It would be just a few moments until the troops from the ‘Light Lands’ reached a position from where their archers and mages could let fly their projectiles, but the downside of having obeyed Kevin’s demands had already become apparent. Before the confederacy archers and mages could even begin to fire, the undead had already let their bows and crossbows do the talking. For you see, while the archers and mages of the three main nations of the Luminas Confederacy were positioned behind their own melee infantry, the undead had done the opposite and positioned their bowmen and crossbowmen in front of their own melee infantry.

So, as per Kevin’s instructions, the infantry of the living did not advance until their own archers and mages had exhausted their stores of ammunition. There was no real archer duel; instead, the undead focused their fire on the spearmen, swordsmen, macemen and axemen in front of them, rather than going for the mages or archers. After all, why would they need to worry about the plinking of the arcing and inaccurate enemy arrow and magical projectile fire anyways? They felt no fear, they had no morale to break and if they fell, they could simply be reanimated as if nothing had happened.

To make things even worse for the faithful of the Goddess Lumina, if an undead archer or crossbowman was raised again, its ammunition supply was automatically refilled. Truly, relying on the unified undead formations summoned by Kain was a cheat in and of itself. If there was no ammunition left, all that the necromancers would have to do was have the archers charge the melee infantry and get almost completely destroyed, pull the survivors back and reanimate the rest. After that, all that was needed was to redistribute the arrows and bolts and just like that the undead bowmen and crossbowmen could serve their intended purpose once again, rather than being stopgap infantry.

…

The barrage from the undead monstrosities continued unabated. The arrows and spells that flew over the heads of the ‘Soldiers of the Light’ passed by and impacted the undead, but even when numerous undead were felled they would just get back up again, their armor and weapons repairing itself just as their bodies did.

“How much longer, sir?!”

“Not long. The guys behind us are probably running low by now, so we just need to wait a bit-. Damn it!”

One of the leaders of the formation of swordsmen cried out as another one of his men fell before the seemingly unending barrage of the undead. Their shield wall could only do so much, and even when they tried to keep as small a profile as possible behind their reverse teardrop shields a few men would still be hit by a lucky shot. Even if there was only a one in twenty chance of the inaccurate undead ranged combatants hitting something, the sheer volume of arrow and bolt fire made taking a hit an inevitability.

Over the sound of projectiles exploding, impacting the dirt or shields or hitting home, the blowing of a war horn echoed over the fog-covered battlefield. The signal was given, and the myriad formations of the living infantry began to advance beneath a hail of arrow and bolt fire. The pace quickened, and the warriors of the Goddess started to close the distance between them and the undead.

The undead responded by moving their bowmen and crossbowmen through the lines of undead swordsmen and spearmen. Despite the massive numbers of the undead before them, the things that were being attacked were just skeletons. They had no real chance against living soldiers unless the numbers grew too massive. As it stood now, the warriors of the Goddess would only have to take down two or three Skeletons each for the front line of the undead to collapse.

“Now! Show your them your war face! AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!”

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

The living soldiers slammed into the undead and the melee portion of the battle began. Another tooting of the war horn signaled to the infantry in certain positions to separate, but over the sounds of metal meeting metal and bone and flesh being destroyed, the horn went mostly unheard. This was the signal that the cavalry had been waiting for, but their own men were still in the way. The signal horn blared again, but even then, no one would or could move. The undead were pushing harder than was anticipated, and if even a single formation fell back or opened up to allow the cavalry to charge through it could have been disastrous to the others nearby.

From a vantage point far away from the battlefield, Kevin watched with growing anger. Finally, since the formations that were instructed to move would not, he launched a few dozen [Fireball] spells at the offending formations.

Kaboom!

The orbs of flame impacted on the meeting points of the two forces, sending bones and bodies flying while engulfed in fire. The horn was blown again, and this time the now heavily damaged formations of men separated. The cavalry charged through the gaps and the undead made a surprising move. They fell back as the cavalry moved forwards and created deep openings for the experienced knights and other mounted melee combatants to enter. As the cavalry stormed into the pockets, the ground beneath them rumbled and the same insidious trap that had damaged other earlier made itself known.

