skirts are.”

“Moving on, my sanity,” I said, pushing forward through my bout of madness and her asinine desire to keep jabbering. “I am entrusting this task to you. Keep it private, no one else is to know what you are looking for. Find it at all costs, every resource we have is at your disposal. Whether it is a spell, an artifact, a class feature, whatever it is, I don’t care. I just need to know that my mind is stable and I cannot be asked to make these judgments in the moment.”

“Understood. I will use everything we have,” Anna confirmed as she bowed. “And I apologize for being light with you, I will not be overly familiar again.”

Part of me wanted to say ‘good’ and act quite theatrical about it but I had to admit that I somewhat enjoyed seeing Anna less formal. She was far less like a golem and more of a person, the further she got from the Central Star. As my chief lieutenant and right hand, she was taking more control and I was pleased.

The task I had given her would be the ultimate test of competency and trustworthiness. No doubt there would be opportunity to betray me with such an arrangement – if she found some way to dominate my mind, I’d willingly wear such a device without ever knowing. And yet, I knew that she would not betray me, even if it would provide her with great power. I had already given her the freedom she had so desperately craved and that had proven enough to secure her loyalties into this life and the next. Though, deep down, I still held out a hope as to not have to raise her from the dead once she passed on. Undeath was still no blessing to behold, no matter what the necromancers say.

There were a few things left to do before I went back to the Cursed Land. First and foremost, I returned to the necromancer lab where Fidelio had been working diligently to preserve and imprison the demi-lich we had captured. My agreement with Orphio required me to fulfill all contracts and so I destroyed the tiny skull, releasing the soul essence from within. Where would it go? That was not my concern. Hesha the Dredger had decided to play the game and she lost, she knew the stakes.

Fidelio had been flabbergasted at my decision, but thankfully chalked it up to ‘undead fits’ and didn’t make a fuss about it. It was a shame I couldn’t trust him to find me help with my sanity – but I knew better. Handing my mind to him would almost guarantee he’d do something suspicious with it. Best keep him out of the loop for good.

Moira, on the other hand, would make an excellent apprentice to Fidelio. The tag-along had utterly failed to call in the reinforcements I had requested if I wasn’t seen for six hours and for no discernable reason. An undisciplined creature and one difficult to understand but I trusted her far more than Fidelio. If she could learn under him, learn his secrets and gain all of his power, we could dispose of him without worry in the future.

Of course, when I say dispose of, I mean sending him off somewhere to govern his own lands. I had raised him from the dead and that meant he had no soul. Killing him would disperse his spirit and I suspected that a necromancer of his caliber could figure some way to retain his spellcasting abilities. The last thing I needed was a ghost wishing to get revenge upon me, and so I would simply give Fidelio a fat bribe to go away. The man had paltry ambitions anyway, it was doubtful he would cause me any further trouble once he had been given his due.

This all relied upon Fidelio’s ability to properly educate and train Moira. If the man was skilled as a teacher as he was a necromancer, I could see good things in the odd woman’s future.

After Moira was assigned to the skeletal man, I turned my attention to the remaining infusions I had left. With my last fight, it was clear I was strong enough for a serious challenge. There was no reason to delay hunting Lorgar now, my power was great enough. I was going to enter into his sunken realm and I would not return for some time. It was my hope that a solution to my sanity would be found in that time.

Carapace

Infusion Cost: 2,500

Gain 1 Additional Carapace Evolution

Unlocks the Unhallowed Shell Branch

Ghoul Abilities

Infusion Cost: 500

You gain 1 additional use of every per day ability

Unlocks the Ghoulish Touch Branch

Carapace and Ghoul Abilities Infused with Discordance!

You have unlocked the following Ability Branches:

- Unhallowed Shell

- Ghoulish Touch

You have gained 1 Carapace Evolution!

You may now use your Ghoul Abilities 1 extra time per day.

Exoskeletal Development: Your exoskeletal carapace has evolved! Gain one additional trait!

Steel Carapace: The body develops a natural armor that shares the same properties as steel.

Enervated Flesh: Magical attacks have a 50% chance to heal you instead of dealing damage. Divine attacks function as normal.

Unfurled Limbs: Gain two extra limbs with functioning claw attacks.

The new abilities I would examine later, when I had the discordance to spend. For now, I was weighing Enervated Flesh versus Unfurled Limbs.

Magic attacks were a bane, but most of the time the attacks designed to harm me were divinely oriented and thus my unhallowed shell would protect me. Sometimes, however, I was struck by magics stronger than my shell or by arcane spells. Having the ability to turn that damage into health…hmmm, it would be far better than merely adding more attacks to my repertoire. Besides, if I really wanted more limbs, I could simply have Fidelio stich them onto me. Such was the value of being undead.

I selected Enervated Flesh and watched as my character display before me began to rapidly reconfigure itself, sorting everything. My abilities were growing extensive but with the unlocking of each infusion area, they were organized based on my infusions now.

I nodded. I was becoming quite rounded out indeed.

Chapter 33

The Sunken Hive, submerged deep within the earth of the cursed land of Lepidonia, was an absolute monolith to behold. It was a great pyramid flooded by calculation and magic as opposed to some kind of accident. It was clear the earth was purposefully displaced, forming an inverse pyramid with enough space to admire the monument from all angles. The being that had erected such a wonder wanted everyone to see and marvel at its construction.

There were no bricks forming the pyramid, no visible signs of entryway. The stone, black and ancient, was one perfect slate making it impossible to climb without equipment. Runes of red glowed all over the walls of the great monolith, though it seemed they were not physically present. Long red lines wrapped around the pyramid as a whole, casting off enough light to make the entire area radiate with an almost evil aura.

I say almost because I could sense no magic on the other side. This pyramid was dense, I could see no heat behind it, nor could my passwall ability take me through the base – which meant it was more than a mile thick in the outer and inner wall! Quite the achievement.

Such a building would be impossible to navigate in a single day, let alone a week. A complex of this size would have to be host to dozens of floors. Lorgar the Worm was within, some great entity that would one day be strong enough to destroy all of the Banners upon the Cursed Land. This was my target. I was to infiltrate, gain his trust and his power source, then end him. A big job but one that would land me a Banner of my very own.

Yes, I had been reflecting on such an outcome. As I searched for an entrance, high and low upon the smooth building, I considered what I would do if I were to gain this Banner. The Necromancer’s League owed me a non-aggression pact, so I did not need to fear them. There were only a few other Banners that would threaten me and if I was known for being strong enough to kill the Worm, perhaps their wrath would not come at once.

Owning my own land, devoid of any human control, would be the next logical step for the establishment of the Veiled Kingdom. I just needed to be strong enough to keep it. And perhaps I was. My ability sheet was as long as the day, my senses were sharper than ever and soon I would have sanity back under my belt.

Running a kingdom was the ultimate goal, was it not? If I couldn’t hold my own against the undead pests of Lepidonia, how would I contend with human knights and kings? It would not be proper to handle them if I couldn’t even take down my own kind. The dead did not have the same advantages of the living, this I knew. If I could keep focusing on these differences, I could probably ensure my lands were perfectly safe from any Banner activity. Their petty squabbles would be of no interest to me, that was for certain. I had far bigger fish to fry.

Defending my territory would be interesting. I would need to find some method of protecting my lands from encroaching enemies, both mortal and undead. Perhaps I could find a new home for this great pyramid before me. After all, the current occupant wouldn’t be needing it soon.

As I turned a corner of the pyramid, one of the walls suddenly slid open, revealing a vast black void. A rather sleepy voice, deep and rumbly, echoed out from the building.

“So, the Banshee sends another. Delicious, please, enter. I will not harm you, little Revenant. Not until you have decided to…well, you know.”

If I could shiver, I would have. Something in this voice was more powerful than I could possibly fathom. It was like he was a Banshee himself, or at least something equivalent to it. A being crafted with such energy that it made the rest of the Banners look like a joke. It was as if the entire building itself was in perfect alignment with him.

The foreboding entrance called to me in a hypnotic kind of way. I couldn’t help but feel drawn towards it. No compulsions wrapped around me. Rather, it was the mystery of what lay within the Sunken Hive that drove me to move forward. I scuttered in, keeping my body low to ensure no one could get the drop on me, but there were no dangers around. Just a long, empty hallway.

The walls were smooth and grey on the inside. Complex paintings of all sorts of strange mandalas and fractals were etched into their surface, carefully maintained over what had to have been hundred or maybe even thousands of years. The entire area felt ancient, so much older than perhaps even the demigod I had met.

What was the Sunken Hive? What was this strange land that almost felt aware? I did not know but perhaps it was a secret I could learn. I would have to find out, I suppose.

I climbed to my feet after a while and made my way through the massive hallway for some time until I reached a slope leading high up. At the top of the slope was a vast pit, so steep that I could scarcely see the bottom.

Coiled in the center, like a serpent, was a great worm beast, although its body was made of thousands upon thousands of corpses. The creature was like a bulwark abomination, with thousands of hands and legs making up its abdomen, allowing it to move about. The Worm unfurled upon seeing me and opened himself up so that there was room in the center for me.

“Please, come in and have a seat,” he said, chuckling as he brought his enormous face up to me. He was a dragon! A wyrm, to be exact, armless except for the small limbs attached to him. His face was like that of a zombie, partially falling apart, revealing chunks of a greyed and purple skull. A dull horn rested atop his nose and the armor plating around his neck indicated that he had one been a fierce creature in life. Now, he looked to be a paltry imitation of the living, though he remained an impressive specimen of the dead.

I leapt down to the bottom, showing no hesitation or fear. No doubt this creature wanted to make a deal of some kind. That’s all it was in this horror show, wheeling and dealing as far as the eye could see. Everyone had an angle. Though, I suppose that was always how life was, maybe now I just saw it.

As I landed, the great dragon shifted so that his head was above me, his massive zombified torso hanging over my head. He looked at me with dull, green eyes. There was a hint of sadness deep within those eyes, I could feel a suffering that wasn’t present in other undead. No anger, no hatred…just sorrow and emptiness. It was familiar in many ways, heartbreak, sorrow at loss…unrequited love? Yes…Hector had a love once, didn’t he? A shame I couldn’t follow that thread.

“I am Velking,” I said, bowing to the monster.

“Lorgar the Great Worm,” he said, returning the bow slightly with his head. Many of his humanoid arms stretched out, waving their hands at me in greeting. It was almost as if they were independent of him. At least he didn’t have any eyes or heads stitched to him. Just arms, legs and flesh. “I am quite pleased to see you here.”

“You are?”

The beast coiled himself tightly and lowered his head so I could see him eye to eye on less imposing terms. “Indeed. It’s been a while since I’ve had pest control.”

“Is that what the Banshee sent me for?” I asked, almost facetiously.

“No she sent you to kill me, shame, shame, shame,” he repeated, grinning at me. His fangs were all but eroded, missing their sharpness, twisted and broken. “But she has no power here. Do you feel the energy around you? It cuts you from her influence. She believes you to be dead now.”

That simple? “You seem quite assured of that,” I said. “Though it’s not in my best interest for her to think that I have been deceased…well, more so than usual.”

“Bah, it is doubtful she will remember you until you return,” Lorgar said. “Listen, Revenant, I am a reasonable creature. I know your job is to kill me and I know you must work to fulfill it. You are at your leisure to attempt so. However, if you wish to put your energies to good use, I would be pleased to use you as I do any of the other assassins the Countess sends my way.”

“As lawn ornaments?” I dryly asked. I don’t know if sarcasm was truly considered humor, since it seemed that was the only form of comedy I could reliably access while dead.

“Nonsense. Tell me, what motivates you to serve the Banshee, hmm?”

“Survival instinct,” I said. “She has more power than I and thus I need to curry her favor.”

“Indeed! And if you came out stronger than her? Hmmm?” the dragon pressed. He seemed far less…mad than the other undead creatures I had met. And yet the dullness in his eyes never seemed to go away. A cloud of sorrow and misery that permeated to the very bottom of his spirit. I was careful not to stare into those orbs for too long, lest the sorrow suddenly overtake me.

“If I came out stronger,” I mused, “I think I would strike her down. She tricked me once.”

“Then give up the Banshee’s Wail. It is her link to you. All I have to do is pull it from you and you will be free. Yes, it will be the loss of an ability but she will believe you to be dead,” the Worm said. “What do you think of that, hmm?”

“You think I am here because she compulsed me?”

“You think she would not have compulsed you?” he asked back without missing a beat. The words stabbed like a dagger. That much was true. Still…the woman was reasonable to a point. She could get the other Banners to play along…though would she?

“Let me ask you, do you have the power to control the Banners? Keep them in line?” I asked.

“The what? Oh you mean those paltry little things, those ants that scuttle about?” the dragon mocked. “Oh I have power over them if I wished it. I could have power over all, if I wished it. Oh but alas, I am bound. Bound by a terrible weakness that keeps me here. Keeps me nestled in this shadowy place.”

“What weakness is that?” I asked without thinking of the tactical implication of such a question.

“Why bother?” he replied. “Why bother with any of that? I don’t care. I don’t care and I won’t care. I shan’t care!” He almost sounded defiant on that last part. “The Banners are boring. Life is boring. Death is boring. Do you understand?”

“You sound terribly depressed,” I said.

“Utterly. That is the curse of unlife, isn’t it? Not rage, not envy or hate, not sickness…just boredom. Boredom and emptiness. No pleasure, no laughter. No smiling. All the senses, vacuous and empty…”

It sounded almost like he wanted me to kill him. “So you simply don’t care? That is what holds you back? Surely, you must acknowledge that sounds a little…overstated?” I pressed. “That’s like saying one would be king if only they had been chosen by the gods.”

“Bah, who wants to be a king? I was a king once. All the people did was complain, it was miserable. I did not want rulership, I wanted power. So I built this place, a great harmonic being, an engine of life and death, capable of generating vast quantities of the discordance that you all fight for above the ground. Then I got all the power I could ever want! And…it’s nothing like I thought and less than I could have hoped. Hell, was it even hope that I had to begin with? Or just some false emotion implanted into me, just to torture my mind?” the dragon bemoaned. He sounded utterly tortured. “How long can one mind live? How long? Too long, that’s the answer. Anyway, you were the one who asked about my power. It is not like I decided to brag about it.”

That much was true. “So if you want nothing, what am I to you?”

“A mere moment of distraction, a spark in an otherwise dark and dull world. I like to watch ants, believe it or not. They fascinate me. And you are a mighty ant, perhaps an antlion! So I thought that I would perhaps want to watch you dance about and entertain me until you are destroyed or I am killed by you. Either way, it would be at least something different. An interruption in an eon of emptiness.”

At that moment I realized just how immense this being was. It was like the Banshee all over again, the great perspectives shifted around me as the dragon grew ten times in size. I, on the other hand, became as a thimble in his eyes, a literal ant. This lasted only for a moment, a brief second. In the blink of an eye, proportions were normal once more. There was no way in any hell that I would be able to kill this thing. At least, not right now.

“I see understanding in you, you have seen me for what I am,” Lorgar mused. “That makes me somewhat delighted. Somewhat and vaguely so. It’s funny how we use those words so emptily. But you understand what I mean, don’t you?”

“I do,” I said. “What is to be my fate?”

“The Banshee tricked you. She uses me to dispose of her trash. If you try to kill me, I will eagerly slay you and devour every last part of your spirit. It is doubtful you’ll be able to revive again. But if you do as I wish, serve as my Bannerman, I would be more than pleased to have you for my entertainment.”

“May I simply leave?”

“The door is right behind you…metaphorically speaking. It’s quite the journey out of this place and I am not inclined to guide you out,” the great dragon said. “But surely you must be at least curious about what I can offer you?”

“You said it earlier. Pest Control. I assume contracts?”

“Contracts? No, nonsense. Allow me to show you this place,” he said, writhing as he began to climb up the wall, moving up to a great hexagonal hole. Above, I realized there were thousands of holes in the wall, all hexagons. It was quite literally a Hive.

I climbed beside him, easily scuttering across the wall as we made our way into one of the hives. “I built this pyramid long ago with a single dream: sealing myself off from the rest of the civilized world. Pshaw, civilized,” he muttered, his voice echoing loudly as we walked. The ground shook and rumbled as he walk-slithered across the floor, his many centipede-like arms barely able to keep his body off the surface.

The dragon did have arms and legs that were appropriate for his size, but they were dragging along, stumps and useless, barely able to support anything other than their own weight. A wretched state but Lorgar didn’t seem in a rush to fix anything about himself. I suppose if he had no care for the rest of the world why bother with his own body?

“There’s nothing civilized about the world above or below or anything in between. All animals and I am sick of them,” Lorgar explained as we walked up to a vast glass wall where I could see dozens of other hives. They were all so easy to look at from here; within I could see all sorts of ecologies, vast sprawling tree lands, swamps, icy tundra. All glimmering with the telltale sign of portals. “Sick of them in the sense of looking at them as peers. I realize that as I have shed my mortality so long ago, I also have shed the sense of humanity that all sentient beings have. The idea that I’m somehow the same as everyone else simply rings hollow now. I am greater. They are lesser.”

As I focused on one of the hives, I could see a man, a great barbarian running along. A pack of feral ghouls were chasing after him. “But animals are interesting, aren’t they? So I watch their lives here. I built this great place as a dungeon. While the undead above all seek to consume the weak, content to fight over mere table scraps, I have built a place that attracts only the strong.

“There are six resurrection stones placed within the Hive. When an adventurer is slain, a portion of their energy is siphoned and transformed into discordance. The rest is transferred to the stone where they are revived. These idiots are none the wiser that they have fed me. As they ‘level up’, they gain more power, eventually getting themselves killed. They do all the work while I simply feast on their deaths. Best of all, they think this place great. They think themselves brilliant for finding a world without destruction, permanent consequences for their actions. Some even become…reckless.

“The stones take their toll, of course. A debt is accrued over time and eventually the spirit cannot revive. The soul goes on, no worse for wear, so I don’t risk pissing off the gods. No reason to bother their competition. Prayers are still heard, shrines and shops are attended to in this place. They all think they are in control.”

“You are a land baron and they don’t even know it…” I said.

“Indeed. I suppose I should blame such success for my misery but alas, I was empty far before that. It was my hope a steady stream of discordance would bring me feelings and joy but that was not the case. Not in the least. All it does is make me feel even worse, even emptier.”

“A true shame,” I said. I almost felt bad for the being. His state was so wretched that it was impossible not to feel his sorrow radiating. Though, I suppose it truly was radiating. Such was the effect of being within this great building.

“So you wish for me to roam about and slay mortals?” I asked. “For your amusement?”

“Not for my amusement, no. For the ecosystem. Some adventurers get too strong and it’s hard to take them down. You will be granted an awareness of these targets and should you slay them, you gain a portion of the discordance generated. Work as much or as little as you like, I care not. The opportunity is here if you wish it. My lands are delicate and there are a few bugs that have gotten a bit too big. Removing them would make everything run smoother,” Lorgar explained.

One of the portals flashed, zooming in on the barbarian who had been surrounded by the ghouls. He had slashed them to pieces and was now celebrating by drinking copious amounts of alcohol. He was bare chested and wild looking, ready for any kind of struggle. There wasn’t a scratch on him.

“Quite the challenge,” I muttered. “I’m almost tempted but… it seems that you stand to gain more out of this arrangement. I see no reason to give you a leg up for free.”

“Negotiation? Mediocre. What is your price? Hmmm?” the dragon asked, rolling his eyes at me. His mood soured greatly from this and I could feel the building almost shudder in response to this, shifting and changing in temperament.

“My price is a building like this. Sturdy and impenetrable. Multi-faceted wouldn’t be a bad idea but I could go without the portals. Just dense, strong and impossible to break in. The construction of such a place would be impossible without relic or magic. I presume you know the secret?” I asked, putting my hands behind my back as if this wasn’t a big thing to ask.

The dragon chuckled. “That was not a mediocre request. You certainly aim big, don’t you? Hmmm. You are asking for something technically in my power but so great of a favor it is, I do not know if I would want to grant it to you.”

“Do you despise the Banshee?”

“In many ways, yes.”

“Then you will want to give me such a building, for if I can resist her influence and the sieges of the Banners above, I would be loyal for life. Of that I will swear.”      

Chapter 34

I was accepted into the Banner of the Lone Bannerman. This was not a necessary thing and I almost protested, until I realized that if things should go awry, slaying your own Banner Lord was allowed, so it would be in my interest to be in his faction.

An agreement was made, a contract that sealed our fate. I would serve as his pest control until such time as he felt it appropriate to grant me the secret to building my own Oblique Pyramid. He gave no more information as to how the process worked, but I didn’t bother to press. I assumed, like all things in this hellish ur-life, it would be a colossal pain in the ass.

The wording of the contract was vague, but Lorgar held all the power here. I could only agree to his terms, even the idea of threatening to walk filled me with anxiousness. Dread, even. Something deep within me was naturally compliant with this being and I did not know if it was supernatural compulsion or common sense. Truly, the Banshee had sent me here to die.

And yet, I was still alive. And so I pressed on, focusing on the task at hand: gathering Discordance. The longer I spent in the Hive, the longer Anna would have to find the cure for my madness and there were few poor decisions I could make in this place. The worst I could do is get myself killed and even then, I had ways of coming back.

Ultimately, I was pleased with the situation. I was free to wander and do as I wished, engaging in the worlds around me without being subject to higher powers or judgment, and I’d get to maximize my abilities since most of my ghoul powers were effective against the living. A veritable playground for me.

Most of my targets had one great weakness: the need to sleep. When they went into their slumber, I descended to slit their throats and stab their brains. There was little difficulty in this. Within three weeks, I had cleared several hive areas, enjoying a variety of scenery along the way.

The discordance gain was pitiful from these encounters however. A meager 25 to 50 per kill. However, most adventurers traveled in groups of three or four, and so I was able to get a few hundred by the end of this time frame. Not nearly close to what I thought I would be getting.

This little fact brought a concern to me. Perhaps if the Discordance was so little for me, the portion that Lorgar was getting wasn’t that great. Or maybe it was the nature of the struggle? Fighting in a titanic battle with an awake group would perhaps generate much more energy. That would be my working theory, anyway, for it was something I could test.

If I wasn’t gaining that much more Discordance from fighting an aware, skilled target, then I would need to reassess my plan. Either that or work twice as hard and kill as many adventurers until Lorgar begs me to stop, granting me my pyramid. Yes, that would be clever, wouldn’t it? Or was I just tricking myself into working harder?

With a shrug, I moved along through one of the portals, finding my way through one of the regular Hive channels.

Not every floor was connected to a fancy ecosystem. The portals were actually more for viewing than travel – everything inside of the Hive was connected and easy to traverse for a select few. I was one of them and thus I could enter into any part of the dungeon at will. The bottom floor of the Pyramid was most popular with the loot-seeking crowd. Some lich had once taken up residence and stored his vast fortune in a dungeon floor made specifically to ward off such people. He left one day and never returned, leaving the traps to erode. Now only his undead creations wandered and they were paltry compared to the greed of the adventuring folk who frequently plundered the place.

My target was a pair of warriors; one carried a great shield and the other a great-axe. Together they fought side by side, always functioning in perfect harmony. Strike, block, block, strike. Never faltering, I had watched them for days, moving in the shadows, scuttering across the grey dungeon walls as I evaluated their skills. Just because I was going to fight them didn’t mean I was going in blind.

But today was the day that they would face their reckoning. They had stationed in the lich lord’s old basement, examining what had once been a vast fish collection, searching the bones for clues and treasure. Indeed, the pyramid often radiated such strange tidbits of information to me, almost as if it were lonely and wanted to simply express words and thoughts. I never responded to them, for I didn’t care about the facts or information, none of it was relevant to my plans. Rather, I think it was Lorgar’s attempt to connect to me.

Why resist his connection? Like his attitude towards conquering the world above, I simply didn’t care. I just wanted to work and be done with this entire cursed land. Chatting about histories of fish tanks and how they were acquired would not give me a pyramid.

As I moved across the walls, a loud clanging caused me to leap onto the ceiling. Below, in one of the chambers, a human man was stumbling forward, crashing into a great heap of metal objects.

“Ah damn it!” the man moaned as he tried to catch his footing and the objects he was trying to heave at the same time. He failed miserably.

How in the hell did this stranger avoid my detection? I couldn’t hear or smell him. Only the sound of the metal caught my attention and it actually frightened me.

The man was an adventurer, clearly. He had bright red hair, a roguishly short beard and a wide grin on his face as he looked up at me.

“Ah! Finally, a friendly face!” the man cheerfully said, waving to me. “Am I glad to see you!”

“I’m happy to see you as well,” I said, hopping down to meet the man. He approached without fear. He was a short fellow and bore no weapons whatsoever. Instead, he had a shovel at his side; it was the only object he had managed to catch before crashing to the floor.

“Be a friend and grab my stuff?” the man asked as he walked past, patting me on the shoulder.

“Of course, of course,” I said, gathering his belongings. I did this for some time until I began to realize something was amiss. Why…why in the hell was I doing this?

I spun around at once, claws at the ready but all I could see was my good friend, Peter Albert the Third and he was no threat. “Where to, sir?” I asked as I hefted the gear under both of my arms after securing a few bags to my back.

“This way, there’s a chest you can probably haul,” Peter said as he gestured for me to follow him down a hallway.

Something was amiss…I wasn’t a pack mule. Why in the hell was I so friendly with…a stranger? Damn it, come on, he’s charming me! Resist! Resist!

As I focused, the man turned to look at me. “I’m Peter, by the way. I really appreciate your help.”

“Of course,” I said. “Anything for my friend, Peter.”

That sealed my fate. I followed after him, unable to do anything else. Anything other than panic, that is.

“Hix! Hix you bastard, wake up!” I hissed.

“What do you want? I’m busy being incredibly unbusy.”

“Hix, that man is charming me, what do I do?” I growled as I was forced to listen to the inane banter of the man who would just not shut up. He didn’t have a care in the world!

“Roses and dinner?” the demon suggested.

“I swear to any dark gods, Hix, I will tear my eyes out and eat them!” I shot back.

“Yeesh, I’m just kidding. Look, I don’t know what to tell you. He’s a gravedigger from the looks of it. Human class, specializes in working with the undead. Probably has some kind of class feature that charms the hell out of you. My advice, just roll with it. I’m sure you’ll break out in a few minutes or years and then you can get violent revenge. Until then, enjoy. Wake me up when you’re a free man.”

With that, the demon went back into his shadowy lair. What exactly was so important within his own mind that he had to frequently withdraw from me? Or was my company perhaps that unpleasant? That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? That he had to take me in small doses.

“Ah shit! Hide, hide, hide!” Peter suddenly yelped, snapping me out of my internal dialogue. He dashed behind a pillar and pressed himself against the wall, and I found myself behind another column, avoiding a pair of adventurers as they passed by.

I frowned. “Why are we hiding?”

“They’re going to kill us if they see us! This is not a friendly place, pal!” Peter explained.

I glanced at my massive claws. “You may be misapplying my talents, Pete. Let me handle them?”

Perhaps if I could be given freedom to fight, I could take advantage of the momentum and escape.

The man grinned widely. “They do have treasure…okay, go for it!”

In a flash, I was upon the pair, two orcs who didn’t have a chance in hell against me. I speared through them with ease. Nothing seemed to release me, though I hadn’t really felt controlled before. My relationship and reaction to Peter seemed to be implanted inside of my mind…maybe if I rushed him.

I spun around and charged forward as fast as I could but I froze upon getting within a foot of the man. Something was holding me back, no matter how hard I focused my mind.

Peter ignored me entirely and ran to the corpses. “Hah! Will you look at that,” he cried out. “Can you believe it? They’re dead! Just like that! This is perfect! Absolutely perfect!”

Push, damn you, push! No, nothing could get me to move towards him. No amount of hatred, no burning rage could get me to move. The man had power over me that no one else had displayed, no one but the gods.

“I have my very own fighter slave!” the man shouted triumphantly. The word slave echoed in my heart. Stirring something deep, deep within. Hector resounded with that word, he raged against it. A thread! Another one! And if I followed this memory, it might lead me to a restored soul…a risky play but perhaps that would give me the strength to escape this man’s grasp.

“What are you doing?” Hix grumbled. “I can sense another thread. Don’t bother it. Come on, we’ve talked about this.”

“I’m trapped, this is different,” I said.

“This asshole’s going to get himself killed in a few days, just let nature run its course,” the demon replied.

“No, I want my freedom! I will not be slave, I will not be controlled,” I barked. The energy within was radiating more as I focused on the word slave. Love. Slave and Love, both connected. Both pulling me into a strange world, a shimmering place that I had only seen once before: when I was but a fifteen year old street sweep.

Chapter 35

Hector Fiege was sweeping the streets. I could see him clearly. The world around me was like water, splashing and changing frequently, but the images formed into memories that crystalized the more I focused on them. This was me, in my life. A young, fifteen year old boy who swept the streets for no discernable reason. A job? Yes, I suppose it was a job. So early to start work when all the others were to be educated. But alas, such was the life of a peasant.

There was a class lower. The slaves; those owned and controlled by the noble classes, often sold into servanthood due to their debts or crimes. Kanetta was one such slave, a girl my age, who often visited Hector.

I could see the scar across her eye. It was fresh.

“He’s struck you again, hasn’t he?” Hector hissed to the young woman. She was dressed far better than he (despite the chains around her wrists) and was standing in such a way as to look as if she weren’t acknowledging him at all. But she spoke with a secret tone that conveyed how she truly felt about him. They were, or perhaps we were friends. Maybe even lovers? No. Not yet, but I was starting to feel that way.

“Don’t bring it up,” Kanetta said. “It is not your concern.”

“A lord should not do such a thing. If he means to hurt you again, I’ll kill him myself,” I threatened.

The girl shook her head. “You are an idiot, Hector, if you think you can just kill a nobleman. Besides, it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

“It never is,” I said at the same time as Hector. Something glowed within me. A strength beyond what I had ever felt before. A glimpse of life, perhaps?

The scene changed in a heartbeat. I knew what had happened. Kanetta had been found dead in the river. A wild dog was blamed for the action and no one mourned the death of the slave girl. No one except me.

I had sworn that I would kill him. I loathed the man. I seethed with hatred. Oh yes, I could feel the energies growing within Hector. I was becoming born in that anger. A deep desire for justice but eclipsed by an even more personal urge to see the man suffer. Oh how many dreams I dreamt about torturing him before throwing him to wild dogs for real!

And yet, the memory continued to reveal the truth of it all. There I was, twenty-two and a strapping young man. Stronger than any in the area and without fear of the law. A brawler, Hector was, throwing his anger into fist fights that gave him a reputation as a hardass around town. But the day came when the Lord, some nameless shadow, walked right past me. Inches away.

A knife rested on my belt. As I swept, I could have simply grabbed it and stabbed away. And yet…I stared at the ground, pretending not to see him. I was a nobody. No hero. No great man. All saw me, all knew of my boasting…and I became a fighter no more. Who would give me the respect of a fight? I was all talk, all bluster. No one saw me as anything more.

Was I expected to kill the man? I don’t think anyone would have blinked if I did, but no. They at least expected me to shove him, trip him or do something to protest the system. But I was afraid. Afraid and too concerned about keeping my damn job to do anything else. That was the worst part. My fear was of losing my relatively decent position as a street sweep. Guard duty was the bottom of the barrel and that was what Hector feared more than anything. Becoming a mere piece of a military unit and thus losing what little freedoms he had.

What was the purpose of seeing this? Perhaps I needed to ask.

“Hector,” I said, speaking to the man who was staring down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the looming shadow beside him.

“What?” he snapped, not looking up.

“What did you vow, exactly?”

“That I would never rest until that man saw justice,” he hissed, pointing to the shadow beside him. The rest of the scene, a busy market stall, seemed frozen in place and yet I could feel all eyes on us.

“And did he ever see justice?”

“No, he lives to this day,” Hector confessed. “I died before I could…oh. Oh yes, I died before I could kill him. So long ago, so long ago I stopped thinking about it. But in my life I did take that vow.”

So the murderer still walks free. That must be why the Revenant was born. Or so I theorized. To suffer the injustice of two nobles in my life? It would make sense that Hector would come back in some way.

“Then you must embrace this part of your path,” I said. “For you did not die.”

I grabbed the knife off of the man’s belt and held it up to him. “You outran death. Come back, Hector. Come with me and we can make this man pay. It’s time for you to wake up.”

My originator looked at me hesitantly. “I don’t know if I can. I’m so weak. So pathetic.”

“A blade to the gut doesn’t require much strength as much as it does a proper application of speed and force,” I replied. “Wake up, damn you. There is much more at stake.”

The specter grabbed the blade at this command and, in an instant, I felt a surge of energy unlike anything I had felt before. Flashes of memories came rushing back, Hector’s thoughts and feelings, echoes of his emotions and understandings of reality…all of it was so beautiful and overwhelming.

