Chapter 44: March of the Dead
Lucas turned away from the scene of mass worship and transformation, his tactical mind already shifting to the next phase of conquest while Selena basked in the adoration of her newly created Night Priestesses. The strategic value of her Divine Torturess units was undeniable, but the growing independence in her voice demanded that he demonstrate his irreplaceable capabilities.
"The Thornspine Mines," Lucas said, his voice cutting through the religious fervor with military precision. "Sixty kilometers northeast. The largest mithril deposits in the three kingdoms are currently held by the Ironmaw Beast Clan."
Selena’s attention turned toward him with the fluid grace of a predator acknowledging an equal, her newly transformed followers continuing their worship in a harmonious background. "You wish to expand our territory while I’m establishing our spiritual foundation?"
The question carried undertones that would have been automatic deference mere days ago, but now held the confident curiosity of someone who viewed their partnership as collaborative rather than hierarchical. Lucas recognized the shift and chose to respond with a demonstration that would remind both Selena and himself exactly why his strategic capabilities remained essential.
"I wish to show you what happens when divine authority meets military supremacy," Lucas replied, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had never lost a battle that mattered. "Watch and learn how gods require armies."
He activated the Night Monastery’s most advanced necromantic protocols, systems that had been designed to support massive undead operations across extended territories. The accumulated death energy from months of conquest had provided him with resources that most necromancers could only dream of accessing.
The ground around the Night Cathedral began to tremble as Lucas channeled power that made Selena’s divine transformations seem like parlor tricks in comparison. Where she had created four specialized units, he was preparing to raise an army that would reshape the regional balance of power through sheer overwhelming force.
"Rise," Lucas commanded, his voice resonating with authority that made the dimensional fabric itself respond in obedience.
The earth split apart in hundreds of locations as the dead answered their master’s call. But these were not the shambling corpses of amateur necromancy—Lucas was raising an army of perfectly preserved undead warriors, each one enhanced with dark energy that made them superior to the living soldiers they had once been.
The first wave emerged from the consecrated ground around the cathedral with movements that flowed like water given deadly purpose. Skeletal knights in pristine armor that gleamed with malevolent enchantments, zombie berserkers whose rotting flesh concealed strength that could crush stone, and wraith-touched archers whose arrows could pierce both physical and spiritual defenses.