March of The Dead (MotD)

The dance of life and death. Where a single misstep could pluck away at the strings of fate. Where everyone put everything on the line, gambling it away. It was the only game that mattered.

Some would say there was nothing more beautiful.

Others would call it horrific.

But in the end, it was but one thing, war.

Where one partner acted, and the other acted in response. One led, one was led, and at the end of their dance, only one walked away.

All the training in the world, the best equipment, the strongest Spells, it did not matter. The only thing that mattered was to still be breathing at the end of it.

Alaster stood without emotion as he watched the battle stretch out over the horizon from the short cliff top. Miles of ground that was covered in this desperate dance, ebbing and flowing like the waves of the sea.

Beside him, Baron Von Delicnar gripped his expensively elaborate vest, sweat clinging to him. As one of the four Generals of the Vampiric House of Vendilear, every part of his body was protected from the bright sun over head that would otherwise cause his own blood to boil from the inside out.

"Your Majesty, is this really such a great idea?" The vampire asked, the memory of the destroyed House ever present.

Alaster did not bother looking at the man, a Vampire that could wipe out a Company of Soldiers by himself, now too frightened to even look at him in the eyes.

Nor did he bother to answer him.

Explosions rang out across the battlefield, sending Human, Vampire, Undead, Devil, and Argalon alike flying.

Volleys of arrows arched through the sky, whistling as they flew before embedding themselves into either flesh, wood, or metal.

Alaster closed his eyes, felt the wind kiss his face, heard the whispers behind the screams and mayhem. Whispers that had been haunting him for so long.

The breeze brought with it the scent of death. It was a horrible scent. A combination of all manner of bodily functions. It was overwhelming for those unaccustomed to it, and barely manageable for those who had long since become familiar with it.

Yet to Alaster, there was another scent underneath that physical. A scent only those closely attuned with death had the ability to sense. It was a sickly sweet smell, with the distinct hint of lavender.

It was believed to be the scent of the soul leaving the body. And it was abundant in this forest, now turned barren wasteland of blood and fire. Many who could sense it were repulsed by it. Their still living souls wanted nothing to do with the source of the scent.

Yet Alaster breathed it in. Relishing it. Feeling it fill his lungs with each breath, filling his body with a power. Fueling him.

Alaster sighed, as if he had just taken a long drink, "Invigorating."

"Your Majesty?"

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"Stay here and out of the way."

The Baron nodded immediately, "It will be done."

Alaster smiled, his pact armor already molding itself around his face. It was a smile that sent shivers down the spine of the cold-blooded Vampire.

Alaster jumped, with such force it shattered the cliff edge, causing a small landslide. High above the battlefield, skeletal wings with black feathers sprouted from his back, not to keep him in the air, just to slow his descent.

In the few seconds the wings bought him, Alaster conjured three dozen massive orbs of volatile Necrotic Mana and cast them downward, towards the brawling hordes.

All living tissue touched by these orbs disintegrated, leaving the bone of the Undead untouched. Demons were reduced to piles of bone and a thunk as their armor fell to the ground empty.

Yet it was not just Demons consumed by the attack. Numerous Vampires and their Human Slaves were caught in the blast, but Alaster did not care.

Demons were killed. More of them than his allies, so he considered it a successful attack.

But he was not done.

After delivering his barrage, his wings vanished, dropping him into a tight group of Demons. He crashed into the ground, disappearing for a moment before reappearing in a tornado of blade, bone, and viscera.

In a single moment, not even a second, Alaster cut apart a dozen Argalon. He charged through the battlefield, seamlessly slaughtering any Demon that got in his way.

His destination?

The Demon General in charge of this Army Group.

This many Demons was too many for a single Army. Instead, the Coalition had combined four Armies, not to eliminate the threat that was Alaster, but to hold him back long enough for the rest of the Coalition to act.

The Baron watched as the man who had demanded his servitude carved through the Demon forces like he was cutting through butter with a red hot knife. His House had been one of the last to bend the knee, and was suffering for it.

While House Tyraio was only required to send a small amount of soldiers to the war effort, and instead was allowed to supply a larger portion of equipment, his own House had been required to send a vast majority of their military, including their four Generals.

Now, the Baron watched as his House's mighty soldiers were used as mere fodder, on the same level of disposable Undead. Except, unlike the Undead, you could not simply summon another Vampire. Once the Vampire died, there was no return.

It was cruel, even more so when the Baron knew that Alaster could have just as easy flown over to the Demon Command and wipe it out from the air. Instead, he chose the slower route, all to kill a few more Demons himself. Yet every second that their Emperor spent enjoying Demon Blood, was another second more Vampire Blood was spilled.

He could not even excuse it as the Emperor being naïve or foolish. He had witnessed his liege's genius and experience many times before.

Masterful flanks, ambushing would-be ambushers, wiping out entire supply lines, even hanging Demon Prisoners from trees to attack morale.

All simple on paper, but in the field, it was all too easy to miss it.

The Baron watched as the Emperor cleaved his way through to the enemy command post on an opposing hill. An area that would have been guarded by the most skilled and prepared soldiers the Army Group had to offer, yet they proved to be no issue.

When one managed to beat him with blade, he resorted to blasting them pointblank with a condensed beam of Necrotic Mana.

In just a few moments after entering the Demon Command Post, the General in charge lay on the ground without a single living guard to protect him. A moment later, he quite suddenly lost quite a bit of weight.

With a cruel smirk, Alaster kicked the General's head like a ball, sending it shooting off the hill before disappearing into the chaotic battleground below.

Alaster knew the Army Group's objective of delaying him, but he did not care. He was in no rush, and each Demon that died here today, was one less that could be used against him later.

He would enjoy ensuring very few escaped.

And now, without any leadership, the Demons would be disorganized, confused, and alone. The perfect scenario for his hungry hordes of Undead.

Besides, Alaster current goal was not militaristic. Instead, it was of a personal nature. Something he had been dreading, yet knowing he had to.

Even as powerful as he was, even he had some things he could not avoid.

And this was one of them.

This Army Group had gotten in his way while he was moving to attend to this matter, something that Alaster was thankful for.

He now had something to work out his stress and annoyance on.