Dom gazed down from one of the many trails cutting through the rampart, rolling his shoulders back. These trails were the only easy ways up, and as such the zombies were swarming for them, although their real function was to allow the defenders an easy way down. The horde was still a distance off, and although it was preferable to meet it on the inclined slope than on the relatively flat battleground, that was exactly what Dom wanted to do. Picking off the zombies with the gunners and the archers had clearly been a waste of time, so it made more sense to him to charge in, divide the horde, and open up a path to Kuraim so that they could end everything before the nightmare even started.

But it wasn’t on Dom to call the advance; he had to wait for the commanders to give the order. If he went by himself, sure, the folk from Riverside and New Derby would follow, but the rest would maintain their positions, and that would be a disaster. So he had to wait, even though this was the perfect time to charge. It was difficult to just stand still doing nothing, though, when this was the last hurdle to pass before achieving peace on Idroa. No longer would they have to dread a sudden attack from Kuraim’s horde or Brightmoor after today, and such thoughts gushed restless energy and excitement into the Black Knight. But he still had to wait…

Clicking his tongue, Dom turned from the battlefield and inhaled deeply, trying to release some of the trapped energy inside him. Behind him, some tens of metres away, he could see Lina and Josh and Natalie and Iris and Mia and everyone else from Riverside. They were his tribe, and he had to protect them. He intended to enter the thickest of the battle since his class would thrive in such a dense spot from draining life from his opponents. Who knew, perhaps it could even kill the undead if that was how Rotting Flesh worked.

Fortunately, the council had estimated that Riverside wouldn’t have overly high casualties here, primarily because of how large a mage population they had. From looting Lyfort and Ratterinks, they had gained a wealth of arcane texts that had massively boosted their mage numbers, giving them an edge over other settlements. And since all they had to do here was hold strong until Kuraim was defeated, the mages were well suited for such a task with their utility spells and mana barriers.

Suddenly, a small canister zipped up from the peak of the ramparts. Dom tracked it through the sky, watching it rise higher and higher, and he could feel his restless energy pooling in the tips of his fingers and his feet, and his body became something more. The canister reached the crest of its arc, then exploded in a brilliant discharge of violent red and piercing yellow and regal purple. Its boom roared through his ears as he turned back around to the battlefield, grip tightening around his warhammer - he had replaced his usual combo of mace and round shield for a giant, double-handed warhammer today.

“Formations,” he yelled, blood rushing to his ears, vision clearing up. He paused, realising this was it, and the thought brought a grin to his mania. “ADVANCE!”

They swept forth, rushing down the trail as orderly as they could, surging out into the battlefield like a violent whitecap, hungry for life. The artillery from above had stopped, and so there was no danger other than the endless waves of undead filling their vision. But the horde would fall, Dom knew.

He was one of the first to meet the horde’s vanguard, the reeking undead scrambling for him with rotting flesh and eyeless sockets. He pulled his warhammer back, then swept it ahead of him, crushing one zombie’s chest, another’s head, and a third one’s chest, launching them all to the side into a tumble of undead. And he was moving forward without care of them, maintaining his momentum, crushing bones and pulverizing flesh. This was it.

****

Ajit watched the battle from the ramparts, seated on a floating chair with his head balanced on his hand. He thoughtfully stroked his chin, taking measure of the progress the defenders were making. It wouldn’t be too long now until they cut through the horde, and that was what Ajit was waiting for, as well as the other Sovereigns gathered behind him. Instead of destroying the horde, what they were actually aiming for was for the defenders to get behind horde. This was so when the Sovereigns moved in to confront Kuraim, they wouldn’t be suddenly stranded in the middle, soon to be drowned out by the horde, but could instead rely on their troops to hold their flanks while they did the dirty business.

Not that all the allied Sovereigns would be joining in. Vivienne was on the ground leading Léonois’s army, and this was mainly because her greatest asset was Ulysses, her Titanic Ynurl, and there was no way such a beast could fit through Ajit’s portals. It was a similar case for Peryn of Dragonfire and Folding Winds, who were leading the drakkar army, as well as Dlyo, who was at the front of his clan.

Meanwhile, Emmanuel and Hou weren’t coming because they had very limited use on the ground. Rather, the Alchemist had already done his part by supplying a significant portion of the defenders with performance-enhancing drugs, and the Artificer was helping with his drones and mechas, which bombed and lasered their way through. The prophet was mostly useless in combat situations, and his mycelia and thralls were likewise unserviceable here since Kuraim could easily hijack them. Due to this, the mycelia were sticking some distance away, waiting for Kuraim to fall before they came in.

This left Katerina, Elisha, Bobby, Hokul, Baerl of Time, Klope of Rain, and Broken Scale to come with Ajit, to deal with Kuraim’s hundred-strong entourage. But numbers meant nothing here; if anything, Ajit reckoned they had the advantage. He saw it was finally time to act as the first of the defenders reached the other side, forming a defensive wall there to sandwich the horde in.

Dahlia Howe (human), the Abomination, has killed Zitu (eyeborn), the Arcanum.

