The Genesis of the Dead
'What is my purpose?' He thought as he gazed at the carnage that surrounded him. With every step he takes countless perish, with every action countless mourn. Behind him legions so vast they cover the horizon and blot out the heavens. His soldiers, servants, friends, children. 'That's right.' He remembered with a tinge of melancholy, 'This is my purpose.' Author's note: High fantasy setting, with a heavy emphasis on action, army tactics, political schemes and world building. No harem and very little romance.
Chapter 48
A large, unfamiliar beast lay dead at Maveth's feet, blood dripping slowly from the deep wounds inflicted by his scythe. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest. He turned to survey the battlefield, a grim scene littered with similar corpses. His companions and the mercenaries moved with mechanical precision, cleaning up after the brutal skirmish that had just unfolded.