First came the arrows, dozens upon dozens of them falling from the sky like rain.

We ourselves hadn't any archers, since the use of a bow is hard to replicate for an uncoordinated zombie, requiring additional support from a necromancer. However, maintaining control over an entire army as it is, I doubt that our black robed overlord could handle the additional demand for finesse.

Then again with the absurd strength whatever organization he's a part of I wouldn't be surprised if he actually could, and simply didn't feel like the hassle.

The lich as well has no subordinates with him, I can only assume he found himself to be all is required in aid.

Eyeing the mass of shafts (heh) and considering my own lack of shield, I remember that's a lie. There's all around me.

So grabbing the nearest one, which struggled only a little by the sudden pull, I angled myself behind it so that I was protected.

The arrows began to hit us, my protected spot allowing me to eye the damage we receive from the volley. Due to us forcing their hand, we are able to retain a high ground advantage, so we're better protected against arrows to our skulls. Not to say we're completely safe, a poor sap next to me getting a 10/10 shot straight through into his mouth and into his brain.

Now a zombie can survive without its brain, honestly a zombie can survive anything. But it's a efficiency thing when it comes to receiving damage, the more damage a zombie accumulates, the more death energy is required for them to function.

The amount is generally neglible, otherwise we'd have a lot of zombies disqualified because of a missing limb or two. Except, when it comes to the head. Losing or receiving damage to the head shoots up the cost of maintaining the zombie immensely, as the death energy has to compensate for the loss of senses. Instead of fronting that cost for a defective product, necromancers usually cease supply to these zombies, and due to the cost of staying alive, they quickly meet death once again.

So, the tried and true method of aiming for the head stays a constant in killing the undead.

I also see Abs doing his usual thing of being hit in the gut without any sign of damage. I have a few theories as to why, mainly due to him missing his back and having an exposed spine, but I don't know enough about death energy and how it's spread throughout the body and compensates for injuries while they heal.

Three more volleys are weathered before the Empire's soldiers are within striking distance, and after a moment of hesitation and planning on my part I join in after the lines clash.

I say lines, but as a zombie horde it's more of a wave crashing against grim faced and perspiring rocks. Quicker than in the literal water and erosion, the enemy are slowly pushed back. I myself join in, and find myself against a rather stout man armed with the general sword and shield set up. His exposed flesh is covered in scars indicating he isn't a greenhorn.

If I had a working heart I know it'd be pumping hard right now, as my first true life and death battle (my life ending one doesn't count) begins.

But due to the influence of emotional suppression and necromancer's command, and my own suppression over my urge to frenzy, I am able to maintain a cool head as we eye eachother.

I have him beaten in terms of reach due to the size of my axe, but he exudes a confidence that tells me he knows how to get around that.

He rushes forward while I'm still thinking of a plan, and I hastily swing my axe in a downward diagonal slash, which is met with his shield. Whereas my force would be more than enough to knock him aside even just a bit, due to my lack of momentum from having to throw the attack out quickly, he takes it in stride while moving into my personal space, slicing out for my hands holding onto my axe intending to lop them off, exposed because of the rebound from hitting his shield.

A tinge of panic is felt in me, as I desperately use my strength to pull my axe and hands away from the oncoming strike.

My speed, however, was lacking and he managed to get my left hand. It sails away, riding the force of the sword to send it out into the battlefield.

Desperately swinging out, the man retreats back.

"Bloody fucking hells, a self preserving zombie...." With wide eyes my opponent remarks to himself.

I on the other hand give a grimace due to the loss of my hand, the only silver lining being that it was my non-dominant. Although since becoming a zombie I am perfectly able to use either hand, something I attribute to having death energy the main source of control for my body and thus removing that awkward feeling when you use your other hand, I still favor it due to an entire lifetime using it.

Now without two hands, I can't swing my axe with as much force as before.

Thankfully before another attempt is made by him, one of my innumerable comrades shows up to attack him, allowing me a moment to slip around him as he decapitates the helpful bloke, his eyes returning back to where I was, before he frantically tries to find where I went.

He does find me, but by then it's too late, as my axe swings down with more force than I mustered in our first exchange, meeting his face in an intimate first date that will not lead to a second.

His body crumples down and I revel in the release of death energy. Actually, I've been reveling in it since the battle began, the energy released by the lich permeating the air allowing me a constant stream to enter me.

