A...a lich....

Even with my emotions for the most part held in check by the necromancer's magic, the little that I have recovered back is enough to send me into shock.

A lich is....a lich is a HIGH TIER undead....

To qualify to be high tier anything you must have the strength to rival an entire nation...

That is the creature before me.

There is no confusing a demilich and a lich. Even if I were still alive, I would be able to feel the immense power it radiates, it's own self so intertwined with death that it produces it like a fountain, it's mastery over death apparent in its own being.

To become a lich requires such knowledge of death that you can remove your own soul and put it into a phylactery, something I myself applaud having felt the pain of just making my soul resist the pull of death.

This effectively makes the lich nigh-immortal, its only weakness that phylactery yet it does not require to have it on. It must be kept relatively close, however, as the farther the body moves from it the less control it has over it.

I learned all this about liches, as many children have, through the numerous old tales about them, their role almost always that of the evil dark lord.

I say almost, as there are actually hermitic liches, who seclude themself away to further their research, not believing they're at the pinnacle like their more ambitious peers.

And now one of these creatures of legend stands before me, as we prepare to march forward into battle with the Empire's subjugation force...

As it stands, we shall have nothing to fear. Funny, as I'd be the only zombie to even think about fear.

Tearing my eyes away from the dessicated, but not skeletal being before me, I move further into the town for more victims to acquire death energy.

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Our march sends us further into the Empire, although we're still at the fringes. It's my pleasure that I don't feel the weather, for while we're no longer in that desolate region at which I died, the area is still very cold.

The original expedition sent us north, and more than one word of complaint about the cold was uttered when I made my way there when I was alive.

Now that I'm undead there is merely a pressure felt whenever the wind blows, enough to tell me that it's there. It ever so slightly dampens my mood when I realize I won't ever feel a refreshing breeze again, as I enjoyed them in the mild and comfortable temperatures of my home.

This thought ceases however, as the necromancer orders us to prepare for battle. I assume that the enemy has been scouted, or the lich just told him. The truly powerful are cheats like that, being able to know where you are without even using their five senses.

I grip my axe as I run through what's about to happen. Even with the lich on our side, this will be an immense battle as the cannon fodder that are soldiers and zombies battle it out and the artillery piece mages fire off their magics.

If it weren't for the necromancer's orders I would very much prefer to hang in the back doing nothing, but alas that can't be. It'd also ruin my being bad ass. It's odd that I wanna be bad ass, even before I regained my little bit of emotion.

I suppose childhood dreams transcend death.

Chuckling to myself, a rather odd sight and sound considering I'm a zombie and haven't spoken in over a week and a half, so it sounds more guttural than I expected.

Beyond that silly reason of wanting to be cool, it would be a lie to say I wasn't eager for the bloodshed and carnage. Another thing that comes with being undead, one I attribute to the emotional suppression. Your lust for violence goes unchecked, and while you would imagine it'd also be suppressed it's more like it's left unrestrained on purpose, to allow for more cruel and vicious subordinates.

Without the other emotions to get in the way, the desire to kill and maim is all consuming. Almost. I've been able to keep it in check, like I've said, in the same manner of the hunger. By instinct, knowing that my approach is more appropriate and efficient, the crazed losing out to the calculating in battle.

My mind continues to think these things, about my current mental state, our situation as an army, what plans these powerful individuals who lead us have in mind, amongst other more mundane things like my life as a member of the living and some regrets of things I did not get to do whilst I was one.

With that, an order sent to us by the necromancer, I march forward into the impending battle.

_______

There were over 3000 of them on the opposing side. That puts this battle at 4000 versus 3000, not counting our respective auxilaries.

This will be the first battle I've been in in which we hadn't had a overwhelming numerical advantage, not counting my one and only battle as a living being of course.

From on top of a hill looking at an opposing one, for which holds ontop of it our foe, with an obvious no man's land between us, I could just barely make out the locations of the opposing mages.

This was because there locations had a slightly higher troop concentration, ready to defend their charges to the death because of the important role they play.

We stay like this for awhile, each side on their respective hills, the tension palpable, yet neither making a move.

It would not be true to say neither side is doing anything, however, as while I can not say what things the enemy mages are doing but as for our lich, he appears to have been channeling something for awhile now. With my sensitivity towards death energy due to my being an undead, as well as my forays into manipulating it, I can tell whatever it is he's doing, it's going to be big.

As I finished that last thought, the lich appears to have finished, his firey eyes burn brighter as he motions forward with his hands, and for a moment all is silent.

That is when I feel it.

A wave of pure death energy, so much so that it can be felt against the skin, is hurled forward like an approaching tsunami towards the Empire's forces.

While it can not be seen by them, the Empire soldiers noticeably react as their bodies natural instinct screams at them on the approaching death, and before they can even take a step back in retreat, the wave hits them.

The effect is immediate, the wave charging forward until it hits a wall I can only assume was created by their mages, as every living creature that was enveloped falls dead without a sound beyond the thud of their corpses hitting the ground.

With a single spell, the lich has killed over 500 soldiers.

With that, once their mages detected that the death energy dilluted enough to be safely traversed, they attacked, fearing another such attack should they lose more men, the mages taxed from having to defend the remaining 2500 soldiers.

I count 4 mages, more than I expected, but I guess it was intended by the Empire to thoroughly crush the threat we posed.

Yet it was still inadequate for us, with the might of a lich on our side.

While it was noticeably drained somewhat by that last attack, I knew it would not be long before it was back to full power due to its own regenerative capabilities and the deaths that it inflicted, as well as the the toll that the coming melee will produce.

With that, the real battle began.