March of The Dead (MotD)

Turning his back to his sister and walking away was the second hardest thing Alaster had ever done.

The first was finally admitting to himself that he could not bring Lunaria back.

But both had to be done. Both for a similar reason.

He could not do what had to be done, with his sister.

He would not be able to stand seeing the way she would look at him.

With fear.

With hate.

With despair.

And so, he left her behind, to do what he had sworn to do.

Sworn not to any Lord or King, not to any Spirit or Deity, but to a single woman now dead.

With her body now safely in the hands of her last remaining family, Alaster felt the last chain break. The last link binding him to whatever shred of Humanity that still remained.

Alaster stood atop a hill, overlooking the city of Hasal. The city, he had once begged his father to take him to during the Harvest Festival. The city, that had governed his home village. Now overrun with Demons and turned into a fortress.

Alaster raised his helmet over his head, and as he lowered it, his flesh turned to bone. The sensation in his body began numb. The feeling of hunger and exhaustion vanished. And the pain that had become standard, became muted, but still present.

Alaster waved his hand forward, ordering his army to advance, and as it marched forward, he did his best to forget how to revert back.

What use was mortality, when all that it brought was pain? What use was flesh, when all it did was bleed?

Weakness.

All of it.

And he left it behind, for he had no further use for it.

Unburdened by the weight of mortality, Alaster raised his head to the Heavens and roared his challenge. And the Heavens replied.

Thunder cracked, lightning flashed, and the Heavens cried. Wind whipped across the landscape, tearing branches from the trees and tearing away the flags and banners that flew over the city.

Devils stumbled and took shelter. Argalon braced and covered themselves.

Yet the Undead marched. Uncaring and unfazed. They had but one mission. A mission that they welcomed.

"Leave not a thing alive."

Alaster's voice seeded to echo across the valley, dancing above the wind, despite only being heard as a whisper. Yet that whisper was heard by all.

Horns blew, orders were screamed, but it was too late.

A Skeletal Argalon, strapped with lit barrels of Enchanted explosives, charged out of the forest, mouth open in a silent scream.

So silent and fast that by the time the Devil Archers loosed their arrows at it, the Skeleton had already covered half the distance between the city wall and the forest.

Arrows stuck in both the bones of the creature and its payload, but it was not enough.

It did not slow down as the city wall loomed over it. Instead, it dove forward, its powerful bony legs cutting into the wet ground. It dove headfirst into the reinforced stone wall of the city of Hasal.

The resulting explosion punctured through the thick wall, leaving a small gap large enough for an average man to squeeze through.

The Demons, ashamed to have allowed such a thing to happen to begin with, cheered amongst themselves, because while it was still a breach in their defenses, it was one that was easily defended by only a handful of soldiers.

Alaster did not care, nor did his army that had not yet stopped its advancement, its front line only now beginning to exit the forest. But he was not done.

Six more strapped Argalon Skeletons charge between the ranks and headed for the wall. The Demons cried out, and were more prepared, despite their surprise.

Arrows took down one before it could reach the wall. Another two were taken down by Magic. The other three reached the wall and exploded, as did the ones who were felled.

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The sound of landslide broke through the racket of the storm as the entire curtain wall crumbled into a heap, sending the unlucky Demons falling with it.

Before the Demons had time to truly process this, a similar sound was heard on the opposite side of the city, where another wall was destroyed.

Alaster did not need to give the order.

The moment the walls were down, his army charged forward, shields raised against the rain of arrows and spells. Over the hill of rubble, and through the hastily formed defenses on the other side.

There was no mercy given. No prisoners taken.

The Undead relished in the screams of their victims, tearing into them with blade, claw, and tooth alike.

Alaster climbed onto Nightmare and walked down the hill. Entering the city through the breach, Nightmare casually walked through the massacre, unbothered by the cries, the blood, or the death.

The Demons put up a valiant effort, but they had been caught by surprise, attacked from two different directions, and were facing opponents equal or superior than themselves in a much greater number.

The outcome had been decided the moment Alaster set his eyes on the city.

While the city had devolved into one large massacre as Demons attempted to either flee or fight, both ending the same, the Castle was calm.

His Undead lined up around it, but did not attack. The Demons lined the Castle Walls, afraid to attack first. They could hear and see the slaughter that was occurring inside the city. They had no wish to join them.

Even a single second where they were not fighting was one more they lived.