The world around me grew brighter for a moment. I could see colors that I hadn’t seen before in a long, long time. Shades of red, yellow and blue, intensities that I had forgotten existed were seen as my energies flared up. In the blink of an eye, I was back outside of my mind and freed from the intense compulsions that stopped me from shredding Peter Albert to death.

The man was still babbling excitedly. “Can you imagine how much money we’re going to make?”

“I can’t, no,” I said as I walked behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at this.

“How the hell can you touch me?”

“Yeah, how the hell are you free?” Hix demanded, but I ignored him.

I merely squeezed very gently, barely digging my claws into his flesh but enough for him to know I could stab him through in a second. “Let’s just say I did some soul searching,” I replied. “And I found a greater strength. Now, Peter, tell me, why shouldn’t I—”

“In the name of Epheris, I request a Trial for the Dead!” the man yelped as he dashed out of my grasp, somehow managing to slip between my claws like a goddamn wet fish.

“Oh I’ll give you a trial,” I started to say as I marched towards him, but before I could reach the man a great flash of black lightning struck the ground before me.

Purple void energy began to unfold all around me, plunging me and Peter into this strange realm.

Intercepting me was a great hooded figure, a clockwork being with great metal wings that stretched out nearly nine feet in length. His face was like that of a humanoid, though his eyes were glass and his mouth appeared powered by steam, opening and closing at random.

“Stay your hand for judgm—” the being paused upon realizing who was cowering behind it like a child. “Peter, again?”

“What are you?” I asked, looking up at the great being.

The clockwork angel sighed and turned to me, his glass eyes flashing with green and yellow as if his emotions were modulating. Was he some kind of gnomish or dwarvish mechanical marvel? Or just a being from a different plane of reality where all things were made of metal? “If you would sidebar, counselor?” he asked, motioning for me to step aside.

Behind us, I could see a courtroom had been summoned, raised out of the ground. There was the great bench where the judge was supposed to sit, then two separate podiums for people to take their place. Peter had already found his spot on one of the podiums, leaning against the metal railing with the most shit-eating grin on his face.

The great clockwork entity stepped aside with me and spoke with clearness and precision. “You must be confused,” he said. “A usual situation when dealing with Peter. Allow me to explain it to you. The man is a high level Gravedigger and a favorite of Epheris. He has spent a lifetime making himself immune to the undead, capable of controlling them, and when those schemes ultimately fail, he has found a way of extricating himself from the situation.

“The dumbass long ago found an ancient secret phrase that conjures a Clockwork Arbiter to mediate a dispute between the living and the dead. It was created for serious ceremonial issues between tribes and somehow he has managed to use it to get me to intervene in any situation where things go poorly. And they are all of his own doing.”

I looked at the smug human who waved at me, grinning widely without a care in the world. What an absolute lunatic…and yet something in me liked him. He was showing the finger to everyone in the world of the dead without relent. An odd reaction. But I suppose now that Hector was reawakened in some degree, now that my soul was beginning to restore itself, I should be expecting more human emotions. I think.

“I understand. And he is free to simply exploit this trial when he pleases?”

“Both sides argue their case and I make a judgment that is binding,” he explained. “And in this situation, I can assure you he will win. I don’t know how but the man is a legal genius as well. Understands every bit about our legal code and uses the most asinine arguments…that work! I say all of this to inform you that we are in a situation that you can’t win. I do not wish to use my power to bind you. Could we perhaps come to a gentleman’s agreement? You will not win anyway. Trust me, I have seen this human speak for 72 hours straight, just to get his skeletal adversary to leave its body out of boredom. He will not fail.”

This clockwork creature was far more personable than even the angels I had met. Perhaps he would understand more about the cosmos than the demon within me. “I might be willing to spare your magic in exchange for some information,” I said, crossing my arms. An odd habit but it felt…right. I suppose.

“A fair trade, a life for a lifetime of knowledge,” the being replied with hesitation. “You are aligned with Order, as am I, so I trust you.”

Aha! That’s why I felt so at ease with him. Almost as if we were simply talking shop. Neither of us would break our word without sufficient motivation. Motivation? That’s what let me break my contracts before? Not defiance?

Yes…something within me was glowing intensely now. Hector’s soul was here…my soul was here. But it was weak. Barely awake. Hungry almost. But it understood more about my state than I did and thus I needed to nourish it at all costs. Nourish and protect, just like a newborn.

“Very well,” I said. “I want to know about Revenants. Where do we come from? Why does no one on the side of Evil or Chaos understand us?”

The being nodded, steam bursting out of his back as he pondered the question. I could hear the whirring of gears inside of his head while he calculated a reply, each eye blinking independently of another. “You ask a deep cosmic mystery, friend. One that has been hidden from many eyes, including Epheris. The god of the dead did not make you, that I can tell you. Believe it or not, but he deals with automatons and clockwork creations, golems and animated statues. When the undead came about, many prayed to him and he took pity on your kind, for you are automatons of a fleshly nature. Magic, not steam, orders you about. And so the great god of knowledge expanded his domain to aid his followers; over time, he became known as the god of the dead.”

“I see. So you have nothing for me?”

“Oh, I have the keys to all knowledge, just not the locks,” the clockwork angel replied. “I know it is not the answer you want but there is a passphrase, a riddle. If you can solve it, it will lead you to the next step in uncovering your past.”

“Tell me,” I said. “I will seek out the answer.”

“You must solve the Riddle of the Key and the Gate if you wish to learn more about the Revenant’s Curse,” the being explained.

“Key and the Gate?”

“The Riddle of the Key and the Gate,” the being clarified. His wings clattered a little as he stretched them. “I fear it is not much to go on, but there are those who understand it more fully than you. Find them and they will lead you further on this mystery. Epheris be with you on the journey.”

Chapter 36

A tiny portion, probably less than a sliver, of my soul had been restored. With the smallest amount of my humanity returned, I had the power to resist the stranger and otherworldly compulsions of Peter Albert the Third. This had directly given me access to an interesting new riddle, something to pursue once I was out of this dark place.

For now, I was left alone with Peter. The strange man was a wild risk-taker; I had learned that a mortal’s punishment for invoking the trial and failing was spending two thousand years working as a soul slave in Epheris’ underworld. The man had literally rolled the dice on his soul just to escape the consequences of his own action. I would have walked past him entirely had he ignored me. I wasn’t chasing after the adventurers who were of no regard.

But the fact that someone as powerful as Peter was impossible for me to detect was fascinating. The man was a Gravedigger class but had spent his life working to ensure that the dead couldn’t bother him in any way. He was invisible to us unless direct interaction occurred; he had a constant aura of undead charm and barring that, he held a variety of artifacts meant to destroy the dead.

“You fascinate me,” I said to the man once the trial was over and the angel faded. Peter had stuck around, seeing no reason to flee now that I knew my place. It almost seemed like he wanted to remain and gloat.

“Aw, thanks,” he replied, clapping me on the shoulder like we were old friends. I almost laughed. Almost. Interesting, it was like humor was even sharper than before. Appealing and easier to understand. Easier to experience.

“Tell me, Peter, what is it that drives you? What is it that you seek?” I asked. There was no reason to throw away a resource this powerful. The gravedigger had something in him that I could use: overwhelming strength against the undead. In fact, he could be my secret weapon against the rest of the Cursed Country. Hell, he might even know how to take down the Banshee! Or…perhaps Lorgar?

“What do I seek? Gold and whores, whores and gold,” the man cheerfully said as he started to gather the treasure I had dropped earlier. “Plenty of one here and not enough of the other.”

“I can give you enough of one to afford the other,” I said, causing him to pause as he bent down to pick up the shovel.

“I don’t know if there are that many women in the world…” Peter chuckled as he slyly looked back at me. “Rare to meet a corpso who can actualize thoughts and words so well. You a ghost in a body?”

“Revenant,” I said.

“I know what you are, but who are you,” Peter replied as he managed to get most of his smaller trinkets into a backpack. He frowned as he realized there were still six other bags to carry. “And why are you? Hmm?”

“I’m Lord Velking,” I said. “Revenant of Tague and judge of the mortal courts.”

“That’s more like it! I’m Peter, but you already know that. You think we went to school together in life, that’s why you’re so kind to me. That’s a class feature called Implant Suggestion, quite useful.”

Fascinating. “You command the dead without fear,” I said. “And you walk a dungeon without a weapon. Are you mad or overconfident?”

“Can’t wield a weapon or I lose my class abilities,” the man explained. “And they make me far, far stronger than a piece of enchanted iron, I’ll tell you that much.”

“So both, then,” I replied. This caused the fellow to chuckle.

“I suppose so, yes,” he answered. He looked at me with curiosity for a moment. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Your aid,” I said. “Simply put, I intend to make more than a few undead enemies in the next few years of my life. You seem to know a great deal about such affairs and even more so, you are immune to my kind. Even now, I feel a strange sense of comradery with you. It would seem that to the right ‘corpso’ as you call them, you have immense value.”

“Awww, you’re a real sweetie pie, I might just cry,” Peter replied as he slung the shovel over his shoulder and gestured towards the junk he had gathered into a pile. “Help me lug my haul back to home base and I’d be more than happy to answer the usual questions.”

“Usual questions?” I repeated, waiting a beat to see if there was any kind of urge within, demanding that I start picking up his treasure. Nothing forced me. He was not going to force his will on me any further – or perhaps he could not.

“Yeah, you aren’t the first sapient sucker I’ve met and I don’t mind giving a hand up in this life,” Peter explained, coughing a little once he realized I wasn’t obeying.

Holding back my pride, I went to gather his belongings, stacking them atop each other. I can’t believe I was about to voluntarily become a pack mule, just for some answers. But answers I needed. Not about my origin—I had been given a great gift from the clockwork angel, a neutral but ordered power and I doubted this man knew more about that. Instead, I wanted to know about my gracious host and the Banshee.

“Tell me, gravehopper,” I said once I had gathered as much as I could carry. “Do you know how to destroy the Greater Undead? Such as the Banshee?”

“There are many ways to kill a corpse,” the man said as he suddenly dropped his shovel and threw his hands in the air. “But only one to kill a band of violent adventurers!”

Ahead, I could see the group appear instantly. A flash of yellow energy surrounded them, an aura of pure lawful energy that had some warding properties. Enough to cloud my senses to their presence until the mortal pointed it out.

Four figures were standing in the center of the glowing aura: a great ogre with two heads, one partially pressing itself out of his skull in a rather grotesque way; a halfling with a pair of drums hanging from his neck; an elderly man with a long pointed white beard and a blade made of purple flame, and a young woman in white robes with earthen symbols upon them.

The halfling was drumming fervently, the yellow energies pouring from the small cylinders as he played.

“Finally, some XP!” the ogre shouted as he pointed towards me. He reflected what I had thought immediately upon seeing his party: Discordance.

The group cheered and quickly readied for battle. There was no discussion, no conversation or attempts to resolve this without violence. The group ahead, adventurers of the heartiest kind, had simply mistaken me for a part of the dungeon, a trap or wandering monster that posed a danger to them. Or perhaps they simply saw me as I saw them, a means to advancement. Either way, it would be an excellent time to test my theory as to whether I could gain more points by fighting the awake.

While there was no hesitation on mine or the adventurers’ part, Peter, on the other hand, threw himself to the ground, groveling like a child. “Don’t hurt me, I’m just a slave!” he shrieked, crying and pissing himself – quite literally – just to save his own skin. Truly, there was no one who could sink lower than he and yet I almost admired the level of survivability.

The party sprang into action first. The woman, a mage of some kind, raised her wooden staff high and let loose a burst of green energy towards me. At the same time, the ogre drew twin axes and came charging in my direction, throwing one blade while keeping the other raised high.

I dodged the magical attack with ease; it was slow and unwieldy, a green diamond that crashed into the grey surface. There was plenty of space in this part of the dungeon, for most of the Hive was formless in between the tightly packed rooms. This here was a vast hallway with only a few pillars to hide behind. Very little to work with.

The axe flying towards me, however, seemed to move with a mind of its own, angling itself upwards as I leapt. I slashed my claws downward just in time, deflecting the heavy axe as it crashed into my blades, clanging out in an ear shattering sound. But rather than fall to the ground, the axe merely spun itself around and flew back towards the advancing ogre.

By the time I was on the ground, I was engaged with the mighty two-headed beast. He never used both axes at the same time; rather he threw one, forcing me to dodge before advancing with a wild and frenzied series of blows. I dashed backwards, dodging and dancing to avoid the whirlwind like axes while blocking every attack.

The ogres were shouting at each other during the whole thing, but they seemed to fight with perfect coordination, despite their disagreements and insults. While I was on the defensive, the elder suddenly appeared behind me, his glowing blade of ethereal energy swinging towards me at full speed.

I moved sideways to block both but I was overwhelmed in an instant. One of the axes came flinging back after I had dodged it, hitting me square in the back. These two had trained together, this was not some random series of attacks. The way both of them moved in expectation of the other, they were coordinated. I had to assume all of them were.

Changing tactics, I activated my Viper Spine ability. Mortals had to worry about pain and paralysis, both of which were threatened from my newest Transmogriphication ability.

Heavy spikes burst out of my torso from all directions. Each a foot long, I was now dangerous to touch. The elder noticed this and fell back, elegantly shuffling backwards like a fencer. I pressed towards him, since he seemed less physically resilient than the ogre.

“Don’t charge!” one of the heads screamed from behind as I rushed the energy swordsman, “those spikes will kill us!”

The swordsman adopted a defensive stance, placing both hands together, causing the sword to grow a foot longer. Purple flames engulfed the jagged blade as he narrowed his eyes in intense concentration.

I pressed the advance, he held firm. But before I could reach him, a green wall of energy crashed in front of me, trying to block my charge. I slashed through with my bladefire claws, destroying the emerald power in seconds.

My target raised his sword, not to block my claws but to cut at my spines. He slashed with a speed that I had not been expecting, almost faster than I could track. He stepped left, right, forward and then back in one fluid motion, moving like water across a window pane in the frenzy of battle. By the time I reached him, the tips of my front spines were severed. They were pointless! Incapable of doing any damage whatsoever and thus paralyzing my foe would be impossible.

Little did he know I could shift them at any time. The ones on the back were still safe. I let out a wild snarl, simply for the sake of scaring him, before I began to rain blows down upon his head. His blade slashed and parried, trying desperately to block my ferocious blows but I had him on both force and strength. He couldn’t keep his focus and the purple blade began to fizzle as he fell back.

Another bolt of energy struck me from the side, this one absorbed instantly by my unhallowed shell. There was no additional healing for me to gain but I certainly felt invigorated!

I was distracted for only a second, but that was long enough for the mighty ogre to leap over my head and land in between the swordsman and I.

“Shit, shit, shit!” the woman shouted suddenly, causing my focus to switch in an instant. She was hitting her staff against the ground frantically, crying out in frustration as it was clear the artifact had suddenly stopped working.

Grinning, I changed targets and dashed towards her as fast as lightning. She cried out in vain for my reaction had been instant. “Help, help!” she yelped as I ran upon her just in time to…to see her grin. Oh damn it all, this was another coordinated attack. One I fell right into.

Her skin burst into brown fur and the woman transformed into a mighty grizzly nearly three times my size. My claws slashed uselessly at the thick hide as the beast grabbed me with both arms and lifted me high into the air. “Braaaoomph,” the bear growled and it latched onto my neck with its teeth, sinking its fangs deep into my armor.

“Nice try,” I hissed as I redirected the spikes from my back to fire forward as hard as they could. The transmogriphication process was unpleasant and I could feel my flesh pulsate and twist while the muscles moved and contracted, pulling the blades all the way in and then firing the still sharp ones to the ground.

The bear stiffened at once when the paralytic spines dug deep into the flesh, easily penetrating its hide. I wriggled out of its jaws and climbed atop its back, leaping off as the bear fell over like a tilted statue. My target? The swordsman who had been taking a moment to drink a potion.

The man was surprised to see this but managed to dodge at the last second, throwing himself onto the ground and rolling forward, towards the halfling.

The little man’s drumming grew more frenzied. Golden trails of energy began to surge from the drums and I could see the halfling’s eyes were filling with yellow power as well. Suddenly, an ethereal bow appeared in front of me, golden and shining like the sun.

The summoned weapon was hard to look at and even harder to dodge as it came to life at once, firing arrows of pure energy towards me. I didn’t want to risk if they were divinely oriented weapons and scrambled out of the way, scuttering towards the ogre who was tending to the paralyzed bear.

I was faster than the arrows, thankfully, and I was able to reach the ogre before he could nurse a potion straight into the frozen beast’s mouth. The side-head, however, noticed me and called out the alarm as I leapt up to slay the paralyzed foe. A fist found my head, throwing me across the floor and causing me to slide up to one of the pillars.

“Get up and fight,” Hix coached. “Come on, you’ve got this. Adventurers aren’t easy to kill! You gotta throw them off.”

I clambered to my feet and watched as my foes quickly regrouped. The shapeshifter wizard, presumably a druid, was no worse for wear, having recovered thanks to their potions. It was as if all of my efforts had faded in an instant as they regained their strength in a matter of seconds.

“Who is selling them so many of these things?” I growled, watching with hatred as the swordsman titled a blue bottle to his mouth and chugged. “I shall shove those bottles far up his ass, that is for sure.”

“Focus, you’re in a rough spot here,” the demon said as he started to realize the gravity of the situation. “Fully prepared casters and class levels means you’re fucked if you don’t throw off their rhythm.”

“You sound worried,” I chuckled.

“Terrified. These are the kinds of lunatics who like to capture my kind and put them in charms,” Hix hissed. “They seek adversity. Many have died more than a handful of times. Do not write them off as targets. They are not. These are the kinds of jackasses who fight archdemons for non-tangible rewards like bragging rights. You think they don’t have a variety of solutions to your powers in their toolbelts?”

I glanced at the loaded belts of each adventurer. Dozens of vials, bandoleers of ammunition and wands…scroll cases and bags full of marbles. They were loaded for bear and were sorting through their items right now, looking for things to use against me. Each second I delayed, they would just get exponentially stronger.

“Run,” Hix finally said. “You just can’t take adventurers who are in the mood for a fight.”

“Or maybe…” I said, grinning as I let them finish their prep work. “Maybe this would be the greatest feast of Discordance I could ever have.

Chapter 37

I could plead insanity for what I was doing but there was something deeper inside of me, urging to give the adventurers all the time they wanted to ready for fighting me. Life had become so rote and so boring. Even hunting targets had yielded struggles that were over faster than I could prepare for. This on the other hand? This had found me and it was a titanic fight. They were savvy professionals, trained and ready to kill me. I was a feral force of nature. It would be interesting to see who would prevail.

Perhaps this was why the higher beings threw mortals into conflict for their own amusement. The entertainment, the temporary distraction from all problems and suffering. When trapped in that literal bear hug, I was not thinking or worrying about my kingdom or revenge. I was simply reacting. It was…it was as close to sleep as I could get.

Besides, I was curious to see if I could take them down myself. Four on one was incredibly unfair at first glance but I was used to fighting against larger odds by this point. I had faced little challenges thus far. If I was going to survive in the big leagues, in the fight for my soul, I needed to handle a few measly adventurers.

But Hix’s warning at least gave me sobriety in my planning. I needed to shut them down and quickly. Every action they did was calculated, I would have to account for that from now on. Plus, they had consumed a variety of supportive items and spells, meaning they would probably be resistant to most of my displayed abilities.

“Round two?” I shouted to the group as I approached, opening my claws wide to show I wasn’t worried about this.

They bristled at this open challenge, especially the ogres, but the group remained close to their drummer. His pounding of the beat never ended, he refused to cease playing and his eyes never left me. How long could he keep going? Indefinitely, as far as I knew. All of these people probably had more spells per day than I did discordance, so I should assume they were limitless in their resources…but not in their lives.

“Spread out, you know the plan,” the swordsman said as he motioned for the group to flank me. The drummer stayed behind, as did the ogre. Two phantom swordsmen appeared beside the woman as she moved to my left. These spirits were purple and ethereal, carrying longswords that gleamed with flaming power. The originator of that spell, the swordsman, moved to my right, carefully approaching with both hands on his blade.

No doubt they had dozens of plans to deal with my reactions. A straight attack would be thwarted, a clever spell would be countered…what to do?

I waited. They did too. Their movements slowed down as I held my position, slightly crouched and ready for action. Eyes darted left to right and wordless expressions were given to each other as they encircled me without reaction. None approached but I was certainly flanked now.

Of course. They were expecting me to fight like an animal. But I was intelligent and keen to their coordination. They would not catch me off-guard again. It seemed, in fact, that I had caught them completely unaware.

I lunged forward towards the swordsman. At once, the woman cast a wall of energy in front of her comrade, except the spell was wasted for I didn’t do anything other than feint. My false start had triggered them to both activate their spells, ambush failed.

Activating both Carbon Copy and my illusion spell, I sent copies after each target. My real form emerged instantly, the corporeal carbon copy keen to kill the druid began running at once. The illusion moved after the swordsman, who began slashing in a warding effect.

I stood in the middle, waiting. No reason to move just yet. No reason for them to think me anything other than a mere illusion.

“Damn it, he’s a necromancer,” the ogres shouted, though out of sync with each other.

The druid hesitated, unsure of what to do. My carbon copy dashed at her and thrust his blades forward in a diving leap, forgoing any sense of self-preservation. The phantom bladesmen tried to intercept but their attacks were ethereal, enough to do damage but not to stop the momentum of the attack.

The claws of the copy buried themselves into the stomach of the woman, causing her to cry out in agony – real pain this time – as he disemboweled her. The phantoms hacked him to pieces but the damage had already been done, she was sliced open.

“Tabitha!” the swordsman shouted, his phantoms fading as he teleported to her side at once. A potion was in his hand. I charged at him, prompting the ogre to throw both of his axes towards me as he leapt. Yet, my first charge was another feint – I could fool enemies too!

Instead, I changed directions as the ogre kicked off the earth, leaving the drummer completely alone.

My speed wasn’t amplified since these were not my targets in a contract sense, but I felt as if I were flying anyway, my feet dashing across the ground so fast that I barely made contact with the floor. I could see the eyes of the halfling go wide as he drummed, frantically summoning bows and swords to fight me off, but nothing could be done to keep his head attached to his torso.

The body did not continue to drum as it slumped over, the halfling’s head sailing high in the air. Without hesitation, I grabbed the corpse and spun around, using the momentum to hurl the small body towards the group of adventurers who were trying to save their friend. And indeed, she was a friend, for they were not reacting like hardened warriors now, but idiots who couldn’t fathom the loss of an ally in battle. A shame, they might have stood a chance otherwise.

I cast Detonate Corpse when the body landed in the group, the cadaver becoming the conduit of negative energy in the blink of an eye. The explosion rocked the entire ground beneath me and I was pelted with blood and guts, as was the usual after such a spell.

However, the ogre and the swordsman remained alive. Tabitha was dead, her body a disgusting pulpy mess thanks to the force of the explosion. The healing potion was still trying to repair the body, pumping magic into a corpse that was mangled beyond all belief. Truly a horror to behold.

The swordsman couldn’t handle his lunch and lost it, falling to his knees as he hurled. The ogre, however, kept his focus on me.

“Run away,” the one face said. “Back to the woods where we belong.”

“No, kill him, avenge our friends!” the other said.

The body, perhaps an independent operator in this situation, merely raised both axes at me. Threatening to come at me should I advance. A fractured group. It would be unsporting to kill them…unsporting if they didn’t come back to life after all of this. The resurrection stones would bring them back, sans all of that precious XP they were so concerned with.

This reasoning struck me as somewhat odd. Why did I need to justify this to myself? I suppose that was because I had awakened Hector. He was here now and perhaps he was bringing a more human touch to my mind. Should I resist it? Well…it’s not like there was anything to resist anyway.

“Knuckle up,” I growled. “Collect yourself, swordsman. You will be with her soon. In hell.”

No reason not to play the role of the villain here. Strong emotions could generate more discordance, right?

“We have picked the fruit that bites,” one of the ogres said. “And it will not relent until it has finished eating. Get up, Cladden.”

“Our energies were linked,” the man bemoaned. “My spells are gone.”

“Steel is at your side,” the ogre replied, throwing his axe beside the man. “Now let us die with honor.”

“You can take your honor and die alone,” Cladden replied as he lay upon his face in a surrender position. “I will be a slave like that man.”

“Coward,” both of the faces said at once. They looked back at me. “Shall we?”

Without a word, I moved towards him, ready to fight. Wait! Wait, what if this was a trap. I stopped at this and froze, my eyes darting towards Cladden. The ogre picked up on this and stomped on the man’s ankle with his thick foot, snapping it.

“Ahhh! Ostwick, you bastard, my leg!”

“Slaves can’t have both feet, otherwise they’d just run away,” Ostwick replied as his faces both looked at me, nodding. They understood my concern. This was now a matter of honor and integrity. He would not flee or surrender. He would die on his feet and for that, I was pleased. Perhaps I could revive his corpse as a zombie in honor.

The great beast grabbed both of his axes and thundered towards me. He was taller now, his body growing less bulbous and fat as he approached. His arms and legs stretched out and his fused face began to unfurl, growing a separate head. A third head pushed up from in between the two.

“Finally!” the third one said as he gasped for air. “There he is! Get him!”

The ogre, having unleashed his full form, was nearly ten feet tall, with six arms and four legs. Their necks were almost stalk-like, able to twist in any direction, giving them full awareness of their environment. I wouldn’t be sneaking up on them anytime soon.

Ostwick thundered towards me, his voices all screaming in unison. “Do you know how expensive it is to take this form? How much power it costs?” he roared as he threw the axes at me with a relentless force. Both of them came circling my way, spinning in midair with perfect precision.

These were crafted items, that much I could tell. Weapons that were made from tools and enchanted with magic. They were not part of the ogre’s natural abilities or a class feature of any kind. I suspected that if these were truly legendary weapons, I would be in much more trouble.

However, the axes merely flew and struck based on their owner’s commands. They were handy to use but had extreme limits to their range in combat. This I was able to learn once I figured out how to leap atop the flat of the axes, thus protecting myself. I ‘surfed’ across the air, slashing and hacking at the thick arms that were punching at my head, cutting and nicking flesh but never getting a blow in fast enough to take anything down.

Two hands found my legs, however, coming up from beneath and in an instant I was eating dirt, my face smashed hard into the ground. Reacting with instinctive speed, I transformed into a wraith, escaping the grasp as well as the two thick axes just as they slammed into where my body was.

Ostwick ripped out one of his eyes at once and began looking around, holding the eye up. Blood and tears poured from the orb but it somehow held together. I flew in a circle, avoiding the eye as it was twisted around, scanning for me.

His efforts were wasted, for I was faster than his swirling eye and was able to stay out of the area of his focus as I pondered what to do next. This ogre was huge, sturdy and strong. A few claw slashes had barely dug into his skin and I had landed one hard hit that had done nothing to his thick, tree-like arms.

“Rarrrg!” Ostwick shouted as he suddenly spun around, throwing both of his axes as hard as he could. This had been a random act, in the hopes of catching me on his back but there was nothing; I was floating high above. The axes flew out, spinning rapidly as they arced through the air, beginning their return to their master. An idea struck me at once.

I flew down and thrust my arms forward, one into each axe. They were magical and easier to control than any inanimate object; I just needed to command them to speed up and to spin faster.

As I surged my energies into the objects, the ogre turned his back, twin arms reaching behind him to catch the weapons. The heads were swiveling everywhere – everywhere except for where the axes were heading.

At the last moment, I accelerated the twin axes, pulling them down mid-center. The great weapons carved through the giant ogre’s body instantly, cutting huge chunks out of his back and he shrieked in pain. I rematerialized at once and leapt onto the handle of one of the axes, holding on with my feet as I began to slash through the opening. A sickening strategy, but flesh burrowing worked against things much larger than me and these axes had easily made the entrance for me.

The ogre fell to the ground, dead. His hearts severed instantly as I cut through his flesh with my enchanted claws, the Feral Strike easily finishing him off.

6,000 Discordance Gained! appeared in my vision, catching me by surprise. That was a lot! From one fight? And they weren’t even targets…incredible! This changed everything.

“So, you were saying you wanted to yield?” I said, turning just in time to see a triumphant Peter slamming a shovel into the back of the downed swordsman’s head.

“Got him! Haha! We did it!” Peter shouted triumphantly as he held up the bloody shovel. “I knew we’d make a great team.”

Chapter 38

The anger was instant and impossible to pull back. Peter, that idiot, had killed a magical swordsman, someone who could have been of use to me! I was getting used to dealing with cowards and converting a magic user to my side would have been valuable. Especially an adventurer!

“You absolute idiot!” I shouted, thrusting a claw in the man’s face. “Why did you kill him?”

“Because it was easy and logical?” Peter asked, crossing his arms as he frowned at me. “They’ll be back. You always come back in this place. The stones pull you from rest, or so they say. I’ve never needed to test it. Now, you’re a necromancer, right? I can smell it on you, raise these corpses and get them moving, the base isn’t too far from here!”

I was half-tempted to swipe across his face and give him a scar and yet…something held me back. Perhaps it was the fact that he was ultimately right that gave him a stay of execution, or maybe it was his magics; either way, I decided to move on.

With the wave of my hand, I cast two instances of Animate Corpse, raising the bodies of the ogre and the swordsman. Both would make fine zombies.

“You must tell me of your power,” I said as I directed my thralls to collect the items. Peter was busy merrily plundering the potions and poisons hanging from the belts of these zombies as they worked.

“My power?” he repeated, holding one bottle up to the dim light coming from above. “Think this is safe?”

“No,” I said. He nodded in agreement, uncorked the thing and drank it anyway.

“Ugh, gross,” Peter concluded as he chugged it down. “Well, I don’t feel dead, so good stuff!”

I watched as he went on his way, testing other potions while the corpses did their work. “Are you truly so dense as to not be aware of the power you hold?” I asked.

“I’m just a man trying to survive no matter the situation,” Peter explained. “And I found to keep living in the land of the dead, one has to think and be like the dead. Can’t be that much of a mind blower, is it?”

“You walk without fear and yet piss yourself on command,” I countered, following after him as he led me down one particularly long hallway. “Hardly ‘thinking like a corpse’.”

“That was purely due to the angle at which I threw myself on the ground,” the man said, coughing. “I forget you bastards can smell. Alright, all cards on the table, I’ll tell you the truth.

“I grew up a vampire thrall, chained and drained daily. T’was a regular life and so I didn’t think much of it. You’re told this is what it means to be human, to be fed and to feed. Strange how compliant one is when they think of pain as the norm. Anyway, long story short, I realized at a healthy age of ten or so that I was not okay with being drunk like a kegger at a dwarven rager. Had to figure my way out of a place full of dull minded slaves.”

“How did you escape?” I asked.

“I told them I wanted to leave,” he cheerfully said, as if that explained everything.

“And…it worked?”

“Indeed. Sort of. You see, vampires of the Eastern Caste are extremely limited in what they can do with mortals. Direct demands are stronger than indirect ones and polite requests? Impossible to pass up. They work very hard to hide their customs from the world. But apparently one major exploit in their system is that they are required to free those who politely ask for it.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why indeed! That confused me so much. I didn’t understand, I couldn’t possibly fathom why they would willingly let a slave go. It drove me so mad, the more I learned about the dead, the more I became obsessed with digging into the undead custom. It led me to a temple of Epheris and that led me to the most time honored tradition there is: graverobbing,” he explained as we turned a corner.

We had finally reached a dead end. The area was vast and empty, the dim lights from the runes on the walls illuminating piles upon piles of gold and other treasures. There were more than a few chests lined up against the wall, mounds upon mounds of copper and silver coins beneath them.

“You’ve been busy,” I said, ordering my retinue to drop the treasure off but not to organize it. Peter counter-ordered and asked them to sort everything in the pile and they immediately started to work.

“Dungeon life isn’t easy living but it is fun,” the man replied. “And lucrative. I hope to earn enough to buy me a whole house or something. I don’t know, I don’t think that far ahead.”

“Friend,” I said, using the term loosely, “you could buy an army of houses and house an entire army with that much money. Hell, even a fraction of what you have could do such a thing.”

“Will it?” he asked as he sank down onto a bedroll that had been draped over a pile of coins. He stretched out and yawned, worn out from the day and without a care in the world.

“So, you found something worth stealing in Epheris’ temple?” I asked, moving back to the main topic at hand.

“Indeed! See, everyone at the temple was going on and on about all these different things you could do in order to gain Epheris’ blessing, but it sounded quite pious, long and boring. Just like a sermon, so no thank you! I poked around a little in their libraries, after hours of course, and ended up discovering something rather fascinating. The Gravedigger class gets all sorts of powerful abilities to communicate and control the undead, provided they were able to dig up the grave of someone important.

