Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

New Quest Received!

‘The Enchanter’ - Kill Alberich

Reward - 14,000xp

New Quest Received!

‘The Brother’ - Kill Mime

Reward - 12,000xp

“The scale is willing to reveal that my hunch about Alberich’s abilities was correct all along, but it won’t reveal whether Mime is the Scion of restoration or transmutation?” Lieze frowned, “I’m not proud about how frustrated that makes me…”

The cavernous mouth leading straight into the mountain’s gullet was decorated with reliefs depicting the Dwarven people’s finest victories. From Dragonslayers to generals to particularly talented brewers, the curse of time had shaved every illustration down to a near-unrecognisable state. Lieze’s pride swelled at the idea of such a mighty nation falling by her hand.

“The Royal Delve…” Lüngen wiped the sweat from his brow, “Do not fool yourself into thinking of this tunnel as purely ceremonial, Lieze. The three checkpoints of this ancient passage were constructed to resist the might of a Dragon if need be.”

“The Dwarves have no reason to fear monsters, no matter how fearsome.” She replied, “As always, the greatest threat to one’s nation is not some calamitous beast, but the will of those conscious enough to be cursed with ambition. Dragons are free. Uninhibited. Men, not so much. A Dragon may be terrifying to behold, but the darkness that lurks in the hearts of men only surfaces when it will inflict the greatest wound, before retreating into the fog of consciousness to become impenetrable once more.”

“Well, well…” Lüngen folded both arms behind his back, “We will see who turns out to be impenetrable in the end, I suppose. Lieze - you may have prevailed against the faith of the Sovereign cities and the authority of your own father, but how will you fare in the face of an undivided nation?”

“Undivided… you’ve tried to get a laugh out of me many times ever since my childhood ended, Lüngen, but that might be the closest you’ve ever gotten.” She replied, “There is no such thing. That is why we will be victorious - because there is no such thing as a ‘nation’ in this world of ours! There are only abstractions and fools!”

“...Of course.” Lüngen closed his eyes, “Thanks to the efforts of Marché and Roland, even the Dwarves have found themselves divided. But those who have chosen to remain in this diseased mountain are among the most fervent of their kin. A cornered animal is often the most dangerous, after all.”

“A beast is still a beast. It lashes out at whatever it cannot understand.” She said, “When enough pressure is applied, every nation descends into the pit of madness. Those who believe themselves impenetrable are the first to lose their minds when defeat rears its ugly head. It’s pitiful. Unbelievably pitiful. That is why they must be released from this coil.”

The Royal Delve invited her into the bloodbath. She could imagine the sheer chaos of her thralls tearing through the very last of Alberich’s countrymen. A flash of white-hot impatience dominated her mind. “I want our Bonecrawlers at the vanguard. They’re fast enough to approach before the Dwarves can ready their lightning throwers.” She ordered, “Based on Drayya’s report, they’ll be relying on those weapons to keep us at bay. I have an idea of how to stop them, but I’ll be relying on the Deathguards’ trust.”

Realistically, with how cramped those tunnels were, Lieze’s thralls couldn’t have been at more of a disadvantage. Drayya herself was only able to overcome their lightning throwers by relying on psychological tactics. In that way, they seemed truly insurmountable. But there was a particular facet to the weapons that had Lieze wondering.

“The lightning throwers were never used at the gate despite their effectiveness…” She thought, “They must have been distributed out of necessity, rather than choice. Does that mean their design hasn’t been thoroughly tested?”

She shook her head, “We can’t afford to waste any more time. I’ve already explained the formation I’d like to adopt during the battle and our opening strategy. All that remains is to make our approach.”

“-Then I will relay your readiness to the others.” Lüngen nodded, “This is to be our final encounter with the Dwarves, Lieze. No matter what happens, you mustn’t perish. Beyond these mountains, our final hurdle awaits.”

“Always so melodramatic…” Lieze sighed, “You make it sound as if this battle will be your end, but I know that you’re too stubborn and lucky of a man to suffer such a simple fate.”

“Is it so wrong for a fellow of my age to fancy his final rest?” Lüngen tilted his head to one side, “-But you do have a point. I have no interest in vanishing before the conclusion of our journey. Observing your path is simply too entertaining to think of dying just yet.”

“Don’t think I won’t be expecting you to pull your weight due to your age.” She replied, “Now go and tell the others. This conquest has lasted for long enough. I can’t bear to watch these Dwarves struggling against the might of our army for another second.”

Mime stared into his tankard. Beneath its rocky suds, ripples were spreading across the surface of the brew like a miniature ocean. He polished off the last of the drink before slipping on his helmet and standing up from the table. “They’re coming.”

His voice was inaudible, and yet the room’s deafening commotion simmered down in an instant, as if Mime’s words had killed the very spirit of everyone present. A beat passed before chaos ensued. Rabid footfalls threatened to bring down the roof. Dwarves, half-drunk or just plain annoyed, shoved and clamoured and bickered amongst themselves, reaching for their weapons and helmets in a storm of fury.

It was not the disciplined force one would have ever wanted to be in command of, but for Mime, there was nothing strange about leading a group of inebriated soldiers. If anything, he thought, an addled mind was best for facing the horrors that awaited them.

He stomped out of the barracks and scanned the cavern to evaluate their defensive measures. Ballistae and arbalests were trained upon the entrance. Ankle-height barricades littered the ground. The fuzz of static lingered in the air as Dwarves fiddled with their lightning throwers. The holy light enveloping Mime’s mace was brighter than ever.

