The walk downstairs was an agonizing one. Horn was furious. The challenge seemed like a mistake. Without gaining anything, he lost a lot of warriors, and he was going to lose even more. The undead took a toll, and they would come back, probably in an even bigger force. Fuming, he came back to the main hall. He saw his clanmates quiet down, and faces turned to look at him. Soon, the only sound in the hall was the crackling of the fire.

Instantly, he felt ashamed. They were counting on him, and he was just worried about lost warriors, about his companions leaving. He felt the silence growing, but his mind was in disarray. Strangely he remembered the game trailer, one of the final sentences, Now it’s up to you to lead these people to greatness. Will you be the hero they want? A tyrant they’re afraid of? A ruler they deserve? Or just yourself?

Was he ready for that? Was he ready to be the hero they wanted? Was he himself? He was a god damn world-class player, a general, a ruler, but here he felt like a child. Letting the game run him in circles. It was time to stop playing and start winning. He had chosen to take the challenge, and he was going to finish it. He took a long look over the gathered clan. He saw a mix of emotion on their faces, from the scorn of the freshly summoned adventurers, through admiration of his first summons, to what he could only describe as faith.

“Lightforge! We’re almost at our new home. No sacrifice made so far will be in vain. This is the final challenge. This is where we make a stand. A majestic creature is giving its life to defend her young. I say we do better. We make the undead give away their unholy life. We have a battle to win!”

“Lightforge!” A chorus of voices replied. Horn even saw Herrak make a slight nod.

Your speech roused your clan. They are ready for the upcoming challenge. Rewards: +3 morale (will decrease daily by a point till 0)

Your clan morale changed: Happy(+9) -> Happy (+12).

He nodded back and approached the adventurers, “Listen, you wanted an assignment? I have one for you. Earlier, three groups of my clan went out, each looking for something in the valley. Find them, help them, kill off any necromancers on the way.”

Herrak smiled, “And how are you going to pay us?”

That stopped Horn for a second. Indeed how was he going to pay them? He didn’t have currency nor equipment to spare. Looking at the party, he’d buy some of their gear off. The only thing he had was Essence, and like a reply to his thought, a screen popped up.

Do you want to grant a Quest to Herrak’s adventurer party?

Accepting the prompt, another screen popped up, where he could define the parameters and set a reward in Essence. He had ten thousand in the bank, and he wondered what reward should be. They came just out of the Soul well, but he doubted they were the first level. A quick use of Lore confirmed them as he got a spread of level between 5 and 10. Sighing, he pushed ten thousand into the reward and got a prompt.

New quest issued to Herrak’s party: No rest for the wicked

Objective: Find and bring back Lightforge’s champions 0/3

Bonsu objective: Help them achieve their missions: 0/3

Reward: 5000 Essence split between the party.

Bonus reward: 5000 Essence split between the party, friendly status with Lightforge clan.

“A bit slim pickings, but beggars can’t be choosers. We’ll take it,” Herrak said, extending his hand, “I hope that’s a beginning of a long and FRUITFUL relationship.”

Smiling, Horn shook the hand, “So do I.”

“You three - I want these wagons stacked against that and that wall.” Horn said, surrounded by his clan, “With the rest, make a funnel at the entrance and take off the wheels. Scorpions in the back focused on the main gate and, for god sake, get me a ladder up the wall. Move the livestock inside the keep.”

Around him, groups sprung to action. The courtyard began to be a hive of activity. Walls were being patched, more significant gaps blocked by wagons. His hunters and gatherers were already out, scouting the area. A dozen or so crafters were scouring the castle of anything of value and usefulness. So far, their only exciting find was a barrel of what once had to be wine and some rusted chains from the castle’s dungeon.

His sergeants took the freshly summoned warriors through a quick refresher, and adepts were stacking any available potion looted from the tutorial dungeon into handy packs. Miners with a score of remaining dwarves were digging a trench around the biggest gaps to slow down the attackers, while others were stacking stones.

Horn was walking around smiling. This was it! Finally, something familiar, building defenses, preparing for a siege. He took a while to familiarize himself with the area. The courtyard was a large square, with remains of several buildings in the corners. However, the only one more or less standing was the keep. A four-story stone structure. Once upon a time, it had to be a beautiful building, but now was tarnished and covered in vines, it looked anything but. The whole area looked sickly. The vegetation just didn’t seem right. The grass was yellowish, the vines almost slimy.

As he managed to get on top of the wall, what he saw stopped him dead. Between sick, wicked leafless trees, bubbling swamps, and a thin layer of yellowish mist, the valley looked like something out of a nightmare. Here and there, he saw some kind of movement. A scared animal was skimming through the area, or a couple of skeletons shuffling around. In the distance, he saw a mounted group. They were a few miles out, but he was sure that was Ingrid. They were running from a swarm of small skeletons, he was almost ready to set out immediately, but then he remembered the words of Adrianna, ”you cannot always be everywhere, trust your friends.” A worried smile appeared on his lips, but he took his sight from the group and focused back on the task at hand.

