There were easily five hundred normal warriors, their armor broken, their bodies marked with wounds from the battle. Mixed among them were five that stood out even in death, the body tempering practitioners, their physiques still firm, their presence heavier than the rest.
Carrion stepped forward and lowered his head slightly.
"My lord, all the bodies we stored have been brought."
Aiden gave a small nod, his eyes sweeping across the mass of corpses without a hint of discomfort.
"Good."
He took a step closer to the pit, then spoke again, his voice calm and steady.
"Throw them in."
There was no hesitation.
Carrion turned slightly and raised his arm.
At that silent command, the undead moved.
One by one, then all at once.
Bodies were lifted and hurled into the pit, so falling limp, others tumbling over each other as they disappeared into the darkness below. The sound of flesh hitting sothing deep within echoed faintly, dull and wet, but it never seed to fill the pit.
It just kept going.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The rhythm built as more bodies were thrown in, faster now, until it beca a constant stream. Limbs bent unnaturally as they fell, armor clattered, and the scent of death thickened in the air.
Graveknit watched from the side, its body twitching faintly, its hollow gaze locked onto the pit as if it could feel sothing stirring inside.
Aiden stood at the edge, unmoving.
Watching.
Waiting.
The last of the normal warriors disappeared into the darkness, followed by the five body tempering practitioners. Their bodies hit with heavier force, the sound deeper, more solid.
Then it stopped.
Silence returned.
The undead stepped back, their task complete, leaving only the pit and whatever lay inside it.
For a mont, nothing happened.
Then, a faint pulse spread through the ground.
Aiden’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Another pulse followed, stronger this ti, like a heartbeat echoing beneath the earth.
The bone pillars around the pit began to glow, the necrotic energy threading through them flickering brighter, reacting to what had just been fed into the structure.
The air shifted.
Colder.
Heavier.
From deep within the pit, a low, almost inaudible sound began to rise, sothing between a breath and a whisper, as if hundreds of voices were trying to speak at once but couldn’t quite form words.
The ground was still.
The air hung heavy.
Then sothing shifted.
A faint cracking sound echoed from below, soft at first, almost easy to miss, like brittle wood snapping under pressure. It ca again, louder this ti, followed by another, and then another, until the sounds began to overlap.
Aiden’s gaze sharpened.
"...It’s starting."
The darkness inside the pit moved.
Not like liquid, not like smoke, but sothing in between, as if the shadows themselves were being stirred from below. Then, slowly, a pale shape began to rise.
A hand.
Just bone.
No flesh, no skin, only a skeletal hand forcing its way upward, fingers clawing at the edge of the pit before pulling the rest of the body up.
The first skeleton climbed out.
Its movents were stiff at first, jerky and unnatural, but it did not fall. It stood, hollow eye sockets facing forward, faint traces of necrotic energy flickering within.
Then another followed.
And another.
One by one, skeletons began to erge from the pit, each one dragging itself out from the darkness below. So climbed, so were pushed upward as more bodies rose beneath them, until the edge of the pit was crowded with pale, rattling forms.
The normal warriors had all beco skeletons.
Their armor still hung loosely on their fras, so pieces missing, others cracked, but their bodies were lighter now, stripped down to bone. The clattering sound of their movent filled the area as they stepped onto solid ground, forming an uneven line in front of Aiden.
But then, a different sound ca from the pit.
Heavier.
Aiden’s eyes shifted.
Another figure rose, but this one was not bare bone.
Its arm reached out first, but unlike the others, there was still flesh clinging to it, darkened and tightened, stretched over the muscle like sothing half preserved and half rotting. When it pulled itself up, the rest of its body followed, revealing a twisted form that stood sowhere between a corpse and a skeleton.
The first body tempering practitioner.
Its chest still had patches of flesh, its face partially intact, though sunken and lifeless. One eye socket was empty, the other faintly glowing with a dull, necrotic light. Its movents were slower than the skeletons, but there was weight behind them, a lingering strength that had not completely faded.
It stood.
Then another climbed out.
And another.
All five of them.
Each one different, but all the sa in one way. They were not fully stripped down like the others. Pieces of their forr selves remained, flesh clinging to bone, muscle still present in so areas, giving them a more solid and imposing presence.
Graveknit stood beside Aiden, its stitched body shifting as if reacting to sothing familiar.
He said, "Congratulations, My Lord."
Carrion remained still, watching.
Aiden took a step forward.
The undead that had just risen slowly turned toward him.
All of them.
The skeletons stood in uneven rows, silent and waiting. Behind them, the five half-fleshed undead remained still, their presence noticeably heavier, more oppressive.
Aiden looked at them, his eyes calm, asuring.
"Even though, it’s not strong as my undead," he murmured.
For sothing that required none of his direct effort, this was more than enough.
His gaze lingered on the five body tempering undead for a mont longer, then shifted back to the mass of skeletons.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"...Not bad at all."
Behind him, the pit pulsed again, quieter this ti, as if it had completed its task.
Aiden stood quietly for a mont, observing the newly ford undead.
They did not move unless he willed it. They did not speak. Their hollow gazes remained fixed forward, empty yet obedient, like tools waiting to be used.
Still, there was a clear difference.
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