The mont Thanatos stepped through the Planar Gate, the violet-gold soulfire in
his sockets swept over the surroundings, processing the environnt with
predatory speed.
Erald grasslands, a piercing azure sky, and the oppressive warmth of a genuine
sun. It was a world brimming with the vulgar vitality of the living—a stark
contrast to the sterile, silent grey of the Necrotic Realm. Such a world, in
Thanatos's logic, was a waste on the living. Soon, it would be a new playground
for the dead.
Behind him, the massive Planar Gate vomited forth a flood of undead. Millions of
his most elite subjects spilled onto the prairie, organizing into perfect,
square phalanxes that began to blot out the horizon.
Thanatos did not issue the order to attack imdiately. He tilted his skull
back, sensing the flow of Mana in the atmosphere.
Rich. Dangerously rich.
The concentration was higher than any Tier 7 Plane he had ever subjugated. This
was an anomaly. The Mana density of a world was typically dictated by the state
of its Plane Core. This level of saturation indicated that the Core was not
dormant or peaking, but in a state of hyper-active growth.
Thanatos's soulfire pulsed. Indeed. A world of imnse value—and imnse risk.
His gaze drifted to the silhouette of a city in the distance—Gale City. It was
modest in scale but built with a terrifying geotric order. The battlents
were already teeming with defenders. Most of them were Undead. Skeletons,
Vampires, Liches. It matched Unit One's report perfectly: a world governed by a
Sovereign of the Dead.
A second later, Thanatos's senses caught a massive ripple in the local
space-ti fabric.
In the open fields before the city, the air began to warp. A gargantuan
teleportation array—hundreds of ters across—was manifesting in the sky.
Thanatos deciphered the tactical intent instantly. They intended to bypass the
travel ti and drop their heavy hitters directly onto the front lines to seize
the initiative. It was an elegant, efficient tactic. Against any other foe, it
would have worked.
Regrettably for them, Thanatos had spent centuries preparing for this encounter.
He reached into his spatial storage and pulled out a palm-sized shard of jagged,
grey crystal.
[The Antimagic Crystal].
It was a relic plundered from the ruins of a Primordial Civilization during one
of his early crusades. Its function was singular: to forcibly scramble the
Mana-harmonics of an entire sector.
Without a second of hesitation, he crushed the crystal in his gauntlet.
An invisible wave of grey energy erupted from Thanatos, expanding across the
prairie at the speed of thought. The wind died. The Mana flowing through the air
began to vibrate with a violent, disorganized frequency.
Before the city, the massive teleportation array flickered. The lines of light
forming the geotric patterns began to snap like frayed wires. With a sound
like breaking glass, the entire array collapsed, dissolving into a shower of
useless sparks.
The Evernight soldiers who had already materialized through the gate stood
frozen, staring back at the empty air where their reinforcents should have
been.
Thanatos's soulfire burned steady. Success.
But he was a king who favored redundancy. He pulled out three more Antimagic
Crystals and crushed them in sequence, ensuring the atmospheric scramble would
persist. Once the magical blackout was established, he raised a hand of black
bone. Mana poured from his fingertips, weaving a massive, blood-red array in the
sky.
A barrier of crimson energy expanded from the circle, racing outward until it
ford a colossal semi-spherical do that anchored itself into the earth,
sealing off a hundred-mile radius.
"[Boundary of the Crimson Purgatory]."
This was Thanatos's signature battlefield spell. It isolated the sector,
transforming the prairie into a closed gladiatorial pit. Within this barrier,
the soulfire of all Necrotic Realm units was nourished, their regenerative speed
and physical power amplified by the field. anwhile, for any living being,
every breath drawn was a tax on their life-force, accelerating their biological
decay.
More importantly, the rising of the do was a declaration. It inford the
world that this sector was now the private hunting ground of the Necrotic Realm.
However, the "natives" of this world had no intention of allowing the barrier to
set quietly.
On the walls of Gale City, several hundred high-tier Bone Withers raised their
arms in a single, fluid motion. Death energy coalesced behind them, manifesting
as massive, obsidian-tipped arrows.
The air shivered. Hundreds of black bolts streaked across the sky, trailing
plus of dark energy as they shrieked toward Thanatos's position. Each arrow
held the mass-energy to level a small hill.
Thanatos didn't even flinch. He continued his incantation, focusing on anchoring
the barrier.
As the arrows neared the boundary, the silent sea of undead behind Thanatos
reacted. Thousands of his own elite archers raised their bows. Two tides of
arrows t in mid-air with surgical precision.
There was no world-shaking explosion. There were only hundreds of dull thuds as
the projectiles neutralized each other, vanishing into puffs of grey smoke.
The Crimson Barrier remained untouched, expanding until it sealed perfectly
against the horizon.
A perfect interception. A aningless probe.
The Bone Withers on the wall didn't lower their arms. The space behind them
warped again as second and third salvos were prepared. On the plains below,
Thanatos's legions began to maneuver. The front line contracted into a testudo
of heavy tower-shields—a wall of bleached bone that looked impossible to breach.
Then, the Necrotic Realm's mages moved. Tens of thousands of Skeleton Archmages
raised their staves.
Fire, Frost, Acid, and Curses.
A multicolored cloud of death coalesced in the sky, beginning its descent toward
the walls of Gale City. The city's Arcane Legion defenders possessed higher
individual quality, but they were nurically overwheld. They could only
project overlapping Mana-shields to weather the initial alchemical storm.
In that mont of stalemate, the isolated Evernight vanguard—the units who had
made it through before the crystals were crushed—made their choice.
The Punishnt Legion Centurion raised a hand, and a massive Bone-Cleaving
Greatsword manifested in his grip. He swung the blade forward, pointing directly
at the endless sea of enemy bones.
"GAH!"
The Death Knights of the Fearless Vanguard lowered their lances. They kicked
their skeletal steeds, which reared back and spat plus of hellfire from their
nostrils before breaking into a thunderous charge.
The Shadow Guards vanished, their forms lting into the silhouettes of the
other units, waiting for the micro-second to deliver a terminal strike.
The Vampires of the State Army bared their fangs, wearing predatory grins that
were the total opposite of their usual bureaucratic masks. The imnse pressure
of their daily paperwork and administrative duties was finally being channeled
into its intended purpose: slaughter.
They abandoned their Ghoul subordinates, transforming into streaks of blood-red
mist that blurred alongside the charging Death Knights, heading straight for the
encroaching apocalypse.
"FOR THE SOVEREIGN! FOR THE EVERNIGHT!"
"CRUSH THE INVADERS!"
☆☆☆
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