“One afternoon with a shovel and I had dug up every single grave left in the church graveyard! I figured there had to be some important people laid to rest and so I just tore through it all without regard. It was perhaps one of the most reckless and inappropriate things to do but let me stress that I was just a young lad with no understanding of how the world worked. Why would anyone be upset about a bunch of bodies? Well, it turned out that I offended just about everyone and had to leave in a right hurry, with my brand new class: gravedigger.”

“So you gain all of this power by accident?”

“Well, I mean…you needed a few items and rituals and such. I mean, I was a curious lad and it’s not like I didn’t know how to read…” Peter trailed off. He was certainly holding back a great amount of details. But I didn’t really care about that. “Anyway, so I started my illustrious career having gained a lot of power and I’ve showed no signs of slowing down since then. Frankly, I don’t really care for the profession but it gives me the strength to survive.”

“Why come to a place like this if all you wish is to survive?”

“A place like what? A dungeon full of the dead? Not much different than any other part of the world, I suppose,” he said. “I stick with where I’m comfortable. I tried traveling in the living lands but it wasn’t my taste. I’m a loner, I suppose.”

“I would be interested in recruiting you,” I said. “If you could stand to part with the loneliness of this place.”

“Really?” Peter said. “Oh I had no idea.” The sarcasm was bitter and cruel.

“I’m not the first to try?”

“Not the first and won’t be the last, but I’m my own man,” he said, closing his eyes. “I do what I like, when I like. And I don’t take any orders from anyone.”

“What can I give you then, to entice you to join?” I asked. “Come on, I don’t have all day and your leisurely attitude is pissing me off.”

Peter opened one eye. “Oh, you’re serious, aren’t you? Most of the time your kind just threatens me. Rarely do I get a gift offer. Hmmm, let me think, do I really want anything? Not that I can think of.”

This was going nowhere. “Hix,” I said. “You’re a tempter, how the hell do you tempt someone?”

“Ah, finally, a subject that I’m an expert on,” the demon said, eagerly chuckling as he resurfaced in my mind. “He has money but nothing else. Clearly he doesn’t need anything to be happy. He’s a simple man. Consider his position. Where did he come from? A vampire thrall clan! That means he’s not afraid of the basic things like death or pain. He has only known suffering in his life. So what can you do with that?”

“That’s what I am asking you.”

“It’s no point to give you the answer. You gotta learn this stuff, right? So, think about his mind and think about all the things he’s experienced. What could he want that he doesn’t have?” the demon continued.

I pondered this for a moment. “Friendship?”

“No, dumbass! He doesn’t need that either. Keep thinking this out,” Hixim chided. “Friendship, kindness, blah blah blah. That’s all crap I can’t figure out either. What I do know is that people are corrupt as hell. Probably more so if I’m to be honest. He says he doesn’t want anything but is that really true? Come on, think!”

I couldn’t sense any revenge within the man, no desire for harming those who had wronged him. So he certainly wasn’t looking for satisfaction…hmmm. Perhaps he didn’t know what he wanted?

“Bingo!” the demon said. “That’s the situation. He has no idea what he wants but he wants something. So you gotta try and get him to verbalize some dissatisfaction. Anything. It doesn’t matter what. Then, the moment he says it, you confidently tell him you have the answer.”

“What if I don’t have the answer?” I asked.

“That’s not the point, he just needs to think you do. Then, you just string him along, getting him to slowly open up to you and then bam! When he’s not noticing, you find out what he truly wants and then you offer it to him at an exorbitant price. His soul!” the demon gleefully screamed in my head.

“Perhaps we won’t go that far,” I said. “But you make an excellent point. Allow me to test your hypothesis.”

I glanced up at the man who was still staring at me with one eye open. “So you are saying you have everything you could ever want and that’s it?” I pressed once more. “Very well, if you are truly that happy, so be it.”

“Well, I didn’t say I was happy,” the man said, sitting up for a moment. I turned around to walk off, bluffing expertly. “Alright, hey, wait!” he finally shouted right before I made it to the corner. “Maybe I wasn’t kidding about the whores thing. Except you know…maybe I don’t want a bunch. Maybe just one?”

“Swordshy lover, of course! Man probably has a thriving libido and no clue on how to use it,” Hixim said. “Ohohoho, how delectable! This is easy, for you see, mortals are so easy to tempt with sex. The body literally wants it, all you have to do is convince their weak minds that you are access to all the pleasures they could want. Truth is, a bath, winning smile and the ability to listen more than talk will do miles more than any contract with a devil would do for getting you the right mate, but any mate? Well, that’s not troublesome. Why don’t you summon a succubus to drink his soul down to the last drop?”

How easy it was to forget about intimacy without a physical craving for it. Sex was something Hector hadn’t cared about…or had no access to? No…no that wasn’t right. He was married. He had a wife and children…hmmm.

“Hey!” the demon snapped, hooting a little in my head. “Don’t go back to soul land or wherever the hell you went that first time. It’s going to keep restoring you and then we’re in a world of trouble.”

The distress in the demon’s voice suggested something else was at play. He had an ulterior motive here, that much I could sense. Mere survival instinct alone would not elicit this much advice against an action. What was he afraid of? And what wasn’t he telling me?

I left the topic alone and returned to the conversation with the mortal in front of me. “I command a vast cult of those comfortable with the dead and things most strange,” I explained to the young man as I sat across from him. “Many of the living are there and they are both young and virile as you. It should not be difficult for you to find a mate. One who would actually care for you as opposed to simply sexing you and then leaving. I suspect you yearn for human contact that is meaningful.”

Memory of my wife had brought back a valuable perspective. Many men and women in society were driven to marry, to find partners who could provide valuable aid during sickness and times of weakness. Hector, or perhaps I, had married early on in order to find someone who could make lunches easily enough. Cooking had been a trouble for me. And she had been looking for some kind of security and safety. I was a large man and would not harm a fly if unprovoked, I was perfect.

Peter spoke up, clearing his throat and incidentally pulling me from my reverie. “Er…well, I mean…” he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not really a people person. They’d hate me.”

“Offer him a harem of slave women,” Hix said. “Let us be done with it.”

“You are such a surface level tempter,” I replied. “Perhaps if you went deeper with your targets, you wouldn’t be stuck in my head. This man is looking for a partner, not a piece of meat. I can sense it.”

“You are a fascinating and strange person, Peter,” I continued, switching back to the man in front of me. “You know much of the dead. The Cult of the Veil seeks power and knowledge. If you provide one or the other, you will gain prestige. I could easily promise you anything you want but I don’t think you want anything forced. I think you want to find love.”

The man blushed. “Well, I am somewhat of a romantic.”

“There are many who would find you interesting. It will be on you to do the rest. That and, of course, I will provide you with the finest of clothes and colognes so no one would be repulsed by you.”

Chapter 39

Peter Albert the Third joined the Cult of the Veil after some conversation. As confident and cocksure as he was in the day, the idea of being with another woman terrified him to his core. The human side of me was starting to emerge and understand this about him. I could sense this boyish nervousness in him and as such, I gave him some simple advice.

Hix was displeased. He did not like that I acknowledged the notion of love at all. For quite some time, the demon chewed me out about bringing Good concepts into the world of my followers. Justice and Order was fine but Love was in the domain of the Good and thus it was unacceptable to him. I didn’t care enough to follow his argument.

In the grand scheme of things, there were apparently six Greater Realms that governed the metaphysical world. These were Good, Evil, Order, Chaos, Law and Justice. Each of these Realms were actual places, thinly layered atop each other interlacing the material realm. From these realms, the Stars emerged, granting life and power to the first gods.

Each of these primordial gods had their own idea of what made the world work. Good focused on cooperation and mutual bonding whereas Evil believed that struggle and pain made people strong. Order sought to keep everything functioning like the clockwork while Chaos sought to change the landscape frequently, shaking things up always. Law governed these powers without interest for any particular case, while Justice oversaw Law’s operation and made sure it never overextended.

These great forces contended and swirled around each other for a near endless amount of time until finally, Harmony was achieved and the entire universe was created. The material realm is the combination of those six greater realms and the gods, manifestations of each idea.

This was all explained in a long lecture as Hixim tried to make a point that these were not metaphors or concepts. While there were mortal schools of thought that tried to argue about things like philosophy, they were almost always speaking from a mortal point of view, something he called ‘ethics.’ Ethics governed a mortal’s view of the world and as such, ethics were situational. One could do a single action, and depending on the situations, it would be either ‘good’ or ‘bad’ but not Good or Evil.

The Capital Forces, as the demon called them, were things that needed to be declared and intended in order to control. This declaration and intent was divine magic. One could not simply just decide to do Good, they had to actually channel Goodness. The channeled power would often stay in the material realm and thus create angels. Evil begat demons in the same way.

This was the Cosmic Order of things. The opposite forces did not actively fight each other as much as simply attempt to fill in as many gaps as possible. And once all the gaps in the material universe were filled, the only way any power could advance was through conquest. Conquest of influence and expansion.

That which we called the gods, the various star councils and courts of the nebulae, were aligned with these cosmic powers and channeled copious quantities of such power to their followers. Many times, these gods descended from the heavens to actually fight in their own wars.

Where did the Eight Below come into this? That I didn’t know. Hixim was unaware of the presence of undead gods beyond Epheris and the Great Undertaker barely counted. He was a neutral power and one more interested with sorting the souls of the dead than anything else. He was probably Order based.

What were my own allegiances? That was a question that came up again and again. “My own allegiances are to myself and no one else,” so I would like to say and like even more to believe. But that simply wasn’t the case. I was subject to greater powers. The only question was which ones held that claim?

If angels were on the side of good, demons on the side of evil, were Revenants simply the equivalent within one of the other Ordered Powers? Probably Law or Justice. Maybe even Order? Though those all seemed to be closely related, at least to my unsophisticated mind.

Would I side with these forces if I ended up belonging to one? I don’t think so. What would be the point of fighting someone else’s war? I was a mortal at heart, the god’s conflict wasn’t of my concern. Humans especially had their own concerns, for we were not made by the constellations or the ordered powers.

Mortals were born from the Creator Gods, the greatest powers that fashioned beings in their own images. Elves, orcs, humans and the dwarven folk, halflings and gnomes; all came from a specific deity, placed on earth for a variety of benign and simple purposes. The creators were not interested in politics, simply creation. They had made the powers and the stars, moving on each time. Some say they were making something entirely new even now, for the purpose of changing up creation.

As a mortal, one of my divine rights was apparently the ability to choose which force I aligned with. And that power made our kind attractive to the lesser gods, all who needed to enlist soldiers to gain ground. Thus churches provided services to gain worshippers in the hopes of gaining converts.

This explanation from the demon made quite a bit of sense. The entire cosmic order was one of people fighting one another for dominance. The struggle never ended. And the more he spoke, the more I came to realize how little I wanted to do with any of it.

Why should I spend any of my time fighting to make someone else’s life better? Sure, the gods gave out goodies to those who pleased them, including a cushy afterlife, but who was to say that another god wouldn’t just come along some day to devour all of those followers? There were no guarantees in this existence, that I knew. I somehow managed to break out of the system and there was no way I’d be going back anytime soon.

So when Hixim lectured me about taking actions that encouraged love as possibly advancing the enemy side, I simply chided him for his view. There is no good, no evil, no order and certainly no justice. Not in this life and not in the next. Chaos and Law seemed to work fine as one could count on both to govern their reality and not in a favorable way. But even then, they were just tools to serve me.

Ultimately, I resolved to become the master of my own fate, the captain of my own vessel. Getting a shred of my soul back had given me strength to resist the baffling power of Peter and in that process, I had regained something else. A resolution and an empathy that I had been lacking. Looking into human eyes, I could see humanity once more. And with that came the independence and sourness that humans were famed for.

Dwarves and orcs had little taste for my kind, that was for certain. Humans were stubborn and immovable on the most basic of things, contentious at the drop of a hat and prone to swarm over their enemies with reckless abandon. Between that and our constant innovations in wartime, such as the development of magic, we were seen as the race to generally leave alone.

Occasionally our expansion was culled by an ambitious elven army but in the modern times that was beginning to go by the wayside as diplomacy was becoming more effective.

Humans were slower than the rest of the races when it came to getting their cities up and running for they fought one another with the same intensity as any racial enemy. The development of the Monarchy and Magic, the two principles of my own lifetime, had given us the ability to conquer or raise new cities much faster, getting our agriculture and iron production up to speed with the rest of the world.

As humanity gained more wealth, so did its influence. Over time we were seen less and less as barbarians and more as civilized. Ironically, when the orcish states descended into self-destruction, humanity rose to prominence. All of the traits used to describe humans were quickly changed to orcs, old jokes rewritten with the green fanged ones as the punch line instead of the thin-skins, as we were called.

With the power to trade backing up our steel and magic, the kings of mankind rose to prominence and started Renzetto, a human territory composed of six different kingdoms that all defined themselves as independent ethnicities. The Six Kings of Renzetto, as they were known, had formed the basis of human civilization and as such, many great cities were built because of them, Tague included.

These kings never got along but any time another nation threatened the Kingdom of Renzetto (as they presented themselves unified to all other kingdoms and peoples), they unified to wage war. The dwarven folk especially learned this lesson when they tried to invade during a brutal civil war between two kingdoms, only to be overwhelmed by both sides days later. After the two kings annihilated their enemies, they went right back to fighting each other over the same damn bridge they had been arguing over.

“Never get between a human and his bridge” had been a colloquialism spawned because of that incident. The other races learned that we were violent, dangerous and stubborn to such a degree that we were best left alone.

Perhaps it was time for the cosmos to learn this about humanity as well. I don’t know what circumstances had forced me into this reality but now that I was here, I was going to make it hell for anyone who had bothered me. And that was a great many people and powers. That damnable demigod included. Once I was finished with this pyramid, that is.

With Peter agreeing to join with me, I was given an entirely new opportunity: to learn about Lorgar in detail. The Gravedigger was amused by the Great Worm and had many times ridden on his back without him knowing. How he could become so invisible to such a beast was fascinating and the fact that he was dumb enough to ride on Lorgar meant that Peter had a certain kind of playfulness that needed to be accounted for. He could get himself killed if I wasn’t careful.

Lorgar was a drake-lich, a specific kind of undead creature that spawned after a wyrm was killed in its egg for the purpose of population control. The draconic creator, Turthak, had not liked the fact that humans were often destroying dragon eggs and thus created such a being to teach mankind a lesson.

Drake-liches often died after a few hundred years, a quarter of the lifespan of a dragon, but Lorgar was an exception to this, as he had gained self-awareness early on and had made it his mission to live forever. As a dragon, he was given his due in the Cloudlands above, and he spent a hundred years in a laboratory, perfecting an improved phylactery.

The ‘lich’ part was more of a nickname for these creatures than an apt descriptor. Usually. But Lorgar had realized that a real lich would live forever and as such, set out to pursue such secrets. After a hundred years of work, he achieved his goal, having learned from the vast lich empires deep within the sands of The Shriveled Pharaoh.

Hearing about the Shriveled Pharaoh brought back some memories. The Death Mask of Gallus, my mentor and ally, had told me about this power.

The being was a True Lich, a mortal being that had long ago figured out how to truly transcend death in such a way that they forever changed the necromancy game. He held a vast dynasty and enabled only the choicest of his followers to attain lichhood, regulating how many immortals could ever truly be.

At any moment, the Shriveled Pharaoh could revoke the lichdom he had granted his subjects, from miles away. There was nothing that could be done to stop this recall. It only took a moment. Some even believed that he actually had to perform a ritual each day in order to keep all of the liches beneath him from dying, thus ensuring he had safety from the machinations of assassins.

If Lorgar had gained his immortality from the Pharaoh, then it meant that the Pharaoh could pull it back at any time. Thus…I didn’t need to kill Lorgar at all. I just needed to persuade the man above him that the drake-lich had lived far too long. And honestly? The depression of that creature made such a case easy to form.

Finding the Pharaoh wouldn’t be too difficult, either. His subordinates all lived in the deserts and Harnov, where Turncoat’s Refuge was located, was a prime location to begin my search. In fact, I bet I could use Sandrake to do the searching. Sandrake to kill the lich drake. How clever.

Chapter 40

I was at a crossroads in making my decision. Peter was a blessing in disguise, an annoying present with a powerful ability. I could use him to infiltrate my undead enemies, plant portals where I could not access and command the dead that tried to slay me. The Banners would tremble before him. With his assistance, I could probably even take down the Banshee.

The man knew much more about the Countess than Lorgar. Oh yes, when I brought up the question of the Banshee’s existence and her abilities, Peter went on for quite some time, ranting and raving about her quite angrily.

Oh how he despised that creature! “It’s not right,” he had said to me when I brought the subject up after returning from a particularly fruitless hunt. Other adventuring parties were not nearly as fierce as the four I had faced and I had gained only a paltry amount of Discordance. It seemed that the pyramid was not as promising as the rest of my contracts would be.

“It’s not right that she should have such power and give nothing to the thralls,” he had fumed. “Everyone but the mortal folk get rights and it’s cruel! I would be pleased to see her destroyed, if not for the fact that something worse will come along once she’s dead. Well, more dead than usual.”

“But she can be destroyed?” I asked, trying to get the man to focus.

Peter nodded. “Yesssssss,” he huffed. “You’ve asked me this three times now.”

“I have?”

“We have had the same conversation at least six times,” Peter explained. “Every time, you walk away content with the answer, and every time, you forget.”

“What is it, three times or six?” I demanded, scowling at the man. He better not be toying with my mind, just because he had the influence to do so.

“I lost count. Point is, the Banshee has you infused with her power, you can’t really think or speak against her beyond the usual undead bitching,” the man said. “She can’t read your thoughts in here, else you’d probably be exploding right now. I’ve seen her rip her blessing out of people in an instant. If she loses control of her pawns, she flips the board instantly.”

Lorgar said he would be able to remove the influence of the Banshee from me. Prying the wail out would almost certainly make me an enemy to her…once she realized I was alive, that is. Didn’t Lorgar say that I was cut off from her presence the moment I came in here? That meant I had the upper hand as long as I stayed out of everyone’s eyesight.

“Can the Banshee detect my presence if I manage to remove her blessing?” I asked.

“Yes, always. In fact, one could argue that the undead without her blessing are more present to her, like a gaping hole in an otherwise nice tapestry,” Peter replied as he finally climbed out of bed. The man had a bad habit of sleeping all the time, though I suspected it was more from boredom than anything else.

When he wasn’t out looting, the man did very little other than read. He had a copious collection of books and the stockpile seemed to grow every time I came back from a hunt. He wasn’t reading anything worthwhile, that was for sure. They were mostly just random collections of journals, cookbooks and dwarven ale recipes. But whatever he found, he read them all the same. Sometimes multiple times.

“But you found a way to hide from her, “I said. “From all of our kind. I can never sense you, even when I can see you ahead. How can I do such a thing?”

“Piss off a lot of people at a very famous person’s funeral,” Peter replied with a chuckle. He stretched and yawned. “Look, I’ve been thinking more and more about it. I’m ready to see some people. Try my luck. Talking to you has reminded me of how nice it is to be around folks…so, let’s do it. Take me to the Veiled Headquarters!”

“Not so fast there,” I said, rapping a knuckle against the wall. “Portals can’t function in here. The only way out involves me choosing a side and I don’t know which one to pick. Lorgar with his depression seems a safer choice but there’s no guarantee he will give me what I seek. And if I side with him, I’m making a powerful foe instantly. The Banshee will stop at nothing to destroy me once I’m back on the surface.”

“And you can’t kill Lorgar because he’s a drake-lich and one of the most powerful things out there,” the man mused as he slowly took in my predicament. “Seems like a rough shake. Hmmm. I would say between the two, the Banshee is the better target.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why?”

“No one cares about Lorgar, but few people actually like the Banshee. If she were replaced with a more neutral power, as would have to be the case since the Banners rely on an arbiter to keep their rules, it would be more to the favor of everyone,” Peter explained.

I chewed on that idea for a moment. “What if Lorgar was the replacement? For everyone, Bannerman and Banshee alike?” I asked.

The human tilted his head. “You’d need to get that beast ready to fight the world above and I’ve seen him literally gnaw off a limb because he was too wide to fit in a tunnel – one he could have just dug through. Besides, why would he be friendly to you?”

“Is he friendly to you?” I asked.

“Lorgar? No, he’s far too powerful. So I’m just invisible to him,” Peter replied. “And I prefer it that way. A thing like that…gives me the creeps.”

“You’re creeped out by Lorgar?” I repeated, almost incredulous at the man who slept on a pile of gold and smelled like a latrine at all times. He was the last person I’d expect to be wary of such a great power.

“Aren’t you? The thing has no desires beyond simply watching the world work. That kind of thinking is why he traps so many people in here, reviving them over and over against their will,” Peter explained as he shuddered. “He’s like a demented god, although even gods know when a soul has enough.”

“People are not trapped, friend. They come here to test their mettle and find great treasure,” I explained, running a claw against the smooth wall. “And I must admit, I value the system he’s developed. Many people contribute so much energy to him per day, he must be easily ten times as strong as the day he entered this place.”

“People might come in voluntarily but no one can ever leave. It’s a death sentence, this pyramid. Well, for the regular schlubs. For folks like you and me, it’s fine but anyone else? An unending nightmare. Revived again and again, weaker and weaker until you finally break.”

“What happens to a spirit that breaks?” I asked.

“Soul moves on but almost always some undead thing rises up,” Peter replied. “And it’s always more powerful than whatever died.”

“So he even has an army…” I muttered in awe. Lorgar was something else. So powerful, so immense and without end…yet he was consumed by agony just the same as any. Rather, instead of lashing out at the world in his madness, he only lashed out against his own self. A pitiful fate for such a talented being. If I could cure such a condition in him, as I could cure my own madness, would it make me an ally? Or just an even more stable enemy?

“Like I said, between the two targets, the Banshee is the better choice, but Lorgar’s no winner when it comes to getting things done,” Peter explained as he settled back in his seat after collecting a few bags of moldy bread from a satchel. He didn’t seem to have much trouble eating something so disgusting. Even my own undead senses were offended by the act, though I wonder how much of that was Hector, now that my soul was beginning to reawaken.

“What if we could get some kind of control over the Drake-Lich,” I said. “Some kind of power. Not necessarily to harm him but to cure his condition and then perhaps also ensure he couldn’t act against me?”

“You mean to serve him?”

“Only as far as it serves me,” I replied. “Though I think it might serve me greatly to have him in charge of the Cursed Land. I have no taste for politics or running the undead world. Disrupting all of the Banners might cause trouble for me but unleashing Lorgar solves that problem. We surface this great pyramid…destroy the Banshee and redistribute the Banners according to those who fall in line. Those who don’t are destroyed or routed.”

“Ambitious,” Peter said as he rubbed his chin, squinting at me in thought. “Very ambitious. But it could work. There are all sorts of interesting ways to get undead to cooperate. And I happen to be a library full of these ideas.”

“What’s your price?” I asked.

The man tilted his head. “I thought we agreed on a price already.”

“Aren’t you going to attempt to goad me into giving you more since you hold such a great power?” I asked.

Peter shrugged. “Wasn’t intending on it. I want to leave and if Lorgar becoming your best buddy is what gets me out of here, fine. You’re the boss, I don’t mind helping out.”

That was Lieutenant material. The man truly had few cares in this world. And without that same evil core of my other allies, I might not have to watch my back around him. At least, not too much. Though, I suppose with his ability to simply ‘slip’ away from me, he could become a liability at any time. Best keep an eye out, just in case.

We began to discuss many different ways to coerce and control Lorgar. The longer an undead spirit exists, the more resolute it becomes. In many ways, it is possible for a spirit to live long enough in order to establish itself as living on the material plane. Becoming a native gives it the power to resist banishment and warding effects from the gods. Holy magic still harmed them, of course, but they were not considered foreigners or invaders to the lands, and thus the gods had a limited effect upon them.

Compulsion magic weakened as the years went by. The cleric’s power to turn the undead or to seize hold of their minds is really for field undead, creatures that are less than a few decades old. But anything with a century beneath its belt? They were highly resistant to mind control of almost all forms.

Almost, because there were schools of magic that were able to compulse the dead. It simply relied on phantasmic illusions to trick the spirit, rather than assault it with coercive power.

Trickery, that was Peter’s art. He was an illusionist at heart, a trickster who wielded the power of phantasmal magic in order to control the dead. I had never once tried to harm the man simply because he inserted memories into my mind that had us as friends in life. Something so deeply buried, something that never existed, had the power to influence my very feelings towards the man – even giving me positive sensations where none existed.

He understood that it was easier to get someone to think they were going along with their own idea rather than try to force them to see the other way. With a smile and a charming conversation, he’d implant every delusion into the undead mind meant to simply make things easier for him. Hence why he simply put me to work upon ‘capturing’ me.

This mindset gave me access to something I didn’t ordinarily have: indirect methods of persuasion. While my claws, gold or ever-growing repertoire of magical spells and abilities were excellent at persuading people directly, there were indeed powers far greater than me out there. Things I couldn’t just kill or cut. Or even threaten to do so. Having someone with insight into the fractured, feeble undead mind would give me an edge, one I didn’t know I needed until just now.

Through our discussion, I determined it would be possible to use these phantasm spells to convince Lorgar that I had a power over him that he didn’t dare supplant. Why actually seek out the pharaohs in the sands when I could simply just create the illusion, the suggestion that I knew the one above him? Surely, Lorgar would not harm me if he knew I was in league with the one who granted him eternal life.

Together we came up with a plan. Peter would begin to start using his immense power to transfer these suggestions into Lorgar’s lower conscious mind, implanting the memories deep.

One of the greatest disadvantages the undead had was their memory. The spirit was able to retain all information it retrieved, but not at once. Usually, a brain was able to store the most relevant information and send it to the mind as soon as it was needed. But without the usual mushy parts that made a mortal functional, memory became a more random, almost dreamlike experience.

Many times, after a few short decades, the undead would begin to cease recalling large pieces of information from the past, even if it were relevant. As such, they were often confused about anything that wasn’t directly in front of them. Something I had yet to deal with, but something Peter assured me was coming my way. Without a corpse to contain information, the spirit struggled greatly to hold all of existence within a relevant scope.

Thus implanting memories in the back of the spirit’s history was a surefire way to cause some confusion in any undead creature, influencing its behavior in the present without it truly understanding what was going on. Lorgar would be most susceptible to this strategy.

Of course, if Peter was strong enough to do this by himself, he would have done so by now. He lacked the essential tools necessary to truly amplify his abilities.

“The trouble is the madness,” he had explained. “There are other forces at work in how the undead mind formulates itself and those forces are troublesome. The dead are not supposed to be alive and thus it causes all sorts of trouble. For my illusionary magic to work, I need a clear head. Ironically, the more salient the undead is, the easier I can get my hooks in.”

And thus I was back to square one once more. For if I could cure madness, I would have done so to myself by now. Damn it all. Perhaps it was time to check in on Anna and see how her operation had been going.

Chapter 41

I had earned around 6,800 Discordance Shards from my work within the Hive. There were many targets but not much power to be attained. That one fight had been enough to fuel me with more discordance than any other battle so far. Perhaps there would be more but for now, I had more than enough points to begin developing in other areas beyond my own physicality.

Managing my minions was beginning to become something of note. Not necessarily a problem just yet, I had many thralls who obeyed me mentally and my minions were mostly just veil cultists who were managed by my lieutenants. But as my Twisted Monuments were expanding, so was my ability to take on more and more self-aware and self-controlled followers. I needed to start focusing on how to improve my connection with them – and improve my control over them.

Thankfully my Dark Devotion rank increase had unlocked a variety of new Dark Blessings as well as a few new ability branches.

Your Dark Devotion Rank is now 3!

You now have access to the Fealty and Extension Branches.

Dark Blessings:       Dark Blessings are bonuses provided by the Monarch of Bones to all of your followers. Any mortal who is recruited will gain access to these blessings for as long as they remain under your control. Breaking free of your control removes the blessings within 24 hours.

Cost: 250 Shards Each

Extra Spells: Grants spells equal to your Dark Devotion Rank per day.

Overwhelming Strength: Grants additional strength to those who fight in your name.

Consume Disease: Removes all non-magical diseases from followers and transfers them to your zombie forces. A bite attack will transfer the disease to a new target (once).

Fealty: Fealty rewards internal loyalties to you. Those who take Oaths of Fealty receive a special bonus in exchange for fulfilling a specific vow to you. Acting in accordance with that vow increases the strength of that bonus over time. You always know the full fealty of your followers and your lieutenants can sense when Vows have been broken.

Cost: 500 Shards Each

Oath of Allegiance: A vow to stay loyal no matter what the circumstances, this ensures that you will be alerted if the Oathtaker intends to harm you by any means, direct or indirect. Grants the Oathtaker a percentage of your speed and stamina.

Oath of Office: A promise to fulfill the functions of a particular governmental office to the best of their abilities, without falling to corruption or taking bribes. Grants the Oathtaker additional skill points.

Oath of Action: An agreement to take a specific action. Functions like a contract that can be broken, you are aware of when the Oath is broken. The Oathtaker gains access to Revenant-Like Abilities while they are working to take that action.

Extension: Extension allows you to move your presence beyond the physical. Communicating, maneuvering and controlling your forces is vital for extending your will upon the world.

Cost: 1,500 Shards Each

Conjure Presence: Grants a spell to all Lieutenants that they can use to summon a phantasm of you. Your mind is able to split between the real world and the phantasm at any moment. You may converse during this time, but you are unable to affect the world around you while in your phantasmal state.

Mental Link I: Allows you to establish a mental connection to a single Minion. During this time you may communicate via images and concepts. You are aware of every action they take and may look through their eyes with concentration. You must make physical contact to establish the Link but you may maintain it for as long as you wish until you choose to start a new link.

World Sense: Gives you access to the World Sense, a powerful configuration that allows you to manage your forces, territories and monuments from one viewpoint.

Greater Lord I: Gain +50 Minion Capacity.

Quite the bevy of options. Conjure Presence would be the best choice for getting in contact with Anna. She’d notice the new power and use it at once. Mental Link would be useful for staying in contact with Peter, though it was less helpful to my immediate needs, as was Greater Lord. World Sense seemed interesting. Getting a better view of the chess board might help me in the long run, though I didn’t need it now either.

I purchased Conjure Presence and moved on to the rest of my spending, figuring I’d take a look at the two new branches from my previous acquisition before buying some Dark Blessings.

Unhallowed Shell

Evolutions: Your Carapace is Infused with Discordance! You have unlocked the Evolution branch. Each evolution permanently changes your carapace, infusing you with new abilities. Completing all evolutions unlocks a new shell form.

Cost: 1,000 Discordance Each

Constrictive Flesh: Your body can now contract and contort itself to press through small spaces. Furthermore, when grappling enemies, you gain a considerable strength boost for controlling limbs.

Profane Organism: Grows a single False Organ within you. The organ type determines the benefits provided. If the False Organ is ever destroyed, you lose this evolution but may regrow a new one for the same cost. Each Organ doubles in cost for every 1 that you own.

Brain: Grants +5 Spells Per Day.

Heart: Gain a Blackfire breath attack that can be used once per minute.

Spleen: Claws gain the Poisonous Quality. Anyone struck by poisoned claws begin to wither and decay.

Gallbladder: You can produce a Bladespear from your own body. This Spear has all of the benefits of your claws and returns when thrown.

Independent Limbs: Additional Limbs now function on their own accord, anticipating actions and reacting beforehand during combat.

Ghoulish Touch

Ghast Abilities: Your Spirit Has Been Infused with Discordance! You have unlocked the Ghast ability branch.

Cost: 2,000 Discordance

Resurrective Touch: After you slay a mortal target, you may choose if the corpse raises itself as a Greater Zombie within 24 hours. This only works if you have Thrall Slots open.

Paralytic Flesh: If a mortal touches your flesh, they automatically must attempt to resist the Ghoul Touch ability. If they fail, you may choose to paralyze them for 7 days. If used defensively, has no cooldown time.

Rebuke Wight: Causes a non-friendly wight to immediately become Rebuked, forcing them to serve you or be disintegrated. Does not work on Major Wights.

Ghast abilities seemed to represent a much larger jump in power. Resurrective Touch alone would grant me a much higher class of zombie, one that retained some of the skills and abilities of the host body without the soul or spirit. Still, none of these things seemed particularly pressing.

The evolutions, on the other hand, looked to be far more in line with what I was looking for. Profane Organism would give me a fake organ but real power. The brain would give me more spells per day, though frankly I didn’t have quite the arsenal of spells to make it work. The blackfire however, would be a useful addition and something most enemies wouldn’t expect. A revenant breathing fire? It almost seemed over the top.

I decided to purchase the Heart False Organ, gaining a powerful breath attack that used the same auric energy that my blades did. This would increase the price of the other organs but I didn’t care. If things kept going the way they were, I’d be gaining a lot more discordance. Especially with my monuments working away.

