This was the third one attacking us this week. Why the hell did they choose cemeteries? Did they not suspect that living here made us prepare for everything? Anyway, it was time to find out if the new squad members would deliver. The sphere showed he was careful and quite fast—an assassin, I supposed. The slimes had detected him long ago. In these three years, they had developed great instinct—almost incredible. But they were no match for knives and swift feet. For that, I had others.
The steps were light. The terrain was large and open. Here, there was already a huge number of bodies—the product of the Lich King's uprising. That bastard attacked our ranks with everything we lost. It did not matter if it was a bird or a wolf—not to mention people, elves, and dwarves. Just remembering that day—the nagas arriving with their eggs, fleeing a horde of undead dwarves; the bodies of fallen humans during our battle against the mercenaries of Stormhammer and Bloody Coin; suddenly standing, raising their swords against all living things; the forest gaining more power and growing at an unthinkable rate, now covering the entire mountain; humans taking refuge here, so afraid of death they did not care what these places held; my need to stay, to provide a field that filtered all the corruption from the second front... Well, that did not matter now. Let us see.
He had already reached the first tombs. He saw a famished wolf—one of the last to escape the reigning chaos. The poor thing could not adapt here. It had not even growled, and the assassin had already pierced it with a knife. He was quite fast. The poor animal only sighed. If only he would strip its flesh, at least give it a burial... a prayer for the animal to rest in peace. But no—he mocked it, as it was not his level. Let us see what he thought of his level. Attack!
The first arm had no hand. They had chosen it that way. It emerged from the ground and dug into the depth of his calf. From his mouth came only a muffled cry. At that moment, the rest of the hands emerged. They took him by the feet. He reacted with panic. I supposed he feared they were the hordes of the dead armies that daily lashed the outskirts of their cities. But that was not the case. I hoped he would surrender. But he would not—I knew it. I had seen it too many times. They thought they fought for humanity, freedom, or some higher ideal. A couple of skeletons in the back sank down. It seemed they would not be necessary. The spirits that embodied them came to thank me. One of them was a general in that skirmish—compared to what we lived day to day, the battle against the cities was nothing. He said the runes on the bones gave him perfect control—not to worry; he would ensure no intruders came to bother. What people did not know was that behind that cemetery was a human settlement. There, they harvested, ate, and were happy not to have fallen to the corruption of our second enemy. That was what the dead mercenaries defended—with the decrees of the great cities of Greenleaf giving rewards for the heads of those who had joined the Dark Lord's ranks.
That was what they called him now—Dark Lord, as if it were a luxury that he sought, almost like a noble title. Before, he passed for a warrior. Now, after how he arrived, if he ever woke, only we would recognize him. For others, he would be a figure of terror—an abominable being who raised his weapons against the world. Did we do that? No! We only lived our lives—some after the betrayals of their people, others seeking vengeance. He sought peace. He almost achieved it that day three years ago.
The phoenix arrived weakened. I sent it for fear of what might happen to my lord. When the bird returned, I feared it had not arrived in time. But that was not the case. It had run out of strength in the mountains. It told me it had died several times to protect him from the worst of the attack launched by a lich king, that it had fled carrying a dying lord. Immediately, I went for him. He was in terrible condition. His whole body suffered burns. His armor was burnt. The only thing remaining with shine was his sword. I cared for him. I removed the leather pieces adhered to his skin—carefully, terrified each time a piece took cooked, damaged skin with it, leaving only living tissue.
I healed him daily, but he did not want to wake. Every day, I told him what was happening. The elves returning to the coasts, their letter of goodwill where the king accused a human of killing his daughter the princess, where they would use the last of their magic to defeat the three great threats looming over Greenleaf. Those of the infernal marks—abominations he knew his daughter had brought. I did not know if with his knowledge, if his former sage had sold them for power, or if, as Chapatrueno and I suspected, he used the excuse to place himself again at the head of everything. His daughter—no matter what we did, we could not get close. Only the mages, with preparation to face the corruption of the site formerly known as the Sacred Bastion and now only known for its glass valleys and poison wells. No one had reached the place itself. On the other mountain ranges were the Lich King's hordes. I did not understand why his troops marched all the time south—far from his ally, far from us. The people in the south were weak, uncivilized—towns founded after the elven exile, without knowledge or culture.
"...ness."
"Who said that?"
"Lilith, it is the dragons."
"My Lord, you are awake?"
"I always was. But I had to fight the lich's magic. It left me very wounded—inside, outside, emotionally, and physically. I finished my recovery a year ago. Since then, I have studied—reliving everything I know. I need to find how to eliminate that bastard. That, without counting finding a way to close that portal... to kill my beloved, who is no longer."
"But, my Lord, you need to recover. Your body is still full of scars. Your face is badly damaged. We found no method to heal it."
"It does not matter. My body moves. My eyes see. My mouth speaks, but it sounds grave—does not sound human. Hahaha. I think I am no longer human."
"Then let me tell you about the refugees, the measures taken, the consequences of the appearance of the agents of chaos, of Morgana, our territory..."
"No. You have done well. I am proud of you, Lilith. Do not worry. It is more important to plan our next move. I must go to the elf king's castle. I need to seek there if there are ways to close that abomination. Chapatrueno is outside—I know it. I can feel it. He went to save all the dwarves in the mountains. You have organized this place well. I think you will be an excellent guardian. I will leave alone."
"You are alive. Give yourself time to recover. I am sure we can resist. Such haste is not necessary. You have suffered much. You deserve rest."
"You do not know. That is why you do not understand my fear. The lich did not travel south for pleasure or to stay out of my reach. That is where the bones of dragons rest. They existed millennia ago. If he manages to revive any, our fight will be complicated. We need all haste and all help if that threat consolidates."
"But all the cities prepare. Humans allied with elves learn new magics, forge new weapons. A squad of mages who only know how to kill has already formed. They call themselves the Blackcaps. Not to mention there are mercenaries patrolling our lands. All hunt our people. Every time we defend ourselves, it is reason to send more troops. The cities prepare to destroy us without knowing the one responsible for everything. That is without counting the Lich, who seeks the silence of death across the continent. Let alone Morgana, Lady of Chaos, who wants to swallow everything in madness."
"I am still weak, so you will have to command while I recover. But do not fear. Those who attack us will be repelled. If they invade us, they will be destroyed. I tell you—I tell everyone: let them come for us!"