Rebirth of the Undead King: Book 2

by Ink Bamboo

  “Quiet!” roared Arkus. Since this was the group the council had selected to act as sacrifices, he had already steeled his heart to guide them down that path. “This is the item the Church of Light has placed in our hands. As we have previously discussed, it has the ability to summon the undead. Thanks to the help of the troops manning this fortress, we were able to collect several cadavers that will serve to raise them when the time is right.”

  “As we previously discussed, there’s where you come in,” continued Arkus, pointing at those inside the room. “Because it is a divine item, it requires massive amounts of energy to be used. During this war, you’ll stay at the back, supplying your energy to ensure we can exhaust the enemy troops with the undead.”

  Arkus’s words lighted the flames of greed inside the group. Given the enormous role the undead troops would play in this battle, their military merits would be equally staggering. Once they took back the kingdom for themselves, they were sure to be rewarded with great wealth and power.

  Zaros, however, wasn’t amused in the least. Undead. They were something he was already familiar with. Unlike those inside this room, he had encountered them in the other side of a fight.

  Vicious and emotionless, they were creatures who had been forcefully robbed of their humanity. Mere vessels designed to obey their masters. To Zaros, they were an insult to the wills of those who were sacrificed to create them.

  “That being said,” said Jan, “here is our plan.”

  A few minutes went by as the old man explained his ideas to everyone inside. Uninterested in the machinations of those willing to participate, Jan simply focused on explaining how they were meant to maximize the undead’s strength on the battlefield. To him, it didn’t matter what those in the room had to gain by participating in this operation. They would all be dead after using the artifact, anyway.

  “Does everyone understand?” asked Jan. “We don’t want any screw ups in this battle.”

  Snorts and laughs were his answer. Those captains and adjutants inside this room had enough pride to dismiss Jan’s questions without any care for his status. Unlike Richard or the other council members, they considered him to play a disposable role in their organization.

  Only one hand rose in the air, causing everyone to turn back and look at the one responsible. It was a young man in the middle of his twenties. They were familiar with him, for he often served as a mouthpiece to the woman sitting at his side. Scratching his stubble, he carelessly asked, “What order will we go in?”

  Everyone immediately understood his intentions. Those who first controlled the undead would be able to inflict the largest number of casualties upon the enemy troops. Given the limited amount of time any given person could use the dark marble, they would obviously be concerned with how to maximize their benefits.

  “That’s easy,” said Arkus, knowingly overlooking the concerns of his subordinates. “We’ll make it somehow random. You lot can just draw some straws.”

  Whistles of amusement came from the group, taunting Arkus for his decision. Only those with a higher modicum of intelligence realized the identity of the one behind that choice. The same man they usually underestimated was now placing the burden on them, steering clear from the game of politics such decisions often brought.

  It didn’t take long for such a choice to reveal its consequences.

  “I’ll go first,” said a man sitting in the corner, his aura a tad stronger than the rest of the group.

  “As if,” answered other two in synchrony.

  “My, my, shouldn’t ladies go first?” taunted yet a fourth voice.

  “Solve that amongst yourselves,” said Arkus, throwing a pile of straws unto a table. “Just tell Jan the results before dusk.”

  Making their way towards the exit, both Arkus and Jan disappeared from sight. As far as they were concerned, the order in which these ‘volunteers’ decided to use the black marble was completely irrelevant to their plans. Victory was already theirs.

  Thus, a small fight broke inside the tent. Men and women challenged each other to select who would be the first to go. At their level, something like picking straws was no different from choosing the order themselves.

  Only Zaros refrained from participating in the struggle. Sitting in a corner, he was far too busy trying to make sense out of Amro’s plans.

  “So, don’t you agree with me, boy?”

  “Yes, we can’t leave that thing in their hands.”

  “Good, I’m glad you understand.”

  Of course, no one even bothered challenging Zaros. They were far too arrogant to place the child in their sight, much less to give him an opportunity to pick when it would be his turn. In their opinion, he was already lucky enough to get a chance to participate.

  How amusing, thought Amro, subtly enjoying the show ahead of him. These men and women were fighting amongst themselves, ignorant to the truth behind the plans of their leaders. Unfortunately for them, Amro also had a vested interest in letting them go first.

  Their souls are not enough, but they are a good start.

  Chapter 21

  Foolishness.

  Nothing lasts forever. Magnus realized as he stood atop a vast mountain range, watching the rain eroding away the glory of the ground he stood on. The wind crashing against his face served as a reminder of how small human beings were. Powerful as he might be, he was nothing in comparison to nature.

  Magnus further confirmed this fact as he looked towards his hands, noticing the wrinkles forming on his skin. Beyond his physical state, they reflected the state of his mind. He was tired. Tired of being unsuccessful in the goals he had set for himself, tired of being denied the life of peace and freedom he had wished for, and more importantly, tired of being forced to serve as someone else’s puppet.

  He looked towards the peaks expanding into the distance. They created a sturdy barrier that separated Nyx in two. On one side was a barren land. There, the banished had nourished both their regrets and hope, bursting into the flames of rebellion. On the other was Nyx, a land with a population the church pretended to conquer for their own goals.