After spending 2,500 on two abilities, I decided to purchase the Oaths wholesale for 1,500. This would allow for me to ensure that all of my subjects stayed loyal and perhaps would reduce my own paranoia as well. If not? Well, let’s hope that the Fallen Star had something relevant for me…and that she used the new ability I had just given her.

With the rest of my miscellaneous Discordance, I purchased Extra Spells and Consume Disease. Stronger followers, more spells and better health meant the Cult of the Veil would be able to gather a wider audience. After all, the church charged for disease healing, but my services would be free to all who served. A great way to compete with the more powerful method of recruitments: offering healing to those who gave lip services to the gods.

As I pondered buying the extra strength itself, wondering if it would actually be worth the cost, a sensation touched my mind. It was a gentle whisper, a light tap on the edge of my consciousness. A voice calling for me. Asking me to reply. I could follow the voice if I wanted to but it had no power over me. I could even send spells through this line to punish the summoner, if I so wanted. The Conjure Presence ability was working!

I appeared instantly before Biggins, the big nosed goblin who was busy stacking books atop each other like they were play blocks for a child. “Aha! It worked!” he hooted, looking up at me.

“Where is Anna?” I asked, looking around the room. I felt different here. Like I was still back in the dungeon but still free to roam the area.

We were in Castle Fiege, in the part known creatively as Goblintown.

The goblins were small creatures but well suited to living in a giant castle. Like mice, they constructed many small holes in the walls, creating access tunnels that only they could pass through. An intelligent race with great craftsmanship and a communal sense of property, the goblin folk were quick to apply their own genius to the development of their own ‘city’.

Such a place was really just a living room with huts their size. Most goblins were below half a foot and thus took up very little space. They often used books as borders, construction material and forts for fun; after having read everything inside of them, of course.

Biggins wasn’t particularly necessary to my operation but he was useful for his ability to index and sort through things. Why he had summoned me, I didn’t know.

“Anna?” the goblin asked as he looked up at me. “I don’t know. She’s in the desert I think. I just saw a new power and activated it.”

“I see,” I said, looking at all of the other goblins as they went on in their life. They truly had created a little society inside of one room. All thanks to Biggins’ hard work, they were able to reap the rewards of my power without the moral compromises. I doubt they even knew what kind of darkness I was up to. Such creatures were unconcerned with humanoid morality. “How does the castle fare?”

“It’s been fine! Good food, safe walls, lots of work,” Biggins replied. “One problem though.”

“What’s that?”

“No alcohol! We’re bored and dry! We’ve tried everything but there’s nothing in this land of yours to distill into booze! Get us something to pour down our gullets, please!” the goblin begged. “And I’m not just asking for me. Every one of your Vellings is bored and thirsty too! They’ve even started complaining and we’re hearing all sorts of rabble rousing.”

“Vellings?” I repeated.

“Yeah, little velkings, vellings,” the goblin explained. “They’re the cult members we deal with. Mortal, intelligent and very unhappy as of now. Most want to go to the desert but they aren’t allowed. Ironically they’re saying the desert has more than this castle!”

“What are you goblins saying?” I asked.

Biggins chuckled. “An apple would last my people a week, we’re fine. Aside from also being painfully sober.”

“I will look into it. Relay a message to Anna, have her summon me at once,” I said, ending the spell effect. There was no purpose in chatting with the goblin beyond understanding why he had called me, though I did appreciate learning the frustration of the camp. A lack of vice made the virtueless restless. Something to solve though it should be easy enough.

After some time, I found my mind pulled once more. Anna had conjured me from the desert.

The paladin was in a small, windowless room. She was sitting on a bed that hung from the corner of the wall, stiff and rigid, absent of a sheet and with a lumpy pillow hanging from the edge. At first, I thought she was imprisoned and I became alarmed.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded, sweeping my hands to the area around me. “Are you captured?”

“What?” Anna asked as she looked at my phantasm with slight curiosity. “Sir?”

“Sir? You are in…squalor. What is this? Some hidden basement for you to conduct secret affairs in?” I demanded.

“No, this is my bedroom,” she replied, gesturing to the suit of armor in the corner.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I groaned. “Woman, you are free from all your obligations of the church. You may live however you wish…this is unacceptable. Did I not conquer a palace for you to occupy? Lounge around on a bed with sheets and cushions, with linens and silks…this disgusts me.”

“I’m sorry to offend?” she asked, trying not to laugh. “You are a strange man, Velking. I do not understand what concern it is that I live like this. In truth, I simply do not care about my sleeping arrangements. I have never cared.”

“You do not care because you don’t know what you’re missing,” I said.

The woman looked at me with dull, broken eyes. I could see the weariness of life building upon her shoulders, the suffering of having to constantly move against one’s principles. She was not cut out for the cruel life.

“Why do you descend so deeply into depravity if you are not willing to truly give yourself over to the flesh?” I asked. “You’re free from everything you ever were. What is wrong?”

Anna pondered that for some time, bringing her legs up on the bed as she thought. “That woman you acquired, Kayleigh or Sandrake…she is so foul. So contemptuous of all mankind. Speaking to her sickens me to my core and hearing of her story makes me ill. I can scarcely look at her without thinking of my own friends, servants of the church, who could have very well ended up a slave without ever knowing. Giving their lives to some warlord, building a fortress only to be sold at the end…it’s a horror beyond anything I can think of.”

I sat on the bed beside her, in a surprisingly human gesture. I suppose Hector’s influences were getting stronger, for I could almost emulate sighing as well. “Your reaction isn’t unwarranted. I myself was brought to almost slaying her for those deeds. It took a demon in my head to convince me otherwise.”

“Is there truly no limit to evil?” she whispered. “Are we to just become animals and monsters, simply because we no longer have a leash?”

A deep and moving question. One I had not considered but one I could certainly empathize with. I could sense Hix beginning to well up, to complain, but I found it easier to dismiss his presence entirely. I could…interesting. I could shut him out! No wonder he didn’t want me to get my soul back, he no longer had a voice unless I wanted him to have one. And frankly, I’d rather listen to Anna than that madman.

“What is your thought then?” I asked. “For it seems that evil has many layers, many faces and many hungers. There are great powers, as I have learned, that govern all of reality. They alone have divided out the cosmos and all actions seem to be in league with them.”

“Yes, Good and Evil, Order and Chaos,” she said. “I know the four.”

“There are six,” I said. “Law and Justice.”

The dark paladin frowned at that. “Law and Justice seem redundant, do they not?”

“It seems that they are balanced in the same way that all the other powers are balanced. I find myself oriented towards Justice, Evil and Order,” I explained. “But Evil is an actual entity in this world of ours. I had always thought it was a metaphor, a concept for failing to do whatever the king or priests said was ‘good.’ But it’s not. It is something that actually has a will, gods to serve it and beings to implement such power. So I wonder, are these ordered powers, are they truly the gods? Or are there other orders too? Can we forge our own way free from their influence or must we fall into this strange cosmic free-for-all where we are all mere pawns?”

Anna chewed on this. “The Greater Powers are subject to even greater ones, I have been told.”

“And they are?”

She shrugged. “It was forbidden to even ask, because if we knew the names of those greater deities, we’d simply worship them. Mortals are meant to worship the stars and the gods that come from them. Or so the Central Star claims. But now…well, I don’t know what is or isn’t true.”

“It seems the only true things are what we make true,” I said. “Through force and power. Leave piety to the others, I say. Let us forge our own path.”

“Do you truly mean that? You are not merely a servant of evil?” she asked.

“I am no one’s servant,” I replied. “And if you are my servant, then you only serve me.”

“Then you are a god to me,” Anna said. “And I must worship you. For I cannot live without a greater power. The evils gods, the eight below, even the intermediary powers…they are all so cruel and contemptuous of mankind. If you are at least just, then I will give my piety to you.”

“What good would such a thing do for me, hmm?” I grumbled. “Worship no one.”

Hix began to bristle intensely inside of me. It was almost impossible to ignore him. Perhaps he had something of meaning to say on this topic.

“Speak,” I said within myself. “But be respectful, I have a muzzle for you now.”

“Alright, alright, so you caught me,” Hix said, his voice low and sorrowful. “Getting your soul back gives you power over me. Even a portion gives you the power to simply resist my influences. I should have told you but I was worried you’d kick me out.”

“I can do that?”

“Er, no?” the demon quickly asked.

“I will not throw you out for you bring insight and power,” I said. “We are bound and I am uninterested in changing that arrangement, no matter how much you annoy me. Now speak plainly with me. What is your contention?”

“Mortals were created with an excess energy within them. It’s useless to their bodies and spirits, but their souls? It gives them the power to direct and fuel other divine containers with that energy. Or infernal containers, if you get my drift.”

“Worship actually does something?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t it?” the demon replied. “I mean you met me as I was literally collecting piety and prayers to bring to my boss.”

“I don’t know, “I admitted. “I suppose when I shed my morality and mortality, I came to the conclusion that the church is full of shit.”

“It is,” the demon chuckled. “But that’s just the antics of mortals. It doesn’t mean their system is false. It just means you know more of the truth than they told you. But you can’t pretend like the clerics didn’t have the power to wave their hand and shoot fire out of their fingers. It’s not arcane magic, it is something imposed by greater forces of nature. If you want to ignore what the various clergy organizations say, that’s fine, they’re all a bunch of dorks anyway, praying and groveling instead of just taking what they want. But don’t ignore the underlying metaphysical principles. That would be idiotic.”

“So mortals can conjure up worship that goes to deities, giving them what, exactly?” I asked.

“Authority. Without a shrine, without a worshipper, no non-material force can enact its will upon the world. Otherwise, we’re just stuck to our various realms. Devil worshippers, for example, conjure us from the hell realms, allowing us to manifest for a brief time in the material world,” Hixim explained. “This is what makes mortals useful to the divine and worth keeping alive to the infernal. They plant the flag that lets the gods have their presence. The more flags, the stronger the presence.”

“This is all very technical,” I said. “What is the end point?”

“Mortals have the gift of choosing who their piety goes to. They can even give it to other mortals, though often without knowing it. Indeed, famed kings who are worshipped by their people, beloved by all, actually often gain some divine power because of all the piety they’ve absorbed. The more popular the cause, the stronger it becomes. And of course, the mortals often begin working on the ground in order to ensure that other powers and presences aren’t there. I.E cleansing the land of all good and holiness, ensuring there is only a black night of a thousand wolves!”

Ignoring that last part, Hixim was beginning to make some sense. “So does worship give me discordance?”

“No. It’s not like that. Rather, after a certain time, after a certain amount of piety, you begin to develop a sensitivity to those things. You can start to actively draw on the power source it creates.”

“You speak of becoming a god,” I mused. “Yet…it seems so arrogant, so self-aggrandizing to declare oneself to have such power. Even more so to demand people obey your rules…”

“You are speaking of religion, not godhood. Rules and fancy hats, that’s religion. Power and cosmic self-sufficiency? That’s godhood. The rules are usually to enforce the various different alignments that each deity follows. Certainly you would not allow your followers to misbehave?”

“I suppose not,” I replied. “You are making a strong case for this. I shall speak with Anna about ascension.”

A sense of satisfaction rose up from the demon as he settled back into the darkness on the edge of my mind. I returned my attentions to the external world, where less than a mere second had passed.

Anna was still sitting in a ball, holding her knees as she pondered my thoughts. I spoke, interrupting whatever she was going to say, having come to a new conclusion. “Actually, it seems some new information has come to light. Tell me, if I were truly a god, would you be content to serve me in whatever aspect I ask? As if I were the stars themselves?”

This caught the woman off-guard. “Sir, I would…” she hesitated to speak but finally gained the courage to say what was on her heart. “I would be able to return to my paladin path. I didn’t wish to tell you this until I understood it, but I am not aligned with evil and thus I am unable to access the fallen paladin abilities. At least, not to the degree that would be proper.”

“But if I were a deity aligned with Justice,” I said, “you could stomach that?”

She nodded. “I would, yes. But there would need to be laws and order, rule and understanding. Morality and ethics. If it’s all the same to you, I think I could do some…” she balked to say the word good.

“Right things,” Anna concluded after a moment of thinking. “I want to do right by my fellow man and woman. But I don’t care about being dedicated to good. I want you to know that.”

“You seem to be talking to yourself more than me,” I softly said. “Anna, I am forging my own way in this world. You are invited to take the fullness of life as you wish, do as you wish. Justify to no one, not even yourself. And if what you do is what the people call ‘good’ so be it. You’ll simply call it freedom.”

“I want to kill Kayleigh,” Anna whispered. “I want to murder her. And not fast either. I want to strangle the woman until she has no breath left, so she knows what it feels like to truly suffer.”

“A loss of a great asset,” I said. “But what is a god if not one who has the power of judgment? I told you to make your own path. Make your own path.”

Chapter 42

The path to godhood was not something to take lightly, but it also seemed to be something I had already chosen by simply rejecting all other gods and powers. I was truly alone in this universe, a strange being that not even a demigod could understand. If I was to be alone, then I was to be sovereign. And that meant building power that could insulate me from even the Monarch of Bones, that twisted dark fiend that gave me all of my abilities.

The first decision was to give Anna what she so desired. The woman wanted to kill, for no other sake than to satisfy an anger within her. It was not revenge or justice, as Anna was aware that Sandrake was under lock and key, deprived of many pleasures and without freedom. No, Anna wanted simply to receive satisfaction.

It was a costly choice. Sandrake had many connections and understandings; she had proven to stay loyal to my cause and her work had been exemplary so far. There was nothing to be had from ending her life. But, Anna would be pleased. And so I gave it to her.

There was no time limit to how long my phantasm could stay with my lieutenant and so I drifted along with the woman, watching as she made her way through the opulent palace.

Court was being held today. Dozens of mercenaries, pirates and bounty hunters were in the audience room, lined up to speak to Sandrake, who sat upon a literal throne. It would seem she had taken no time at all to set herself up as a queen of the desert, with literal servants to feed her grapes by hand. No wonder Anna had taken a more monastic approach to living, simply to contrast with the horrors of who Kayleigh truly was.

My spirit floated above the palace, not bound by gravity or visible to anyone. Only the one who had conjured me was able to communicate and hear me. Of course, I could also only wander like this in my own territory, where monuments were located. Otherwise, I could only stay within very close proximity to the summoning host.

The Cult of the Veil had acquired quite a few followers by this point. They were heavily armored and standing guard at the various entrances and exits of the great palace, waiting for any signs of trouble. The fact that they were mostly mortals and not undead spoke to the prestige of their position.

Anna marched into the court room in her full regalia, wearing the faceless helm and slick silver armor that was becoming the traditional Velling pattern. I could see reflections of the design in the armor of the other guards, though they looked as if they had been the ones silvering the segments one at a time, as they could afford it.

All eyes turned to her. The guards stood up straight at once. Ruffians clambered off the floor and got in line. Those who were grumbling and hissing with each other ceased their fussing and became almost reverent, bowing their heads as she passed.

Sandrake held up a hand. “What is the meaning of this, Fallen Star? You know you aren’t allowed in here.”

Anna motioned to the guards. “Seize her,” she said.

At once, the Cult of the Veil was upon Sandrake, grabbing her by the wrists and throwing her to her knees. The guards had no disloyalty whatsoever; the power that Sandrake believed she had was nothing more than an illusion. A charity from Anna the Fallen Star.

The crowd wanted to leave but the paladin did not allow them. She raised a hand, ordering the guards to seal the doors. “This is for all to see,” she said, opening up her helmet to reveal her face. She knelt down to the struggling and weak woman.

I floated down a bit more.

Sandrake’s eyes were soaking wet with tears as she tried to fight in vain. “Velking will hear of this! He will know of your treachery.”

“There is no treachery here,” Anna replied coldly. “Just putting down a sick animal that should have been killed a long time ago.”

“Stop, stop, you’re—” the woman started to cry out but she was interrupted when the paladin grasped her throat with iron gloves.

“Is this necessary, ma’am?” someone shouted from the crowd. The rest of the group all hushed him instantly. He quickly ducked behind the rest of the group to hide himself after realizing the idiocy of speaking out. It seemed that Anna had quite the reputation amongst Turncoat’s Refuge.

I watched dispassionately as Anna strangulated Sandrake for some time. Eventually, the woman fell to the ground, wheezing, unable to draw in air with a broken windpipe. “To all who see this, hear what I have to say. Conduct your business with cruelty and contempt for your fellow man, and this will be your fate,” Anna shouted as she raised her armored foot and smashed it down hard onto the downed woman’s skull, bashing it in instantly.

A few people vomited from such a scene. The guards merely looked at each other. “You are ruffians and scoundrels, but we are not animals. We reason. We think. We do not turn on each other and we do not use our fellow Vellings for our own gain,” she announced. “I will no longer tolerate slavery of the innocent or theft from our own. Do as you wish, get all the sordid gain you want, but the Cult of the Veil is always watching. Do not displease us. Do not be unjust in your dealings.”

With that announcement, she waved a hand, opening up the gates once more and taking her seat upon the golden throne. A smug look washed across Anna’s face, a euphoric expression that indicated she was truly happy for the moment. The dullness in her eyes was missing. I could sense a resolution within her, a deep desire to continue serving me, no matter what.

A Foul Trade! 2,000 Discordance Gained! appeared in my vision as the rest of Sandrake’s life blood ran out upon the floor. That was a refreshing amount! Enough to continue building up my abilities.

Anna launched into a flurry of giving orders, calling for executions of known criminals – mostly braggart rapists and slavers – and consolidating all power within the Refuge. A great statue of Sandrake was erected – her face smashed in by a great boot – to remind all of what would happen should they fail to please Anna with their dealings.

Any who were loyal to or upset about Sandrake’s death were purged. The place was renamed to Sandrake’s Tomb so that all would know that the fortress had ultimately become her grave. A quick and brutal way to lock down a region but Anna was comfortably in charge now. She would do whatever was necessary.

Once we had solved this crisis, it was time to move on to the reason I had wanted to speak with her: my mind. More specifically, keeping it together.

There was good news on this front. Very good news. Anna had found a collection of books that outlined the entire undead mind’s issue and had come up with a few basic solutions. Most of them required years of work and development, but there was one stop-gap solution that could be utilized: brainworms.

These strange creatures were attracted to undead of all kind and had a long standing habit of burrowing into their bodies and inhabiting them long term. Not particularly intelligent, these parasites were drawn by the bleak and negative energies that powered the undead and would eat as much as their bodies could handle – often producing many more worms in the process.

The Pharic Dynasties were the first to learn of the byproduct of this consumption effect. Madness ebbed, sanity returned to normal levels and the ‘side effects’ of being undead were lessened. Mummies especially were fond of such creatures, breeding them by the hundreds, each specifically attuned for consuming a different kind of effect.

Such a creature was in demand within the undead world. Many would kill another corpse if they sensed the opportunity to gather even a single worm. Harvesters and hunters alike prized such beings and went out of their way to find carriers. Thus, finding and keeping the mindworms would be difficult. At least, through more traditional channels.

However, I was located in a dungeon full of the dead. Surely there had to be an infestation in one of these wandering corpses. And maybe Peter could help me find them.

With the matter concluded for now, I returned back to the dank world of the Sunken Hive.

As my conscious mind flashed back to the present, I could sense something was amiss almost immediately. The darkness of the world around was so much heavier, so much more oppressive than before. Or was this just my senses adjusting to present reality?

As I stirred, Peter looked up from the book he was reading. “He lives!”

“Not quite,” I said, looking at my hands. “What do you know of mindworms?”

“Ooh, which kind?” he asked, slamming the book shut and hopping out of his bed at once. “Thought-tunnelers? Headcrackers? Bluestealers?”

“I assume those are all variants and not just gibberish,” I said, pausing at that last word. “Blue...stealers?” I asked. “As in stealing the blues from someone?”

“Indeed, I’m glad you get the wordplay,” Peter said. “They say the undead only see the world in a shade of blue, so miserable is their condition. Bluestealers actually eat quite a bit of that sadness.”

“Any side effects?” I asked.

“Just unchecked aggression and a hatred for all living things, so nothing out of the ordinary,” Peter laughed. “I think I have my maggot flute somewhere…”

He began to rummage through a few of his bags, searching for something of interest.

“Did you say magic or maggot?” I asked.

“Maggot, as in the things that crawl around in us when we close our eyes for good,” Peter murmured as he produced a dull, bone-colored flute from a satchel. “Aha! Here we go!”

He held the object up for me to inspect. “Are you truly going to put your lips on that?” I asked, grimacing as he dusted a layer of grime off of it.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine,” he said, chuckling. “Now, you want Bluestealers? I can play a tune and it’ll lead us to it. And it to us. Won’t be an easy fight, I call tell you that much. Whatever has them will be mean and ready for a battle.”

“Insane?” I asked.

“Probably if it’s just one of Lorgar’s raised pets,” Peter replied. He frowned as he came to a conclusion. “Wait, hold up. Isn’t Lorgar the one who’s depressed?”

“Indeed. It has occurred to me that if we were to infest him with these things, he would become capable of focusing on the outer world. And if you are able to also use your powers of suggestion upon him, I believe we could sway him to our side.”

“You’d have to give him the mindworms first, which would be a true gift. He’d become salient once more and then have the capacity to smush you like a bug if he decides to turn against you,” Peter warned. “I don’t like that idea.”

“Lorgar won’t come out of his sorrow without something to affect him. If he turns against us, use the flute to pull them out,” I pressed.

“Doesn’t work like that, you gotta kill the carrier, it’s the only way to gain the harvest.”

“Then I suppose it’s a risk I’m going to have to take,” I said. “For if my plan works out, I will be able to depose the Banshee, throw the Banners into pure chaos and secure my own territory at the same time.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I suppose we will both be killed quite horribly. A shame for you that you’ll have to revive here.”

Chapter 43

The tune was singular and annoying, but Peter played the flute with the utmost concentration. We passed through many portals, winding through the Hive, occasionally slashing through a few adventurers who thought we were free kills. Each time he played that note, the flute would slightly move left or right, guiding him.

We traveled for half a day, through one of the more artic terrariums. This Hive Portal connected to a plane of ice, where undead yeti marched with greyed fur and missing eyes, seeking mortals to feast upon. Such a place was sparse, full of only bones and snow.

“Yeesh, I don’t see why he needs to make them so cold,” Peter shivered as he walked alongside me. “Who has the power to craft any kind of environment and opts for freezing weather?”

“Someone who wants to preserve corpses that fall apart without such ice,” I said, gesturing to one of the frost giant corpses that was shambling by. “Not everyone has the luxury of mummification. Zombies especially break apart when the heat gets bad.”

“What about you? Think you’ll fall apart if the sun comes out?” Peter asked as he played one last tune, causing the flute to turn towards the top of a frigid mountain.

We were in a vast valley of ice and snow, save for the small massif across from us. The peaks of the mountain were covered in jagged ice, buried beneath tons upon tons of frozen water that made the landmass appear almost glacial. Preserved beneath the relatively clear ice was the actual mountain itself, rather small compared to what had glassed over it.

Standing atop the great chunks of ice was a bulky, frozen corpse with deep blue crystals growing out of his flesh. These crystals were square and blocky, jutting out from his throat, underarms and back as if they were growths of some kind. Shimmering energy glowed from within these growths, indicating some power.

Long, gnarly claws hung from the tall, grey body. He was not a giant but a tall human, perhaps a wight or a ghoul from the looks of it. His eyes were missing; the crystals had pushed their way out of the sockets and were gleaming with intensity as they scanned me.

I could see writhing and pulsing beneath his flesh, as if maggots and worms were trying to get out. The great frozen body stared at me and I at him.

“H-h-hello,” it intoned, coughing the words out more than speaking. “F-f-friend?”

“Give us your worms,” Peter said.

“Foe!” it hissed, immediately leaping not at Peter but at me. Good to see the man’s charm abilities still worked in some degree.

The tall wight landed before me, his shaggy grey hair flying in the wind as he loomed above, stretching his back out so he stood fully erect.

The undead creature was impressive in stature and in size. His claws were in great disrepair but the rest of his body seemed to be in peak condition, well kept together and muscular. The jagged ice stones emerging from his body especially seemed to be full of energy and life.

As the ice wight towered over me, I briefly considered trying to reason with it. That moment faded as he unleashed a torrent of frozen breath towards me, encapsulating my body in a flurry of snow and ice. There wasn’t much time to react as I was consumed by the frost wind, my body encased in a hard layer of ice that seemed impossible to break out of.

The constriction wrapped around me instantly and I found myself utterly immobile. I couldn’t even activate any of my abilities. A deep sense of slumber began to overtake me, the cold…it was so good, so soothing to my burning and aching body. Perhaps this was sleep…perhaps this was finally the sleep I had been searching for so long.

Or was it death? That idea stopped me from submitting to the urge to slumber forever. The ice conditions must be forcing me into some kind of hibernation state, but I’d be a sitting duck the moment I gave into the urge to sleep. This thing would easily be able to kill me, or worse, it would leave me forever frozen, unable to escape my fate. Death itself would be preferable, for I could at least resurrect in the Barrow Tomb I had made for myself.

The realization that this was not a respite but an attempt on my life was able to get my mind moving a bit more. With focus, I was able to start budging. The numbness around me was intense and growing stronger; on the outside I could see the wight continue to blow more ice upon me. Peter seemed to be doing nothing, as I could expect. No reason to think he would be capable of getting me out of this mess.

My Transmogriphication ability seemed to fail as I focused on activating it. I couldn’t turn into a wraith. You are Bound appeared in front of me as I tried to change forms. Damn, I suppose this wasn’t the perfect way to escape every situation.

More struggle but it was useless. The ice was hardening around me more and more, entombing me so deep that I could no longer see anything but shadows and distorted figures on the other side of the ice.

“Bet you wish you were a demon right now,” Hix said, offering no advice whatsoever. “It’s nice and warm in here.”

“It’s not the cold,” I replied. “It’s the inability to move.”

“Yeah, you should have thought that one out beforehand. Frost beats flesh,” Hixim said. “Looks like we’re stuck here. Ah well, it was a decent run.”

“Don’t count me out just yet,” I said, uselessly thrashing about. It didn’t matter how hard I ‘tried’ to move, I couldn’t get a single muscle to even twitch. Worst yet, I was completely aware of this inability and my mind did not like it whatsoever. A panic began to well up within me, but even that panic was locked down by the inability to thrash out like a wild animal.

What about my mouth? If I could just get it open a crack, just the slightest amount, I might be able to use my Blackfire breath ability…though it might immolate me in the process…still, I’d rather be on fire and moving than frozen and unable to do anything other than listen to Hix for eternity.

It took all of my concentration to force my jaws to open themselves. The frost had filled in the gaps between my teeth and ice was down my throat, but with focus, I found myself able to grind my teeth ever so slightly.

“See that?” I said. “Movement. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The demon said nothing, he merely sank into the recesses of his mind and fell asleep, escaping the tedium of what was ahead: hours of me grinding my teeth against the ice, filling my mouth until finally, I was able to move my jaws up and down.

With the ability to wiggle came air. My body could pull air in! And just as I pulled the air in, my Blackfire Breath ignited, releasing a torrent of burning black flames that engulfed the entire world around me.

For a moment, I was completely blinded, covered in ice and full of searing pain. The next, the ice had melted around me, turning into water and then steam as I continued to release the fire from my belly. I might not have an organic system to operate but apparently my body still needed air to be able to use such a power. Good to know for the future, though I should minimize these kinds of situations.

It took three bellows to free me from my icy prison. Three painful bursts of flames that consumed and charred my flesh to the point of blackening. Instantly, as the ice around me shattered, I was able to activate my transmogriphication ability.

The wraith form was well suited for the cold, as I couldn’t feel much of it when I transformed into my translucent self. I flew overhead to see my foe was still breathing vast amounts of frost upon the hollowed out ice block that I had once occupied. Peter was off on the side, lounging about and trying to keep warm. The monster paid him no mind, as I had assumed.

The ice wight seemed rather single minded in his actions, breathing without relent, paying no mind to the world around him. The ice crystals jutting out of his body were all glowing bright blue and within his core, I could see the light pressing out even more. Something inside of him was giving these frost powers – and I don’t think they were simply worms.

Time was short in this form and I needed to act quickly. The gems on his back, they looked to be the weak point. Perhaps if I ripped them out? Though he was undead, right? What if I attempted to control him with my necromancer lord powers? I didn’t need to be corporeal to use them, though I would need to be visible and audible to the creature for the ability to work.

Appearing before the creature in a spectral form, I made a powerful demand. “Obey me, for I am your Lord!”

My words echoed throughout the vast cold world and the being looked up at me, its eyes full of willpower that I had not known in an undead being before. Our minds locked together and I could feel his strength beginning to overpower me almost instantly. It was like arm wrestling a man twice my size – though it wasn’t always about brute force.

There was no cunning in the creature’s mind, no sense of awareness beyond imposing its own will upon me. I, on the other hand, was far more aware of my own mental position. I could reinforce myself with enough concentration. Since I was in wraith form, there was no reason for me to worry about my own physical safety; he couldn’t harm me. Therefore, I was free to fully force my senses, my mind, my energies and even the fraction of my soul, forward into the ice wight’s mind.

The struggle was fierce. He pushed against me with all his might and I sustained for a long time, holding until I sensed the first lapse in the enemy concentration. When there was a flicker in his mind, a thought that perhaps he should change strategies followed by confusion, I struck.

In an instant, my energies washed over the entire wight’s being and I could feel his personality, the spirit indwelling him. It was a cruel and contemptuous astral being, a wind creature of ice that had landed in the corpse and was more than happy to engage in physical impulses of violence and destruction. Frost was its power, its central core.

There was a bright flash and in an instant, the wight was under my control. The spirit was banished and the undead corpse converted to a thrall. Ice Wight Thrall Obtained! 1,000 Discordance Gained appeared in my vision as I returned to my corporeal form.

The creature looked at me with its gem eyes, staring without comprehension. “Did you capture its mind?” Peter asked as he trotted up to me. He had been making a snowman of all things. A rather gruesome-looking one at that.

“I converted it to my thrall,” I said. I waved a hand in front of the beast. It cared not. It was under my full control, just like that. I turned my attention to the snowman in question. He had given it the flute as his nose.

Scowling, I snarled at Peter. “I sincerely hope you were trying to summon something with an effigy.”

“Hey, just be grateful I didn’t wander off and get into more trouble while you were indisposed,” he replied, plucking the flute out of the barely rounded head. “It’s not like I could melt tons of ice with my incredible flute powers.”

I suppose that was a fair point. I swear this man was stranger and stranger the more I got to know him. But he had the skills I needed and was friendly enough so far, so best to keep moving. “Conjure forth the mindworms,” I said. “And let us be done with this frigid land.”

“You got it, boss,” Peter replied as he began to play a rather shrill tune. After a few seconds, long, blue maggots burst forth out of the flesh of the wight. The creature fell over, utterly consumed from the inside as these things wriggled forward in a straight line, diving one after another into a sack Peter was holding.

“Oh damn, I thought we’d be able to keep him…” I said, looking at the almost deflated corpse of the wight.

“What part of ‘harvesting’ don’t you understand?”

Chapter 44

The Bluestealers were disgusting, bloated and hungry for undead flesh. Thankfully, Peter knew the secret tune that kept them calm enough to transport. Our destination? Lorgar’s Pit, that dreadful place where I had first met the immense being.

Peter had wisely opted to stay out of the conversation. His job would be to simply attempt to use his power of undead influence to make Lorgar have a more favorable disposition towards me. Not something that would be easy to do but any little bit would help. The goal? Get Lorgar to align with us so we could bring war to the rest of the Banners – and destroy the Banshee in the process.

My ally, of course, had to remind me of this plan several times. Going against the Banshee had led to a short-term memory issue, but that would be solved easily enough. The Dour Worm had the power to remove the Banshee’s influence from my body, and in doing so would restore my ability to fight against her. Or at the very least, think bad thoughts in her direction.

We arrived at the Pit after weeks of travel throughout the dungeon. Finding the place was difficult and Lorgar seemed to be amused with my requests for help, merely giving hints and joking at my expense as we wandered. He never asked who I was talking to, however. Perhaps he thought I was speaking to the demon in my head.

The great wyrm was resting in a curled up ball, his body so tightly pressed together that it looked as if he were a snake, coiled up to strike. He opened one eye as I walked up. Peter shuffled off to the side, wordless and invisible.

“About time. You know, if you had turned around at any time, you would have reached me!” Lorgar laughed, wheezing a little. His entire draconic body shook, shedding layers of dust and dead flesh in the process. “It was all an illusion. One must turn around to find what they seek the most.”

“You seem to be in high spirits, Lorgar,” I said, slightly bowing to the great creature. He was my Banner Lord, after all. Best show him his due deference. (It seemed Hector’s soul understood how to kiss ass quite well).

“You have cleaned up the ecosystem. Things are flourishing and my little ants prosper. Some grow big and strong, others shrivel and die. Colonies fight but it’s always a level playing field. Lots of food for me and lots of food for them,” he sighed dreamily. “You have done well. I take it you are here to try and slay me so that you may finally be free?”

