SANCTUARY [Nobledark | Progression | Apocalypse]

A stark silence followed Sophia's concise assessment. The reality of facing a Rank 4 Necromancer settled upon the newly formed Unit 18, and the air in the briefing room grew taut with unspoken apprehension.

Even the seasoned veterans among the newcomers, Larm and Egran, shifted uncomfortably. Necromancy was a dark art, reviled and feared for potent reasons, and confronting a practitioner who had already crossed the significant threshold into the Fourth Rank, however recently, was no minor undertaking.

A glance at their faces, the veterans' stoicism, the newcomers' dawning horror, was all Sophia needed. She elaborated further. "Beyond assessing their initial strength, we must understand a Necromancer's typical progression, especially one newly ascended." She took a moment to study their faces; her gaze lingered on the younger members, Melly and Torsan, who were caught in a mixture of fascination and nascent fear.

"Once they have summoned an initial legion, particularly in a remote location like this graveyard, their immediate objective is almost invariably expansion and consolidation of power." She paused, letting the full weight of her words sink in. "They require materials. Fresh materials. They will seek to use their fledgling army immediately, targeting the most vulnerable nearby settlements - small villages, isolated farmsteads, places with minimal defenses - to harvest corpses."

A wave of revulsion rippled through the squad. Melly visibly paled.

"Each massacre fuels the next summoning." Sophia's continuation was delivered in a voice that was flat and devoid of emotion. "Fresh blood, recently deceased flesh, and the echoes of terror are the reagents a Necromancer uses to create more powerful undead. They are driven by an urgent need to bolster their forces before their presence is widely known and a significant military response can be mobilized." She looked towards Jacobs. "I am certain, Captain, that Command has protocols for this eventuality?"

He spoke, cut through the tense atmosphere, bringing a necessary measure of military procedure to the chilling discussion. "Of course, any confirmed emergence of an Undead legion triggers Standard Operational Protocol Four-Step Gamma. You have all been drilled on its core tenets."

He raised a gauntleted hand, ticking off the points with deliberate emphasis. "Step One: Accurate assessment of the Necromancer's Rank and the legion's composition. Completed." He lowered one finger.

"Step Two: Interception and containment. Preventing the legion's advance into populated areas, ensuring civilian safety. Evacuation of settlements within the projected threat radius is already underway, handled by local garrisons. Completed." A second finger fell.

"Step Three: Requisition and preparation of specialized countermeasures. Magical and alchemical ordnance, blessed artifacts, consecrated weaponry effective against Undead entities." He tapped the list he held. "This will be your primary focus for the next three days while I," he added, "focus on fully stabilizing my own power after the recent ascension. A detailed requisition list, cross-referenced with available supplies at the nearest depots, will be distributed momentarily." The third finger descended.

His tone hardened as he announced the final step. "And Step Four, mobilization of a sufficient extermination force to engage and annihilate the Necromancer and the entire legion in a single, decisive engagement." He met each soldier's gaze. "Prolonged conflict is unacceptable. Every moment wasted grants the Necromancer opportunity to replenish their forces, adapt their strategy, or worse, complete whatever dark ritual fueled their initial summoning." His fist closed slowly.

"The designated extermination force," Jacobs continued, outlining the final phase, "will consist of this unit - all twelve of us - augmented by one hundred and twenty regular soldiers drawn from the Bandit regional garrisons and supporting districts. Based on current intelligence regarding a newly ascended Rank 4 Necromancer and a legion of approximately one hundred forty Undead, Command assesses this force as sufficient for decisive elimination." He surveyed the room. "That is the framework of the operation. Questions? Concerns?"

A moment of silence, then their reply came as one, tight but resolute. "No, Captain!"

Henry clenched his fist beneath the table, the familiar surge of pre-mission adrenaline mixing with a cold determination. Three days, then they would face the darkness gathered in that desolate graveyard. This was the first true test of the expanded unit, the first significant challenge since his own ascension, since accepting the Sanctuary's burden.

He glanced at Sophia beside him, saw the quiet resolve in her eyes. Her knowledge was their shield, her insight their sharpest blade against the unknown.

