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.

"Five hundred," Lucas announced as the undead legion assembled in perfect formation, their empty eyes fixed on him with absolute loyalty that no evolution could compromise. "Enough to take the Thornspine Mines and establish our dominance over the most strategically valuable resource in the region."

Selena observed the raising with an expression that combined admiration with something more calculating, her Divine Devourer instincts analyzing the tactical implications of Lucas’s demonstration. "Impressive, My King. But the Ironmaw Clan consists of werebears and dire wolves led by a Beast Lord who has never lost territory to anyone."

"Then today will be educational for all involved," Lucas replied with a smile that promised violence on a scale that would be remembered for generations.

He moved among his assembled undead with the confidence of someone who had perfected the art of death-based warfare through decades of experimentation. Each unit had been crafted for specific battlefield roles, their undead nature eliminating concerns about morale, fatigue, or self-preservation that limited living armies.

The march northeast began immediately, with Lucas leading his undead legion across terrain that would have challenged living soldiers but posed no difficulties for beings who felt neither pain nor exhaustion. The tactical formation he employed was designed for maximum psychological impact—a wave of death that would be visible from miles away.

Selena accompanied the army with movements that seemed to flow between dimensions, her newly created Night Priestesses following at a distance that suggested they were observing rather than participating. The dynamic reinforced Lucas’s understanding that their partnership was evolving in ways that required careful management.

The Thornspine Mines revealed themselves as a fortress built into the mountainside itself, with defensive positions that had been carved from living rock and reinforced with Beast Clan engineering that prioritized function over aesthetics. Massive stone walls crowned with iron spikes surrounded mining operations that descended deep into the earth.

But the true defensive strength lay in the defenders themselves. The Ironmaw Clan had positioned themselves with tactical awareness that suggested their Beast Lord possessed military experience beyond simple territorial aggression. Werebear sentries in hybrid form patrolled the walls with weapons designed to maximize their supernatural strength, while dire wolf packs moved through defensive positions with coordination that spoke of pack-based combat training.

"Halt," commanded a voice that carried the authority of absolute territorial dominance.

The Beast Lord emerged from the fortress gates with a presence that made the mountain itself seem to acknowledge his authority. Standing nearly three meters tall in his hybrid werebear form, Thorgrim Ironmaw was a creature of muscle and fur and tactical intelligence that had kept his clan independent for over two centuries.

"Necromancer," Thorgrim’s voice rumbled like an avalanche given speech, "you trespass on lands that have been held by my clan since before your grandfather’s grandfather drew breath. Withdraw now, or learn why smart predators avoid challenging bears in their territory."

Lucas felt the familiar surge of combat anticipation as he surveyed the defensive positions and calculated attack vectors. The Beast Lord was formidable, but he was thinking in terms of conventional warfare against living opponents who could be intimidated or demoralized.

"I am Lucas Nightveil," Lucas replied, his voice carrying across the mountainside with authority that made several dire wolves whimper despite their training. "I have come to claim what will serve my purposes better than yours. Surrender the mines, and your clan may serve in my armies. Resist, and become components in my next undead legion."

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Thorgrim’s roar of challenge echoed across the mountains as he shifted into his full bear form, a creature of such massive proportions that the ground shook beneath his weight. The signal triggered a defensive response that demonstrated exactly why the Ironmaw Clan had maintained its territory for so long.

Dozens of werebears emerged from concealed positions with weapons that gleamed with enchantments designed specifically for anti-undead warfare. Dire wolf packs flowed across the defensive walls with coordination that spoke of centuries of pack-based tactical development. Battle-mages in hybrid forms began channeling spells that crackled with elemental energy.

"Attack," Lucas commanded with a voice that carried such concentrated malevolence that the mountain itself seemed to recoil in response.

The undead legion surged forward with movements that defied natural law, skeletal knights leading the charge while zombie berserkers flanked through terrain that would have been impassable for living soldiers. Wraith-touched archers began launching volleys that sought targets with supernatural accuracy.

The clash was immediate and brutal. Werebear defenders met the skeletal knights with weapons that shattered bone and scattered dark energy, but the undead reformed faster than they could be destroyed. Dire wolves tore through zombie berserkers with claws designed for maximum tissue damage, only to discover that creatures who felt no pain could continue fighting with wounds that would instantly kill living opponents.

Thorgrim himself became the focal point of devastation as he waded through undead ranks with strength that crushed armor and scattered formations. His massive claws swept through multiple opponents with each swing, while his tactical roars coordinated clan responses with efficiency that spoke of battlefield experience spanning decades.

But Lucas had not survived this long by underestimating opponents who held territory through competence rather than luck. The undead legion’s true advantage lay not in individual superiority, but in tactical coordination that eliminated the weaknesses that typically characterized large-scale undead operations.

"Second wave," Lucas ordered, his voice carrying across the battlefield with authority that made reality itself respond in obedience.

Fresh undead emerged from positions that had been concealed through necromantic stealth, attacking the Beast Clan’s flanks with precision that spoke of strategic planning rather than mindless aggression. These reinforcements had been positioned specifically to counter the clan’s tactical strengths, with wraith units designed to bypass physical defenses and skeletal mages capable of disrupting the elemental magic that formed the backbone of Beast Clan spellcasting.

The battle’s momentum began to shift as the defenders found themselves fighting on multiple fronts against opponents who adapted faster than living creatures could respond. Werebear strength became less relevant when facing enemies who attacked from directions that defied conventional tactical assumptions.

"Impossible," Thorgrim roared as his carefully planned defensive positions began to collapse under pressure that seemed to come from everywhere simultaneously. "We’ve held these mines for two hundred years!"

"And now you’ll hold them for eternity," Lucas replied, his voice carrying such concentrated malice that several dire wolves broke pack formation despite their training. "As components of my army."

The Beast Lord’s final charge was a thing of magnificent desperation, a creature of absolute territorial authority throwing everything into one last attempt to preserve what his clan had built across generations. His massive form carved through undead ranks with strength that shattered stone and scattered formations.

But as Thorgrim reached the center of Lucas’s formation, something erupted from the ground beneath his feet that made even his supernatural strength seem inadequate.

A massive skeletal dragon, raised from bones that had been accumulating power in the mountain’s depths for centuries, emerged with wings that blotted out the sky and breath that carried the concentrated essence of death itself.