Ajit drew in a long breath and sighed. That wasn’t good, but there was still hope she could be beaten. Anyway, he couldn’t do anything but focus on his own task now. The Warlock glanced to the Necromancer, choosing a nearby spot before tearing open the threads of space to connect the rift there with here. Since it was such a short distance, he could take all the Sovereigns with him too. He was just about to order them to enter the portal when further System messages jumped into his vision.

Silas Wycliffe (human), the Duellist, has killed Dahlia Howe (human), the Abomination.

Ajit grinned. “Alright, time to do our part,” he said to the Sovereigns. “He’s done h—”

Silas Wycliffe (human), the Duellist, has killed Dying Light (drakkar), the Devastator.

Silas Wycliffe (human), the Duellist, has killed Aengus Abercrombie (human), the Master of War.

Ajit blinked, hoping these notifications were figments of his imagination, but opened his eyes to the same messages. What had happened? Why would Silas kill Dying Light and Aengus?

“What is this, human?” Broken Scale roared from behind. “Betrayal,” he screeched.

“I don’t know,” Ajit said with a soft shake of his head. “But he’s heading in our direction now, so I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Anyway, he’s done his part.”

“We will discuss this later,” Baerl of Time started. “We deal with Kuraim f—”

Ajit couldn’t wait any longer for the Magi to finish as he saw some of Kuraim’s entourage were heading for his portal, likely intending to teleport here. He couldn’t have that so he stepped through, coming out of the other end almost immediately with an open palm raised. The people who had been running for the portal reacted differently on the sight of him, some stopping and scrambling to turn while others put on wild bursts of speed. It was all the same to him, anyway.

In a flash second, the reality there changed. The sky became red and baleful as Ajit’s triangular shades streamed down like an army of angels, a swarm of ravenous locusts, a flood of aliens, their inhumane figures promising menace. The massacre was here. Ajit remained by his portal while his shades went for their individual targets, quickly joined by the other Sovereigns who came out and added their power to the mix. Sooner than he had been expecting, a clear path cut open through the entourage to Kuraim, who was stationary under his mana barrier with Zafeera.

The Blood Ripper had sun-kissed skin and a buzz cut across her head except for a long ponytail which she flicked from side to side. She was dressed in mahogany-red clothes, not armour, and sat on a motorbike of coalesced blood. It was thrumming, raring to go, and she wore a hungry expression.

On the other hand, the Necromancer had long wavy hair and a full beard. Two features stuck out on his face: his prominently hooked nose and his manic eyes. He wore a fancy baroque jacket with fitting trousers, looking set for a runway rather than for war. He had a spectacularly crooked grin.

“Glad you could make it,” Kuraim said, “I heard about the roadworks and worried that would delay you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ajit answered, striding forward through the path opened up by his shades. With him walked Elisha and Baerl. “You messed up when you threw your zombies forward. You’re useless here, so at least let me gut you in silence.”

“Debatable,” Kuraim started, but he was quickly drowned out by Zafeera’s bike as she revved it. A duststorm spluttered to life behind as the back wheel spun, but she kept her position by grounding her feet. It was growing louder and louder, her face hungrier, until finally she lifted her feet. The bike tore forward, thundering through the mana barrier towards the Sovereigns.

But before she reached them, Katerina ambushed her out of nowhere, becoming visible from the side with her daggers glinting. However, Zafeera reacted just as quick, springing from her seat and pulling a bloody sword from the motorbike itself, meeting the Hidden Blade head-on meanwhile her motorbike veered to the side and circled around without her. Metal struck blood, then Katerina disappeared again, but Zafeera chased after her, clearly using a blood scent or something like that.

“You’re defenceless,” Ajit reiterated to Kuraim. Twenty of his shades, which had already gutted their opponents, shot for the Necromancer’s thick mana barrier, assaulting it with machine dedication.

Yet Kuraim appeared untroubled inside, raising an eyebrow at the shades. “Curious constructions. Let me show you mine.” He flung his arms up, and out of the ground pulled out a score of zombies in severe states. Their bones clacked as they valiantly charged out of the mana barrier, before being chopped up by the shades in a matter of seconds. “Oh, that wasn’t meant to happen.”

Kuraim furrowed his brow and appeared in deep thought for a moment, although Ajit clearly saw through this as a taunt. “How about this then?” He brought his hands together and thrust them forward. An arcane presence rapidly built from the tips of his fingers, and Ajit could tell from its growth rate that it would be deadly within just a few heartbeats. But that was fine because it was already over.

The shades finally struck through the mana barrier, shattering it into glittering shards which melted into the air, and they zipped in towards the Necromancer. It was within these last few moments that reality finally seemed to dawn on Kuraim as he gaped in shock, backstepping in fear, but it was pointless as the first shade reached him, thrusting one of its triangular arms into his stomach and up in an uppercut motion, while the other arm chopped his neck off. His head came off staked on the first arm, eyes still moving in surprise and mouth attempting to force out some final words which they drawled, before stilling.

Ajit Ghost (human), the Warlock, has killed Kuraim Jaffer (human), the Necromancer.

24 Sovereigns remaining.