“I was unaware I was trapped,” I said. “And no, I do not seek to harm you. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve thought long and hard about what I want out of this whole thing and I realize that I simply want my sovereignty. Nothing more, nothing less. But to have something so precious, one must become a king with the power of a god.”

“An astute observation.”

“I am a king…you have the power of a lesser god,” I continued. “The Banshee fears you. She knows you will rise up one day. Why not take full advantage of that fear and press the fight to her? Allow me to aid you, act as your agent and in the process, we can change the Cursed Land to fit our own image.”

“You speak of civil war…” Lorgar mused. “For if the Banshee dies, all Banner Lords become Banner Kings. They become sovereign in their own right and the land they occupy becomes their own. All discordance agreements, all politics, borders, discussions, they all dissolve. It will be war between many powers.”

“Even more favorable to me,” I said. “For it will be a long time until I am able to return to the human lands. Occupying myself with warfare, growing my kingdom and gaining power without offending the relentless ‘good’ powers…it would be almost preferable.”

“You seem to think this will be easy,” Lorgar bemoaned as he closed his eyes and nestled his head back down. “I’d rather you just try and slay me. Perhaps I’ll be lucky and you’ll succeed.”

“You say that, but that’s really just the undead madness talking,” I pushed. “Fortunate for you, I’ve found a solution to your problems. One that will clear the sorrow and pain, while allowing you to stay in this undead state.”

That caused Lorgar to open both of his eyes. “Do tell.”

I held up the wriggling sack of worms. “Bluestealers. I have twelve of them. That should be more than enough to—”

The great dragon immediately began to laugh, causing the entire building to shake. The world around me violently bounced up and down, and for a moment I thought the very ceiling might collapse. “You found Bluestealers and brought them to me? Hah, what are you, Velking Demoneye? Such a gift would be truly fortuitous, if I were not infested with all manner of mindworms and maggots. They can only eat so much. The truth is, the longer you keep going…the worst it gets. And there’s no way to stop it. One can only have so many worms.”

An icy feeling descended upon me as I heard his words. There was no hope for the undead. That much was clear. Did that mean there was no hope for me? Was I to be lost in madness and sorrow someday as well? No…I had to find a way around. Maybe even a way to transcend the undead state permanently…

“You have grown sorrowfully quiet, no doubt you are struggling with this knowledge,” Lorgar said with a sigh. “But there is no way out. No escape, no transcendence of death even. We are cursed and meant to be this way forever. Such is our punishment for the crime of being born.”

“I can assure you, being born was the least of our crimes,” I replied, patting him on one of his useless legs. “Tell me, is there any way that I can earn your favor to aid me on this journey? To bring war against the Banshee and disrupt the banners?”

“Why do you wish to cause such chaos?”

“I wish to gain power, simply put,” I explained. “And Discordance is hard to come by in the Cursed Land. Lepidonia should be full of such power, but instead I get handfuls for the most extreme of efforts. With chaos and destruction in full swing, no one can enforce who gets what Discordance. I will be free to eat as I please. As such, I will grow stronger.”

“Yes, but why grow stronger?” the dragon pressed.

“So that I can return to the human lands as a true contender. A powerful king who can knock down cities, lay siege to castles and capture Eris Lanyer once more,” I explained. “This is what it is all about. This is what it has always been about. The man who slew me in life will know nothing but torment in my death. And all of this suffering and chaos is because of him. So when you say that my existence is a crime, I may be inclined to agree with you,” I ranted. “But it was not my crime. And for that, everyone will pay until I am satisfied.”

“But the dead are never satisfied,” Lorgar bemoaned. “We eat and we eat and we eat, but not a single morsel will fill our bellies. Not even for a second.”

“I was always pretty hungry when I was alive too,” I replied. “I just never knew how starved I was until I found death. Lorgar, how did your race come about, hmm?”

“When dragon eggs are culled for population control, a dead egg hatches my kind,” he muttered. “You should know such a fact.”

“Then your birth was a response to a crime,” I said. “And not a crime unto itself. Perhaps we are tormented, perhaps we are in pain, but so be it. Let us at least share the misery with those who deserve it. Assholes and tormenters, mortals and undead alike, all who oppress us. All who try to take us down!”

The dragon lifted his head at that and looked down at me. “You seem alight with passion, friend. A strange thing to see in…a soulless creature.”

I stiffened at that word. Would he sense my fractured soul? He’d consume me on the spot if he knew there was some kind of hope inside of me.

“Well, I see the world in terms of justice and what has been done to you is a great injustice,” I said. “You have revenge upon your heart.” This was not a lie, thankfully, and I was able to press that angle. “Revenge against a great many people who were responsible for the policies, the decision and the hunt for your egg. Have you thought that perhaps you’d be happier or at least less miserable if you were willing to engage in the reason you were created?”

“Created and reason, too poor excuses for my being,” he grumbled. “But no, I haven’t. I have not thought about anything other than simply getting satisfaction. You bring up some interesting points. I may be convinced to aid you. But to rise up against the entire upper world? That…seems wearisome. And suicidal, if I am to be honest. I may say I wish for death but not truly. That would be easy to accomplish and yet, I cannot find myself to bring this misery to an end. Perhaps I am a coward.”

“Or perhaps you are simply one with unfinished business,” I replied. “Let us join together in some way, as true allies. We are under the same Banner but let us now be under the same persuasion. Unified and united. Without fear of one turning against the other. True cooperation.”

Lorgar cracked a wry grin at that. “Hmmmmmm, that gives me some pause. Perhaps I should move my ant farm above. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I won’t be moving my power source anywhere. This took me forever to build and I cannot make something of such impressiveness again. At least, I will not anyway.”

“Surely you must be able to at least create some kind of smaller one. Something impenetrable from the outside,” I pressed. “That is what I need from you. A sovereign land, a place where nothing can harm me. At least, not without considerable effort.”

“Twin pyramids? Seems rather greedy,” he chuckled.

“Twin Pyramids,” I repeated. “I like the sound of that. What do you say? That shall be the name of our new Banner, as partners. I above and you below. There will be many ants to watch and better yet, once we have dominance upon the land, we can begin extracting revenge upon mankind.”

“Exacting revenge,” Lorgar countered. “You said extracting.”

“We exact revenge on our target, but we extract the revenge we’re owed as well. We are quite literally retrieving what they have taken from us, our energies, our pain. It is repossession, so yes, it is indeed extract.”

“You revenants are a crazy bunch,” the dragon said. “But I think I like you. Very well. If you wish to truly treat the Banner as if it were something of note, so be it. I will elevate you to the Banner Lord and you may do as you wish above. Just don’t get you or both of us killed.”

“Wait,” I said, putting up a hand. “I don’t want you to make me the Lord. I’d become a target almost instantly.”

“And that sounds very entertaining. I shall give you the secret to raising such a strange thing for yourself, though it will be paltry in comparison to what I have built. The Oblique Pyramid requires one to undergo a rather strange process. Your discordance, surprise surprise, will fuel it and your body will connect to it. Are you prepared to indwell a portion of a location? It is a most strange and otherworldly experience. Not all minds can handle it.”

An interesting proposition. Give me the keys to the kingdom and watch me fight to keep the hill. Though, if it was civil war between many sides, as all Banners would vie for power, that meant I could potentially ally with a few of the other lords. The Necromancer’s League, for example, would be useful idiots to serve me…perhaps those Lifeseeker vampire clans as well.

“Do you think I’ll be able to hold my own?” I asked. “Or are you setting me up for utter failure?”

The corpse-dragon chuckled. “Am I able to see the future? You want to shake the hornet’s nest, don’t ask me if you’ll get stung to death. But I will say that if you can destroy the Banshee, you will most likely have enough respect to where the enemy will at least try to negotiate before attacking. The rest is up to you and your army.”

“Yes…” I said, thinking about it. “Destroying the Banshee would indeed make me impressive to the rest of the undead world. Any thoughts on how to do that?”

“Must I chew your food for you as well?” he retorted, lowering his head. “The key to destroying the Banshee is to smash her until she stops moving. But her Favor has insulated her from most enemies. I don’t know her true strength any more than she does. Without the power to rip your bones apart from the inside out, she will be forced to actually fight.”

“And you can remove it from me?”

“Indeed, though it is not fun,” he warned.

“Fun never enters the equation, does it?” I said.

“Hold still.”

Green energy washed over my entire body for a moment and I could sense the deep, angry wail of the Banshee within me, trying to hold on. My whole system was connected to this energy, hooked in at the roots. As the Great Worm ripped the power out, I could feel every thread tear from my flesh as if there were a thousand hooks in them.

I fell to my knees, screaming and shrieking in pain. The agony was overwhelming and complete. For a moment, I truly believed I had been betrayed and I let out wild curses in tongues unfamiliar to myself. You have lost the Wail of the Banshee Ability!

“Calm down, you big baby,” Lorgar said as the sensation faded, slowly dulling into an aching throb that seemed persistent throughout my entire being. “It is over. The link has been severed. The Banshee will no longer be able to sense you.”

Gasping, I looked up at him. “I have been led to believe that she could sense my absence just as well as my presence.”

Lorgar snorted. “Then it seems you should learn how to hide before you sneak up on her.”

Chapter 45

The Banshee’s influence was gone. I was now a free man once more. At least, as free as something like myself could be. No, no need to send myself into a place of self-pity. I was doing tremendously well right now, better than I could have possibly predicted.

With Lorgar’s support (and a Contract to ensure we’d both behave), I was now in a position to uproot the entire power structure of Lepidonia. And with that upheaval would come a great amount of opportunity, power and intrigue.

I would be more than pleased to spend the remainder of my banishment from the mortal lands mucking about in a great civil war, pitting side against side all the while as I climbed to the top. This would be a fine distraction and best of all, perfect practice to learn the ins and outs of running an army. After all, fielding a military was one of the hallmarks of a mortal king and it wasn’t enough for me to simply win fights by myself.

No, I needed to muster forces and bring them to the field, sporting the finest of arms and armor, marching in lockstep towards the enemy. The terror such a sight would bring to the humans would be so great it would create thousands of points of discordance. All transferred to me and me alone. Truly a wonderful thing.

Raising the pyramid would be the key to all of this. A powerful building, a great structure that would tower high above all others within the Cursed Land, the Lesser Twin would sit as my primary fortress in the living world.

Performing such a deed, however, was not easy. The Oblique Pyramid’s secrets were hidden carefully by the creators (who else but the Pharaohs, of course) but Lorgar was thankfully willing to share the creation process with me through a rather long lecture.

The first step was to prepare my vessel to be a proper conduit. This was an alchemical process that would take weeks, if not months to prepare properly. I would not be able to do this alone, an entire workshop of alchemists working 24 hours a day would be necessary to begin the building blocks of the Vessel Proper, as it was called.

After the alchemist team was finished, my body would then be hooked into a strange machine that was designed to extract a portion of my own essence, my spirit and place it into the Vessel Proper. From there, my discordance would be able to grow an Oblique Heart over a period of weeks. Once the Heart was finalized, a great pyramid would rise to encapsulate it.

Well, great was a relative term. The building would only be large enough to house a single chamber until I pumped enough negative energy to expand it. But even in its first form, the Lesser Twin would be able to withstand assaults from almost any kind of magical attack. Only the most holy of magics could breach it and, frankly, no god would care about another corpse claiming itself king of an already unholy land.

My time in Lorgar’s kingdom had come to an end. Beside the band of four and the ice wight, most of my encounters had been relatively easy and there wasn’t much to be gained. At least, in Discordance. In wisdom, allies and strategy, the Greater Twin had given me much. I left the place much better off than when I had first entered.

Peter went ahead of me, to the Bleak Manor, in order to check in with my soldiers and ensure everything was looking fine. After which, he was to speak with my necromancer ally, Targen, about the potential of an alliance.

Since Peter the Gravetongue was invisible to the undead, easily able to fool the strongest of the controlled corpses and skilled at getting out of trouble, he was designated as my emissary. A man who had the authority to make contracts and agreements on my behalf, via paperwork. We wouldn’t mess about with any kind of magical contracts for alliances; I didn’t want my hands tied any longer. Violating a paper contract was easy for a revenant, for Law was not always Just but fighting against magical ties was exhausting and dangerous.

This man gave me the power to move in secret, right under the Banshee’s nose! Peter especially hated the Countess and had many ways of escaping her sight. The idea of one day destroying her was something that made him quite gleeful.

My goal was to recruit at least two of the six banners to my side. The Lifeseekers, vampires who would do anything to survive against their stronger Sorien Kin, made for an excellent target. They were pragmatic and easily one of the weakest houses, somewhat of a joke to the rest of the Banners. The idea of an upset where they could swiftly turn the tables would be appealing and I believe Peter could persuade them to aid us in fighting the Banshee, though they would not know that was the goal until the day of the actual battle.

And of course, I would recruit the Necromancer’s League to my side. Having access to their alchemical laboratories would give me the ability to quickly raise my pyramid after the Banshee was slain. Their magical prowess would be handy and I didn’t mind having access to plenty of mortals who could be funneled into the Cult of the Veil. Especially if I were going to be gaining worshippers. How hard would it be, I wonder, to convince these people I am a god indeed? I suppose I would need to show them I have the power of one first.

Power. That’s what it always came down to, didn’t it? Every waking moment of my unlife had been a mad, unbridled search for more and more strength. Out of greed? Out of hunger? No. Necessity. My desire to live and survive kept pushing me to these higher levels. True godhood, sovereignty, seemed like the logical conclusion, despite how arrogant it seemed.

But my desire wasn’t to rule or reign. I had no urge to stake my claim on any particular group, promising them joy and presents if they do as I ask. It was simply to survive. In a strange way, this was evolution by pure necessity. The very forces of the universe were pressing against me and in the process of pressing back, I was becoming a deity. A very, very, very tiny deity but, still, one nonetheless.

Getting to such a status was going to require me to reawaken my soul, gain enough worshippers to where I was drawing Infernal energy and fend off just about every predator in the game until I could ascend. Such a plan was…lofty. And complicated. Not something I could achieve before slaying the Banshee, before plunging this land into chaos.

No, it was going to be this great civil war, the fractured Banner Kings battling it out for supremacy, that would be the starting steps to godhood. If I could turn the entire affair to my own power, draining all of the Discordance Shards in the process, it would essentially become the fuel for a long and concentrated campaign to reach true immortality. An entire war, started just for my own sake. Truly, the consequences of Eris Lanyer were reaching further than he could have ever imagined. Such a careless fool. I should hope news of this conquest shall touch his ears – and chill his heart!

All of this hinged, of course, upon destroying the Banshee. And such a task would not come easily. Fortunately, I was not short on ideas or allies in this fight. I simply needed to make the right group aware of what needed to be done. The Smiting Star would undoubtedly be interested in seeing her destroyed.

And if she killed the majority of them in the fight? Even better!

Chapter 46

All threads could be pulled together tightly, if the puppet master knew which strings to take hold of. In my claws, I was holding everything necessary to destroy the Banshee once and for all. I just needed to pull in the right direction. She was unaware of my operation right now and as long as I remained in Castle Fiege or Sandrake’s Tomb, she would think I was dead. Such a position gave me quite the advantage when it came to preparing to take her down.

Like a true assassin, my job was to learn her weaknesses and determine the best way to kill her. Lorgar might not have given me any hints but that did not mean the world was devoid of answers. I had an entire team of mortal scholars, recruited by the ever-industrious Anna, to search high and low in the archives that we had aggregated over the last year.

Biggins had been responsible for this archive, as the goblin had taken to ordering his men to collect documents from any area we sacked. Sometimes in the middle of fights, I would see a few goblins running by with papers and folders, all containing random but classified information. And since our last concentrated effort had been against the Church of the Central Star, they had plenty of information on the undead. Sorting and systemizing that, however, was quite the task.

As Anna oversaw the search for an answer, Fidelio and his team turned to preparing a collection of spells for me to choose from.

I had five spells per day and yet the ones in my inventory were rather lackluster, missing some essential uses beyond a basic attack and some utility. I needed offense and defense, buffs and debuffs; things that would give me flexibility beyond my basic combat set of charge, slash and leap.

The charge was a simple one: give me basic necromancy magic that required nothing more than a spell slot and a few seconds. I was pleased with the list provided – and even more so with how cheap they were in terms of Shards.

Necromancy Spells

Terror Wave

Casting Time: Instant

Range: 100 Feet

Effects: Creates a wave of spectral terror that washes over all enemies within 100 feet. Mortals struck are overcome with supernatural fear and must cower or flee your presence. Attacking reduces the reluctance to fight but even then, the enemy is significantly weakened.

Cost: 150 Shards

Blind Senses

Casting Time: 10 seconds

Range: 30 Feet

Effects: Target becomes dulled to a single sense of your choice. They cannot perceive with that sense for 30 seconds.

Cost: 200 Shards

Nausea Beam

Casting Time: Instant

Range: Sight

Effects: Creates a single beam of nausea energy that causes intense sickness to a target. You may burn additional spells to create additional beams when casting this.

Cost: 100 Shards

Break Enchantment

Casting Time: 10 Seconds

Range: Touch

Effects: Casting this confers a single Charge upon your hands. Striking a target applies the Break Enchantment effect, destroying all buffs, temporary enchantments and draining all active magic items. The stronger the artifact, the stronger the effect of the spell.

Cost: 300 Shards

Bloodweb Bindings

Casting Time: Instant

Range: 50 Feet

Effects: Conjures a field of astral bloodwebs, tangling all material and immaterial beings within a 50 foot cone. Those in the center of the web are cocooned. You may move through this area unimpeded but as long as the spell remains, all enemies (and allies) will be ensnared.

Cost: 800 Shards

Counterspell

Casting Time: Instant

Range: Self

Effects: When struck by a spell, you may instantly attempt to Counter it by burning a Spell. The strength of the spell may require you to burn multiple uses, otherwise it will fail.

Cost: 500 Shards

Sleep

Casting Time: 20 Seconds

Range: All who hear your voice

Effects: Command all mortals in the area to fall into deep slumber. Those who are able to resist become exhausted as if they had lost a week of sleep.

Cost: 200 Shards

Sickening Smog

Casting Time: Instant

Range: 30 Feet around you

Effects: Generates a noxious cloud that poisons and asphyxiates any mortals within the area. Remaining in the cloud causes acidic damage over time to items.

Cost: 500 Shards

This was the perfect selection of spells, the ideal complement to my abilities. And at a steal too, 2,750 shards. I had just enough thanks to my recent work with the Ice Wight and so I purchased all of these spells, 8 new abilities that would help level the playing field quite a bit.

Once I had these spells and the Castle was updated on the nature of the upcoming conflict, I decided to go visit the best source of gossip available to me so far: Zigfried.

The Greater Vampire was still living in the castle, helping himself to many corpses and sometimes to the living who ventured too close to his domain. The Vellings were learning to avoid his quarters but it was becoming somewhat of a rite of passage to attempt to get as close to his wing without being caught and devoured. He seemed all too eager to play the role of the roaming monster.

I let Zigfried have his fun, knowing full well that he would be worth his weight in knowledge. And today, that day had come. We sat together, playing chess as I began to carefully weigh out his understanding of the Banshee.

“Tell me,” I said as I moved a pawn forward, mindlessly. I had no idea how to play this game beyond the basic moves. “Do you have the influence of the Banshee within you?”

“Such powers are useless outside of her realm,” Zigfried said. He was in bat form, looming high above me as he struggled to get a clawed talon to pick up a knight. “In a demi-plane, I’m as good as dead to her. I can only assume that you are going to try and supplant her?”

“Am I so transparent?” I asked, watching as he effortlessly took my pawn two moves later.

“More like predictable. Everyone hates the Banshee and wants her dead. It’s only logical she’d do something to piss you off,” Zigfried replied. He frowned as he stared at the board, his red beady eyes narrowing in on my king. Such efforts made me nervous about my position and I found myself second guessing my development.

“In truth, her destruction is a matter of convenience more than gratification,” I said. “Though I must admit that gratification does play some part in the decision. Her arrogance and power have blended together in the most grating of ways and she does not respect sovereignty. Imposing her will upon me via trickery was a great mistake. Now that I am free, I intend to do something about it.”

“It’s about time,” the vampire said as he moved one of his castle things to the side. “Someone should have taken her down centuries ago. But everyone’s too afraid of each other, worried of positioning and such.” He paused to look at me. “You…are aware of the consequences of such a choice, yes?”

“The Banners become Kings, yes?” I asked.

Zigfried nodded. “Indeed. And that means civil war because no one is happy with what they have. The Banshee has delighted in pitting everyone against each other for so long, all to steal their discordance. They might be willing to work together to take her down but the chaos afterward will be great.”

No surprises so far. That was good to hear. “I am counting on this. I wish to rise up and seize a portion of the land for myself. I have secured the rights to become a Banner King myself, though more against my will than anything. As such, I intend to make good on those claims…”

I explained my plans, at least that which I was willing to share with the public, to the vampire. He seemed rather delighted and fascinated with this gossip and became so distracted that I actually beat him at this game. Not that he cared, Zigfried was too absorbed in the details of my explorations and adventures. The idea that anyone would be so driven to spit in the eye of every organization at once was rather amusing, and by the end of it, I had his full support.

“I must admit,” he confessed. “I have quite the dog in this fight. An upset in the homeland would allow me to return much sooner. Especially if you could take out a few enemies of mine. I, of course, will do my part and call forth my kin to aid you.”

“Kin?” I asked. “I am not sure which clan you work with.”

“No, not clan. My offspring,” Zigfried replied. “Every vampire worth his salt has hundreds, if not thousands of kin that he has spawned over the years. Free to do as they please but united in aiding their father whenever he calls upon them. I could provide you with quite a few detachments of soldiers, if you please.”

Undead forces already? “How many?”

“That depends on what you are willing to give me in this whole effort,” he replied, making a clicking sound with his tongue. The greater vampire seemed quite excited now. He was practically smacking his lips together. “You have my support already but not my undying loyalty to the cause. I could field you let’s say, one or two units? What would give me incentive to hand you my full detachment?”

A unit of soldiers was around 100 capable warriors. A detachment 12 units. Impressive numbers to have after the Banshee was destroyed.

“Right now I’m attempting to parley with the Lifeseekers, gaining their loyalty for the upstart,” I explained. “Would you like to be installed as the leader?”

The greater vampire laughed wildly. “You wish to place me as a puppet governor? Well, pull the strings, I say! Pull the strings! That might be enough to motivate me to do some hard work on your behalf. Might being the keyword. What else?”

“Name your price,” I said. “I have little taste for negotiations or back and forth. I am fair, ask what you will.”

What came next was a laundry list of utterly useless and inane requests, so easy to fulfill that it was clear that this vampire was purely obsessed with luxury almost to the point of detriment. But luxuries were easy to come by now that we had established a trading post in the desert lands.

Sandrake’s plans had been well documented and set up by the time a boot found its way into her skull, so there was little lost other than her sheer skillset when it came to maintaining trade relationships. Booze, alcohol and alchemical drugs were beginning to flow into my various camps, giving the Cult of the Veil the relief from their boredom that they so desperately needed. Excess was punished harshly, of course, but as long as they kept their senses dulled and bellies filled, they were happy so I didn’t care.

An arrangement was made with Zigfried. He would furnish me two detachments, one of vampiric thralls trained in the ways of war and then a band of vampiric warriors who would serve in specialized capacity, fighting as shock troopers and breaking sieges since they could easily shift to their bat form. In exchange, I would install him as the leader of the Lifeseekers, once the Banners were free from the yoke of the Banshee. Of course, I would also be sending crates upon crates of wine and chocolates, as well as oranges and cheese.

The vampire was unable to actually eat such things but he liked to pretend that he could, going so far as to place the items in his mouth and savor them. He claimed to be able to taste them but I did not believe him for a moment. Such an impulse seemed to be part of the undead affectation and he had no idea such an action was bizarre to the rest of us. Speaking of which, I best inquire with Anna and see if she had procured the mindworms for me…

Chapter 47

The question of my sanity wasn’t much of a question these days. Seeing the excesses of Lorgar and his sorrow, Zigfried and his desire to pretend to eat and my own instability over the course of the weeks had convinced me that there was no reason to trust my actions. Even with a portion of my soul restored, I couldn’t trust myself from the inside.

And so, I returned to Sandrake’s Tomb to confer with my right hand, in order to see what she had procured for me.

We met in the newly finished ‘War Room’. This would be where we would plot and plan our campaigns.

The paranoid Sandrake had spared no expense in constructing a Null Sphere in her bedroom, an area that blocked any form of divination or remote viewing. Anyone within the sphere could not be heard, seen or even remembered by any who were outside. Any magic within the Sphere, except for those keyed to it, would be absorbed instantly. A very expensive and powerful thing to use for a mere bedroom.

Anna had refurbished the room to contain a Vespus Map, an extremely powerful map that allowed one to monitor troops and positions in real time. Such an artifact was rare and hard to come by, but when curio dealers and smugglers passed through on a weekly basis, she was able to get one easily enough.

Books of war surrounded us, as did various weapons displays, armor pieces and a rather explicit painting of a woman, lying across a sword, her body presented for all to see in the most detailed of manners. Hix certainly howled upon seeing it, that was for sure.

In many ways, this room seemed to be personalized and not for me. No, it seemed as if Anna had made this into her bedroom. She even had a large, custom velvet chair sitting at the helm of the Vespus table.

The woman was not in her armor but in a desert robe normally reserved for royalty – a bold statement! I liked it.

“This is quite the abode,” I said, gesturing to the world around me as I approached. She did not rise to greet me this time. I may have taken offense at this if not for the fact that I could smell the fear upon her. Anna was worried that I may react with anger, but chose deliberately to stay seated as to show she was comfortable in her empowered role. A sign of laxity – not rebellion.

“You like it?” Anna coughed, sitting up a bit more. “Er, I mean, you don’t think the painting is over the top?”

“It is of no note to me,” I replied. “Though you seem to be bringing it up quite hastily.”

The woman turned red at this and looked away. “Er…well…I’ve thought long and hard about everything. About what I want. And I’ve decided that I’m going to be who I want to be and have what I want to have. All of it. Just like you said, right? Do as you will?”

“And you wanted a painting in the war room,” I said. “Fair enough.”

“I don’t want just the painting sir,” she squeaked, trailing off. Guilt and pain wracked her face. I could see a fear within her that was primal and strong. She couldn’t even speak it.

“Dumbass, she’s horny for ladies,” Hixim whispered to me. “But don’t tell her it’s okay. She needs to hear it. Don’t do it, don’t do it. You give her that relief, that sense of goodness and all those tortured energies fade. She might even lose her edge.”

“You’d truly allow her to be in torment simply because it makes her stronger?” I asked.

“Well, yeah,” Hix said. “We’re the bad guys, remember? You’re playing with fire when you start touching love. And this woman loves women, okay? So if she starts to feel in tune with those kind feelings, those tender thoughts…and she’s already aligned with her previous morality. Don’t let good aligned things into the camp, trust me. This is the opening to the path of her redemption.”

“If your take were correct, it suggests that my urges for her to follow hedonism ultimately lead to good,” I said.

“She doesn’t want to go to an orgy man, she just wants to cuddle,” Hix warned. “If licentiousness were at the heart of it, I’d be cheering her on. But she wants to find love and that is fucked up.”

Hector was incensed at this. Something deep within him touched on this principle of love…that woman. The slave who had been the apple of his eye. Slain. And killed with it was his hope of ever finding that feeling again. If I followed this thread within myself, I could explore my soul some more…but that would be at my own peril.

Snapping out of it, I dismissed Hix and returned my mind to the present. “Anna, if you are asking me for permission to do anything, or anyone in that matter, then you have failed to learn your lesson properly,” I said. “And that is beginning to piss me off. I did not take you for a particularly dense woman.”

Relief surged across the woman’s face as her shoulders sank down. I could almost see her mutter a prayer of thanks to the stars, though she caught herself. “Praise be unto you, sir,” she said. “For you truly are worthy of my devotion.”

“I’m glad you’re just now figuring that out,” I dryly said. “Can we move on now?”

Something about Hix’s warning had unnerved me. How could giving someone her freedom to do as she pleased ultimately lead to redemption? Best push forward and worry about it when it rose to bite me in the ass later.

“Yes,” Anna said, blushing as she produced a pouch from inside of her robe. “Sorry, sorry. I know you’re busy. I found a variant of mindworms that will help you, or so I believe. They were quite difficult to acquire, so I apologize for the scant amount.”

I took the wriggling bag and opened it up. “Looks like—”

Before I could finish that sentence, there came a high-pitched whine a few feet away. A crackling sound, like air being set on fire, washed across the entire area as we became bathed in purple energy. I spun around to see two strange creatures teleporting into the room, right atop the expensive table.

These were monocolor beings, made of deep purple energy. They were insectoid, like praying mantises with great long front blades. Their lower halves were more spider-like, with eight legs that were capable of scuttling them forward at incredible speeds. Their heads were multifanged orbs, with hundreds of pupilless eyes that watched from all angles.

“Breach Hunters!” Hix warned. “They smelled your soul fragment. Told you to wait. Especially considering how little of a threat Peter turned out to be—”

I shut the demon off and threw out a warning to my comrade. “Flee! I shall handle this.”

“No one comes into my war room without getting an apt description of the name,” Anna replied as she leapt up. Her armor appeared instantly, as did the longsword in her hand, burning with a silvery energy.

Good to see she was up for the challenge. I wasn’t sure if I could actually handle these things on my own…though why did I yell for her to flee? I suppose that was Hector’s doing.

The hunters acted first, flanking us on both sides, moving like pack predators, trying to force us to fall back. Anna held her position, however, keeping her sword raised and her back to mine. I too, held firm, since we were at an advantage being side by side like this.

“Planar Outsiders from the looks of it, sir, they can be banished,” Anna said as she threw a test strike at the beast on her side, slashing in a half-feint before pulling her blade back. The creature reacted by slashing at the blade. Had Anna not feinted, it would have easily shattered her weapon.

“Would that I had some banishing magic,” I replied, rushing the one on our right, slashing wildly at his claws.

The hunter scuttered backwards, avoiding the flurry of blows from my claws as it coiled back, waiting for the right time to strike. A smart being, not some wild animal hunting me because it could smell my energies.

I fell back once I realized how conservative the pair were being. They were testing us. “Hix, can magic affect them?”

“No, not magic, not divine power, only things from their base reality or violence,” he said. “Good luck, dumbass.”

Luck wasn’t in the equation here, for these killers were as well trained as I. Anna cast a few defensive spells upon us and we began to engage our targets fiercely, pressing the offense at the same time.

I threw everything I had at my target but it was faster in every way. Calm, collected and focused, the clicking mantis monstrosity was able to block four strikes and then, on the last blow as I lunged upwards, it dropped all the way down flat, striking me in the stomach with its blade.

The energy pierced me at once and I felt a cold, burning pain rush through my entire body. Soul Searing! my vision warned as I fell to the ground, thrashing and twitching. The entire interface of my abilities was flickering back and forth as the creature established some kind of connection with me. The strike was merely a way to open a conduit between our energies. Now that we were linked, it was trying to drink my soul.

I tried to resist but the power I had was a fracture compared to the Hunter. My soul was barely existent, a mere speck compared to the great vortex that was attaching itself to me.

“End of the road, I suppose,” Hix glumly said. “This’ll rip your spirit out too…but I get your body, so I guess really, in a way it’s a win for me. A shame, though, I’ll miss ya.”

There truly was sorrow in the demon’s voice. At least for a moment, because he soon began pondering all of the chaos he was going to cause while pretending to be Velking and it delighted him quite a bit.

Resisting was useless. I was being extinguished almost instantly. There was nothing I could do to escape…except…what if I went deeper? My soul was weak but I could strengthen it, yes? Just follow Hector’s mind…come on, you bastard. Take me somewhere. Show me something. Wake up, you dumb peasant fucker, I’m talking to you!

Chapter 48

“I said I’m talking to you!” the man shouted from across the bar. Hector was standing against his broom, on the job and weary from a long day. He was working tonight, in order to pay for some drinks he had ordered days ago. A classic situation and one not unfamiliar to him.

I drifted in this scene, floating beside the man who I had once been. He was maybe in his thirties at this point, still stocky and strong but without the fire of youth in him. Behind him stood Rocklin, one of the more annoying people in the bar. A drinker and a fighter.

Hector ignored Rocklin’s shouts.

“Your boy’s that Henry kid right? I saw him the other day, that nose ain’t yours, I’m telling ya! You got quite the honker and his is slim as a pin!” Rocklin jeered. Everyone else had resisted his attempts to start a fight and now he was reduced to arguing with me in the hopes of getting some kind of satisfaction.

“You going to take that?” I asked, looking at Hector who was holding the broom tightly, trying his best not to lose his temper. Something was bothering him. Something deep.

