Unchosen Champion

Zalanth watched as the one called Erasimus Doomthread utilized a storm of needles to puncture the skulls of 15,000 Undead of the Arisen faction in a showman’s demonstration of his lethality. The unperturbed defender used the battle as an opportunity to advertise his business as the remaining minions meandered without direction, their masters defeated.

Then, during the next battle in what she thought was a satirical twist, a proper Undead Lich called Abithik appeared on the side of the Lighthouse, summoning his own legion of minions that dwarfed the soldiers that sought to subjugate in both numbers and size. The army of the dead included winged creatures, ghoulish agents, geists, gargoyles, and skeletal soldiers, along with unique bone-plated monstrous abominations, revealing the maturity of the Lich Lord as surely as the rings in a tree.

Afterwards, a slime creature pulled off a risky imitation of a feline, apparently unconcerned with drawing the ire of any that might be offended by her imperfect replica, but then she ripped through her enemies with enough grace to establish that the form might be satisfactory after all. Perhaps it was good enough to even be condoned by a representative of the cats.

Another Undead, this time a rare essence predator, split into a pair of twins with complementary styles of combat, one a leather-clad assassin and the other an incorporeal psionic caster. They efficiently tore through their enemies, impossible to pin down with their support for each other. The reveal of multiple Undead fighting on behalf of the Lighthouse didn’t draw as much turmoil as the Demons, merely due to the timing, but Zalanth could only shake her head at the reveal of another problematic connection for the Lighthouse, adding it to the list of reasons for her current state of mind.

A custom combat mech shredded a ravenous horde, apparently lacking an aura intimidating enough to rout its enemies with its mere presence like most of the other defenders, but more than powerful enough to stand against the conquerors regardless. The mech was obviously crafted by an extraordinarily advanced crafter, but Zalanth couldn’t imagine that it would also be piloted by someone of such value, and yet that was the only explanation she could give for the strange anomaly among the powerhouses of the Lighthouse. It was the first time she had seen one of the defenders’ auras fail to stagger the attacking army.

She couldn’t decide if that bode well or not for the Lighthouse, having such a valuable crafter appear in a battle. Vronk and the others were clearly established soldiers in their own times. Whether they had retired or were on the run when they ended up becoming contractors, they were certainly veterans of combat that had somehow ended up in the employ of the Lighthouse’s settlements. The crafter that constructed the mech could have demanded a contract that bankrupted more established settlements in the galactic community, but here was another valuable individual slumming it with the humans. Zalanth was befuddled.

When a quartet of what should have been the ultimate in pacificity entered a battlefield, holding hands opposite 20,000 bloodthirsty enemies, Zalanth had had enough. She audibly groaned as she comprehended the set up. They were clearly Sisters of the Merciful.

It wasn’t completely unheard of for the altruistic faction to lend its members out, but to have them participate in an actual battle was simply not under their regular purview. For a moment she thought they might be a sacrifice as the Lighthouse was evidently depleted and she found herself feeling disappointed in the mettle of the human faction.

Instead of the expected pacifism, explosions of golden light repeatedly pulsed from their position, clearing the confused enemies at least as quickly as any of the monstrous warriors that had come before them. Zalanth had only heard rumors that they were capable of defending themselves, but she had never had a confirmed report of any of the Merciful engaging in direct combat. She could only shake her head at the continued capriciousness of humanity.

She supposed these were former Merciful, after humans had thoroughly corrupted them. Whatever figurative mind virus that had influenced Zalanth when she was in contact with the humans had obviously infected them as well.

The battles kept bringing surprises, but the frequency of war declarations dropped off as the threat assessment of the Lighthouse adjusted. How many thousands of battles would it take to overcome the power demonstrated by the defenders? The factions of the galactic community hesitated before throwing their fledgling armies against the iceberg of monstrous defenders. More hidden depths just kept being revealed.

The final nail in the coffin for the anticipated conquest of the human faction was when a second creature that lived in absolute infamy appeared on a wasteland of a battlefield. Zalanth, like any warrior of repute, immediately recognized Caisalya, the Bloom of Annihilation, one of the most heavily admonished individuals in the entire galactic community.