As word of their intervention spread through the enemy ranks, the orc manders began redirecting forces specifically to deal with them.
What had been a general melee gradually focused into a concentrated assault designed to eliminate the small group of humans whose presence was disrupting their carefully planned attack.
"We're drawing too much attention," Darian called out as he parried a massive orc cleaver with his sword, the impact sending shockwaves through his projected aura.
"They're starting to coordinate against us!"
Morgana was about to respond when the air itself seemed to freeze around them.
A presence of such malevolent power descended over the battlefield that even the orcs paused in their assault, their primitive minds recognizing something far more dangerous than mere human resistance.
The Lich King had taken personal interest in their small group.
The undead lord descended from his skeletal dragon mount like a falling shadow, his form wreathed in energies that made the very air around him writhe with unnatural movement. When his feet touched the ground, the grass beneath him withered and died, while his presence sent waves of eerie cold radiating outward.
"So," his voice carried the sound of wind through empty crypts, "those human insect queens sent a handful of children to face the might of the Legion. How... disappointing."
Morgana stepped forward, her own power blazing to life around her in response to the threat. Violet-blue-colored light erupted from her form in plex patterns that spoke of decades of training and countless battles fought against the forces of corruption.
"Lich King," she replied, her voice steady despite the overwhelming malevolence radiating from her opponent. "Your kind should have learned by now that underestimating the servants of Origin leads only to destruction."
"Perhaps," the Lich King replied, raising one skeletal hand.
"Let us discover which of us harbors the greater delusion."
What followed was a duel of such intensity that the very fabric of reality seemed to strain under the opposing forces.
Morgana's purifying light met the Lich King's corrupted darkness in explosions that sent both armies reeling backward, creating a circle of devastation around the two batants that nothing dared approach.
But while Morgana was locked in single bat with the undead lord, the orc forces had received new orders.
Elite warriors—creatures whose size and strength exceeded their normal kin—began pushing through the battle lines with single-minded purpose. Their target was clear: eliminate the "Chosen Ones" while their protector was otherwise occupied.
"They're ing for us specifically!" Rena shouted over the din of battle as she erected another barrier of crystallized Origin to block a massive war-axe.
"These aren't random attacks—they're hunting us!"
Darian found himself facing three orc champions simultaneously, his sword work pushed to its absolute limits as he tried to prevent them from reaching his younger panions. His golden aura flickered and strained under the assault, each impact sending cracks through his projected defenses.
"Can't... hold them... much longer!" he grunted between sword strokes, sweat pouring down his face despite the ghostly cold radiating from the Lich King's presence.
Taeryn spun his spear in plex defensive patterns, trying to guard their rear flank while Rena focused her power forward.
But for every enemy they defeated, two more seemed to take its place, and gradually they found themselves being pushed back toward the fortress walls.
The battle that had begun with such promise was rapidly turning into a desperate fight for survival, and the realization was beginning to dawn on all of them that they might have severely underestimated the scope of the threat they faced.
-
The crimson sun hung like a bleeding wound against the ash-darkened sky as the ancient stones of Berdshire Fortress trembled beneath the relentless assault.
As the battle progressed on, the undead creatures started swarming toward the fortress walls. It gave the soldiers a brief respite, but it didn't last long.
Soon all infantry met with the undead, and the clash began.
With Fortress as its center, the space where the battle was going on was before the south wall; there, the path towards the fortress was narrow, and it was where the legion marched. As the pass was narrow, it gave the soldiers an advantage to fight them easily.
Darian moved back as he fought the undead creatures, and so did Taeryn, and Rena did too. The number of undead creatures was increasing as time passed.
Taeryn's spear sang through the putrid air, its enchanted tip finding the rotted heart of another shambling corpse. The undead warrior fell to the ground, but three more took its place, their hollow eye sockets burning with malevolent green and purple fire.
Sweat and blood streaked down his face as he pivoted, the butt of his weapon crushing the skull of a tall undead figure that had scaled the ramparts behind him.
"I don't think we can last long at this rate!" Rena's voice cut through the din of battle, her hands constructing intricate patterns as bolts of pure origin power lanced from her fingertips.
The Origin energy tore through a cluster of orc warriors like lightning through storm clouds. Her auburn hair whipped around her face as she spun, another devastating construct of energy already forming in her grasp.
Beside her, Morgana stood like a pillar of controlled fury, her dark robes billowing as waves of origin power rippled outward from her form.
Where Rena's origin was precise and surgical, Morgana's was raw elemental force.
Energy tendrils and flame danced at her mand, creating barriers of writhing darkness that held back the tide of enemies while torrents of spectral fire consumed any who dared approach too close.
The lich moved back as he manded the battleground, sending in his undead troops.
"Darian!" she called to her steadfast panion, the black knight whose shaded armor seemed to absorb the very light around him. His Munshard blade cleaved through orc and undead alike, each swing acpanied by the whistle of displaced air and the wet sound of rent flesh.
The knight's response was wordless but immediate—a swift sidestep that brought him between his mistress and a pack of undead beasts that made their way towards them.
His blade, wreathed in the dark aura, met the lead beast's charge with devastating effect.
The creature's momentum carried it onto the sword's point, and Darian's aura-enhanced strength drove the weapon clean through its body and into the beast behind it.
But for every enemy that fell, two more seemed to take its place.
The Dark Legion had e in numbers beyond counting, a sea of twisted flesh and malevolent energy masked, that stretched to the horizon.
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