“Eh, that’s just Rocky,” Hector said to the barman. “You know he’s not right in the head.”

And yet, Hector was angry. He needed to be reminded of something. Something important. “That’s your wife, he’s talking about,” I and the barman said at the same time.

“Anna is the last person to be unfaithful and not tell me about it,” Hector replied. “That woman loves to win a fight, no matter how low the blow.”

“That’s not the point,” I pressed as the barman became distracted with another patron. “He’s inferring she is lowly enough to sleep around and raise another man’s kid under your nose. Are you really going to take that?”

“It’s a fight I can’t win,” Hector confessed to me, keeping his voice low. “Rocky the Headbreaker isn’t known for leaving men in a condition to where they can work. If I can’t work, kids can’t eat. Anna’s honor might be worth something but not worth hunger.”

“Take his coin after you beat the shit out of him,” I replied. “Punch him in the throat. Play dirty and win your honor back. Because a man who won’t at least stand up for his wife isn’t worth…well, isn’t worth dredging from the dead.”

“Who…are you?” Hector asked, looking at me with the slightest glimpse of comprehension. The world around us shimmered and paused as if the scene were truly just a memory.

“I’m what you end up,” I said. “A monster without a soul. And right now, I’m dying. Quite horribly too. If you don’t knuckle up and fight back, if you don’t come with me, we both die.”

“I did die…” he muttered, looking at his hands. “But this is not the afterlife.”

“It’s the waiting room before hell,” I replied. “Unless we learn to fucking fight. So square up and go get your ass kicked. It’s the only way.”

This was no longer a memory but a fantasy drawing forth the soul of Hector. The man hadn’t even fantasied about giving Rocklin a good what-for. He had just taken the abuse and kept going, going so far as to think he even deserved it. But this fantasy, this dream of getting revenge against someone who truly required an ass-kicking, it awoke something within the man’s soul.

He turned around as the memory returned to normal movements and let out a shout before running straight towards Rocky…

In a flash, I was back. Soul Portion has been restored! appeared in my vision as I became cognizant of the draining effect on me. I felt…bigger and stronger, like my arms were made of iron instead of wheat. I ‘seized’ hold of the draining energy and began to pull back.

In an instant, I was freed from the attack. My entire body wrenched itself from the hooked blade of the hunter and I slashed my claws through its head. A burst of bladefire, stronger than ever before, surged through my claws with an eldritch green energy, splitting the hunter beast in half.

I spun around to see Anna holding her own against the Breach Hunter but unable to do any concrete damage.

My wound was still burning but a sturdiness had overtaken me. A sense of endurance of any pain, no matter how much it hurt. The urge to press on and win filled my entire being and I found myself bounding towards the Breach Hunter with enthusiasm.

The chittering monster split off from Anna and tried to meet my charge but was delayed as the paladin cast a spell that caused the very ground to become full of red and black ooze. This energy wrapped around the legs of the beast, slowing it down as she leapt onto its back, plunging the sword straight through its torso.

I finished the beast off with a triple strike through its head, separating the orb skull into three neat pieces.

“Nope, I killed it first, you just mutilated a dead corpse,” Anna bragged as she leapt off the vanishing body.

“Delusion does not suit you, Anna,” I said…Anna…that was my wife’s name. I had named my paladin after my wife? Interesting. I wonder if Sandrake was a person. Or Garen.

“What a strange attack squad,” the paladin mused as she looked at the burnt table. Their arrival had utterly destroyed our precious artifact.

“No discordance either,” I mused. “A shame.”

“I saved the worms,” she said, holding up the bag. “Though I wonder if you need them. You seem much more stable than before. You even made a joke. Are you feeling well, sir?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, taking the bag back. “And I assure you, I am quite mad. I just don’t know in what degree.”

Opening up the sack of worms revealed four fat maggots that were bright yellow. “They’re called Mindwringers,” she explained as I plucked one of the worms up and lifted it to the air. “Designed to consume excess madness without producing any side effects.”

“We shall see about that,” I said, feeling Hector’s sickness as I placed the worm against my neck. The beast instinctively began to burrow into my flesh. One after the other, I did this, experiencing the most excruciating of pains as these things wriggled deeply into me.

Mindworms Acquired! Your Madness Has Weakened! Stability has increased. appeared in my vision, though I did not feel any different.

Anna was trying not to retch at the horrid sight of the maggots burrowing into me. “Is it working?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, looking at my hands. “I don’t feel any different.”

Things in my head began to sort themselves out rather rapidly. Thoughts and feelings began to separate. As time progressed, I began to experience a stronger division between what I felt was true and what I knew to be correct. Nothing in my memory, no note of my past, changed, but the future seemed clearer.

My path ahead was dangerous and perilous but not insane. Not by a long shot. Many powers were seeking to get a hold of me, to lord their great status over me. The Banshee was the only target that made the most sense. It seemed that the restoration process of my soul was giving me my sanity back as well. And just like the restoration, having these worms would make me a target of harvesters, though ones much, much weaker than what I had just faced.

Chapter 49

With my mind stabilized came many new aspects to the plan that I hadn’t considered. Many powers would want to vie for control of the Banners, true, but most would also be fighting for the Discordance gained from killing the Banshee directly.

Such a prize would be motivating to many and because of that, I had been reluctant to share the bounty. After all, I needed all the power I could get. But now that I had these strange worms infesting me, I was beginning to realize there was a benefit to sharing. What a surprise, basic decency had a purpose.

If I brought more people in the direct conflict against the Banshee, I’d be able to kill her. Without their assistance, it would be me against a very powerful entity. And unless I was willing to risk everything on a single fight, it would be much better to get the Banners in a position of waging war against the Banshee first.

This would allow for us all to unify, work together and build secret alliances that would be tested the moment the Banner Lords became Kings. I could evaluate the leaders and ensure only the ones I wanted were put in power – friendly or not. After all, I wanted chaos, so there needed to be a civil war afterward.

The only question was who to bring in and how. Every Banner Lord was beholden to her power, infused with a favor that could be ripped out at any time. I’d need to find some way to free others from her influence and hide them at the same time. Unfortunately a simple Hide from the Dead spell wouldn’t work in this case. I needed something far greater.

And so my mind turned towards securing the assistance of the Smiting Star. Having the aid of other revenants would be useful, especially for killing something as powerful as the Banshee. But more than that, if I could gain the aid of Orphio the Demigod, I could learn how to hide and remove the influence of the Banshee.

Contacting him, however, was not going to be on his terms. Not this time. As a god, he was bound to the same celestial laws that connected every other being. A demigod especially had no way to buck the system the way other, greater gods did.

The Cult of the Veil had many summoners and enchanters, fallen priestesses and desert witches, all who were more than thrilled to prepare what was called a False Altar.

To create such a shrine, we went out to the desert, to land that was unclaimed by any power whatsoever. Diving rods were required and this effort took weeks, as even the tiniest sliver of an Ordered Power could render a mile area useless to our efforts.

Eventually, we found a patch of null land, where the evil energies pushed against good so much so that neither could gain ground. Placing a Justice Marker attracted more Just energy that overpowered both, making it the dominating force.

Once the marker had made the land oriented with the powers of my target deity, we began to construct a greater altar around it, made up of Law energy, thus binding him from being able to push outward. Justice beings were always bound by law upon the material land, apparently. Useful to know.

The falseness came from the piety and the sacrifice. Tobacco was found, a sacred herb to Orphio (as I guessed from his chain smoking) and placed on an altar in the center of the area. A false fire, using dark magics, burned the herbs without truly consuming them, thus profaning a sacred act. The smoke of the mock sacrifice rose up and in an instant, the old man himself appeared inside of the burning, billowing clouds.

Those assisting me with the summoning ritual all bailed the moment the demi-god arrived. This kind of summoning was absolutely forbidden by any deity, as it was essentially fooling them into arriving before non-worshippers. Those who had cast these spells would be struck down easily enough and so they fled as fast as their feet could carry them.

But the elder man’s face cracked a grin as he looked at me through the smoke. “Aha! So he shows his face. I was wondering when I’d see you again. Surprised that you managed to get the drop on me though. I should hope you aren’t trying to bind me?”

“The law circle is purely to protect me from any deific acts of wrath,” I replied.

“I’ll spare my wrath if you have something of note for me,” he said. “Where have you been? Why have you resisted my call so many times? There is much work to be done.”

“I do not serve you, so I am not interested in answering,” I lied. In truth, I had been cut off from almost all magical communication while inside of the Sunken Pyramid. But still, I didn’t want him to think that he could just call me at any time. “Instead, I bring you forth so you may serve me.”

“So audacious you are,” Orphio wheezed as he laughed. “Almost like you have a bit of a…fire in you.” He peered at me, his eye growing much larger in the smoke. “Ah…I see you have a secret.”

“Then you see that I have much more control as well,” I replied. “Shall we make an issue of it?”

“No reason not to be professional, I suppose,” the demigod said as the smoke faded. There was a crackle of energy and in an instant, he was sitting across from me, cigarettes in hand as he took the tobacco off the altar. “You know I actually use these offerings right? It’s not like I can just conjure this stuff.”

I watched as he worked, rolling and cutting his cigarettes cheerfully. He paused to look up. “I’m listening,” he said.

“The Banshee,” I quickly replied. “Of Lepidonia. She must be destroyed.”

“Aha, so you wish to go after the prized turkey!” Orphio said as he looked back up at me. “That’s a big target. Why the hunger for her?”

“It is a necessity to advance my own cause,” I replied without hesitation. “And it will make me much more powerful.”

“Surely you’ve worked this whole thing out to your benefit,” the god said. “So why should I help?”

Why indeed. There were many answers but all of them arguments and persuasion attempts, something I wasn’t particularly interested in. I was no petitioner, here to beg and plead with the great being. I was almost a peer, perhaps more than one, since I was aiming to move higher than mere demigod status.

Fortunately, I had worked out an angle that I believed would work on the old man. One that required no argument or begging, but a simple truth pointed out. “You are an indwelling of Justice, one that is tireless in its execution,” I explained. “The Banshee is a being of Law, given great power to create and enforce rules for the dead. And yet, she operates with favor and partiality, pitting forces against each other for her own machinations. There is no justice inherent within her system, she merely uses it as a bludgeon. This is a mockery of true Justice and even Order in many ways.”

Orphio put the tip of the almost nub-like cigarette to his mouth and lit it on fire with his finger, curling his lips upwards in a grim smile. “Seriously? That’s your pitch? Do it because she’s ideologically opposed? Weak stuff.”

“Nonsense, because she’s undead as well,” I said. “And we are the Smiting Star, are we not? An unjust ruler who is dead? Surely, you can see the hypocrisy of allowing her to exist while your people actually operate on her land.”

Orphio nodded. “I see. So you want to press me based on my own organization. Interesting choice, I don’t know if I can actually disagree. But…to destroy the Banshee? Truly, you are a madman if you think it will be so easy.”

“She’s bone and flesh, like any other corpse,” I said. “Destruction shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“I don’t refer to the process of fighting her,” Orphio replied. “I am speaking of what happens should you be able to destroy her. You are occupied with thoughts of civil war, do you realize of the celestial battle that shall occur as well? Knocking the Queen off the board might be a good move in chess, but in this world it just means two Queens show up – with a grudge against you.”

“You mean that some other power will be installed by the gods?” I asked.

“Yes, usually,” he said. “The hole is immediately filled. Usually with something worse. If you wish to take a page from the good guys, I would suggest entrapment as opposed to destruction. For you see, it is not mercy that motivates good to avoid destroying the forces of evil. Rather, it is the strange and curious fact that when you destroy something evil, another force comes to take its place, often with a greater vengeance than before. Better to put something to rest, kick the problem down the road for another thousand years, when you’re stronger and able to truly solve it.”

“Ah the classic solution of good: let someone else handle it,” I replied, sarcasm dripping down my lips. “I intend to be around a thousand years later. Why strike twice?”

“Because striking too hard makes you the target of the gods,” Orphio replied as he tossed the remains of the tobacco – a handful of shreds that were quite shriveled. “Disgusting stuff, I expect real offerings next time. Something with oils soaked in, I like that part. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, why strike twice. The answer is that until you truly know what you are destroying, you cannot permanently remove it. Any attempt is merely just negotiation. Delaying the inevitable.

“Either the evil changes shape or it comes back stronger. Regardless, it becomes your problem once more and on its own terms,” he concluded.

“Strike twice or be struck last,” I mused. “Tell me, is this the same case as with Good or the other Ordered Powers? Will they always return as well?”

“Good, yes. For it is fierce and upheld by many. The rest? No, Chaos is what replaces the gaps of the rest of the world, often without knowing it. This is the Null Land upon which we stand. A place where chaos lightly abounds – easily shoved aside. They say Chaos is the least intelligible of the forces and thus it barely comprehends such gains. Not that it would do anything with it anyway.”

The deity rambled on for a time and I waited until he found his way back to the main subject. He spoke freely and gave much information about what went on beyond the divine curtain; information I was in a hurry to learn.

The end conclusion was this: Good and Evil were the adults in the room, the greatest powers with the highest amount of gods and followers aligned with them. Most mortals worked on both side simultaneously with their actions, thus ensuring a frequent replenishment of those energies at the highest level. Therefore, destroying a good or evil aligned being often just caused a rapidly filling gap, usually with some greater power coming in to soak up the remains. This was the cosmic food chain. Consume, don’t kill. Trap, don’t destroy.”

“Otherwise I’ll be caught faster than I can blink?” I asked.

Orphio nodded as he began to fade. “Time’s running out and while you’ve made a strong case for my aid, you haven’t earned anything from me yet. What is it you want, exactly?”

“I suppose a way to trap her, for good,” I said. “And the aid of your best Revenants.”

“And in exchange I get the satisfaction of knowing that an entire land devolves into lawlessness and chaos? Seems rather one-sided, even if it does reduce false Law.”

“Do you wish for me to barter with you? You are a god, are you not? You are bound to serve the principles and laws you embody. Or are your ideals for sale?”

Such an insinuation caused fire to burn in the deity’s fading eyes. “You speak truth and with purpose.” He paused, staring at me closer, his entire body vanishing except for the eyes. They locked onto mine. “It’s like I see something new in you. Something that gives you conviction and as such, the power to sway me…what could such a thing be?”

His scrutiny grew great above me and I could sense his presence almost entirely concentrating around my body. Eyes formed around me, burning intensely as they scrutinized every aspect of my self.

“Oh, I see. The little foundling has found a thread leading back to life,” he said. “How interesting.”

Pressure built around me and in an instant, I knew that this demigod was so powerful he could yank whatever was left straight from my body. There was no hope. And he would be able to consume not just Hector but also Velking. We would both die.

And yet the being did not consume me. “You’re lucky that I am truly a creature of justice and little more,” Orphio replied, vanishing, turning invisible as he spoke. “For I could never bring myself to eat another being. It is not in my nature and therefore not in my interest. The human part brings up all sorts of ways to justify taking what isn’t mine but I know that’s just hunger. I get nothing from destroying you. There is much more pleasure to be had in you fearing what I know. Perhaps that will keep you in line, until you get strong enough to kill me. And after that? Then I will see what you’re made of.”

Chapter 50

Orphio gave me little other than trite advice, information on how to contain the Banshee and some jabs about my failures to actually provide anything of value to the Smiting Star yet. However, that information, couched between many more complaints, was useful enough to make this entire endeavor worth it.

Law had the ultimate right of adjudication with all Ordered Powers. Law was the concentration of all the agreements, bargains, treaties and other arrangements between gods, power so concrete that it had become self-aware. At least, in the sense that it could actually enforce the terms of the agreements made. Those things that appeared in my vision, the letters often telling me of my actions and abilities, these were the remnants of Law, built into the very foundation of being.

Such a versatile power had no interest in morality beyond enforcement of an agreement. And since Law was technically the strongest of the Ordered Powers, though completely and utterly toothless without cause, many beings of other alignments used it to bind their foes.

Already the plan was beginning to form in my mind. Using a Circle of Pure Law and Justice, we could entrap the Banshee within an area, allowing my forces to attack her without relent. Once her physical vessel was destroyed, the Circle would seal her spirit and prevent it from being able to go anywhere. From there, all I had to do was simply bind the wailing bitch to an appropriate vessel and her reign would be over, swift and sound.

The vessel? What other than the Heart of the Pyramid itself? The dead were naturally servants and the Banshee was no different. Placing her spirit within a living vessel would occupy all of her energies, stretching her faculties in a way that gave back reason and sanity. Her power would be stripped, gone to fuel the vast needs of the Unliving Pyramid, but her ability to think and respond to problems would still be intact.

Would it be a torturous existence? Doubtful. Being bound to a vessel meant one did not have the unliving flesh or ectoplasmic spirit that suffered. The pain would be gone. The mind could even sleep. Indeed, such a condition was almost a gift; something to envy. Her concern would no longer be about survival but simply managing the world she indwelled. Perhaps I could hope such a fate would be my own, if I could not win this game.

Yet, the thoughts of loss were far from my mind, now that I had solid advice on how to capture the Banshee. Instead, war became my preoccupation, an all-out assault on the Banshee herself.

My target was unique in that she was omnipresent within Lepidonia while still occupying a single form. The Banshee’s ‘body’ traveled wherever her focus gathered the most, but in reality the entire haze around the Cursed Lands was, in fact, her. Thus her eyes were everywhere, sweeping and scanning. Some even believed that she could be breathed in by mortals and thus learn their thoughts.

The extent of the Countess’ power was overstated in my opinion. She kept all the Dead Lords fighting against one another in order to keep them permanently weakened. Without unity, they were never in a place to be able to threaten her authority. This indicated, to me at least, that her abilities may not be best suited for combat.

Her expansive presence, however, created the sense that she was all-powerful. The sheer ability to know everything happening on one’s land does indeed confer an impression that one is helpless in her clutches. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter how much of her essence can fill a country, all that matters is how strong she is in a fight.

Therefore, my plan was to directly assault the Crimson Castle. It would be a brazen, out-right attack meant to attract her attention. The Banshee would undoubtedly take delight in the sight of a war party moving towards her castle and allow us to make an impression. She may even be excited at the chance to face the thrill of mortal combat.

Regardless, she would be unaware of Peter’s machinations and handiwork during this time. We were both operating blind of each other. A plan had been formed and no information was to be exchanged between groups, knowing that we wouldn’t have the full picture until the actual battle. The enemy couldn’t know what we were doing if we didn’t.

Peter’s mission was to prepare the castle for the siege without her knowledge. Such an operation was difficult and required a considerable amount of money to achieve.

Ah yes, that was the great discovery when Peter indirectly first sent a request for a few thousand pieces of gold. Almost everyone was willing to sell the other out, in exchange for gifts and monetary compensation. Indeed, every private conversation had yielded a baffling need for coin that was rather low compared to how much value they were providing. I suppose it showed how little these organizations gave them.

Thanks to our capture of Sandrake’s Tomb, we had more than enough gold on our hand. Anna’s tax policy was far more favorable to our needs and our generation of gold was enough to grease the palms of these cruel and callous workers from the various Banners.

The task of getting money to Peter was more difficult than simply having the coin on hand. Transporting currencies through portals was easy enough but if my portal in the Bleak Manor was used, she would know and thus wonder why large quantities of coin were coming in.

Instead, we had to do things the old fashioned way: employing smugglers. Thankfully, there were quite a few pirates and freebooters in the desert who were available for hire. They found it strange that we wanted to get coin, legal tender, of all things, into another country but they didn’t ask many questions. Their goal was simply to get Peter his funding as well as establish a smuggling network within Lepidonia.

I was not interested in making money off such a practice. Rather, it would simply be useful to have access to a band of smugglers who were friendly to me due to our business arrangements. They’d be able to do anything they want in the lands of Lepidonia, as long as they gave our orders preferential and secret treatment.

Biggins was placed over the Smuggler’s Ring to ensure it ran smoothly. His payment would be in liquor, thus giving him the exclusive power to give out booze to people within Castle Fiege. Such a position of power elevated him to authority within the camp and many were quickly becoming his ‘best’ friend in the hopes of getting some top quality alcohol. He quite enjoyed his status and promised me that Invisible Folk, as he called the organization, would meet all of my administrative needs.

The Invisible Folk were unaware of my existence as a whole. All they knew was that Mr. Big (the best moniker Biggins came up with) was their client and he was a goblin who had refined tastes and high ambitions. A few of the higher ups knew Anna and about the Cult of the Veil but they had joined as members and thus could be trusted to keep a secret.

All who knew directly of me and my plans would remain in the desert. The shippers hired to start the journey would not be the ones to finish it. With careful precision, I was able to ensure that I had a wall of separation between Lepidonia and myself – all the while ensuring my will would be enacted as I saw fit.

Biggins would be given the order, then he’d send runners to make contact in the desert, who would then send ravens with the proper instructions to the Invisible Folk. A complicated process but this involved no magic whatsoever and therefore, the Banshee could not sense it. She was omnipresent but far from omniscient. My influence would grow underneath her nose. All I needed was to find the right way to hide from her senses – then I’d be able to walk right up to her castle and knock on the door, my army in tow. The only question was, how exactly does the dead hide their lack of presence?

Chapter 51

Moira was the answer to my question about how to hide. The young witch had quite hated her tenure under Fidelio’s wing and spent the majority of her time hiding from him, shirking her responsibilities and otherwise avoiding work. At first, she had believed that I was here to levy judgment for her truancy.

“Ah crap, you’re back!” the bald woman yelped as I entered her laboratory. Despite her long period of time being with our camp, Moira didn’t seem any healthier. Her skin was still pale and bruised, the scars and cuts on her flesh refusing to heal. Her eyes were sunken deeply and she stood with the usual hunch of someone brutally broken by life.

“Calm yourself, I have no interest in settling whatever argument you are having with Fidelio,” I said. “If that idiot cannot tame you, it will be his head, not yours.”

The woman smirked. “You give me quite the incentive to misbehave then.”

“Seems like you don’t need it,” I said, gesturing to the laboratory around us. “I have given you everything you could want. A library full of books, magical items and foods that you’d never have access to in your witch community. Why do you kick so hard against the few duties you have?”

This was more of an interested question than calling her out. Magic users had great power, true, but they tended to have specific needs. Ignoring them would only make her grow worse. They were, in many ways, like children. I suppose I should have learned that lesson before downgrading Fidelio permanently. Oh well.

Moira frowned as she walked over to a corpse that was lying on the table. “Do you see this? A zombie. I’ve reanimated the fifteenth one this week and I’m sick of it. Fidelio gives me no challenges and seeks no difficulty for himself. Rather, he gloats about his research – but I’ve peeked!”

“Have you now?”

“Indeed and it’s rubbish, the man doesn’t know a thing about his craft. He just knows sorcery. Innate magic, he’s basically a witch. Just less sexy.” She ran her hands down her whole body in mockery.

“He’s…not a wizard?” I asked.

“He thinks he is but it’s clear as day the dumbass just pushes his will into magic and that’s why it works. But he’s undisciplined in his true craft, he sits around reading and writing. No way to cultivate your power. It’s miserable,” Moira explained. “I’ve tried to tell or hint but he just won’t listen. Convinced that he’ll…”

The gossiping witch paused, eyes opening wide as she realized she had almost spilled a very vital secret.

“That he’ll what?” I asked.

“You know, break out and become independent,” she muttered, putting up her hands in resigned protest. A sick look spread across her face. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to rat him out. I swear, I’m not vindictive. I just crave attention and will say anything to keep people focused on me.”

“I think that is the most honest thing you have ever said,” I replied, patting her on the shoulder. “Fidelio is an idiot but a useful one. He has no power to break out and if he ever does, frankly, it might just get him promoted instead of killed. And if you say he is more of a sorcerer than a wizard, perhaps it means he is just going to be bashing his head against one giant wall for eternity.”

“You won’t tell him?”

“If he wouldn’t listen to you, why would he listen to me?” I asked. “I’d rather soak in…yes, I’d rather enjoy seeing him discover this in a few hundred years, once he’s exhausted everything in his arsenal.”

“Sounds like those worms have fixed you up a bit,” Moira said. “I would expect you to tear him to pieces for sedition.”

“It seems to be part and parcel for the path of evil, people attempting to devour each other like wild animals,” I confessed. “I hope to eradicate such thinking in our camp. And perhaps that requires a certain kind of mercy to idiots with more ambition than skill. If Fidelio is not working out, I will move you elsewhere. Now, tell me how I may hide my presence or lack thereof from the Banshee.”

“Wow, you’re just going to ask for a very hard thing,” the woman laughed. She rubbed the back of her scarred head in thought. “Hmm…the Coven learned that it was easier to keep her occupied than it was to keep her off of your back. We had a few spells to hide our presence but they were more like…have you ever heard of a firework?”

“Aganis the Wonderworker invented them in Tague, actually,” I said. “It was the one proudest claim to fame of our people.”

“Every city claims that,” she hissed. “But anyway, if you set off magical fireworks, it will hide your presence. Large bursts of energy that would draw her attention instantly. Between that and a Sense Banshee spell, you’ll be able to see where her eyes and ears are at all times.”

“Seems loud and dangerous,” I replied. “I don’t want her distracted, I want to be concealed.”

“Fascination and occupation are the best ways to keep something so strong at bay. Otherwise, I can’t think of a spell beyond Greater Hide from the Dead and something like that is going to require quite a bit of spell power.”

“So why not use that? It’s not like I’m lacking magicians and wizards by the dozens at this point,” I said.

“That is one expensive spell we’re talking about. The kind that usually needs hundreds, if not thousands of casters who are well trained. Or one extremely high level wizard who is generous and willing to share their magic for some kind of price.”

More wizards? “When you say spellpower, you mean what, exactly?” I asked.

“Every spell has a bit of a charge inside of it, a manaspark. The more manaspark generated, the stronger the spell. But some spells require so much manaspark it’s almost impossible to cast without being connected to greater supplies,” she explained. “And in this case, the best supplies are mortal hosts, spellcasters who can do rituals and such to increase the strength of their own spark and others.”

“Seems that there are probably ways to generate more of this energy than with just flesh and blood,” I mused. “Perhaps an artifact or item?”

Moira’s eyes darted left to right for a moment and she bit her lip.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, I know very well that you know something. What is it?”

“You keep pushing for more and more, trying to squeeze as much power out of the world that you can…but you simply don’t have the capacity right now,” she confessed. “You are, in other words, pushing too hard. You want to fight the Banshee? Fine. That alone is going to take a colossal amount of power and energy. Spending more power to just ‘sneak up’ on an ancient being that probably knows your every move anyway…it’s a waste.”

The plainness in her words was quite refreshing. “I thank you for your honesty,” I said. “What do you recommend?”

Moira seemed taken off-guard by my humility. She hadn’t expected me to listen. “Er, what?”

“You understand the Banshee and the Cursed Lands greater than I. If you think my attempts to move in silence are wasted, you must know some other way.”

“Hard and fast. Shock and awe,” she replied. “The Banshee is powerful but she won’t have a chance if you come in with firepower instead of cunning. How do I know this? Because the Banshee is already cunning. You know this, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do,” I said.

“Focus your energies on winning, not getting a single advantage,” Moira continued. “Otherwise, you’ll do the same stupid thing I’ve seen warrior, king and leader do time after time.”

I gestured for her to continue. “Many times, I have seen smart men convince themselves that there was a single ‘strategy’ or ‘advantage’ that could overwhelm their enemies. They spend all of their time and resources building up and in the end? Something always goes amiss in the first ten seconds of the fight and their entire plan changes. Usually for the worst. The strongest way to fight is to focus on adapting in the moment and employing the most overwhelming amount of force in a single instance.”

“Are you a military tactician?”

“No, I’m just not an idiot. Why strike twice?” she said, echoing my own sentiments. “The first plan always falls apart because you have unknowns. What most generals try to do is figure out all of the angles, put everything in place – but what are the chances your enemy isn’t the exact same?”

I nodded at that. “Interesting. So you are saying over preparation can kill me?”

Moira smiled. “Now you’re getting it. Yeah, that’s the situation. The best preparation is the strongest possible application of power in the shortest amount of time. So I say, draw the Banshee out and straight up attack her. No cunning moves, no clever movements that she can set against you in the last moment. Pure, brute force.”

This was certainly a counterview from Anna, who was overly cautious and ensured that we focused on every part of a plan before we engaged with the enemy. Shock and awe…had some appeal to it, however. Especially since it would allow me to focus my attentions on destroying the Banshee outright, instead of maneuvering.

After my conversation with Moira, I was left to my own devices, quite literally. Castle Fiege had a wide array of siege engines that we had liberated, built or even purchased over the last few months. From the iron battering ram to the multi-pronged wall-electrified, these huge weapons of war were designed to crack open a castle like a walnut.

An outright assault? I could do something of that degree. The dead orc zombies made for excellent carriers of these weapons…I just needed to make some modifications.

Chapter 52

The War Council was called. Among attendance was Anna, Moira and representatives from the three Banners who were joining us in our coup.

The Necromancer League was more than thrilled at the idea of supplanting their wicked ruler. Mortals had no rights in the undead lands due to the Banshee’s whims and this had built a great coalition of resistance right under her nose.

Since most mortals never dealt directly with the Banshee, there was little worry of her being able to penetrate the thoughts of the servants who worked in the shadows on behalf of the League. These servants, known as the Voiceless since they lacked the Banshee’s blessing, were able to operate behind the scenes. Peter knew them quite well and was able to connect our circles together without tying it back to my influence.

The Lifeseekers were harder to convince due to the total control the Banshee had over the vampiric people. Thankfully with the Voiceless on our side, we were able to at least get the idea that they needed to send someone outside of Banshee country to meet with us. After that, it was a long and arduous argument between both sides; Anna and Zigfried trying to convince them that survival required betrayal of their greatest enemy and the Lifeseekers trying to get out of any responsibility whatsoever. It was…tedious.

Eventually we wore them down, and Baron Elkhar the Lesser pledged that the Lifeseeker Clan would support us in our work, as indirectly as possible. The cowards would not agree to an all-out siege and thus without their support, Zigfried wouldn’t pledge his troops to the battle with the Banshee. Instead, the Lifeseekers would work as enforcers of our new border once the civil war broke out.

The last Banner Clan was that of the Dreary Serpent. They contacted us first and inquired as to how they could be of assistance.

This Banner was much different from the others in that they were really only interested in furthering their own resources, not position. In fact, part of our negotiation with the Dreary Serpent was that they would give up their Banner to a new faction, since they were uninterested in being part of the civil war. Arming it, however? They saw great profit in becoming neutral weapons sellers.

The Serpent could acquire the necessary ‘tools’ to dispose of the Banshee. Among them was a Bonded Vessel-stone, a smooth artifact that could hold the Banshee’s spirit until it was time to transfer her to the Pyramid’s Heart. Hard to pass up this opportunity.

Of course, their assistance wasn’t free. Beyond simple political agreements, they wanted resources as well and that translated to more gold. Far more than we had in stock. And what we had was far less than what could get us any credit with them.

My solution to the problem was immediately shot down: seizing all wealth from the merchants and guilders who had found their safety in the walls of Sandrake’s Tomb. This would only cripple our efforts in the future, since no merchant would ever come here again. At least, that’s what Anna lectured at a length after I brought the topic up.

Instead, we turned our attentions to the various dungeons located within the desert region. Raising a few dozen ghouls overnight, Sir Garen laid siege to these places, swarming them with so many corpses that no one stood a chance, monster or mortal who was trying to plunder.

Two weeks of concentrated siege to one particularly large dungeon yielded so much wealth that we were able to not only pay the Dreary Serpent their fee to join our cause, we were also able to acquire a few higher level artifacts on the black market as well.

The rest of the Banners were ignorant of our plans. The lycanthropic people, the Nightsun Worshippers, traditionally did not ally with outsiders due to their history with mortals. They would not be interested in starting a civil war. The other vampiric clans were most likely going to fracture into their own splintered groups, fighting for dominance, leaving the land purely in chaos. A prime place to reap the majority of the rewards for my labor.

At the War Council Summit, which contained a great amount of boring detail that I can scarcely remember, so mind-numbingly pedantic were the planners, a plan was agreed upon. Every party took a pledge to do their part in the preparation, attack and aftermath. Weapons of war were secured, battle plans drawn up and a sense of unease settled across all as we began to regard the difficulty of what lay ahead. We were going to try and unhorse one of the oldest powers in the land. Such a feat would be historic, if we could pull it off. The only question was whether we could truly trust everyone to do their part…

As for my personal preparations, it was finally time for me to harvest my Blacksails Monuments. Both of them had been working for months without being touched and I was excited to see what the end total would be of such an investment of power. Now, more than ever, I needed an infusion of Discordance that would help level the gap between the Banshee and I.

Thanks to the Remote Harvesting ability, I was able to pull from both Monuments at the same time. Harvest Complete! appeared in my vision as the Discordance surged through my entire system. 4,200 Discordance Gained!