  Perhaps with time the rebels would have managed to obtain victory on their own. However, their lack of patience had blinded them to the church’s sweet lies. Lies Magnus had been responsible for delivering.

  Even then, he held neither repentance nor regrets in his heart. Many innocents would die because of his decisions and many others would be stripped of their freedom, forced into a life of mental and spiritual servitude. But for him, it was worth it. As long as he could gain enough time to free Erin, it was all worth it.

  He was willing to do anything for her. The need to sacrifice an entire kingdom for this cause was not enough to stop him. He had already made his choice.

  Alas.

  Despite all the love a Chosen could receive from his church’s followers, Magnus knew they were nothing but disposable enforcers in the eyes of their gods. Their fate was to serve as executioners of their god’s will on earth. It was a mission they had to accomplish, even at the cost of their own lives. As things were, the day would eventually come where Erin would join the ranks of those martyrs.

  “Erin,” said Magnus, massaging the temples of his head, “have we received any updates on the cardinal’s arrival?”

  The young girl raised her eyes, placing her finger as a bookmark on her book. Even atop the windy mountains she was still focused on the daily task of reading the scriptures of her faith. “No,” she said. “We have received no more messages from his holiness.”

  Erin’s eyes returned to her book as one of the paladin candidates stepped forward. “Sir,” he said, “I believe his holiness will arrive in time. You shouldn’t worry about our plan going awry.”

  Magnus shook his head from side to side. “We can’t leave things to chance,” he said. “As you can see, both sides are nearly finished with their preparations. We need our main force to be ready at any time to take control the situation.”


  The paladin candidate followed Magnus’s fingers until his gaze finally settled on two separate forces. Even from this distance, he could see what they were doing. On one side, the rebels were nearly finished assembling a series of barricades. On the other, Nyx’s forces were close to reaching the proximity of their fortress.

  The paladin simply smiled, offering empty words of encouragement to Magnus. “Don’t worry, sir. The goddess is on our side, what could go wrong?”

  ✽✽✽

  “My lord, the troops are ready.”

  “Very well, General. Have them wait for my command.”

  Standing at the head of several thousand men, Nyx’s prince remained calm. His authority had been granted by his blood, but his arrogance had been forged by himself. Now that he was facing the opponents of his rule, he wasn’t willing to show any weakness. Only strength was befitting of the identity he had crafted for himself.

  Looking at his troops, a smile surfaced on his face. With such an army under his banner, he would finally put an end to the rebels threatening the stability of his kingdom. He would find victory where others had failed. And by doing so, he would prove his authority to all.

  To his side, a humble servant covered in an elaborate armor lowered his head, passing on a sheathed sword to his master. The scabbard was lavishly decorated, rivers of gold tracing beautiful patterns along the leather that was crafted from the hide of an unknown beast.

  The flow of mana surrounding the weapon made it obvious this sword was special. As a matter of fact, it was something the prince would have never dreamed of using before this battle. If not because his father, the king, had found something better in recent times, such a magnificent sword would have never been placed in his hands.

  “Thank you, Johan.”

  “I live to serve, my lord.”

  United they stood, facing those who had once belonged to the same kingdom as themselves. No longer brothers and sisters, but enemies. Thinking back to what caused the rebels to rise in power, the prince couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Johan,” he said, “do you still remember how this traitors came to be?”

  “I do remember your uncle’s banishment my lord, why do you ask?”

  “I’ll never be as weak as my father,” said the prince. “I’ll spare no one. I’ll make an example of them for decades to come. After I’m done with them, no other rebellion will ever rise in my kingdom.”

  “Your courage and wisdom are without a match, my lord.”

  “Thank you Johan,” replied the prince, drawing the sword from its scabbard. “Look at them, hiding behind those walls. They think some pits and barricades will be enough to stop us. At best, their force is close to half of ours, and that is if they send everyone to fight. There is simply no way they will be victorious.”

  “My lord,” said Johan, unsheathing a sword of his own, “I recommend we keep a watch on the old captain. I fear sir Arkus might aim for your life during this attack.”

  “I’ve already accounted for that Johan,” said the prince. “We’ll send a few waves of soldiers to clear the blockades. After that, we’ll move as a whole and sweep the rebels away as a single unit.”

  “Very well, my lord, I hear and obey.”

  “Johan.”

  “Yes, your highness?”

  “Stay by my side, once we’re back home, I’ll make sure to reward your loyalty.”

  “Your servant is forever grateful, my lord.”

  The prince looked at the towering walls on the other side of the battlefield, a smug smirk appearing on his face. From where he was standing, he could see Arkus looking back at him in derision. He would make sure to erase that smile.

  The old captain probably thought of him as a greenhorn, someone who was given opportunities he didn’t deserve. As a member of the royal family, the prince had lacked a source of danger to stimulate his potential to the level of a rank 2 elite. However, thanks to the privilege of his bloodline, he was able to procure enough medicine from the mainland to facilitate his way into rank 1. It was something Arkus had always insisted was a waste of resources.