“Chieftain! We found something!” One of the crafters ran towards him. Horn was just finishing going through troop deployment for the upcoming attack. His scouts already noticed a horde of almost a thousand skeletons. This time they were a bit more varied bunch. Most of the horde was composed of humanoids, but there were two, thrice as large beasts, ogres or trolls, and a hundred or so skeletal hounds. They almost caught one of his hunters, who wanted to get a closer look. On top of that, he swore that there was a robed human in the middle of the host. Probably one of the necromancers. They were still around half an hour away, but their march was relentless.

Horn’s preparations were far from done, but he had already pulled the workers. For this wave, it was as much as he could do. He didn’t pull them off to save them. Rather let them rest before the battle. This time the whole clan would defend the castle, and probably he would need them all. They were vastly outnumbered. He was as ready as he could, so a distraction could be helpful.

“What is it?”

“Master Yellowrock said there’s a hidden chamber in the basement. He and his acolytes are opening an entrance as we speak.” The dwarf replied,

“Yellowrock?” Horn asked but then remembered – the Geomancer. He didn’t talk with him yet. There was just too much to do. That might be interesting.

The walk to the basement wasn’t a long one. That part of the keep seemed to be best preserved. The cellar had only several rooms. A pantry with contents long turned into dust, a dungeon, already pilfered for any metal available, and a storehouse. However, the main stairway led into a chapel. It was quite spacious, with a few rows of old rotten benches and a small altar with a figure on top. The figure was humanoid, but nothing more could be told as time took its toll on it. Mosaics covered the walls, but they also were unreadable with years of grime on them.

Behind the altar, the familiar figure of a geomancer was focusing over the far wall in the room. Around him, a gathering of his students, oh-ed and ah-ed over his every move. Horn approached them, asking innocently, “A tough nut to crack, isn’t it?”

“Ah yes, but the rock is always pat-“ The mage began to reply, as he realized that this wasn’t any of his students. Turning towards Horn, one of his eyebrows rose, “I don’t believe we’ve met, young man.”

“Indeed, there wasn’t time. However, your fame proceeds you master Yellowrock.”

“Ah yes, yes. I’m a humble member of the Obsidian circle. I’ve never reached the first circle in my previous lifetime, but being head of the second one just took too much of my attention.” The old dwarf replied with smugness.

“Of course, to lead is an honor but also a duty,” Horn replied, trying to keep a straight face. He got the dwarf right on the first try, calling himself master gave that away, but still, he was pleased. “I know something about that myself, even though I’m new in this role. I hope you’ll give me an honor of your advice.”

“Ah yes, you have to be this young chieftain? That’s some responsibility. Leading a magic conclave is way more complicated, but maybe you could learn a thing or two. I’m glad you’ve come to me. That speaks of wisdom!”

Horn nodded, letting Yellowrock keep blabbering for a few minutes. Finally, the dwarf stopped to take a breath, and Horn weaved in, “Master Yellowrock, I’ve heard you found a secret chamber somewhere in here. Can you share your insight?”

“Ah yes, you see, youngling. The power of Earth is unprecedented, and you can do wonders with it. While I was researching this outstanding relict of the past, it whispered to me. I know that behind this wall, there is a corridor leading deeper.” The mage said, pointing behind the altar.

“Wonderful, we’re sure we will investigate. I’ll assign a few clan members to break through it while we defend from the horde.”

“Break it? Defend? Ah yes, youngsters and their rush in life. This is a find of the century! We need to clean it and study intensively. I’m sure there is a passage there. We need to understand the way the old were thinking. I’ll keep studying it while you take care of those pesky living bones.”

Horn ate a curse coming to his lips, but the words of Herrak echoed in his mind. The old mage wasn’t a part of the clan, and despite his attitude, he was a fantastic asset. So far beside his adepts, he didn’t have any magical support. He took a deep mental breath and focused. He knew how to play people, his whole life, he’d done that from parents, teachers, ‘friends,’ and finally opponents. This shouldn’t be any different. Forcing a smile, he said, “Of course, Master, I understand that you must be tired after such a long day. I’ve heard that you valiantly helped to push back one of the first attacks, and for sure, you need some rest. Please stay behind while we’ll take care of that dangerous threat. I just hope we’ll be able to survive without you. But your safety is of most importance! We cannot see something happen to you.”

The old dwarf's nostrils flared. An ompfh voice escaped his lips before he said, “Ah yes, maybe it would be a shame to let such a promising student lose his life over such a small scrabble. I’ll help in the defense.”

“As you wish, master,” Horn replied, bowing to hide a smile.

He quickly left the room, trying to stop the laughter from escaping. Only on the stairs, he allowed himself to start chuckling. On the way towards the wall, he caught one of his miners and whispered instructions. That wall was coming down, one way or another.