That was plenty to give me a pair of extremely strong buff spells that Fidelio had prepared for this battle: Flight and Match Proportions. Both of them were enhanced versions that would last for the duration of an entire hour. In addition, if I were struck by a dispel effect, I could always recast them, as they took only a matter of seconds to activate.

Flight was rather effective. When activated, I could move through the air as if I were being propelled by invisible wings. There was some degree of maneuvering and control that I had to learn, but after some time the movement became like second nature. I could push off the air and charge any time I liked.

The downside to Flight was twofold. First, when I was maintaining the spell, I wouldn’t be able to cast any other spells for the duration. So that meant I couldn’t adapt to enemy spells as they came up. The second downside was that my momentum was not fully under control because of factors such as wind, displacement of air and the way my strikes affected the flight pattern. I was not weightless and flying was not effortless, it took energy and focus to do well.

And yet, having the power to simply avoid any lesser fight would allow for me to go right after the Banshee, engaging in direct combat without having to worry about her goons below.

The second spell, Match Proportions, would allow me to engage with my target regardless of how much she grew. As an ethereal being, the Banshee had the power to alter her proportions as well as my own senses, therefore ‘growing’ while also manipulating my understanding of her size. In other words, she had the power to control where I saw her as well as what size she looked.

Match Properties would solidify my senses and allow me to take on a more ethereal form, growing in equal size as my target. No matter how she tried to change her size, be it through direct magic or sense trickery, I would always perceive her to match my height. This would make direct combat much easier. And thankfully, there were no downsides to that spell. The duration lasted for twelve hours and I could change targets if I needed to, so all I had to do was cast this first, then Flight. That would give me everything I’d need to handle the Banshee in hand to hand combat. Let’s see her shriek her way out of that!

Chapter 53

Time moved like a whirlwind. The normally painstaking crawl of the world around me had hurried to a substantial pace, now that I was honed in on a single goal: destroy the Banshee and disrupt the Banners.

It had taken almost a year of preparation, time that seemed to pass like days before me, but when all was said and done, everything was in place. All remaining Discordance I had was fueling into the pyramid’s vessel, something that I discovered could be created well in advance of the battle.

Our weapons were procured, troops subtly moved into position and the Crimson Castle was carefully seeded with the elements of a perfect Law trap, encircling the Banshee within multiple powerful bands of energy that would make impossible for her to escape. Even if she could break out of the courtyard bonds, there were three other circles around and within the castle that would corral her. The Countess would not escape.

I stood before a great army of soldiers, mostly undead orcs that were armed with swords and spears, watching as Sir Garen brought his ranks into the fold. Hundreds of wights and ghouls were now under our control through Sir Garren’s command. Using them in war was risky, since each destruction caused pain to the controlling Wight, but using them as support and siege engine operators? They all acted according to Garen’s mind and thus could respond to any command I gave during the battle.

Anna stood on my right side and Fidelio on my left. “Are you prepared, my liege?” Anna asked as she closed her helm around her face, taking upon the terrifying visage of my lesser counterpart.

We were both in our full regalia today, for the days of espionage and sneaking around were over. The Cursed Land was going to meet the Great Velking Demoneyed and the Cult of the Veil in full force and I intended to fly my banners during the battle. If successful, I would capture the Castle and secure it for the purposes of the Dreary Serpent, as was part of the arrangement.

Even though my banners would hang from the Crimson Castle after our conquest, the Serpent was going to operate within the full safety of the land without having to protect themselves. My job was to look after the castle but otherwise leave the occupants alone. Hopefully it would still be known as a more neutral ground to conduct business and such. Otherwise it would be a constant siege ground and therefore not where I’d be putting my pyramid.

“Indeed,” I said, putting my hand forward. “When I open the portal, this is it. No going back.”

“Then I suppose we should get it over with,” Fidelio grumbled. He was none too happy about having to serve in the front lines, but I thought perhaps the tides of battle might push him to use his magic more creatively – thus pulling more sorcery from him.

“Is the Cult prepared?” I asked, looking over at the band of men and women who were dressed in their best robes. All wore faceless silver masks with cloudy reflections upon them, meant to imitate their beloved leader. Many were kneeling and praying. To me. A strange thing to think about and one I didn’t quite understand. I couldn’t hear their prayers and even if I could, would I answer them?

“They are,” Anna replied. “Many were reluctant to face battle knowing that death has nothing to offer them yet. But those who have volunteered are the die-hard followers who will go into oblivion if it means advancing the cause.”

“And what cause is that?” I asked.

“The spread of the Veiled Kingdom, of course,” she said. I could hear the pride swelling up in her voice. This idea pleased her. I ached to feel that pleasure as well and felt that familiar sense of envy well up. Fortunately, thanks to my mindworms, the envy was weak and disassociated. I felt no desire to tear her apart and feast on her carcass, as had been the case before.

“Then let us unleash their magic,” I said. “I’m opening the portal. It is time to end our status as guests in Lepidonia and establish ourselves as Lords and Ladies. Shall we?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Anna replied. “Vellings! Your god demands your very life force! Give him all of your power, hold only that which keeps your shell alive.”

The Cult all stood at that and immediately joined hands. They began to chant loudly in one monotone voice, purple and black energy swirling around them as they intoned. “Raise the Fallen! Break the Bonds! Raise the Fallen! Break the Bonds!”

What this meant, I did not know, but the stream of energy began to pour forth from the group onto my own body. I was enveloped at once with the familiar sense of enervation and every part of my senses became alight with new, stronger capabilities.

Two more limbs burst from my torso as a pair of eyestalks formed on the back of my neck, giving me full awareness of all degrees at once. This was almost overwhelming – if not for the second wave of energy that increased my sense of control. My reaction time heightened and I could hear so well that I could feel the tiny tremors in the air as someone breathed within their helmet.

A few of the cultists began to fall over, writhing and thrashing. None went to aid them, for they were all too caught up in giving their own selves over to the power. Within two minutes, all were sprawled on the ground, weak to the point of death. Only then did a team of medics begin to intervene.

With the reinforced energy, I waved a hand towards the wall everyone was standing before. A great orange portal opened up, revealing the Crimson Castle.

“Fire!” Anna bellowed, causing the first weapon of war in our arsenal to activate.

Bolted to a stone dais that was carved from granite was a large crossbow with an anchor-hook in place of a bolthead. Four wights had pulled the lever mechanism as the order was given, causing the Anchorhead Breaker to fire straight into the portal.

As the Banshee’s defensive magic began to envelop the orange portal – ethereal green energy wrapping around the oval shape – the Anchorhead Breaker caused some kind of reaction, ripping the portal open so wide that we could easily roll the larger siege engines through.

“What did I tell you?” Fidelio said. “Portal magic is easily broken to our favor.”

“I do not recall you ever speaking to me about this,” I replied, watching as our troops began to rush through the now billowing tunnel of wild energy.

“Yes, that may have been some other corpse I was babbling to,” the mage said as he waved a hand, causing his form to grow into a bulky, scythe-wielding monstrosity. “Come along, hunter squad!”

A band of raptor-looking skeletons, replete with long scythe blades of their own, came bounding after their master as Fidelio pushed through the portal, using a spell to stabilize it further.

“Letting him make the first impression? Bold,” Anna said, crossing her arms as she waited by my side. We watched as the swarms of zombie orcs went stumbling into the siege.

She had a point. I dashed forward, leaping ahead of the swarm and into the portal. The energy washed over me as our two realms clashed briefly – this was a one way passage, the only way back would be if I were destroyed.

The Crimson Castle was at full alarm. Bells were ringing as dozens of undead spirits arrived on the walls, firing arrows of blue and yellow at my troops. Fidelio was already raising large shields of energy around our forces, dissipating and absorbing the shots with ease.

Above, I could hear a vibrato in the air. It was a raucous laughter. The Banshee, cackling as I landed in front of my forces, standing tall in my armor for the first time at her court.

“You dare…you…you…” she tried to speak, but the laughter was too frantic. “You are honestly trying to attack…me? Or are you so misled that you are trying to enforce a contract on some poor soul inside? Truly, you must be so fucking stupid as to think you could just waltz in here and challenge me!”

The voice came from all around, trying to pull something from me but there was nothing it could do. My thoughts certainly weren’t being read.

“You…are different. My favor is gone and yet you live,” the Banshee mused as her form grew above the battlefield. She waved a hand, causing the first wave of zombies to stagger but not fall over. The spectral woman frowned, her searing vision burning towards all at once.

“Banshee of Lepidonia!” I declared. “You have ruled this land for too long! Your actions are without justice, for you wield the law as a plaything. As a result, I have taken it upon myself to cleanse this land of your influence.”

“You have taken it upon yourself to die!” she bellowed, and she threw a hand out towards me. Green fire came surging towards me and in an instant, I was surrounded by thousands of wailing spirits. They all tried to fall upon me but I flew upwards instantly, my Flight spell tossing me into the air on command.

As I flew up, my size grew to match that of the Banshee. In the distance, there was the sound of a trumpet, followed by the snap hiss of the air as the law circles began to activate. Explosions overtook the walls, for the Voiceless had secretly placed blastpowder inside of them weeks ago, and salt sprayed everywhere, adding insult to injury. Salt especially agitated the chaotic and thus the Banshee’s energies were disrupted as waves of the crystals scattered everywhere.

The Banshee let out a hideous wail towards me but the Cult’s array of magical defenses absorbed them easily enough, converting the energy into additional spells, should I need them. “Sorry, what was that?” I asked as I slashed a claw at the spectral bride.

The Countess tried to dodge my attack but was too slow. Three of my claw attacks struck her as I corkscrewed through the air, using the momentum of the attack to kick off to make some distance. Green ectoplasm sprayed through the air when my enchanted blades slashed through her flesh and she let out a pained wail.

“You dare strike me!” she bellowed. She tried to grow in size but nothing happened for our proportions were on the same planar level – we were locked to a relative height. Good news for me, not so much for her.

“You tricked me one day,” I said as I turned around in the air, using my momentum to accelerate towards my target. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t convince the Smiting Star to put out a contract on her, in order to gain that bonus speed, but alas. One could not have everything…at least not yet anyway. “You tricked me and gave me a favor in the hopes that it would keep me controlled. But as many are going to learn, no one can control me.”

“Lorgar has possessed your feeble mind, that can be the only explanation,” the Banshee replied as she threw up a wall of green flames around her, forcing me to avert my attack. I wasn’t immune to magical damage, just resistant. “Come back to the land of the sane, little Revvie. You must be weary of being this mad.”

I flew a circle around the flames, waiting for them to end. Below, I could see that hordes of spirits and ghouls were pouring out of the castle and it was an all-out melee. The infernal and undead nature of our troops made it impossible to pick out who was winning at a distance. It looked like a preview of the very civil war I was going to be causing.

“I am not mad, quite the contrary. Well, I suppose I am pissed,” I said. “But this is purely a business decision. You overextended and I saw an opportunity. Lorgar was none too happy to engineer this but all too eager to watch it happen. He merely gave me a few incentives.”

“Such as the Banner Kingship?” she said. “I could give you that and more.”

“I don’t want permission to rule, for that is not kingship,” I said. “It is merely servitude with a fancier title. Lorgar is depressed and broken, killing him is as unsporting as slaying a sleeping lion. He gives me nothing that I do not already possess. You, on the other hand, seem to think I need permission to even breathe in your land.”

“You defy the gods,” the woman declared while the flames grew around her, turning the entire area brilliant green as they engulfed me. Fortunately, I was able to resist the spell with my own magic, though my flight began to waver.

“My existence defies the gods by default,” I said. “So why bother what they have to say now? Besides, if Aegalla was truly concerned, could you not call out to her?”

There was silence as the flames battled against me. I felt the flight spell fade and I began to plummet towards the earth. It was impossible to resist the flames and fly at the same time. Damn that Fidelio’s research, I should have gone with that strange bubble drink Biggins had found in the rubbish.

Chapter 54

I hit the ground with a hard thump. The world spun for a moment and I found myself completely alone. “What fresh hell is this?” I murmured as I looked around.

I was in some kind of arena, a circular theater with thousands of screaming faces in the crowds, all baying for death. Pillars rose up around me and chained to each pillar was a different being, six in total.

I recognized one of them immediately, the Dead Lord of the Necromancer’s League, the Banner holder himself, Ipernan the Merciless. Ipernan was a mummy, bound in thick leather bandages that covered his entire body from head to toe. Burning red eyes flickered to life as he rose from his stupor.

“What is the meaning of this?” the mummy demanded as he made eye contact with me. Several other beings were coming to wakefulness as well, their bonds keeping them held tightly against the pillars. Lycanthrope, lich and skeletal all were adorned in fancy clothing, wearing armor and amulets indicating they were not mere goons.

Above, I could hear the voice of the Banshee cry out. “Dead Lords! You all took vows to serve me when I gave you my wail. Now comes the time for you to pay the favor. Slay this fool and all will be forgiven. If he walks away, your kingdom shall be rent in twain by my rage and power.”

Even on the verge of total destruction, the Banshee had powerful bonds over her followers. Being able to summon them at her best like commoners was quite impressive. The burning chains around their limbs kept them all frozen, preventing any from doing anything other than writhe.

Ipernan seemed to be able to take control of his senses faster than the others. “What is the meaning of this, Countess?” he said again, staring up at the sky where a great, green face was watching us with jagged, burning features. “A lifetime of loyalty and then some and this is how you repay me? Treating me like some summoned help?”

“This whelp has infiltrated your organization and turned them against us!” she said.

“What my people do is not of my concern, you know that,” he growled, rage deep in his voice. His entire being began to quake as the bonds around him shattered.

“Do not dare defy me!” the Banshee demanded, her voice matching his own burning wrath in intensity.

As Ipernan fell to the ground, he suddenly began to thrash, holding his head as his eyes turned from red to green – and thus his allegiances changed with it.

“Shall I demand the rest of you as well? Or will you give me his blood!” the Banshee wailed. The other Dead Lords, none of whom I knew of, all looked at one another. Only the werewolf’s eyes turned green. The rest were ready to kill me of their own free will.

“I’m normally not one to bluster,” I said as I looked up at the six great lords standing before me. “But if your eyes aren’t green, there shall be no mercy.”

There was no reply from my foes. They spread out and rushed me without hesitation, all acting of their own accord. There seemed to be no higher amount of coordination between the group, however, and they sprinted at different paces, creating considerable gaps.

Ipernan was casting a spell, the werewolf, Baron Brack if I recall correctly, was charging at me with full fury and the other four were spreading in a circle. Two of the wights had merged together, forming a double jointed spider-thing out of limbs with claws, and the others were shapeshifting into undead dragons.

Yet, all of these actions took time and these Dead Lords were not prepared for a knock-out fight to the death. Worse even, the Banshee had destroyed all of their usual wards and defensive spells in the process of transporting them here – even their magical items were dead and useless.

I dashed forward as quickly as I could towards the spider-wight. It was crawling towards me on six legs, multiple boney arms sticking out of the knee joints. These arms held long jagged bone spikes that were able to fire at me as I ran. Each shot came faster than I could anticipate and I found myself full of shrapnel.

My run was immediately thrown off as the momentum of the strikes hit me like iron. My armor held together but barely as I was ragdolled straight into the open maw of the werewolf – which had grown three times its size.

The jaws smashed shut but were instantly repelled by the burning energies around the armor suit – I had silver lining placed on the interior of the armor just in case anything tried to bite me like this.

I was spat to the ground and as I fell, I raked a series of claws alongside the wolf’s side. Blood gushed everywhere, the red energy glowing as it splattered across the floor of the arena. The crowd seemed to delight in this and I could hear their screams grow maddening. Energy seemed to seep up towards the Banshee’s presence.

“Hey, I think she’s generating more Discordance by making you all fight,” Hix murmured sleepily. “Just thought you should know.”

“Thanks,” I said, deftly dodging as the mummy lord fired a bolt of red energy towards me. The blood around me quickly circled upwards, conjoining with the bolt as it sailed intelligently across the ground, following me as I leapt backwards.

The dragons swooped at me from opposite sides, flames coming down from all angles. I activated Precognition Slip. I could see hundreds of scenarios where I was killed and I quickly adapted, my multiple arms slashing and hacking as I did battle with six enemies at once.

This was going nowhere. I was not a one-man army, not yet anyway, and I couldn’t handle fighting all of these forces at the same time. Especially not when it was powering up the Banshee with every move.

The mummy was undead, right? Perhaps I could use Control Undead to free his mind or at the very least, sway him to my side. Unfortunately my ability to see the future couldn’t tell me if a particular spell would be successful, just whether I’d survive long enough to cast it.

Dancing fervently to avoid the swooping attacks of the dragons, I stretched my mind out and focused, channeling all of my intensity into commanding Ipernan to cease his spellcasting.

Our minds briefly touched before I was body slammed by the werewolf, who pinned me to the ground, snarling and howling as his claws uselessly raked against my armor. Fortunately, this was just a glimmer, a phantasm of what could be.

Opening my helmet, I fell backwards as the wolf came slamming into me, the flames of the dragons washing over the both of us, not caring who was friend or foe. Catching the monstrous wolf with my legs, I pushed him upwards to absorb the bulk of the flames before pulling him down to sink my jaws into him, allowing my ghoulish power to take hold.

Immediately, the beast stiffened, frozen. “I see the green in your eyes, so I shall hold no grudge. Remember this,” I muttered as I tossed the body to the side, hoping that the paralysis effect would keep for the duration of the battle.

“Weak,” Hix said as I clambered to my feet and cast Flight. I’d have to command the undead later; I needed to deal with these dragons flying overhead.

“Mercy is not weakness,” I replied.

“Worst, it’s dumbassery at its finest,” the demon said. “Behind you, by the way.”

I turned around just in time to see the wight-abomination leap towards me. The strange spiderlike carapace had formed a prehensile stinger that had a razor sharp hook on the edge of it. I dodged the jump attack but the stinger snagged my right shoulder, hooking into my flesh and tearing instantly.

Poison Detected! my vision warned as I was tossed into the air. Numbness, for lack of a better word, overtook my body and I flailed miserably as the dragons caught me with their long claws, raking me to pieces. This was no vision, however. Chunks of flesh came flying everywhere, my armor battered and broken from the all-out draconic assault.

Wraith time! Instantly, I transmogrified, losing the effects of the undead-affecting poison and escaping the clutches of these dragons.

A bolt of green energy came from above, however, striking me instantly. “No escape!” the Banshee cackled as my body solidified once more, all spell effects ending, and I fell uselessly towards the ground. Even my buffs from the Vellings were gone.

I bounced a little after I crashed into the earth. The ground shook as the dragons landed beside me, their massive boney legs pinning me while they started to breathe fire in tandem. The scorching flames overwhelmed me and every part of my being began to burn. Death was coming quickly if I didn’t think this out.

Fortunately, instinct took over as I realized that the arena ground was made of soft earth. My claws all found the dirt instantly and began to tunnel downwards, my burrow speed faster than the dragons could anticipate.

As I tunneled downwards, everything around me shifted. Suddenly, I was falling out of the sky, the world right side up again. This was disorienting, but not enough to throw me off of casting another Fly spell.

Immediately, I was able to catch myself in midair. My ‘wings’ flapped for a moment as I summarized what was below.

Two dragons, a horrific wight thing and the mummy, still casting spells – mostly buffs on the dragons – remained. These odds were not in my favor.

Chapter 55

I was under no obligation to continue fighting. This I realized as soon as I had some space between my foes and I. My flight spell lasted for as long as I willed it and I was fast enough to race the dragons in circles, my body too small for them to be able to accurately strike.

As I flew through the air, I began to encircle the mummy Ipernan, who had raised up a great husk of sand that was in the process of still forming. This vaguely humanoid figure was growing to the size of a giant, with long arms made of sand that would be able to blast streams of itself towards me.

“Come on…” I muttered as I deactivated my Flight spell in midair, hurtling towards the mummy. The Sand Husk tried to stop me but it wasn’t fully formed yet. I collided with Ipernan, narrowly avoiding both the wight abomination and a fly-by from the draconic pair as we crashed to the ground.

Instantly, I activated Control Undead, forcing my mind onto Ipernan’s.

“The hell are you doing?” the being yelled as our thoughts merged. He was fully aware and cognizant, far more salient than my previous targets. Time slowed down as our minds battled for dominance.

“Just stop fighting,” I said. “Let me control your body, I’ll get us out of this mess.”

“This is hardly a good day,” Ipernan groaned. “Calm yourself, for we have time to think our way out. If you try to subsume me, you will wipe my personality, you understand that, yes?”

Shit. I completely forgot about that. “Oh well,” I replied, continuing to push my mind onto the mummy’s. He began to resist with an ironclad will that suggested I wouldn’t be getting very far.

“I have existed longer than the lineage that spawned your useless ass,” the mummy growled. “You will not overpower me. However, the Banshee’s magic is being abated by your interference. If you would listen to reason for a moment, we may be able to both survive this.”

“You have five minutes,” I said.

“She has hijacked our bodies directly,” he explained. “At least, those who are under her influence. The dragons have both succumbed to her will, but the wights are still salient and hungry for destruction. If you can frustrate the wight abomination, if you can get it to give up, she will seize control of its mind as well. They will be weaker, much weaker, since she is controlling them like puppets.”

“Making dispatching of them easier,” I said.

“Exactly. You will become much stronger with her being forced to control all of us at once,” Ipernan explained. “And for each one of us you kill while she is linked, the more pain you will cause her.”

“How many?”

“Two,” Ipernan said. “And if you dispatch of both Arnus and Hegalis, I would make it worth your while.”

Wait, what? “We’re in a death trap, pitted against each other by a great power and you’re politicking?” I asked.

“Time has stopped for the mind speaks instantly,” the mummy casually replied. “There is no reason not to press this situation to my advantage. In truth, my own efforts as Banner Lord have been miserable in the last five hundred years or so. The wights are powerful champions that handle the matters themselves and have plagued me for longer than I care to remember. If you can kill them, while I am possessed, no one will know of my treachery.”

“Treachery? What can you do to help me?”

“I’ve been casting buffs upon my allies for quite some time now, extensive and powerful spells that are aiding them in many ways. A single thought would revoke them. And I can stop the Banshee from controlling me at any moment. However, she would reassert permanent control after I do so.”

“So you’ve been waiting for the right opportunity,” I said.

“Indeed,” the mummy replied. “And it seems that now you have given me the chance to coordinate with you. So what say you? Shall we work together?”

“You know that I aim to kill the Banshee,” I said. “Everything falls apart after this.”

Ipernan laughed in my mind. “Oh, I count on that. I turn a blind eye to the activities of my lessers but rumor had swirled that someone was going to take her down. I thought it a pleasant idea at the time. But now that I’m in this situation, I see it is necessary. I refuse to be used as a puppet by any.”

An interesting opportunity. Certainly one I shouldn’t shirk at. “Very well,” I said. “I will not subsume your mind. I will destroy the wights and the werewolf, that should be more than enough to obliterate the Banshee’s control over this realm.”

“I shall assert control at the key moment,” he said. “Though, I should warn you, there is no great reward to betraying me. The things I can provide you in alliance far outweigh whatever discordance you would get from breaking this vessel.”

“Perish the thought,” I replied. Interesting to be on the other side of the paranoia for a change. But I had no interest in turning against Ipernan; having access to a friendly mummy may potentially give me the keys to the Pharic Kingdom, since they were rather hard to find.

Time returned to normal as I released my attempts to control the mummy’s mind. Rescinding all of his buffs at once would be more than enough to turn the tide of battle. Hopefully he would know the right time.

Springing off the mummy in order to avoid the dragons coming down to harm me, I scuttered across the arena floor, trying to collect my bearings.

“Kill him, you fools!” the Banshee screamed, though this was probably just part of the performance. I could see the burning flames of green within the dragon eyes; both had succumbed to her will.

One of the dragons landed and took upon a more humanoid form, a tall draconic beast of a man with long scaled wings that were torn to shreds from years of undead decay. The other remained above, flying in circles.

Their coordination was lost, this I could tell. Now was the time to strike. I climbed atop one of the pillars that was in the center of the arena and perched for a moment, hanging from one claw as I waited for my target to draw closer. He was searching for me.

None of the dead were particularly good at tracking me, it seemed. My speed, shadow abilities and natural predilection to avoid being in line of sight for any given time had significantly delayed these enemies; they weren’t nearly as skilled at observation as they were combat. And this was to my benefit, for the first dragon didn’t notice me until it was too late. I leapt from pillar to pillar, stalking him until the last minute.

In an instant, I was on his back, all of my blades violently ripping through his flesh – only for me to realize that this was no dragon whatsoever! He was an amorphous blob of black flesh, tar and ooze that burst out like water from a dam. A trap of a creature, some kind of bait meant to pull me in. And I took it like a complete sucker.

As the ooze absorbed me, the true dragon manifested above. He had simply been invisible and in such a way that not even the air was moving when he flew, preventing my hearing from picking his location up.

The vast beast loomed over me and for a split second, I could almost recognize the comedy of being caught with my hands in the proverbial cookie jar. A pair of massive jaws opened wide as it slurped up the ooze – and myself along with it!

Chapter 56

“So how’s it going, champ?” Hixim asked as I floated in darkness. Writhing things were trying to crush me but I was strong enough to resist the force.

“Unless you have something of use to say, don’t speak,” I hissed, struggling in vain to escape the gullet of the great beast.

“You’re not in a stomach, you’re in a pocket dimension. Damn dragon figured it would just cut you off from the rest of reality and wait for you to die,” Hix replied. He manifested in front of me, his demonic form that of a tiny red star with a single eye in the center. “Do you like my avatar?” he asked. “I modeled it off of those coins you carry.”

“Clever,” I said, watching as the demon floated around. I looked at my own hands. They were being slowly eroded with magical energies that I couldn’t quite fathom. “What is this?”

“Dissolution,” he replied. “You are in a plane without energy, a place without power. You will slowly be consumed by shadow and madness, your discordance leaking out into nothingness.”

“The threads between a demiplane,” I mused. “Fascinating.”

I could work with this, I think. After all, my Shadow Shaping powers allowed for me to manipulate planar energies. A blank canvas might respond to my terraforming abilities…

With focus, I was able to begin conjuring up a single flat line in front of me. Pure white, like chalk.

“How’d you do that?” Hix demanded as he landed on the side of the line, becoming almost like a paper image before me.

“Shush, I’m concentrating,” I replied, focusing some more. The line became a circle. And that circle slowly grew into a sphere. More concentration could produce greater detail. However, it wasn’t until I infused some Discordance into the creation that it truly came to life.

Right before me, a vast plane of dirt and ground appeared, barren and lifeless. Just like my original demiplane. Perfection.

I landed softly on the ground as gravity began to come into being. Hmmm, I could perhaps change this place to support me better…

More focus gave way to a new sun appearing in the sky. It was unholy, black as coal but with an ethereal purple fire lighting the entire area in a soft hue. I gazed at my claws as they responded to the energy from this sun.

“This is good,” I said, holding both hands up towards the great orb, fueling all of my spare discordance into it. The fire began to pour across the entire horizon, melting away the world itself as if it were made out of ice. A thin hole appeared, like a spiderweb, revealing a vast array of guts and organs, all hideously misshapen.

“Now that’s the stomach,” Hix said.

Grinning to myself, I dove through the hole and began clawing my way out, burrowing through the torso of the dragon. There was no armor on the inside.

I burst forth from the corpse of the Dead Lord and let out a hideous shriek. The dragon’s body fell over, thrashing and writhing, unable to do anything other than die as its precious false organs were obliterated.

The Banshee let out a complimentary scream, though I think this one was more in pain than anything else, for the entire sky buckled and warped. For a brief moment, I could see the world above become illuminated with the sight of a great battle. My forces were laying siege to the castle and thousands of feral dead were pouring out to fight against them. It was a great war and one that we were winning.

This sight caused my morale to surge and with it came a renewed intensity. One down, I just needed to take out the werewolf…though, it seemed so unsporting. Especially when he had resisted all the way to the end. But surely sport wouldn’t prevent me from doing what was necessary to win, right?

Necessary or expedient? I could kill all of these entities here if I pleased. After all, they were nothing compared to a being that could quite literally create a world to escape oblivion…and yet, this was a fool’s errand. Take the quick and easy road, or pay for it in blood later.

I dashed towards the paralyzed werewolf, feeling something screaming in the back of my head. It was Hector! The damn fool peasant didn’t want me to perform something so uncouth as an execution. And he was fighting as hard as I was to wake him up before. This was…an unforeseen consequence.

Light began to cloud my vision as I struggled internally. The phantasms of a memory formed around me and in an instant, I was back home in the streets of Tague.

“Are you serious?” the man chided, wagging a finger in young Hector’s face. He was an armored brute, a heavy warrior who patrolled the streets, looking for fights. Mr. Lank, if I recall. Yes, he was a guard, employed not by the city but by a merchant. Man was a cut above.

“Are you serious?” Lank repeated, his other hand holding Hector, perhaps no more than twelve, in place. “Kicking a lad when he’s down?”

“He bashed my face in,” Hector said, pointing to his shiner. The bruise was quite fresh and impressive. My brawling reputation came with some risks. “Jumped me without cause.”

“So? You beat him standing up, didn’t ya?” Lank said. “That’s all fine and good, but I find you kicking him on the ground. It’s not proper for a man to stomp on his foes. Everyone else is watching closely, looking to see what kind of person you are. Kick some ass? Good for ya, but stomping on a helpless chump who’s already lost? It’s shameful.”

This burned deeply onto Hector’s entire personality, the despair of disappointing someone more important to me than my own father, the sense of dread knowing I couldn’t undo what I had done. Heat rose to Hector’s ears, burning so intensely that I wondered how any mortal could stand such emotions. These were the things I had forgotten about being alive, so miserable, so unpleasant…

“Why should I care about what others think?” Hector asked sourly, trying not to make eye contact.

“Because without others, we’re fucked, that’s why,” Lank replied, grabbing the young man and hoisting him up suddenly. “See those walls boy?” He asked, holding Hector to face the great stone barrier. “You can’t make something like that alone. And you can’t fight the hordes of the teeming masses by yourself. People will tolerate a lot of fuckers, but no one likes a fellow who kicks others when they’re down.”

The way Lank held Hector indicated that this was more than a simple scolding. I had known this guard my entire life. He was a good man and the one who gave me all of my sense in the world. He taught me how to throw a punch and more importantly, how to take one without crying in front of everyone else. Never a harsh man, he was more of a father than whoever Hector’s father had been. This man’s words meant something and they were powerful…and yet…

I had the ability to walk away. This man’s teachings were not relevant to Velking’s path. White energy engulfed the entire scene, inviting me to take part in something greater than myself. This power was Community, a binding force that asked for not only law but also justice, neutral and without care for good or evil. All it wanted was to unify the world, tightly. Edging out all chaos, pushing away every fold of dissolution. This force was Order.

So this was where my sense of justice and proper conduct came from. A man who wasn’t particularly aligned with anything beyond his community had given me every sense of the word. Feeding me when I was hungry, teaching me how to avoid trouble…even getting me my first job. That’s right, I had no family. I was a street rat…right? No, that seemed to be someone else’s memory.

Odd, I could feel the effect of his work in the community overpowering my senses. The spirits of thousands of ancestors all holding traditions and laws together were flowing around like water. Tapping into this power source would give me access to an entirely new area of energy: Order. And there was a stability beyond anything I had ever felt before.

The man’s face beamed with ethereal energy. All I had to do was accept his words and integrate this new force into my being. Would Order hamper my powers? No, Discordance was chaotic in nature but it would cause no trouble to this newer energy source. Order and Justice seemed to go hand in hand. The Revenant understood only these two concepts and thus it was no effort to accept.

You have become attuned to the Ordered Power of Order! my vision informed me.

New power source gained: Equilibrium.

Performing actions that stabilize your area of influence generates Equilibrium Shards. These may be spent in place of Discordance Shards. Enforcing your values, spreading your ideologies and ensuring those within your command are loyal and obedient will generate more Equilibrium.

Cosmic Alignment Completed! You are oriented towards Order, Evil and Justice. Taking actions to further any of these causes alleviates The Hunger while willfully breaking from them will only increase it. Furthermore, you are no longer bound to Circle and Wards from these three pools.

In an instant, I was back to the arena. All thought of destroying the downed werewolf faded as I spun around, facing the wight abomination that seemed hopelessly lost. The Banshee was struggling to control all of these puppets. It was time to cut the strings – for good!

Chapter 57

The ordered energy of Equilibrium felt different than Discordance. There was no raw power, no rage or anger to speak of. Instead, there was a calm understanding of the world around me and how to manipulate it. Time seemed to move differently now, I could account for each passing second and more than that, I could calculate how quickly my actions took. Basic mathematics seemed to… Mathematics? When had I learned such things?