The shear amount covering the area leads me to be more bold than I usually am, siphoning off enough to turn my knuckle sized concetration to around the size of a small rock, still not enough to encase my soul.

Lamenting over the loss of my hand and the shield I was wanting to loot, and vowing to ensure not to let such a situation occur again, I re-enter back into the battle, looking for more opportune times to fight.

Thus, my first taste of a battlefield touched my tongue.

____________

Several hours later, we emerged victorious.

The battle became a grinder for both sides, with the opposing mages focusing entirely on defense lest the lich release another devastating attack.

I'm certain the lich could've bulldozed through their shields, but he seemed content enough with his initial display of power, not attacking again for the rest of the battle.

That isn't to say we didn't have any magic from our own side however, as with the breathing room given to him by the lich's presence allowed our necromancer to raise the recently slain from the enemy army, further bolstering our numbers and giving us an advantage in this battle of attrition.

This progressed for hours, till the Empire's soldiers could handle it no longer, the endless fighting that only ended with them pushed further and further back, along with having to face against people they had been talking and joking with only a day before. Their morale collapsed and from then on it was back to the usual business of wholesale slaughter.

Any hope of recovering my dismembered hand a pipe dream, lost amidst all the bodies and blood.

Not all is bad though, as throughout the exchange I acquired enough death energy to do what I've wanted to do for awhile now, with a little extra. I honestly could've acquired far more, but I'm hesitant to go beyond what I already am for fear of being found out. Even now I am, but it pays to be a nameless face amidst thousands of others.

Also, with the regeneration of an undead I can regrow my hand, though based on the fact my shoulder has made only around 10% progress from a week and a half of time to heal that may take a few years. That 10% may sound like a lot, but it's mostly due to the constant death we're submerged in that I can heal at such a speed. Any lulls in the carnage will surely slow it to a crawl. Also the fact that my shoulder wound can't compare to an entire missing hand, so for now and awhile I'm stuck with a stub.

As for trying to use another hand as a replacement, despite my being an undead such a thought repulses me, as well as a feeling that unless I am more capable in my manipulation of death energy, my attempts will be a failure.

Death magic would probably solve such an issue, but I had no aptitude for magic while I was alive, and I have no one to teach me now that I can manipulate death energy. Even then, I can tell that the way I'm manipulating it is very crude.

Ah well, nothing to be done about it now. I can finally attempt what I've been wanting to do ever since I started adding to my accumulated death energy.

To encase my soul in condensed death energy.

While that sounds like it would be pointless, as encasing it won't actually actually do anything, that is true. But with it encased I plan to squeeze my soul with the death energy.

It's incredibly risky, but with learning that the soul is real (should've been obvious because liches exist) I assume that the part of it being immortal in of itself is also true. The crack in the space that my soul is contained also lends credit to this conclusion, as when I was dying my soul was being pulled through towards it.

There's probably more to it than I think, as I hardly count myself an expert on souls just from having my awareness of it brought out through my brush with death, and subsequent undeath.

But, now that I have it accumulated, and am at the precipice, I see only to go forward, and try to infuse death energy into my soul. Because that would be bad ass, and that is what I strive to be.

Settling into the iconic stillness of an undead, I focus on the task at hand.

I concentrate the death energy within me, condensing it till it's size is equivalent of a fist, enough to cover my soul which size shows it to be small enough to be enclosed in my hand.

I then begin encasing my soul, carefully ensuring that all around it the death energy is evenly distributed.

With that done, the final task can be done.

I'd be a liar if I were to say I'm not scared. It's not an easy task to risk your soul, even when you were to sell it you at least know it's going somewhere and not being utterly destroyed.

But I'm too eager, too desiring for whatever good may come out of it to let that fear hold me back.

And so, I squeezed.

And I was met with black.

__________

A black robed creature, emanating darkness and death as its face is masked in shadows, jerks in a way that completely goes against its usual behavior.

"What's wrong?" A dessicated body wearing similar robes as the creature's, asks with mild curiousity but no real concern.

"I felt a surge of death from one of my minions but I can't pinpoint where. Whatever caused it also stopped as quickly as it happened."

"How peculiar, but it could be anything. No matter, we must proceed forward with our plans, lest we lose this momentum and meet the full power of the Empire's forces."

"Yes yes, it will be so. We've waited a long time for an opportunity like this, it would be a shame to have it ruined by any random occurence."

Sharing a dark chuckle, the two each enter their own thoughts on the future, their visions the same yet their reason's vastly different.