"Good," Jacobs satisfied with their response. "Retrieve your requisition lists from Sergeant Larm. Prepare yourselves. Dismissed."

The formal tension broke as the squad began to disperse, forming smaller groups, the veterans mingling with the newcomers, discussing equipment needs, sharing hushed speculations about the mission ahead. The atmosphere remained serious, but the shared purpose, the clear plan, had restored a measure of professional focus.

As Sophia gathered her own notes, Melly approached hesitantly, her youthful face etched with a mixture of awe and lingering unease after Sophia's earlier analysis. "Sophia," she began, the words little more than a whisper, "could I trouble you for a moment? There are things about Necromancers, the Undead, I still don't quite grasp."

Sophia offered a gentle, reassuring smile, turning her full attention to the young mage. "Of course, Melly. Ask whatever you need. I'll explain as best I can."

Torsan, overhearing, sidled closer. "Why not just ask the Captain when he was here? Surely Command provides him with more detailed enemy profiles?"

Melly shook her head, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "The Captain has crucial preparations to oversee, coordinating with the regional forces. I didn't wish to distract him further right now. And Sophia explains things very clearly."

Daniel chuckled softly, clapping Melly lightly on the shoulder. "Growing considerate, aren't we, kid?"

Melly ignored him, turning back to Sophia, her large eyes wide with earnest inquiry. "You said Necromancers often summon their first legions in desolate places like graveyards but then they immediately target villages? Why not summon closer to their targets? Wouldn't starting in a remote place just make it easier for the military to detect them before they can attack?"

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Sophia considered the question. "It's a matter of both practicality and process, Melly. Summoning a large Undead legion requires specific conditions - a high concentration of viable corpses, certainly, but also often a place with sympathetic ambient energy. Old battlefields, execution sites, neglected graveyards, these places resonate with death, making the initial summoning easier, requiring less personal aether expenditure from the Necromancer, especially one newly ascended who might still be mastering the complex incantations."

She paused, organizing her thoughts. "Furthermore, the act of summoning itself is a refinement of their craft. Each successful casting, particularly of complex spells involving numerous entities, strengthens their control, deepens their connection to the negative energies they wield. Starting in a 'safer', more resonant location allows them to practice, to build their initial force without immediate interference, before unleashing it upon the living."

"It is an unavoidable step for those seeking power through this path" she continued. "The massacre of the living that follows is not just conquest; it is resource acquisition, fueling the next, more powerful summoning."

Lumos, the quiet hulking warrior, spoke up then, his words a low rumble. "But skilled Necromancers, the truly dangerous ones, often choose battlefields or ruins far from civilization for their major rituals, precisely to avoid detection during the lengthy summoning process. The fact that this one was discovered so quickly near the Bandit graveyard perhaps Sophia is right about his inexperience. Or perhaps," Lumos frowned, "he was simply unfortunate. Or made a critical error."

Henry listened intently, crossing his arms That faint sense of unease, the suspicion that something was off about this entire scenario, lingered at the edge of his perception. A newly ascended Rank 4 making such a basic error? It felt too convenient. Or was he merely projecting his own recent experiences with hidden powers and complex machinations onto a simpler, albeit dangerous, situation? His Mystic Sense offered no clear warning, only the general tension of the upcoming mission.

"Sophia," Mia, the keen-eyed archer among the newcomers, leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "You seem deeply knowledgeable. Have there been truly infamous Necromancers in Zephyros's history? Figures who spread terror far and wide?"

The question seemed to cast a subtle shadow over Sophia's features. "Sadly, yes, The worst in recent memory was probably a man named Beleth. They called him - the Necrofear. The Dread of the Living."

Lumos whistles softly. "Necrofear. Sounds serious."

Sophia continued. "He was. This was fifteen years ago, during the Birtoraz Border Warsthe - brutal conflict zone contested by the three great powers: Zephyros, Loren, and Moduff. It was a land soaked in blood. The unburied dead were piled so high they formed new hills under a perpetually grey sky. A perfect breeding ground for his art. He started with an army of five thousand undead."

Melly surprised. "Five thousand?"

