The Little Necromancer [LITRPG]

Dust and blood mixed in the air, thick enough to choke.

The southern stockade was a new outpost hastily raised after Outpost Velder fell. Right now, it shook with every impact that banged against its walls. The guards within jabbed spears through gaps in the timber; steel clanged against bone, but still, the monsters came.

"Push them back!" Commander Halbrecht roared. He stood in front of the outpost; his diamond-tier aura flared, sword igniting with pale light as he swung. With crushing radiance, his blade cleaved through a plated warg, carving its torso apart. Another beast lost a leg but lunged forward anyway, jaws snapping until a squad of pikemen skewered it to the dirt. Even impaled, it writhed and bit until its skull was crushed under a powerful strike of a lightning-imbued hammer.

"Gods above," one soldier spat, retreating a step before shoving forward again. Every War Paragon was now fighting for their lives. To repel the monsters, or die trying.

"Fucking wild beasts!" A gold-tier guard shouted, aura bursting blue across his veins. His muscles bulged grotesquely, doubling in size as he seized a shrieker mid-dive and slammed it headlong into the dirt. Its bones snapped, but even broken, the beast clawed and bit until he finally severed its neck with his bare hands.

A platinum-tier mage raised her staff, the air shivering as she slammed the butt into the ground. "I'm going to cast gravity well! Make way!"

Guards nearby freed themselves from their foes and promptly jumped back. The mage circulated her mana, and then the space in front of them warped. The ground shifted, dirt and pebbles rising and crackling. Air whirled with the debris, dragging a cluster of bonefangs and hollowlings into a crushing sphere before they exploded in a shower of gore. She staggered, blood running from her nose. "There are just… too many!"

Another squad pushed forward, shields locking in a wall as a priestess swept her hand over them. Golden light shimmered across their armor, patching rents and sealing wounds. Exhausted and breathing hard, she pulled out a mana potion from her pouch and immediately drank it. This was her fourth potion, and the effects were already diminishing drastically.

The shriek of a cavernspitter cut through the warring battle. It hissed, spitting acid; it splattered across the shield wall, eating metal and wood alike. Men screamed as it melted through to their flesh. The priestess channeled her spell again, urgently trying to prevent more casualties.

"They didn't fight like this days ago!" a soldier yelled, hacking down a limping warg. Its guts trailed in the dirt, yet it charged again until Serwyn met it with a clean upward cleave, splitting its skull in two.

Halbrecht swung again, voice raw. "Form the wall! Don't let them breach—hold it, damn you!" His blade cut through two hollowlings in a single arc, but even as they fell, three more scrambled over their corpses.

The lines wavered, steadied, wavered again. The commander's heart hammered in his chest. He'd defended against several monster floods before. He's seen villages burned and caravans swallowed whole—but never beasts this frenzied. Limbs hacked away, organs spilling, and still they charged as if life itself was an afterthought.

"Commander!" Serwyn cut down another, sweat streaking his dust-caked face. His mana burned around him like a storm of sparks, forming a field of lightning to augment every sword strike. "This is worse than the ridge—twice as bad! They're not just swarming anymore, they're berserk!"

Halbrecht parried a swipe from a Darmawing—a flying beast similar to a wyvern, but far more heavily armored and with clawed hands large as a bear's. His blade struck the earth, blasting holy light outward and shattering a line of monsters into ash. The Darmawing shrieked in front of him as the last past through, and after a few seconds of constant struggle, its body collapsed, its organs burned and melted from within. It fell backward, and for a moment, the battle met a short pause, but immediately began again as another wave of monsters rushed forward, this time, several more flyers accompanying them.

A diamond-tier could shift battlefields. Halbrecht knew that. But even his blows weren't enough to stem this tide. A prolonged battle would wear down anyone, and this horde—it wasn't dying.

He remembered Kaelis, sprinting north five days ago with their desperate warning. If she'd made it safely, she'd be reaching Talo by now.

But the warning was already wrong.

Whatever message she carried about the monsters attacking them; how they were being abnormal; about Phantom stirring the wave—it was all outdated. In the past two days, the enemy had grown even more rabid, more bizarre.

And now, even if Kaelis reached the White Bastion… her words would be folly. Something had changed drastically, and they weren't prepared to defend against this onslaught.

The midday sun was warm against the white stone walls of Talo, and the steady murmur of carts, merchants, and travelers filled the air. The southern gate was busy, as always—though busy in the way it always was, predictable enough that the guards could almost sleep through it.

"Pass. Here you go."

Thomas stamped the merchant's writ with a brisk motion and waved him through. Another family followed, pulling a small cart of produce, and Laura handled them with the same firm but courteous professionalism.

Once the line thinned, Thomas leaned against the stone pillar of the gate, bracer glinting faintly in the sun. "So, Laura…" he began, tone deliberate.

She gave him a wary side-eye. "Oh no. I know that voice. You're about to say something stupid."

He grinned. "Correction—I'm about to say something brilliant. You just don't appreciate genius."

"Genius, huh?" She crossed her arms. "Like that time you told Commander Veyd that you could 'outdrink a wyvern'?"