“Brother…” He whispered, “I won’t let your gift go to waste. We will halt the Order’s advance here and save countless lives. We will rebuild this country together, brighter than ever before. I swear it.”

“The Order is coming!” A scout sprinted in from the entrance, tripping right over a barricade on his way in before scrambling to his feet, “Sound the horns! The Order is coming!”

The claxon of hollowed Dragon teeth inspired a certain longing in Mime’s heart. Prudish and posh as he was for a Dwarf, the thirst for battle celebrated by his kin wasn’t a desire that could be so easily quelled. He stared into the palm of his left hand. Something unfamiliar was lodged right into his flesh, hidden by layers of steel but irrevocably present.

“I will live…” He vowed, “For the sake of a new world…”

Dwarves lined up in droves before the entrance, touting greatshields, hammers, and axes in preparation for the attack. Mime had no qualms about taking to the front line, eyes trained upon the mess of support beams marking the path towards the remains of his destroyed nation.

He heard it first - skittering, like the legs of one thousand Wyrmscorpions creeping along the walls. Seconds later, Bonecrawlers spilled from the entrance in droves, spreading out in every direction along the floor, walls, and ceiling faster than the naked eye could follow.

“Fan out!” Mime yelled, “Cover our flanks! Don’t let those creatures surround us!”

He sprinted forward. An overconfident Bonecrawler flung itself into the air, sharpened forelegs extending to bury into his flesh. In the next moment, the skull sitting atop its bleached thorax was splintered into shards by Mime’s mace, disintegrating into fragrant smoke as the holy enchantment dispelled the necromancy animating its will.

Another skittered his way. Then another. With perfect accuracy, he bludgeoned their pouncing skulls, shunting waves of ethereal, golden energy from his mace. The Bonecrawlers were meek in the presence of his enchantment, instinctually hesitant to approach him for fear of suffering a quick and final end.

Their attempts to outmanoeuvre Mime were met with blows from Dwarves arriving to support his singular defence. Their weapons, too, had been blessed by Alberich’s enchanting touch. Once their dominance in close combat had been established, the Bonecrawlers avoided them entirely, taking to the ceiling in an effort to plummet themselves onto the clusters of ballistae and arbalests stationed on nearby ledges.

Lightning bolts arced along the cavern ceiling, but seemed to have little effect on the Bonecrawlers besides scorching their bodies black.

“Don’t bother!” One of the Dwarves yelled, “If you’ve got time to aim, then take up an axe and make sure none of those skittering bastards get to the ballistae! You can’t paralyse something that doesn’t have any fuckin’ muscle!”

Despite their efforts, the Bonecrawlers were too agile to reliably chase down. Moreover, compared to their first appearance at the gates, they appeared even more mobile than before, leaping away from blows with terrifying speed. Individually, they were poor fighters, but turning one’s back to the creatures would only give them an opportunity to pounce.

“We need to pin them down before they become a nuisance…” Mime muttered, raising a finger towards one half of his vanguard, “All of you! Retreat to the siege weapons and defend them with your lives! The rest of us will hold this position!”

When the flow of Bonecrawlers ceased, it seemed as if the Dwarves were being given a moment to breathe. But that hope was dashed in the next moment by another set of thunderous footsteps shaking the ground beneath Mime’s feet.

“They’re coming…” He muttered, “Keep the thralls at a distance! Attack while withdrawing to the back line! Focus on striking with purpose and staying alive! We can always fall back to the second checkpoint!”

The first wave - a procession of Horrors - stumbled down the inclined entrance with more speed than Mime had been anticipating. The sheer heft of their blows forced him to fight more intelligently, weaving under swings to land disintegrating blows and lingering just out of range to bait mindless attacks. With that said, he and his men could only kill so many within a certain timeframe, and soon enough, the number of thralls spilling from the entrance was beating out their ability to thin the horde.

“They’re faster than before… stronger, too…” Mime backstepped just in time to avoid a slam that could have reduced him to a stain on the ground, “Could it be that we haven’t weathered the full strength of the Order’s army until this moment!?”

With purposeful paces, he and his men fought defensively while retreating to the checkpoint’s rear. The portcullis leading further into the Royal Delve had been opened to allow its occupants a chance to escape. As the balance of living and dead occupants within the chamber became skewed, Mime found himself beset by stray Bonecrawlers from behind. Thankfully, his armour was thick enough to protect against their pitiful stabs, but a handful of his subordinates weren’t so lucky.

“Shit!” One soldier in question turned to him while Bonecrawlers latched onto his body, piercing straight through fabric and flesh with their legs, “Sir! Throw a shrapnel bomb at me!”

“What!?” Mime swung his mace with enough force to knock a Horror clean off its feet, “You can’t be-”

“There’s no time! They’re coming!” He screamed, “Do it! Now!”

Mime couldn’t deny it - there wasn’t any time. No time for mercy. No time for regret. He yanked a tiny sphere from his belt and slipped the pin out in one fluid movement, “...Shit! Know that you died a better man than me, you damn fool!”

He didn’t stand by to watch the grisly results of his toss. The thralls were already surrounding his comrade - there was nothing more to be done than exploit the opportunity to his advantage. Before the explosion pierced his ears, Mime turned on his heels and accompanied the rest of his men towards the raised portcullis, mind heavy with adrenaline and sorrow.