  “Your head will decorate my trophy hall, you traitor,” whispered the prince. His words were gestured just enough so Arkus could read his lips all the way from where he stood. “Now, see how I turn this little project of yours to ashes.”

  Looking at the troops behind him, the prince was once again emboldened. Raising his sword into the air, he gave his command.

  “First file, charge!”

  ✽✽✽

  “Foolish child,” said Arkus, looking towards the prince and his troops. “You are just like your father, eternally blinded by your pride and arrogance.”

  “Did something happen?” asked Morgan. As Arkus’s fellow officer and long-time acquaintance, he was trusted enough to wait by his side. Combing the gray hair on his head with his fingers, he was also observing the enemy troops, readying himself to pass on his commander’s orders.

  “Do you know the difference between arrogance and confidence?” Arkus replied.

  “I’m afraid I’ve never pondered the particularities of our language, old friend.”

  “Confidence is born from an abundance of victory. Arrogance, however, arises from a lack of failure. That boy has never experienced hardships. His father sheltered him far too much, robbing him of the chance to learn the value mistakes have over one’s own growth.”

  “Are you speaking of the royal prince?”

  “Yes, he’s just like his father in that sense. I guess that’s why they failed to predict the consequences of banishing Richard to these lands. Now, they’ll pay the consequences of their choices.”

  “What made you so poetic all of a sudden?” Morgan asked. Arkus was normally mocked as a muscle-headed freak, someone who only cared about his own training and personal development. Seeing him behave in such a way was odd to say the least.

  “It pains me to see what’s become of our kingdom,” answered Arkus. “I’m praying this war serves to bring it back to its former glory.”

  “Well, I sure hope I can live long enough to see that,” jested Morgan lightly, casting a calm glance towards the approaching army.

  “Do not worry, my friend, we both will.”

  ✽✽✽

  Rows of soldiers marched past the prince, the discipline evident in the organized lines of their ranks. Their fear was dulled by the promise of wealth. Before this fight, the prince had agreed to give each of them a tael of silver in addition to whatever riches they managed to loot. Of course, such rewards were only to be paid once they returned.

  Blinded by their greed, those leading the charge were confident of their victory. They had to be. The current state of the kingdom didn’t allow them to think about the alternative. Winning would mean living their life in comfort for a few years — failure, however, would be a fate worse than death. It was a cursed situation that forced them to do their best regardless of the risk.

  Fortunately, only a few thought about such things. The promise of wealth was enough to blind most of them to the danger they faced as they did their utmost to follow their orders to perfection. It even made them forget how badly past confrontations at the frontier had fared for those involved. Greed and fear were both their assurance and perdition.

  “First file, charge!”

  Hearing the prince’s order, groups of men marched into the range of the fortress, the rest of the troops following them from a distance. Raising the shoddy shields they had been equipped with, they prepared for the inevitable. Their priority was to remove the barricades barring their passage, effectively clearing the way for the rest of the troops to charge forward.

  Irrational courage fueled their march. Running forward, it wasn’t long before they reached the point where they could personally see the rangers atop the rebel’s fort. Their bows were ready, arrows resting between their fingers awaiting the cleansing taste of blood.

  Tension rose amongst the soldiers as they ran forward, tempted by vict
ory and tempered by fear. Moving makeshift spears out of their way, Nyx’s forces yelled in glory, assured by how well their mission was going. They jumped through pits, destroyed creatively engineered barricades, and moved obstacles out of their way. During the first minute or two, everything seemed to be going their way. That is, until the rebels decided to do something about it.

  With a single word, the first wave of death was unleashed, “Fire!”

  A rain of projectiles descended upon the first wave, taking with them the lives of those unfortunate enough to block the arrows with their bodies. Bloodcurdling screams mixed with the battle cries of those fortunate enough to survive. The arrows were finally devouring the blood they had long craved for.

  But even then, Nyx’s troops didn’t retreat. They knew worse fates awaited the deserters. Moving forwards was their only option.

  Therefore, through sheer stubbornness and a hint of resignation, a path began to form amongst the pikes and fences barricading their way. At the cost of their lives, the troops had started to make a way to siege the castle by its doors. Their mission was a success.

  Seeing the favorable outcome of his methods, the prince smiled from ear to ear. He didn’t care about the lives of a few hundred men. Those could eventually be replaced. The cost to do so wouldn’t be light, but it was something he was willing to pay to get rid of the rebels. What he worried about was failure. Something like that couldn’t be afforded.

  Thus, encouraged by this momentum, he didn’t hesitate to command another group into the fray, “Second file, charge!”

  With his words, another death sentence was given. Encouraged by the blades of those behind them, the next group of ‘soldiers’ had no choice but to take over the task of assaulting the fortress in front of them.

  The status of those leading the charge meant their life was never guaranteed. Serfs, slaves, and mercenaries like them had little room for complaints once they were conscripted. Thus, they hurried to help the remainders of the first group remove the blockade, hoping their chances of survival would be elevated once a path for the troops behind them was opened.