Alaster stopped Nightmare at the line of Undead and looked up at the Castle Walls. They were heavily enchanted, both by Humans from before the Invasion, and Demons after. His earlier strategy would not prove effective.

But he had not intended to use it again.

Alaster nudged Nightmare forward, stopping again only ten feet in front of his line of Undead.

Speaking loud enough for all atop the Castle walls to hear him, Alaster made his demand, "I give you one chance and one chance only. A chance I did not give your friends down in the city. Do not waste it.

I will allow ten of you to leave the city unharmed. I believe there are roughly two hundred of you within that Castle. I leave it to you to decide who is worthy of living and who deserves to die.

I give you one hour to sort it out amongst yourselves."

Having said his piece, Alaster turned Nightmare around and urged him forward. He did not even make it back to his line before he heard sounds of battle behind him.

This was his intention.

There were only three possible ways they could have reacted to such an ultimatum.

They could go along with it, and peacefully decide who would survive. But this would require an extremely tight-knit group, one with obviously superior or more valuable individuals, such as children or well-liked and respected Officers.

And the Demons had no children. At least none that they had brought to this world as of yet.

They could refuse and decide to fight back all together. But this would require an extremely well-disciplined unit and the genuine belief that he would not honor his own deal.

Or, they could fight amongst each other until everyone was dead or had given up until only the required number were left. This was a drastic option, but one that became increasingly favorable for a unit that had just witnessed an entire city of soldiers fall in under an hour.

Alaster had been hoping for the third.

It was more entertaining, especially when he could watch it from multiple angles through the eyes of his Shadows Assassins.

The Argalon fought well. Their impressive physical and magical capabilities allowed them to wipe out entire squads of Devils. But their size was once again their worst enemy. In the tight corridors of the Castle, they struggled to maneuver, and their height made it easy for multiple Devils to attack them all at once.

The Argalon Mages were some of the first to go, as the Devils knew just how dangerous they could be.

Next came the Archers, as their bows became useless when in close proximity.

Though Alaster did witness one Devil Archer who managed was backed into a corner and still manage to kill three Devil Warriors with her knife before the fourth managed to use his axe to cleave her from shoulder to belly. Only for that same Warrior to take a spear to the back a moment later.

It was chaotic as it was a free-for-all. It was sad as friends and brothers turned against each other. It was brutal as there was no mercy given and the once cruel were butchered by their victims now given an excuse. But most of all, it was entertaining.

Alaster quite enjoyed seeing the Invaders of his world now cutting each other to pieces for nothing but a few words.

The hour-long time limit gave the rest of his army plenty of time to clear out the rest of the city. Alaster raised the ones whose corpses were viable, and had them stack the remains of those that weren't into one large pile in front of the Castle.

Yet in the end, it only took the Demons forty-five minutes to decide the ten survivors.

They were riddled with wounds, though only two looked like they needed anything more than a few bandages. Surprisingly, one of them was an Argalon. Covered in blood, and with haunted gazes, they opened the Castle Gates and stepped out, ready to receive their deserved deaths, or allowed to leave.

Alaster dismounted and approached them on foot, stopping a few meters away.

"Congratulations on being the lucky few. Now, before I let you go, I want you to look at that pile." Alaster pointed to the bloody hill of meat and viscera.

Their gazes turned from haunted to horrified.

"Burn that image into your minds." Alaster commanded, "Because I am sending you back to the War Masters of your Coalition with a message.

Just as I gave you a chance, I am now giving your entire Coalition a chance." Alaster's voice grew hard and violent, "Leave my world within one month, or I will render both your species extinct."

Alaster heard multiple of them swallow hard, and he was pretty sure that wet spot was not blood.

"Go."

That was all they needed. They fled from him, from his Undead, and from the city.

As he watched them go, he smiled, a normally happy gesture, though none who saw it would call it such.

They would deliver his message, he had no doubts about that. One way or another, it would be heard by the War Masters. Just as he knew they would refuse to even consider it.

They had nowhere else to go. The small world their citizens currently lived on was dying, and had been found by intergalactic locusts. They had no choice but to inhabit this world.

Alaster did not care. He would enjoy killing them.

Igniting the pile of flesh, Alaster turned his back to the flame that quickly turned into a raging inferno. He did not have time to watch. He had an appointment to keep in another Demon Infested City. Krilla needed to be purged.