Chapter 409: The Empire's Legion of Skeletons
With ripples of space spreading outward, a portal opened on the pockmarked plain.
"Whoosh—"
The northern wind howled.
Wild grass bent under its force.
This was the site of the former Battle of Okagrar, where craters from artillery strikes and trenches dug by engineers still scarred the flat ground, leaving traces of the brutal war that once took place.
Buried here were tens of thousands of soldiers from the Northern Kingdom, though after several months, most of their remains had been washed by rain, eroded by insects and bacteria, gradually decomposing and eventually covered by thick layers of soil, turning into nutrients buried underground.
Night fell, and silence dominated, broken only by the sound of the wind and insects chirping.
The lich surveyed the wasteland with his flickering ghostly "eyes," savoring the deathly aura lingering in the air.
Arriving at such a "paradise," he should have been thrilled.
The soldiers' skeletons were excellent materials for creating undead—after all, wasn't there a saying: "A battlefield is a necromancer's paradise"?
War always brings endless slaughter and death, the perfect soil for breeding the undead.
Here, he could raise an entire undead legion.
But things were different today—this time, the lich wasn't creating undead for himself but working for the empire.
At that thought, as he gazed at the dense layer of nearly a hundred thousand skeletons underground, Orest felt a shiver run down his spine—if only liches had spines—and even exposed his yellowed skull.
"Th-these..."
"Are they all to be turned into undead?"
"You're right. This is just the second batch, but I'll help you finish it all."
Cassius answered calmly.
The slight smile on his lips sent chills through the lich.
This was only the "second" batch?
Would there be a third, fourth, or even more to come?
But with his life force tied to the phylactery in Cassius's hands, the lich Orest had no choice but to obey, if only to preserve his life.
Orest gritted his teeth and reassured himself, "It's just tens of thousands of ordinary undead skeletons..."
"Nothing to be concerned about."
"Especially with the master's help."
Despite his words, his exposed jaw trembled.
The Azure-footed Wyrm Serpents, monstrous creatures over a dozen meters long, required substantial power to convert. But for a lich, turning ordinary soldiers' skeletons should be relatively easy.
However, even the smallest tasks add up. The remains of the Northern soldiers here amounted to nearly sixty thousand!
Turning them all into undead skeletons was a massive undertaking—even with the Myrkul's Bone Staff in hand.
Under Cassius's cold gaze, the lich reluctantly raised his staff with trembling hands and began chanting softly, "Bones long buried in dust, wandering souls of the void, I summon your return."
"Buzz—"
The necromantic gemstone at the tip of the staff emitted a dark green energy field that covered the vast wasteland.
Cassius flapped his wings lightly, and the power of [Empire Domain] descended abruptly.
The surrounding magic net instantly surged with activity, amplifying the spell's power. The necrotic field rapidly expanded several times its original size, covering the entire abandoned battlefield.
[Scourge of the Undead]
"Creak, creak."
The bones buried deep underground began to tremble and wriggle, emitting faint noises.
Wandering spirits across the wasteland wailed, sobbed, and howled, but they were dragged back underground by an invisible force.
The skeletal hand holding the staff trembled more violently.
But Orest had underestimated the power of these tens of thousands of skeletons and Cassius's "assistance."
He had never felt himself controlling such immense power—enough to unleash a necrotic plague across the entire Anzeta Wasteland.
Seventy thousand undead skeletons under one command.
If Cassius hadn't captured him, he might have completed Myrkul's sacrificial ritual and achieved true immortality by now.
"Return in the form of the undead and become my—"
For a moment, Orest was lost in the sheer ecstasy of the spell, imagining himself as the true master of these undead creatures.
But the next moment, an invisible pressure descended, filling him with a profound sense of danger as his soul flame flickered.
That was a fatal mistake!
He shuddered and quickly corrected himself, whispering,
"No, you are the eternal servant of the great Emperor of Embers—Lord Cassius! Serving the Ember Empire until the end of the world!"
The pressure around him dissipated, and Orest breathed a sigh of relief. If he hadn't corrected himself, his phylactery would have been crushed.
The ground trembled faintly as the skeletons buried in the soil began to stir, their bones grinding together with crackling sounds.
"Shua—"
The first skeletal hand burst through the soil.
More bone hands followed, forming an eerie, pale sea of skeletal flowers blooming across the wasteland.
The skeletons of Northern soldiers and officers emerged from the soil, standing shakily, still wearing tattered, decaying military uniforms and wielding broken swords and weapons.
Most of the skeletons were incomplete, missing limbs or heads, with some bearing embedded shrapnel in their ribs.
One particularly large skeleton, likely a former general, had a noticeable bullet hole in its skull.
This was no surprise. According to imperial statistics, a third of the casualties in the coalition forces were due to artillery, and another third to gunfire.
These poor Northerners had not only been slaughtered by the Ember Empire's guns and cannons during their lives but were now being resurrected by a lich to serve as the empire's laborers even after death.
The skeletal army spread across the wasteland, forming a vast tide of undead. The seventy thousand fallen soldiers of the Northern United Kingdom now stood as the empire's undead legion.
Orest struggled to prop himself up with his staff, the ghostly fire in his eyes dimming further as his body hunched even more.
Forcing a smile, he bowed and scraped, "Master, this is your undead legion, belonging to you and the empire."
Cassius nodded slightly, but then turned his head, his golden eyes gazing down at the lich. "Just now, it seemed like you wanted to call them your servants?"
"N-no!"
"You misheard!"
"No, no, you're right—I misspoke!"
The lich bowed even lower, babbling in panic.
"I hope so."
Cassius turned away, flapping his wings and soaring into the sky, overlooking the undead army in the moonlight.
"Orest."
"So far, you've done well. Keep it up."
"Don't worry—my empire rewards all who contribute, whether you're an immortal lich or a vengeful spirit. I treat everyone equally."
"Th-thank you, master."
The lich knelt, hunched over.
Hearing Cassius's praise left him feeling flattered—especially since he had been terrified for his life just moments ago.
"Now, follow me to the next site for the undead transformation."
"..."
Orest felt like crying but had no tears. The once fearsome lich who had taken countless lives was now experiencing what it meant to be exploited.