Horses cried out in agony as their hooves were pierced by the rusted iron nails and spikes that emerged from under the dirt, their bucking and pain-fueled movements tossing many a rider to the ground. When the cavalry finally had filled the massive pockets and were a decent distance away from the support of the infantry, the trap was completed as the undead cut off the cavalry’s escape by completing the encirclement. Even a fool would have realized what was going on before then and would have screamed the words of a famous fish-man admiral.

It was most unfortunate that the cavalry was now trapped in pockets and surrounded by the bane of all cavalry, spearmen. Well, most unfortunate for the Confederacy, at least.

As the undead around them swarmed in like locusts, one of the pockets was opened by a young teen in oriental armor and with two swords on his hip. Another was opened by an overly buff teen who spoke with an accent not too dissimilar from the people of the People’s Union of Rusk. A third pocket was saved as vegetation tore apart the undead that had blocked the cavalry from the main line and a fourth was opened by a downpour of swords, daggers and spears that seemed to fly in from heaven itself. The fifth and final corridor that the cavalry escaped from was made from an attack that was composed of countless icicles that flew over the heads of the living soldiers.

The companions of the Leader of the Heroes had made their presence known, but it was almost too little, too late. The only ones able to escape the encirclements were the humans themselves; their horses were not so lucky and were cut down by spear strikes from the undead. The now horseless cavalry made it to safety and tried to rejoin the front line as infantry, but the same thing that was happening to the normal rank and file was now happening to them. It took a few brilliant minds to realize that the waist-deep dark purple fog they were fighting in was draining their stamina while empowering the undead.

Worse still, the fog was merely adding on to the feelings of dread and hopelessness that filled the forms of the holy warriors. Even the warrior priests could not keep themselves fully ‘in the zone’ and were beginning to falter. It would not be long now until the Confederacy routed off the field and…

“Fuck you all! I’ll have to do everything myself, won’t I?! You dumb fucks! Can’t you do your damn job?!”

The rage of Kevin the Asshole could be felt even inside the fortress. Innumerable orbs of the four main elements of magic formed in the sky and rained down upon the field of war, hitting friend and foe alike with reckless disregard for damages caused. The entirety of the undead armies erupted into a mass of magical explosions, with some even going off where the two forces met. This was the impetus for the living soldiers to finally have their morale broken and they ran back towards the main camp, leaving the undead to be blown to tiny, tiny bits by Kevin’s rage.

…

Alistaira watched as the undead armies she and the other necromancers had wielded were reduced to blasted bone fragments and shredded armor. The other magic users looked absolutely terrified of the destructive power that the Leader of the Heroes had displayed, but Alistaira was unimpressed. Anyone with a sizable enough mana pool and a decent understanding of the four main elements could do what Kevin had just done.

She was unmoved. There was no finesse and no mastery or deep understanding of the power and versatility of magic shown in this temper tantrum, just a brat with too much power than he knew what to do with having a hissy fit when he couldn’t get his way. Alistaira could easily do what Kevin had done, but such an action was beneath her. She would demonstrate the fruits of her mastery that took place over decades of study once the time was right.

For now, she watched as the weak force that had been sent out to buy time was obliterated. She felt no need to expend her valuable mana to reanimate the undead, for they had served their purpose. This fort was just barely manned and had just enough ammunition for its cannons, mortars and the infantry firearms to give the invaders a taste of what was to come if they continued their advance. This fort could be abandoned if need be, and as long as the dungeon entrance was there, they could take it from the inside if they really wanted it back.

She smiled a wicked smile as she pictured the looks on the faces of the dumb ‘Heroes’ as they watched their subordinate soldiers be destroyed beneath a hail of metal shot. Tomorrow would be an amazing day for sure.