25 March On The Walls

Duth decided to march on the walls. Gathering a thousand strong skeletons to serve as vanguard. The remaining few thousand marched just a few meters behind them. Whilst he poked each knight, instilling over a hundred SM into each of their bodies. He was made aware that SM isn't just power to him, but his undead too. At which point he made sure the SM didn't fall into their overall strength, but their ability to withstand a greater yield of damage for a temporary time as damage would whittle away his implanted SM. Supposedly so they don't perish as he realized they were rather rare to him right now and losing any more would continue to be a great blow to his forces. Assuming that each normal attack against them could take five SM to heal whereas stronger attacks like heavy attacks would take twenty or magically strong may even take fifty-ish maybe sixty. He had five knights left, he preferred if they lived longer than how they have been so far. Whilst his thoughts were on this a powerful soul signature appeared ahead. 

Whilst a spell materialized with four magical circles, the spells appeared a reddish orange color. Before a fireball manifested, three meters in diameter. A visible layer of mana surrounding the four rings. Arcane runes glimmering under the vibrant color.

Launching itself at his vanguard. He could not react before an explosion that leveled five city blocks engulfed his vision, undead count swiftly fell in the triple digits! Clearing smoke showing nothing more than indented scorched ground! Four hundred undead died in an instant!

A painful sting reached him. Remnants of a shockwave of heat that washed over the lich. He gaped at the thought that someone manifested a high tier spell, the fact there was even a wizard strong enough to power said spell in the city baffled him. Let alone a 4th tier spell! 

Of course.. The cost of that spell made him realize that even if they used that one of two things were evident. It was to lessen the surge of his troops and they were desperate to not care for the city. They must've emptied out their reserves no? Of course he can't quite say much as last he recalled the spell it was insufficient in how much mana it used. Things could have easily changed. 

Unfortunately the soul signature faded away. So he could not physically pinpoint its location. But he did know that he needn't wait long, not where his dead were marching at least.

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Six hundred undead marched upon the walls, staring up at the small collective of tired wizards, prepared archers, and clerics along with some armored guards preparing a last stand. Duth scoffs at their attempt, whilst his soul and mana vision scan the area. Clear.. He moved to join the vanguard as they marched ever closer. Mystic blue streaks glimmering unnoticed.

Archers fired their first volley. The arrows dipped in divine power. The first three ranks fell into bones and ash. Before the ranks behind them marched past their bodies, only for another hail of arrows to claim undead lives. Nearly a hundred undead met their end. When the wizards raised their hands, twenty bolts of mana rocketed up and then down! Streaking against the gloomy color before blasting twenty skeletons apart. Severing the tether of soul to vessel, only then did the lines clash! 

Blades and shields meetiing metal in return! Clerics casting their strands of divine power to bash and break undead. The armed guards keep as many undead off the clerics as possible as to migrate a soon to be overwhelmed force. 

Duth felt it, the lost of undead growing in number. The archers had fired another volley into the back lines cutting down another three dozen skeletons, whilst wizards began casting more bolts of mana. The defense was deadly, at least two hundred and ninety fell before thousands of undead reached the thinning lines. Duth stood in the middle, a ring of knights guarding him. 

The vanguard had served their purpose, though he didn't know whether or not it would be useful or useless. They would have encountered this regardless of the strategy or not, however another factor to assume is if they walked into a trap that instantly killed all one thousand. In that case, if a little justified, he felt their cause was just.

It was then that an unexpected event took place. One that Duth did not see coming, an ambush! But how?! He had scanned for living beings, seeing none. Only those ahead, but now a surge of life came rushing out from alleyways with war cries, his escape cut off by a loose collection of adventurers and guards! Even more archers appeared, from atop buildings, in windows and even on the other side of the wall. Guards and bandits charged together. Clashing into unsuspecting undead that fell with ease until they answered the attackers blades with their own! 

Duth racked his bones. Someone knew about his sight, they must've conjured an illusion or some kind of disguise to distort his vision enough to block out the fact that there were hundreds of living around him!

Atop the gate a wizard rose to his feat. Thoroughly exhausted. Casting a 4th tier fireball and a 5th tier soul distortion spell was very draining. He stared down, feeling the killing gaze of a Lich. He cracked a smile. Locking eyes with the damned undead. "If you stayed in your grave i wouldn't be doing this. At the end of the day it's your own damn fault, lich" Oren spat at the lich. His voice wasnt projected, so of course it was drowned out, but Duth understood nonetheless. 

Oren inhaled and exhaled slowly. Given his body structure and artifacts he should be able to recover over half his power in 30 minutes. He had done his part, so instead of helping any further despite the 8% he had left that could easily summon some good help. He would hold off, incase of a losing situation. 

Below the undead loss has increased many folds every volley or collective of arrows killed dozens of undead. Whilst clerics dealt with twenty or so undead every time they pushed against the divine might. Whilst the fighting guards and bandits dealt their own blows. Just in the first clash he lost four hundred and seventy undead, now that number stacked on about three hundred plus undead. 

Duth remained dormant regardless of the loss. With good reason too. He couldn't be bothered to accidentally kill his troops. That and he felt that soon enough the fever at which the living engaged them will die down very soon. In which he will make his strike. Instead the undead shuffled inwards and moved to engage whatever was outside of the square formation. 

He considered a few stages of this battle. In which the first was about to end.

The losses meted out were great, but not without a cost of their own. Where nearly over a thousand undead met their end, so did more than half the human forces. At which point the second stage began.. 

Counter attacking!