"Beleth exploited the chaos, the suffering, the sheer concentration of death. He emerged from obscurity, summoning an initial army estimated at five thousand Undead." A shadow fell over her features as she continued. "He unleashed this force not against the warring armies, but against the civilian populace caught in the crossfire. Over ten villages and towns along the disputed border were simply erased. Their inhabitants added to his growing legion."

"By the time the intelligence networks of the three powers pieced together the reports and realized the scale of the threat originating from within the warzone," Sophia took a shaky breath, "Beleth commanded an army exceeding twelve thousand Undead. Not just shambling corpses, but legions including high-level constructs, creatures of nightmare. A force capable of threatening any major city within striking distance."

Melly gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in horrified disbelief. "Twelve thousand? Why didn't the nations unite to stop him immediately? He was a threat to all of them!"

Sophia offered a faint, bitter smile. "Politics, Melly. Mutual distrust."

Henry picked up the thread, his words laced with bitter certainty. "If Zephyros, for example, unilaterally diverted significant forces to engage Beleth, they risked weakening their front against Loren and Moduff. Success against Beleth might mean devastating losses, leaving Zephyros vulnerable to invasion by its supposed 'allies'. Conversely, failure would be equally catastrophic."

"And a joint operation?" Daniel murmured, grasping the complex geopolitical trap. "Command structure? Division of spoils? Guarantees against betrayal once the common enemy was vanquished? Each nation would suspect the others of using the campaign for their own strategic advantage."

"Precisely," Sophia confirmed. "Beleth, a Rank 6 entity of terrifying power, was also undeniably possessed of a cunning, manipulative intellect. He understood the paralysis created by their mutual distrust. He positioned himself strategically in the disputed territories, belonging formally to none, threatening all equally. He made no direct move against any single nation's core territory after the initial massacres."

"So what happened?" Torsan asked, unable to contain his morbid curiosity. "Was he eventually defeated?"

Sophia sighed. "No, Torsan. Beleth achieved a cessation of hostilities. He brokered a peace treaty with all three great powers."

A stunned silence greeted her words. The concept was outrageous, obscene.

"What?" Melly almost shouted, indignation flushing her cheeks. "He slaughtered thousands of innocents and they made peace with him?"

"He held the knife to all their throats simultaneously," Daniel reasoned quietly, piecing together the inevitable logic. "By remaining in the neutral, war-torn territory, any unilateral attack would have been perceived as an act of aggression by the other two powers, likely triggering wider conflict. Beleth likely offered guarantees. Promises not to expand further, perhaps even offered his Undead legions as a bizarre form of mercenary deterrent against the other nations, playing them off against each other."

Sophia nodded sadly. "That is essentially what the fragmented records suggest. All three nations, exhausted by years of war and unwilling to risk further conflict or the potential rise of a rival power benefiting from their losses, accepted his terms. The Birtoraz region, after five consecutive years of brutal warfare, fell into an eerie, two-year peace enforced by the very architect of its recent horrors. A land of death, granted tranquility by a Necrofear. The irony," she whispered, "was not lost on the chroniclers of the time."

Her gaze became distant again, clouded by the darkness of the tale. "During those two years of 'peace', shielded by the fragile truce, Beleth consolidated his power. He constructed a fortress, a bizarre black spire of bone and solidified shadow known in terrified whispers as Death Rising. His Undead legions swelled, reportedly exceeding twenty thousand. And worse, he began evolving them. He began creating new, terrifying variants: Black Curse Skeletons that could wither flesh with a touch, incorporeal Soul Crawlers that defied physical barriers, and bloated Flesh Bursters filled with corrosive plague."

She leaned forward, her words dropping to a near whisper. "Creatures comparable in individual threat to seasoned Rank 4 warriors."

She concluded the tale, her voice flat, devoid of hope. "Then, two years after the truce began the Birtoraz region became shrouded in a dense, unnatural fog. A miasma that carried deadly plagues, sickening any who approached the borders. And from within that blighted land silence. Beleth, his tower, his twenty-thousand strong legion vanished from all records, from all sight. As if swallowed by the poisoned mists they had created."

The implications hung heavy in the air. A Rank 6 Necromancer, having achieved his aims under the noses of the world's superpowers, had simply disappeared, leaving behind only a legacy of terror and unanswered questions.