The horde was almost upon them. A sea of bones was rattling towards the ruined keep. Horn was on the wall over the gate, watching it. All preparations were finished. Around him, his crafters and workers were preparing stones to bombard the dead below. On the courtyard behind, a reversed wedge of his warriors awaited the charge. Scorpions a dozen yards back were raised to shoot over the heads straight through the entrance, hopefully sending dozens to their final rest. One of the few advantages of having a short dwarven army.

Horn created his party some time ago, doing a similar thing as earlier. Inviting his sergeants automatically spread the party to their own squads. Over two-thirds of his clan were in his raid. He felt his Outnumbered specialist kicking in, and he just felt this surge of power in his arms. Similarly, his maximum health increased by three points, thanks to his Leadership bonus. He already cast maxed out Blessing of might¸ twenty minutes ago to recover at least part of his mana back. The buff had an hour of duration, so that left plenty for the fight.

All his remaining ranged fighters were also on the wall, with a single order – keep down until their target arrives. He remembered the robed figure from the report, and if that was one of the necros, he had to die first before he could mess up his defensive plans.

The only issue he saw was that of who he didn’t see. The robed figure wasn’t with the horde anymore. Either he split off, or there was something he didn’t catch. The undead host also seemed a bit better organized than the previous assault he saw. The skellies were split into three groups. Two or three hundred hounds led the group, a good fifty yards in front. Then two hulking skeletons, each commanding two centuries of their smaller kin, but what worried him most was the last group of around a hundred slim and tall skellies, which held old bows. Not everyone had arrows with them, and some bows were clearly broken, but even fifty of them would completely change this fight.

However, there wasn’t anything else he could do. The dice were cast, and now all that remained was to see the battle through.

At the same time, Ingrid was cursing at her luck. Who could have guessed that the ravine they were using to lose the pursuit would be a dead-end? It finished in a very shallow cave, not more than a cave mouth, it seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she saw it. She was sure this was where she was supposed to go, but the quest didn’t finish nor update, and the damn bone hounds were a minute or two behind.

Their first raid on the skeletal horde was a success. She managed to snag the necromancer from their ranks. However, the remaining undead had just started chasing her group, and now she had a problem. She took a look around, seeing the dwarves and their mounts waiting for her command. She felt ashamed of taking advantage of her position, especially after seeing what was waiting in the valley for her clan. However, she knew her decision was right. Reliving her death and the death of her beloved animals left her shaken to the core. She knew that it wasn’t real this time, that it was just a test from the gods. But it didn’t make it any easier. That night, she made her choices, and now she made them again.

However, then Horn appeared, and saving her, he shook her belief. All her life, she was pushed over by nobles and her family. They were shunned by the rest of the nobility as traitors, as lesser ones. It was all her grandmother's fault, but she put those memories away. Instead, she forced her will on others below her, and only her boars understood her. Only with them she felt whole. She died for them, with them. But now she wondered, was it the right choice? It was bothering her from the beginning. Why was she chosen by the gods? Why was she returned as a champion? She was just a boar herder, the best in all kingdoms, but she wasn’t a hero – her grandmother was.

She came to terms with her inadequacy, spiraling down into snarkiness and her ranch. She didn’t care, but here she was. After reliving her final moments, she began thinking. She reached the tenth level before the challenge, her quest to evolve the class hanging out there with the choice she never wanted to take. Instead, in her previous life, she just ignored it, followed the easier path. Leveled the second base class and just merged them into an advanced one. It was an easier path, but it always came out lesser than evolution. But she wasn’t interested in power, not back then.

Being an important and respected part of a new clan brought up something she believed she lost a long time ago – her pride. Appearing back amidst them, she felt their gazes, waiting for her to start leading. For the first time in her life, someone counted on her, not only for the money or fame. The feeling was both exhilarating and scary, and again she took an easy way out. The moment the Gryphon sent her on this errand, she was out. She ventured out, taking her riders, but now here in the dead end, with enemies incoming, she looked at her fighters and felt that same decision ahead of her. Would she lie down and die, or would she change?

As first hounds rounded the corner, the decision was made. She promised herself to stop running, to start leading. She owed that to the clan, she owed that to her boars, she owed that to herself, and probably she owed that to Horn.

A soft chime echoed in her ears, but she ignored it as the pitchfork in her hand came alive. It transformed under her eyes, the old handle turning silvery, the teeth elongating and widening. Enchantments and runes came alive, and energy spread through her arm, empowering her body and mind.

For the second time in her life, the trident responded to her choices. The first time she decided to be there for her champion boars, and now the second time as she chose to become who her grandma wanted her to be. Silvery runes flashed over the handle, a familiar text passed down generation over generation.

Upon my shoulder responsibility, I’m willingly taking. To protect and serve the ones in my care. I’m their mother, defender, and the avenger. I’m the ones bringing them to this world. I’m the one they see as they leave. I’ll never waver. I’ll never surrender. I’m the Valkyrie.

A single tear went down her cheek, and a faint whisper that no one heard, “I’ll make you proud, wherever you are.”

Unknown to her, behind her, the cavemouth began glowing with the familiar swirl of the Soul well portal.