Graveknit stood amid the broken remains of the battlefield, its mismatched bones twitching as thin strands of black thread slowly pulled its body back together. Not far from it, Carrion rested his cleaver over his shoulder, the edge still dripping with dark blood. Both of them turned their attention toward the wall where Aiden stood, unmoving, his figure outlined against the dimming sky.
Graveknit took a step forward, its posture lowering slightly, almost like a bow. Its hollow voice ca out uneven, like sothing dragging across dry stone.
"My lord...?"
Aiden didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the distance, where the surviving human army had retreated, their figures small and scattered as they regrouped beyond the battlefield. Smoke still rose behind them, and the faint noise of hurried movent carried on the wind.
"Let them be," Aiden said at last, his tone calm, almost indifferent.
Carrion shifting his weight. "As you wish, my lord."
Night ca slowly, swallowing the last light of day until the world was painted in shadows.
In the distance, the enemy camp flickered with torchlight. Small fires burned between rows of tents, and scattered voices drifted faintly through the quiet air. The soldiers had settled in, so tending to the wounded, others standing guard, their movents slower now, weighed down by exhaustion.
They thought the worst was over.
They were wrong.
On a low rise overlooking the camp, three figures stood in silence.
Aiden stood at the front, his expression calm as he observed everything below with careful attention. Beside him, Carrion remained still, though the faint tension in his stance betrayed his anticipation. Graveknit stood on the other side, its body constantly shifting, small bones clicking softly as if it could barely contain itself.
"They’re scattered," Carrion said, his voice low. "No formation left."
Graveknit twitched. "Weak... exposed..."
Aiden nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving the camp. "Good."
For a mont, the night was still.
Then Aiden raised his hand.
The ground behind them began to stir.
At first, it was subtle, small movents beneath the dirt, faint cracks spreading across the surface. Then, one by one, skeletal hands broke through, followed by entire bodies pulling themselves free from the earth. So were fresh, their movents still stiff, while others were little more than bones held together by lingering necrotic energy.
They rose in silence.
Aiden inhaled slowly, then let it out.
"Undead Reinforcent."
A dark pulse spread outward, seeping into every undead under his control, strengthening their movents, sharpening their presence.
He stepped forward again, his own body shifting as mana gathered around him.
"Bone Armor."
A layer of hardened bone ford over his body, wrapping around his arms, chest, and shoulders like a second skin. It didn’t slow him down, it only made him feel heavier, more solid, like nothing could easily break through him now.
Carrion and Graveknit lowered thier head slightly.
To them, this wasn’t just preparation.
It was sothing closer to reverence.
"Move," Aiden said.
And the army obeyed.
They descended the ridge like a tide.
At first, it was only a few shadows slipping into the edges of the camp.
Then more.
Then all at once, everything broke.
"—Wait... what was that?"
A guard turned just in ti to see a skeleton lunge at him from the darkness.
He didn’t even get a chance to shout before it dragged him down.
Monts later, the screams began.
"Enemies! Enemies inside the camp!"
"How did they get here?!"
"Wake up! Get up!"
Panic spread faster than fire.
Undead poured in from every direction, tearing through tents, dragging soldiers out before they could even grab their weapons.
Aiden didn’t stay behind.
He walked straight into the camp.
His steps were steady, unhurried, but every movent carried weight. At his current level, his body had already reached the strength of a newly advanced Body Tempering practitioner, and with Bone Armor covering him, he moved through the chaos without fear.
A soldier rushed him, desperation written all over his face.
Aiden didn’t stop.
"Bone Spear."
The weapon ford instantly in his hand, long and sharp.
He thrust forward.
The spear pierced straight through the man’s chest, the force of it pushing him back before he collapsed.
Aiden let the weapon dissolve and kept walking.
To his right, a group of soldiers tried to form a defensive line, their voices shaking but determined.
"Hold here! Don’t let them break through!"
Aiden raised his hand slightly.
"Fear Pulse."
An invisible wave swept through them.
Their voices faltered.
Their formation loosened.
Eyes widened. Breathing grew uneven.
That mont of hesitation, was all it took.
The undead crashed into them before they could recover.
Carrion was already deep in the camp, his cleaver rising and falling like a relentless storm. Every strike crushed bone and steel alike, his cursed armor pulsing faintly with each kill.
"No, stay back!"
A soldier tried to block, and was sent flying.
Carrion stepped forward again, unstoppable.
Graveknit moved in a different way, slipping through narrow gaps, its body twisting unnaturally to pass between obstacles. Its limbs stretched and snapped forward, piercing through soldiers who didn’t even see it coming. When parts of it were broken off, the black threads pulled everything back together, reforming it in seconds.
Nothing slowed it.
Nothing stopped it.
Aiden’s eyes flickered faintly.
His fingers curled.
"Bone Prison."
Spikes erupted from the ground, trapping them in place.
"Wait—please—!"
Aiden didn’t even look at them.
"Corpse Explosion."
The blast tore through them instantly.
Fire spread as torches were knocked over, shadows dancing wildly across the camp as everything fell apart from within.
In the middle of it all, Aiden stopped.
For a brief mont, he looked around.
At the destruction.
At the fear.
At the absolute control he held over everything in front of him.
Carrion and Graveknit moved without question, without hesitation, as if his will alone guided them.
To them, he wasn’t just a master.
He was sothing far greater.
Sothing absolute.
Aiden exhaled slowly, his voice quiet but certain.
"...End it."
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