Throes Of The Night

"Are you ready?"

Lucius' voice echoed deeply throughout the dark recesses of the Dry Woods, enough to tingle in the ears of every single Undead that was present.

The ninety-seven undying followers he had… alongside Legion, made them a total of ninety-eight. Adding himself to the mix, the number was bumped up to ninety-nine.

'Ninety-nine versus hundreds…' He smiled, already seeing the camp of the adversary and just how many people it occupied. Since it existed in a plain field, it was easier to survey the area than he expected. 

It honestly made him wonder why the Cathars picked this position.

'I guess they must be really confident in their abilities.' He nearly chuckled. 'Well… I'm also pretty confident, myself.'

Lucius was so confident, in fact, that he had no intention of participating in the fight at all.

After his fight with Legion, he had come to the conclusion that fighting when he had such overwhelming power was too boring for him. It was exciting at first, but the whole thing became monotonous pretty quickly.

Besides, rather than getting involved directly, this battle presented him with an even better opportunity.

'I'll use this opportunity to test out the abilities of my Undead and also see Legion in action.'

His followers needed some fighting experience anyway, so by throwing them in a battle with hopefully experienced soldiers, they could learn and become better fighters. Since they couldn't die anyway, he wasn't very worried about them at all.

'If the situation escalates, I can always step in.' His arms were folded and he kept his eyes peeled, intent on missing nothing in the entire conflict.

"YES, LORD MORS." 

The response he had been waiting for finally arrived, causing Lucius to bob his head in satisfaction. This would be the first of his many activities as a commander in battle, so while he was intent on learning as much as possible from the experience…

"On my mark."

… Lucius also wanted to enjoy it.

"Get ready."

Everyone took positions, ready to charge at the words of their Lord. He could feel the delectable tension in the air, clawing and itching at him… calling him to say the word.

The single word that would turn this quiet night into one filled with screams.

He did not ignore the call.

"Go."

~WHOOOOSH!~

Like blurry beasts prowling the night, his Undead charged with such ferocious fury, painting the dark soil even darker with their shadows. The obscured moon bore witness to their savagery as they closed in on the enemy.

—All ninety-seven of them.

Before Legion could depart with the others, Lucius had kept his hand on their chest.

"Not yet…" He had said. "... Let them have their fun first."

************

"U-uwaaahhhhh!!!"

"G-God… please… m-mercyyy—!"

"S-stop! Demons! I see Demons! Ahhhh!"

Just as Lucius predicted, the silent night was immediately transformed into a horrific nightmare once his Undead descended on the camp. 

Even though the soldiers had weapons and armor, they were no match for the superior strength and speed of the harbingers of death. Not only were the undying ones superior in every physical aspect, they also had one special quality that made them impossible to beat.

… They were undying.

No matter the wound that was inflicted on them, they would never die!

They simply regenerated—albeit at a much slower pace than Lucius or even Legion—and kept attacking with no semblance of pain or exhaustion.

They were an unstoppable force beyond nature—twisted and warped by forbidden power that none of the Cathars had ever seen in their entire existence. The terrifying claws and maws of the scrawny Undead tore them to shreds, their throes ignored through it all.

Pain… Agony… Despair…

… Death.

All of it coalesced into the slaughter ground that was the battlefield.

"Look at this…" Lucius whispered, watching as actual human beings were sliced into pieces and torn to large chunks by the army he commanded. 

Slowly turning his head to Legion, who proudly stood by his side, he asked them, "What do you think about all of it?"

"...."

For a moment, Legion could not respond.

They were either flabbergasted by the words of their Master, or trying their hardest to articulate their collective thoughts into one acceptable response. Once the seconds passed and Legion opened their lips to speak… only three words flowed out.

"It is glorious."

Lucius smiled and looked away—his eyes narrowed as he witnessed the specific details of the battlefield. They had taken the initiative and ambushed the enemies, however… this still felt too easy.