"That was genius!" Thomas said, scandalized. "The part you don't remember is I nearly did. It was only because Parton switched the mugs on me at the last second. Sabotage, plain and simple."

Laura smirked despite herself. "Sure, Thomas. Sabotage. That's what you call collapsing face-first into the trough. Also, it was a baby wyvern, one barely a few months old that one of his friends brought in. I hardly call that winning."

He held a hand over his chest as if wounded. "See, this is why I like working with you. You remember all my greatest triumphs."

Laura rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tugged upward.

Thomas pressed his advantage. "Speaking of triumphs, I was thinking… the shifts this week haven't been too bad. Once I'm off duty tomorrow, I could—" he hesitated, feigning casualness as he flicked at the edge of his bracer, "—grab something to eat. There's that little place by the eastern market, the one with the spiced noodles. You always complain the canteen food is terrible, so…"

Laura blinked at him. For once, she didn't immediately mock. She tilted her head, thoughtful, lips parting.

Thomas's heart gave a little leap. This is it, he thought. Finally. After months of trying, she's actually considering it.

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"I mean," he added quickly, trying not to sound desperate, "strictly professional, of course. Colleagues dining together."

Laura laughed, short and sharp, though her eyes softened. "Are you asking me out to dinner? You really don't give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to important missions," Thomas said solemnly, hand over his heart again. "And you, Laura, are my most important mission."

Laura blushed slightly, looking away from him. She opened her mouth to answer, a retort that might have been softer than usual—maybe even a yes. Thomas saw it, and he prayed.

Come on… say yes! Say yes!

But before Laura could say anything, a voice cut through their conversation, boots stomping on the ground heavily.

"You two!"

Both guards turned. A figure was pushing through the trickle of travelers, staggering with uneven steps. Her armor was scuffed and battered, one shoulder plate hanging by a half-loosened strap. Dried blood streaked across her cheek and collar, her hair wild from five straight days of wind and grit.

Thomas's would-be smile vanished instantly. "Damn it—what is it now?" he muttered, throwing his hands up and straightening. His bracer hummed faintly, already preparing to scan the new arrival.

But then recognition hit him like a hammer. "Wait. That's—Kaelis?"

Laura stiffened, eyes widening. She knew the name as well as he did. Kaelis wasn't just another guard. She was a platinum-tier War Paragon, one stationed far south at Outpost Velder. She should've been weeks away, not staggering up to Talo's gates.

Kaelis reached them, her breathing ragged, her armor clinking with each step. Her eyes were sharp, though—focused. Determined.

"I need to see a superior," she rasped, voice raw from exhaustion.

Both Thomas and Laura rushed over, supporting under her arms just as she was about to collapse.

"Wait! You're hurt. We need to get you to the healers—" Laura started, before getting cut off.

"Forget medical aid. No healers. Take me straight to Commander Lorrin, or Lord Clament—any of the ruling council. Even Nakrin will do."

Laura straighted her back, taking a slow step forward to move them away from the gate. "Kaelis, you're hurt. At least let me—"

"No!" Kaelis snapped, harsh enough to draw stares from nearby merchants within the city walls. She caught herself, gritting her teeth, then forced the words out more evenly. "There's no time. Outpost Velder has fallen. The flood is worse than we thought. The monsters… they're not normal anymore."

Thomas swallowed, his earlier bravado gone. He'd seen soldiers come back battered, even dying. But never Kaelis, a platinum-tier War Paragon reduced to a state like this.

Her hands trembled as she let her weight fall into the capable hands of the two guards. "Take me to Lorrin. Now. Every minute wasted puts Talo closer to ruin."

For once, Thomas had nothing witty to say. He exchanged a quick glance with Laura, and together, they moved, leaving behind their routine banter, the noodle-shop promises, and everything else. They supported her and made way immediately to find Commander Lorrin.

Kaelis lowered the empty vial, setting it gently on the table. The potion had done its work. Her breathing had steadied, wounds no longer throbbing with every heartbeat. Her exhaustion, however; it remained in her eyes.

Lord Clament stood tall near the window, hands clasped firmly behind his back. The iconic sash of his office placed sharp against his dark coat. He spoke, his voice carrying the authority of not just a Lord, but a commander. "So Outpost Velder is bleeding," he said, gaze steady on Kaelis. "Several squads lost, runners silenced, and now even the communication crystals rendered useless. You did well to come back alive."

Kaelis inclined her head, grateful for the acknowledgment. "It wasn't by much, my lord. But the pass is overwhelmed. We can't hold them much longer without aid. I'm not quite sure what will have happened since I left."

Clament's jaw tightened. "I've read some of the reports—whispers, really—there isn't much information on them, but they're calling themselves Phantom. We know Talo is the target, but not much else." His gaze shifted toward the man at his side. "Lorrin?"

Lorrin Veyd adjusted his spectacles, his tone clipped and cold. "Phantom has been active on the southern frontier for several months. Always just out of reach, leaving corpses in place of answers. Bandits, deserters, and criminals bound together by something greater than greed. Hatred. In all of them. Something that drives them to attack our city. Their actions aren't mere raids." His eyes glinted behind the glass. "They wish for Talo's downfall. And judging by this report…" he gestured toward Kaelis, "…they've escalated their game."