I did not know but it was apparent that there were laws of physics and motion that made flight much easier. Casting the spell in a split second – my fourth spell of the day – I flew across the ground at incredible speeds, learning how to move up and down in subtle ways that generated faster acceleration. My mind was a machine, able to calculate the exact velocity I could reach with my spell.

The wight abomination tried to fire a wall of bone shrapnel in front of it but I was fast enough to spin out of the way, spiraling through the field without a scratch. Or perhaps the scratches were simply negligible, my newfound sense of pedantry quipped.

Spinning through the air like a corkscrew, I burst through the entire wight – its body exploding from the sheer force of my momentum.

“Holy fuck!” Hixim exclaimed, just as surprised as I was. “You turned that guy into paste.”

“Those guys,” I corrected, spinning around in midair to face the dragon. Below, I could see the mummy grab hold of his head and instantly, the dragon was shriveling up into a regular zombie. The single lapse in buff spells made for an easy kill. I eviscerated the Dead Lord before he reached the ground.

Above I could hear a bloodcurdling shriek as the air began to break into tiny shards, like glass. I could see the sky falling open now and with the tearing of the veil, all gravity failed. Sky and earth collided and in a second, I was floating above the battlefield, the war going on quite wildly below.

“Er…what?” I mumbled, looking around. Confusion and dissolution filled my head. Was any of that real? Or had it been an illusion?

“Sir, what’s going on?” Anna shouted from below. I could see that the walls were easily destroyed but hundreds of skeletal arms had risen from the ground, blocking off our entire army. Anna and company were gathered around a great battering ram that was uselessly bouncing off the writhing wall of arms.

“Hang on lieutenant,” I said, trying to stabilize my mind. New energies were rushing through my entire being, filling me with Equilibrium Shards. Return to Reality! 1,000 Equilibrium Shards Gained! appeared in my vision. The world seemed brighter now and I could make better sense of all manner of things. Including the fact that I had defeated the Banshee in her own realm and now she was hiding in the castle.

Thankfully the battle had been real. Everything had taken place and thus even more chaos was reigning in the battlefield as dozens of enemy soldiers on the other side began to awaken from their stupor. Their Dead Lords now just dead, they were losing connection to the Banner magic that united them.

Corpses fell by the wayside, others went mad and chaos broke out in ways I didn’t even know possible. Sections of the skeletal wall began to grow into full arms and hands, smashing at each other wildly. Explosions rocked the inside of the castle.

“The gate is open!” Sir Garen yelled to me, his raspy voice carrying across the wind with almost magical power. “Shall we lay siege?”

“Forward, all units!” I ordered, letting the fog of battle overtake me. There was no way to orient in this kind of situation. Best to just push forward. The Countess had retreated and that meant we were gaining ground.

Flying overhead, I was able to survey the castle exterior. Many explosions had taken place within and I could see wizard and necromancer alike doing battle with different factions within. It seemed that someone else was here as well…the Smiting Star?

My vision zoomed in to see a pair of revenants leaping onto the back of a wizard, skewering him in perfect unison. Portals were opening up as dozens of my own kind came pouring out, laying siege to the castle from within. They had no quarter – nor recognition of friend or foe, slaying any within range.

“Garen,” I emoted. “Revenants from the Smiting Star are here. Convey to all that they are to be killed without mercy.”

That would teach Orphio for moving without my permission. If he wanted to keep me blind, it would be one thing, but they were attacking our own allies as well. No doubt the Smiting Star was using this as a prime opportunity to clear their backlog – and weaken my forces at the same time. There would be punishment for this, no doubt.

I received the confirmation as I swooped around the backside of the underground castle, where a vast swarm of gargoyles were gathering in what passed for a garden. They were agitated greatly, hissing and shrieking. Their teeming mass was so great it was as if I were facing a vortex of sentient stone.

“Oh, I can speak Gargoyle,” Hix said. “Try hissing three times and then giving a guttural bark.”

It was about time this demon came in handy for something beyond the occasional quip, though I half-expected this to be a trick of some kind. I did as he indicated, giving the password which caused the gargoyles to all…disregard me. They all hissed back and Hix translated a series of rather genial and banal greetings.

“The guardian phrase works every time,” Hix chuckled as we entered the swarm unmolested. The gargoyles regarded me as their own now and paid me no mind as I flew to the Funerary Crypt where the Banshee’s energy was strongest.

The crypt was more of a mausoleum, a greater circular building with six unhallowed spires at the top, each burning with a different unholy symbol. Such measures would do nothing to ward my own kind from entering.

There was a great seal upon the white walls of the mausoleum, a circular script burning with eldritch energy. Death Took Her Love But Undeath Gave Her A Laugh was the epithet on the tomb. Engraved on the front was a display of a woman weeping by the altar while the back of her body was that of an undead skeleton, moving upwards and laughing. The woman was being split in half, torn apart by her desire to stay alive despite the inescapable grasp of death.

This was the fate of all banshees. Mortal women who died on the cusp of marriage to their one true love in life – a being whose soul they were connected intimately with – could end up trapped in an undead fate worse than death. Indeed, many banshee were unaware of how quickly time passes in the mortal realms and would easily outlive their beloved; the souls of their betrothed moving on to the afterlife for good.

Such a fate left these things only seeking temporary pleasure through causing cruelty upon those both mortal and dead. How strange to place said creatures in charge of the fate of an entire land. It was almost like a sick joke.

Destroying the entrance to the mausoleum wasn’t particularly hard. A few hard slashes through the stone broke the wards and with that, the entire building shattered at once, revealing the true visage of the Banshee.

There she stood, the Countess herself, nine feet tall and adorned in a white dress that was more grey than anything else. A veil was across her face and in her hand she carried a bouquet of skulls, all of them chattering and screaming the various names of her lover at all times. She was almost mortal looking, if not for the fact that the flesh was so tightly pressed to her skull that she may as well be paper-thin.

“You have found me,” she quietly murmured, looking towards the swarm of gargoyles behind us. We were in the back of the cavern, completely surrounded by walls and without anywhere for escape. The circle of Law on the outer edge of the garden wouldn’t let her go elsewhere. It was time for this to end.

“I have,” I replied. “And it took little effort. Soon my forces will have overpowered the castle. You have lost this battle.”

“Have I?” she asked, looking up at me suddenly. Defiance was written across her near featureless face and her expression turned into a painful snarl. Her socketless eyes grew full of green fire but within I could see great exhaustion. She was almost at her limit – but not quite.

Beneath the cracked and broken ground that she stood upon were long, silver chains shackled to her ankles. Upon each chain was a powerful symbol of law. They were straining hard to hold back her power.

“I am tied to this land,” she explained. “Bound in a way that has prevented me from truly striking you. But rest assured, the moment you touch this form, those chains shatter and I am free. You will not survive, even if you kill me.”

“Always a trick up the sleeve,” I mused, looking at the chains. As if on cue, there was another explosion behind us, rocking the earth as I sent the order for Garen to come forth. Rumbling came from inside the castle, or what was left of it at this point, and the Banshee fell silent while she watched. The woman was in no rush to get to the end, it seemed.

Rolling on sixteen wheels made from the sturdiest oak possible was the great Wailwell Cannon, a marvelous device that had cost a great fortune to build and an even greater one to acquire from its owner.

With a mouth wide as a cauldron, a throat as long as two men, the Cannon was an eldritch artifact that was in the shape of a ‘blast bull’ – a bulky magical weapon that was often fashioned in the shape of a horned bullhead, smoke pouring from the snout as coal was burned in the back of the device. The purpose of the coal was purely to blow smoke, showing all that we were a terror to behold.

The iron used to make the metal cannon itself was from the underground caverns of some nameless dwarven land that conducted a specific kind of magical frequency when struck from the inside. Thousands of little hammers were on the inside of the cannon’s ‘throat’, pressed against thin metal slats that rang when the wheels pushed forward. The constant drumming generated a kind of hallow, macabre timber that, at the lowest levels, caused magical energies to disperse when touched by the sound.

Affixed to the head of the bull was an emerald in the shape of a pronounced diamond, seven metal rods connecting to it in order to fuel the weapon. Energies were pulsing through the entire body of the weapon for it had been charging endlessly. The longer one pushed it forward through a great battlefield, the stronger it became. And we’d been wheeling it forward since the start of this entire battle.

“What is this?” the Banshee demanded as she watched my forces fire a few bolts of magical flares in the sky, dispersing the gargoyles en masse. These creatures did not want to be around for the showdown. In a matter of moments, the entire back of the castle was filled with my soldiers.

There were thousands of us now. All from different banners, but united under the single goal of destroying the Banshee. I’d be almost proud if not for the fact that I knew those bastards wouldn’t hesitate to destroy me to further their own ends. Everyone here was looking for an opportunity to take command for themselves, to get a hold of power. I was an ends to a means and nothing more.

As the Wailwell Cannon approached the chained Banshee, she cackled. “All this for a little artifact? Little Revvie, I cannot be destroyed by mere magic. You would need—”

“Destruction? Why waste such powerful energies?” I asked, raising a hand with expert timing, causing the cannon to stop as it rolled within range – 500 feet. We didn’t need accuracy with weapons this big either. It was designed to hone in on the specific frequencies of a Banshee.

Our entire army halted around the remnants of the mausoleum. The coalition of many forces, joined for a single purpose, waited for me to give the command. We would all attack her, if need be.

“I do not understand,” she replied.

“Don’t worry about it,” I answered, raising a hand to give the signal. Let’s see how this works.

The cannon immediately released its payload. The great bull cannon roared with fire and fury. And a red and green beam zipped forward at full speed, crashing into the Banshee’s body.

At once, the Bull became alight with energies as the Cult of the Veil surrounded it, chanting their spells to fuel it. More wizards and necromancers, allies from the League, were arriving and were aiding in increasing the magical intensity of the weapon.

The Banshee could do nothing for I had already exhausted her form in that great arena battle. There was nothing within her left to resist the sheer power of a cannon powered by reverse banshee screams.

As the sonic beam washed over the Banshee, she wailed and screamed, muted however, and thrashed in agony. She slashed at me with her claws but the chains held her feet to the floor and thus the Countess could not reach me.

“I will break free,” she threatened, her entire body turning bright red as the energy enveloped her. “I will have my revenge upon all of you!”

“I’m afraid revenge is strictly my territory,” I said, giving the order to fire the second Wailwell Cannon. No reason not to have extra firepower.

“Open the Seal!” Anna cried from behind as the Banshee turned bright red, her energy no longer able to break free of the cannon’s influence. The entire army was cheering and celebrating as the rest of the castle began to fall apart; gargoyles, undead and spirits vanishing in the process of the Banshee losing her power.

A host of elite Vellings came forth, carrying a large square box made out of lead. Ixi the Goddess of Secrets was emblazoned on the lid of the box, inviting us all to keep this a secret with a finger on her lips. The golden latch to the lid was flung open and the box cracked ever so slightly.

The artifact within, a Host Vessel, immediately began to search for a spirit to capture.

“Bind her, you fools!” Fidelio bellowed from the other side of the castle, his swarm of necromancer servants casting spells upon the chest. Their green magics stretched forward to the beam connecting to the Banshee’s body and in an instant, a new line had been established.

“Stop! Stop!” the Countess hissed as she became thinner with each passing second. Her entire being was stretching out towards the Seal Box of Ixi.

“More power, she’s resisting,” Fidelio ordered. A second wave of necromancers stepped forth and began casting even more spells. I stood by and simply watched my handiwork. My cult was more powerful than I could have possibly dreamed of. I barely needed to command them.

The Banshee tried to let out a final, defiant scream, but there was no sound. She merely threw her fists up in the air, clawing at the sky before vanishing into a beam of light. The energy crashed into the seal and the box was slammed shut.

Host Vessel has captured a Level 18 Spirit! You have enough energy to Raise the Pyramid! appeared in my vision.

Chapter 58

The entire world around us began to shake and quake. Everything threatened to fall apart and I wondered if maybe everyone would be slain by a simple cave in – but no. Much to my surprise, the castle was repairing itself, rapidly restoring its own construction. No master mason could achieve something so skillful so quickly.

Already, I could see dozens of wizards flying throughout the castle, casting spells that restored it to pristine construction.

Was it really over? I could scarcely believe it. “Sir,” Anna said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I must retreat and make the preparations to raise the Pyramid. Are you able to secure this yourself?”

I nodded blankly. My mind was almost empty…almost at peace. Perhaps it was the fact that I could no longer hear the Banshee screaming in my head. Or maybe it was the fact that my soul was restored ever so slightly more and with that came a stronger sense of stability than I had ever felt…

“Boss!” Peter gasped as he dashed out from the castle. I had lost track of him in the mess. “Sir, you’ve got to see what we found!”

I followed after the young man, my mind still trying to wrap around what to do next. I hadn’t actually expected to succeed…at least, I mean…I guess I simply couldn’t envision a world where I had actually won.

But that was the case. I had unified my forces, gathered a vast coalition and now, things were going to change for the better. At least, for me. The rest of the Cursed Land of Lepidonia was about to see a long, bloody civil war. One that I would stand atop of in the end.

We reached a dining room where hundreds of pieces of gold were stacked on top of each other. Many league necromancers and vampires were busy dividing the booty amongst themselves – the dead cared little for the gold.

Targen and a few others were gathered around a single artifact at the end of the table. They all were looking at it with awe and excitement.

“What is it?” I asked, walking up to the table and putting my hands on the sturdy oak. I was tired…so damn tired. Resting for a moment felt so close to good it was probably the closest I’d ever get to sleep.

“You’ll want to see what we found,” Peter said. “It’s incredible!”

Targen slid a long tray across the table towards me. Instinctively, I looked down to see my own reflection staring back.

“You fucking idiot, it’s a mirror,” the Revenant said to me.

“I’m well aware of what mirrors are,” I replied.

“Then you should know you’re trapped in a conversation with me,” the reflection sourly said. “And that means you can’t stop them from killing you.”

“Killing me? I’d like to see them—”

There was a murmuring around me, a sense of movement and conversation but I ignored it. This mirror was a mouthy thing and I had to give it a piece of my mind before I could just walk off.

Little did I realize that this was the advanced curse of the Hunger. The mirror, being pure silver, had absorbed my full faculties and I had no awareness of what was happening. No awareness of the men who carefully lined up a series of wands to my body, each containing positive energy. No awareness of how they laughed and cast the spell that vaporized my body, killing me instantly. My last words were a mere argument with myself.

Chapter 59

Death was not the end in Renzetto but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. Going through death a second time was even worse than the first. I had been betrayed, tricked by Peter and his gang – either at the behest of some greater foe or at his own idiotic whims. Either way, they had used me to remove the Banshee and afterward, used a mirror to distract me. This pointed to someone with deep, personal knowledge of myself. Moira? Fidelio?

So many possibilities filled my mind as I spiraled through nothingness. Death was not the end for me. I was already dead so why worry about such a thing? The Barrow I had constructed long ago would begin to spawn a new body for me and as such, I’d be able to rise up once more.

How long would it take for me to reconstitute? I don’t know…everything was foggy. Like my mind was barely holding itself together. Glimmers of my potential betrayers, however, kept me conscious and, of course, the idea of Eris Lanyer outliving me gave me reason not to simply fade away. I was not afraid of destruction in this place.

If I wasn’t afraid, perhaps it meant I was in charge? This void was a blank canvas, I could shift it like before…

“I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to turn my office into a wasteland,” a curt, surprisingly normal sounding voice said. In an instant, I was sitting in a regular sized office – like that of a clerk of the courts.

Across from me was a short man with bottle-shaped spectacles. He had hundreds of documents on his table, some piled up, some spread everywhere. Little feathers, quills with the power to fly, scuttered everywhere, scribbling documents and sometimes picking up bundles of paper.

This man was a deity. He radiated with an Ordered power that was so strong that it made me realize just how much of an illusion everything else was, including myself.

I looked down at my hands to see they were normal, human hands once more. Was I human? The pain…it was all gone.

“What is this?” I asked, pinching my flesh to see if it would hurt. There was no pain.

“This is the Courtroom of Epheris,” the man said. “And I would be Epheris.”

That caused my sense of wonder to vanish instantly. I became as pale as the ghosts I frolicked with and swallowed hard. The God of the Dead, the Sorter Power was here to speak to me? Oh no, he was going to eat my soul, wasn’t he?

My instincts were to flex out my claws and show him I wasn’t going down without a fight but I had no claws…and no magic either. I was impotent and useless in this realm. Deflated, I merely looked down at the desk in front of me. At least he wasn’t looming in vast size like the other greater powers.

“Nothing to say?” Epheris asked.

“Did I fail to revive myself?” I asked. “Is that why I’m here?”

Epheris chuckled and took his glasses off. He looked to be perpetually in his thirties, a simple man with a button coat and no jewelry whatsoever. “You can revive any time you like. I am not an undertaker.”

I let out a sigh of relief at that. It felt good to sigh once more. Huh, it felt good to feel good too.

“Soak it all in, you’ve earned a break,” the god of the dead said as he opened up a folder and began to flip through the papers. “You’ve been a busy little bastard in Lepidonia. Cleaning up a lot of trouble.”

“Causing even more,” I said.

Epheris laughed. “Not for me. Ah, here it is. Revenant and Hector. Which do you want me to address first?”

“Is there a difference?” I asked. “I don’t feel separate from myself. Or as if there’s someone else here.”

In fact, Hix was gone. Right, he had been part of my body. Hopefully he was okay. Odd that I’d care about the little bastard, but he was annoying in a fun kind of way. Like a bad pun. Oh how I miss cringing at puns…

“So you’ve subsumed the personality,” Epheris said. “Wonderful. Even better than I expected.”

“Expected?” I repeated.

The god merely chuckled as he continued down the list. “Alright, so let’s get the basics out of the way first.” He paused to clear his throat. Putting his glasses back on, Epheris folded his hands and leaned forward in the most professional of postures.

“Welcome to death. I am Epheris, the Sorter God. My job is to usher you into the afterlife of your choosing. There’s some good news and bad news, however. The good news is that I’m not in charge of punishing anyone, so if you are destined for hell, I can give you some other ways out. The bad news is that you are dead as a doornail and nothing will bring you back to life.”

“So…I can’t revive?” I asked.

“Life,” he repeated. “Unlife is perfectly acceptable. So if you wish to return to the land of the living as a snarling, horrible corpse hell-bent on destruction, so be it. But, you have options. I am your lawyer and confidant here, I will be more than happy to help you land where you need to be.”

“Aren’t you a breath of fresh air?” I mused. “Most powers are trying to get me to do what they want.”

“You’ve done all that I could have imagined and more,” Epheris replied.

His grin indicated there was a secret here. “What am I missing?” I asked. “Why are you being so...formal? Aren’t I some evil abomination? Shouldn’t you hate me?”

“The god of the dead doesn’t deal in hate, just inevitabilities,” the man stoically answered. He dug through the folder and tossed down a document. “Now, let’s review Hector’s life. You took three oaths of revenge and never fulfilled any of them. One was for true love, so that’s a huge violation of not only Justice but Good. The other two were both before the gods though you never specified which ones, so be glad for that.”

He squinted at the paperwork. “It also says here that you once killed a man – a murderer who strangled a city guard the day before. True justice since no one else would have done it.”

“I murdered someone?” I asked.

Epheris shrugged. “Hector did. So, we’ve got four Big Ones on your soul and that meant you weren’t really ready for death when it got to you. Such things have ways of infecting the mind and so on. When Eris Lanyer slew you, all of those energies within you, the unresolved oaths and the secret of murder, they simply pushed out. That created the Revenant, though it seems that you’ve already merged.”

I…or Hector seemed to be much more complex than I had first thought. None of these things came to memory. The strangled guard, was it Lank? Such a thought filled me with enough energy to tunnel my way straight out of Epheris’ realm and back to the real world.

“Calm yourself,” the sorter god said, sensing my sudden desire to leave. “You are not on trial. I am merely informing you so you know what brought you back.”

“So it wasn’t Eris alone?” I asked.

“An asshole nobleman is nothing new in the grand scheme of things,” the man explained. He had such a casual tone that I felt more at ease. “Your vows, personality and lack of religion is what brought you to the point of freeing yourself from the grave.”

“And then you gave me power?” I asked. “Made me an undead thing?”

“I did no such thing,” Epheris replied. “Rather, it was the interlopers known as the Eight Below who stepped in. These false gods are interposing being that have taken advantage of the vast quantity of undead in the land, promising spirits great powers in exchange for service. But they too are mere opportunists, so weak they can barely do anything beyond create more servants.”

I had assumed as much. The Monarch of Bones seemed ever-silent. “So they rose my spirit…”

“You rose. You had the choice,” Epheris said. “Hector the man had the choice to become something different. His soul died in the process but the spirit lived on, creating the Revenant. And had you stayed an empty shell, I would have been fine to watch you pop right back up in your barrow. But you didn’t stay empty. You brought Hector back.”

My soul…that’s why I was here. Even though it was but a tiny shard, barely able to register within me, it was the strongest element of my being. It was the only reason I wasn’t a gibbering, insane mess right now.

“It was a necessity,” I said.

“I don’t care,” he replied. “I’m merely informing you of the situation. Hector chose to return, so ultimately, you were always the same person you were meant to be. Your personality is fractured but it will continue to merge into this new being. The revenant, Velking, is as much you as Hector. Behind every failed oath is a shadow of the man who could have been. You are both the shadow and the man.”

Fascinating. “I see.”

Epheris sighed. “And so now we come to the main situation. You are dead but undead. Technically, I can move your soul on. Your spirit would be dispersed and whatever would rise up would be a mere husk of Velking. All memories mere dreams and nightmares to him, he would be more animal than man. But the core of you, that thing you experience right now, would be happier. You are not going to the heavens, I can assure you of that. Buuuut, I believe I can get you placed in a Justice plane where you’d be happy. Or at least absent of the torture of unlife.”

“Will I be able to sleep?” I asked.

“Easily,” Epheris replied.

I almost took the offer. Almost. “What’s the other option?” I asked.

Epheris shook his head. “You go right back down and dive into undeath again. You start the process back up and get back to your job.”

“My job?”

“Revenants have a purpose. Every undead does. You mortals don’t get that for some reason and so they’ll keep cropping up. I have no interest in explaining it anymore, to you or anyone else. But I can say that in terms of path, you were on the right one. Breaking free from the bonds of all powers, moving of your own accord…seeking the truth. I think you’ll make it to the finish line, truly.”

“There’s a finish line?” I asked, hope filling me for the first time. “As in, a way to end my curse?”

“Indeed,” Epheris said. “But there’s a way to end it now. Just move on. As I said, I am your counsel as well. What are you going to achieve diving back into the material realm, torturing yourself and others? What good is it to bring about only suffering?”

I pondered on that for a moment. Free from all of my pain and agony, free to think for a moment, I considered all that was before me. Peace and freedom…and yet…there were so many loose ends. So many questions as to what a Revenant was and why my path was so tumultuous. Death had really been the beginning for me in so many ways and while undeath was torturous…it wasn’t the worst.

No, that’s nonsense. I was literally in hell! Whatever madness afflicted me was gone and now I could think freely. I could move on and find peace in some kind of…

“Where am I going?” I asked. “If I pass on?”

Ephemeris tapped on the desk with a finger as he thought to himself. “I think I could put you in the Cosmos Realm, a place full of mechanical and rational beings, all oriented around making the world work. You will be put in a new body, one with metal skin, and your feelings will be eroded, as you broke oaths in life. You will become numb but happy. Whatever work you do will be pleasing and you will be able to live like any does.”

“But not as a king,” I mused.

“Certainly not.”

“Hector really fucked me over,” I replied. “Because there’s still a revenant in here too. We may be merged but the party didn’t start for me until that blade met his neck. If I go back, is there some way I can improve my situation?”

“Fulfill your oaths, learn your purpose and fulfill it,” Epheris explained. “If you can at least take care of those elements, you will be free from your burden when you are destroyed next.”

“What would you do, if you were me?” I asked suddenly. If Epheris truly was my counsel and a neutral power in this, I would be curious to see what his honest answer would be.

“Ah! Great question!” the god said with a little laugh. He popped off his glasses once more and began to polish them. “If I were in your shoes, I would go back. Because I happen to know a few secrets that would help me.”

“Secrets such as?” I asked.

Epheris grinned at me. “How to kill the Eight Below, for one.”

Chapter 60

Epheris had played his cards so close to the vest that I didn’t even realize he had them. I didn’t even know this was a game until that last sentence.

“You want to destroy them?” I asked. “Aren’t you neutral?”

“I am a neutral power but not one who is particularly interested in being usurped by a bunch of jackasses who think they’re clever,” Epheris replied as he waved a hand. The entire world shifted and I saw the god for who he truly was.

He was a great eagle, burning with pink energy that coated his entire body. In his right claw was a planet and in his left a serpent, striking against his own body. The serpent was alive and wriggling. So was the planet.

The cosmos grew around me and I realized that Epheris was holding our planet in his talon. He was the god of the dead, after all, and his power was over the entire realm of the material.

Stars and planets flew past as creation unfolded before me. I could see a vast host of stars and constellations shining.

“Ahhhh, much better,” the eagle said as it flew in a circle around me, causing the entire universe to rotate with him. “Here we are. The Cosmic View. Now, you can see the planets, the stars and even the constellations where the gods are resting. But do you know what you can’t see?”

“The Eight Below?” I mused, looking everywhere. There was something below earth, a strange bubbling firmament of murky water that greyed over time.

“The Underworld,” he replied. “The realm of the Greater Powers. Everything looks up to the stars thinking Lodan is the greatest power there is. But beneath the earth, in the depths of the world, is a place where the eldest gods are sitting and ruling.”

The firmament slowly began to open up before me and I could see a vast purple river. It was energies the same as my own! Sitting alongside the river were all manner of dead, drinking from it and laughing, talking and bathing. From above, the water looked disgusting but the closer I got, the healthier it appeared.

Looming statues were placed everywhere beside the water, showing different great beings. One of them was an Eagle.

“You are not a celestial god,” I realized. “You are Terrestrial…which…which means…”

“Oh yes,” Epheris chuckled. “I am one of the Creator Gods. We are not silent by any means. But we are certainly not happy with what has been made of the world above. It’s not our way to interfere directly, so they sent me up to fix some issues. I bullied my way into the Constellation so I can act but the same rules apply to me as any other of the Ordered Gods.”

“You can only go where you have territory and followers?” I asked.

He nodded. “Indeed. But I made it work. Somewhat. It’s currently unfolding, my grand plan. When you came running along, I couldn’t help but notice how well you are helping me out. So I thought maybe if you bit it, we’d be able to have a little talk.”

By the river I could see the slave girl, sitting idly by. The love of my life! Kanetta was sitting by the waters, dipping her feet in and staring with sorrow in her eyes. She was waiting for someone.

“This is where the winners get to go,” Epheris explained. “The Underworld is for those who have done great things in their life, those who have lived with passion and purpose. At least, those who don’t get caught up in the Cosmic War. Even then, the souls who are tired of serving as angels and demons can come here to retire. Your soul mate is here, waiting for you. And she’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“What must I do to earn this afterlife?” I asked.

“That, I am afraid I cannot tell you,” Epheris replied. “There are too many laws preventing me from giving you anything truly worthwhile. But I can give you some clues and a single gift. Such is your reward for bumbling into my favor.”

“Defeating the Banshee?” I asked. “Was that to your favor?”

He nodded. “Indeed. And you managed to keep her alive as well. You have displaced a significant amount of power and now that vacuum will be filled by my energies. Lepidonia is my land, after all. Your actions will bring a great war and that means many more will die. Many spirits put to rest, many souls sent my way. I stand to gain from every action you have taken since you entered the Cursed Land. But, I must confess that I am not just here to hand out a reward. Giving you some more power will advance my cause and continue to do so. Every step you take helps me and I don’t see that changing, ever.”

Here comes the sales pitch. “So you want me to work for you, aid your church and—”

The cosmos faded in an instant and we were right back at Epheris’ desk. He burst out laughing as he slapped the oak table while shifting back into his human form. “A job offer? No, you silly thing! I am not the god of the undead nor am I concerned with your purpose as a Revenant beyond the fact that it satisfies your soul. I am merely here to help you, one way or another.”

“Why the benevolence?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes.

“Why must things be malevolent?” he answered softly. “You’ve made up your mind, Velking. I know it already. You’re going to return to life.”

“Indeed I am,” I confessed. “I will not accept second best. Sleep can wait.”

“The humans have a saying that they’ll sleep when they’re dead, but I suppose you are going to prove the exception,” Epheris chuckled.

Before him, an hourglass appeared. It was an ornate, golden object with four eagle heads lining the sides of the circular top. Eldritch etchings were all over, as were carvings of little wings jutting out everywhere. I noticed that the wings looked like the pen quills he had been using.

There was no sand within the device. “Your soul is a liability,” Epheris explained. “You should not have restored so early. Your power will grow because of it but so will your Soul Signature, which will attract predators. Until you’re strong enough to stand on your own, I suggest you use this.”

He slid the hourglass to me. “Place your soul within it. As you continue to take actions that cause Surges, increasing your connection between soul and spirit, more sand will be added to the hourglass. No one can sense it but you, no one can gain any power from it and you will be able to transfer your discordance to the hourglass for storage as well.”

“And then one day Biggins knocks it over while dusting and I’m dead?” I asked.

“Nonsense, only you can manifest it. This is a gift, meant to preserve you. It doesn’t matter how much you learn, how many powers you have, if a single god can just reach down and pop you into his gullet, it’s over,” Epheris said. “And to prove my point, I shall force you to transfer it now.”

There was a sudden sensation of tearing followed by the words: Soul Secured to Tempus Hourglass!

Blue sand filled the bottom of the glass, only a few specks.

“That’s…that’s it?” I asked, lifting up the hourglass to inspect the grains. I didn’t feel any different.

“Indeed,” Epheris said. “You are playing a very large game. A few flashbacks doesn’t make one a god.”

“You know of my desires?”

“Of course,” Epheris said. “But we’re not interested in interfering or commenting on your path.”

We? I wanted to ask who that meant but knew better. Instead, I decided to change the subject. “So you have given me security. Now about those ways to kill the Eight Below?” I asked.

Epheris chuckled. “This civil war will cause a great deal of trouble for them. Many of their followers will be destroyed and vast amounts of discordance will change hands. All will be vying to get a foothold in the cursed land for one reason: if you own the land, you can truly become a deity.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was as easy as simply staking a claim,” I dryly said. “I should get some flags then.”

“Eight beings, one throne,” he said. “They will all plot against one another. An agent such as yourself would do well to know how to find them. In fact, I could tell you how to navigate to their world, through the Silvershade. In doing so, they are no longer silent.”

“Or gods,” I reflected. “For I could also bring an army after them.”

Another gift appeared on the table. An astrolabe, a tool for navigating the stars. It had many strange markings on them. “When the Night Sun rises,” Epheris explained, “it brings forth a whole host of pathways in the constellations. Tunnels to places these parasites have made their homes. This shall allow you to use your portal abilities to traverse these realms.”

“Two gifts? Your generosity seems to be quite pointed,” I said.

“I do not intend to see you back here again before you can at least kill one of them,” the god of the dead replied. “Why strike twice?”

Epilogue

The black pyramid slowly rose over the landscape. The Banshee’s energies were locked out the vessel within and she was expanding the small triangle into a true monolith for all to behold.

Below, I could see the swarms of the dead gathering at what had once been the Bleak Manor. The building had been torn down now, disrupted from the pyramid’s growth. Laying down roots in Lepidonia had been a desperate decision at the beginning, a ploy to get a meager amount of Discordance to stave off the miasma. Now, a tree was growing, a mighty oak that would overshadow the entire Cursed Country.

Epheris had given me two gifts, a secret and a glimpse of what my fate was to be. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, but not nearly satisfying enough to convince me to throw in the towel. I wasn’t going to give up my shot at reigning as a god, just to get some sleep. I was many things, but lazy wasn’t one of them.

Returning to unlife had been easy. Losing my body had been a temporary inconvenience, one that had cost me only the discordance and abilities that body had. Everything else, my kingdom, my army and even the loyalties of my allies remained firm. When I arrived to the Veiled Kingdom in my new wight form, no worse for wear, I was greeted like the King that I was.

No one had known what happened to me. I had just vanished. Peter claimed to have known nothing but I could see the terror in his eyes upon seeing me. However, I feigned ignorance for now. To be betrayed by evil allies was no big surprise. These people were cannibals and incinerators, the very definition of hell. If they wanted to keep climbing over each other to get a tiny portion of the prize, so be it. I would give them their punishment in due time. Everyone except for Peter, of course. I just couldn’t stay mad at him.

For now, I had an army to raise, a pyramid to develop and thousands upon thousands of Discordance and Equilibrium to collect. The drums of war were already banging in all directions as the various Banners were gearing up to claim territory for themselves. Many scouts were already seen on my territory. It was time for this King to go to war – with anyone and everyone, collecting as much power as I could along the way. This was going to be…fun.