'Why have none appeared? A Deacon… a Bishop…' He pondered.

Did the Cathars really think so lowly of them that they would not send any of their heavy hitters even after a casualty of three hundred men and a Deacon on their side? Lucius found that to be absurd, so he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.

'I don't like this.'

The fact that things weren't going according to how he envisioned it bothered him to no end, and right as he was about to share his thoughts with Legion… he felt something.

~SWOOSH!~

"Master—!" Right as the sound of two blades slicing through the air reached their ears, Legion hurriedly dashed to shield Lucius, ignoring his defenses for a split second.

As a result, his head was cleanly severed by one blade, while the other was trapped in his bulky, armored hand. Black goo spurted out of his open wounds like blood, and he collapsed on the ground the moment he stopped the two lethal attacks—one aimed at him, and the other at his Master.

~THUD!~

Lucius watched all of this play out, his expression calm as his eyes narrowed on the intruders responsible for such swift attacks.

They looked identical, almost like clones, and they had very light silver armor that gleamed under the tiny rays of moonlight that leaked through the dark clouds and thin branches of the surrounding trees.

"Who… are you?" He asked, a brow raised slightly..

They ignored his question and instead stretched out their hands as if trying to reach out for something. Much to his surprise, the blades that were lodged in Legion's limp body began to move, and in barely a second, they rushed back to their owners.

'I see… so they're enchanted somehow.' Lucius thought as his eyes scrutinized the weapons well.

The two swords looked very similar too—just like the duo—and they had a particularly dangerous luster about them that made Lucius slightly wary.

'This doesn't have the same feeling as a Blessed Weapon… so I can only assume it's a Cursed Weapon.' 

Legion and Luca had brought back the Cursed Weapon from the Deacon they previously killed, and the ones he was now observing had the same vibes as it. Cursed Weapons were different from Blessed ones, but they had one frightening similarity.

They could harm him.

'Legion sacrificed themselves for me… good.' Lucius looked at the body of his Death Knight and smiled to himself.

With this, he had confirmed the importance of having zealots as subordinates.

In situations like this, they would dive headfirst into danger and preserve him from even the slightest inconvenience or harm. 

"Won't you answer my question?" Lucius went on to ask after experiencing the silent glares of the two for more than a few seconds. He could already tell that they were most likely Deacons, so there was no real need for him to receive an answer.

However, he wasn't used to being ignored in this new life as Lord Mors, so their attitude towards him felt a little… unpleasant.

"Why would we answer your question, heathen?"

"Your knight has fallen… and now, so will you!" The two spoke nearly successively, their glares only growing deeper.

"I see…" 

His gleaming lips curled upwards as he looked at them with sparkling purple eyes. 

"You have made two mistakes just now." He said. "Want to guess what they are?"

Silence.

"First mistake… not answering my question immediately after I asked them."

The duo took their battle stance, blades pointed towards Lucius in preparation to attack him right there and then. He remained calm under the weight of their intent, though.

"And the second…"

At that moment, Legion rose to their feet, their face growing back within a mere second.

Naturally, the two Deacons were shocked by the sight—no, horrified would be a more apt description of what their faces showed the moment they laid eyes on the abominable rise of someone they thought was dead.

The confidence they displayed began to waver, and beads of sweat appeared on both their faces.

Lucius noticed all of this and mused. "Your second mistake was assuming my knight had fallen. Be sure to etch this into your minds before meeting your end…"

The shock on their faces was delectable, and the rising tension in the air was electrifying—almost intoxicating. He felt a thrill unlike ever before, relief forming in his heart as he gladly watched Legion take his own stance to face the identical duo.

The Cathars had sent two Deacons… that felt just right—albeit still an underestimation of the Heresy Cult's capabilities.

Regardless, this worked out just fine for Lucius.

He was already getting curious about how his loyal Death Knight would fare in real battle.

"... My Knight can not fall to the likes of you."