Clament nodded once, absorbing the words. His gaze returned to Kaelis. "How many days since you left Velder?"

"Five," Kaelis answered promptly. "I cut through Brimrose Canyon and circled north through Weller's Hollow. If I hadn't pushed past my limit—and sacrificed some sleep—it would have taken seven."

"That means whatever you saw there is already five days old," Clament muttered, a frown deepening across his face. He began pacing, the weight of command in every step. "The situation may have grown even worse since then."

"If Phantom is desperate enough to meddle with the monster wave," Lorrin said, his voice clipped, "then it seems safe to assume they're the ones behind the trade disruptions we've been struggling with these past months."

"That is likely," Clament agreed, his tone steady but grim. "But tampering with a major trade route and conspiring with the monster season? That is drastic. If their only goal was to attack Talo directly, cutting trade makes little sense unless they plan to deprive us of resources for the long haul. Our walls stand just as strong without caravans. Even with one or two major routes down, Talo is still self sufficient that we wouldn't fall in such a short time. Their efforts would have been better spent rallying beasts from another angle."

Lorrin adjusted his spectacles, his sharp gaze narrowing. "Then they're after something more. Either they want Talo crushed completely, as if exacting revenge on you personally… or they're laying groundwork for something greater."

Kaelis cleared her throat, careful not to sound disrespectful. "My lords… I don't pretend to know their schemes. But Commander Halbrecht needs aid. Now."

"You're right," Lorrin said, tone sharpening. "Speculation won't save Velder. We must assume the outpost is in crisis already—if not lost. Reinforcements must be dispatched at once."

Despite her exhaustion, Kaelis sat straighter. "That's why I came. Supplies won't be enough. We need steel. War Paragons, if possible."

Clament stopped pacing. His expression hardened into resolve. "We cannot strip the city bare," he said firmly. "Not with the wave season upon us and the outer districts already stretched thin. But neither can we abandon Velder. If it falls, the flood doesn't end there—it comes straight to our gates." His voice lowered, iron in every syllable. "Talo cannot afford a siege, not when Phantom still hides its full hand."

Lorrin inclined his head. "Agreed. The question is not whether we respond, but how swiftly—and with how much strength."

Kaelis let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. For all her exhaustion, she felt steadier hearing them take her words seriously. "Commander Halbrecht said it himself: if the flood hits Talo in full, even Commander Veyd won't be able to hold the city without loss."

Lorrin's eyes narrowed, but he did not dispute the point. He knew Halbrecht well—and Halbrecht knew him. If the man believed even Lorrin couldn't withstand the wave without loss, then the threat was indeed formidable.

Clament's gaze shifted between them before settling back on Kaelis. "You've done your duty, and more. Rest now. The healers will tend to you, and when you're able, you'll debrief with the captains in full detail. Every scrap of what you saw may prove vital." His voice sharpened, iron beneath the calm. "As for Phantom… if they mean to break this city, then they will learn why Talo has stood for centuries as the White Bastion."

Kaelis bowed her head. "Yes, my lord."

Margel was soon called in to assist her, guiding her from the chamber.

When the doors shut behind them, only Clament and Lorrin remained. Silence lingered, heavy with unspoken decisions.

"I didn't mention this while Kaelis was here," Lorrin said at last, adjusting his spectacles, "but I think you should speak with Miss Veylan."

Clament arched a brow. "Serina?"

"Yes. In the matter of Phantom… she may have additional insight."

Serina Veylan, Minister of External Relations, dealt with everything from merchant contracts and immigration paperwork to cross-city cooperation.

"And why," Clament asked, his voice low, "would Serina know more about this than the rest of us?"

Lorrin exhaled through his nose, choosing his words carefully. "She believes Phantom may not be bent purely on revenge. Not to topple Talo into ruin… but to crack it. Tilt it. Wound it just enough that another party can step in with the means to 'repair' it. And in doing so—profit."

Clament's eyes hardened, narrowing like drawn steel. "You're suggesting someone is using Phantom to weaken us, so they can swoop in as a savior?"

"I'm not saying it," Lorrin corrected, his tone clipped. "But I believe that is Serina's theory. It would be wise to hear her out. She hasn't mentioned it as it does… involve an accusation. But without any proof, it becomes hard to lead such a subject for discussion. But if Phantom is going to be this brazen, I do not think subtlety is needed anymore."

Clament turned, his gaze sliding to the tall window, out toward the distant walls of Talo. His reflection glared back at him in the glass.

"I see," he said sharply. "So she thinks someone means to bleed us from within. Serina has a very keen eye for things. Of all my cabinets in the city, she does her task the best, with utmost efficiency, never a delay, never an error. If she believes that someone is to profit off our struggle—if that is true…" His voice dropped to a growl. "There will be no mercy from me when we find them."

Lorrin inclined his head, his expression grim. "Talo is the bastion of the people. We will not fall easily. Not to waves of beasts… nor to traitors."