Rise of The Undead Legion

Get your shit together!" White Ghost's voice sounded all over the Heaven Dawn guild headquarters. He was enraged, the players were doing so poorly they shouldn't even if they tried to.

Kis'Shtiengbrah had broke all logical thought process, and instead of sending in the low level mobs, he threw in the big hitters right off the bat. Of course White Ghost didn't lose any of his A team, but due to the B team being decimated, this will only cause the A team more pressure when they are needed the most.

White Ghost was thinking that this was a game of chess, and his pawns were good enough to fend off the undead pawns, only Skelly used Queens, yes plural Queens! To slay all of his pawns. Now with nothing but big pieces to play with, White Ghost felt under a massive amount of pressure.

"Fold back! A team, get your ass upfront, I need someone to hold the front, if things get sour, send in the Demon mobs. Shit! Someone needs to hold off those Doom Knights!" White Ghost shouted again and again. Hoping his orders would be executed on the spot, at least he could reduce the casualties, regroup and reassess the situation.

One of the field leaders reported back, "We can't locate the Doom Knights! They're attacking with the low-level mobs, and retreat whenever they killed a player."

"Then bait them in, I don't need you to die right now. You still have to hold off the rest of the god dammned legion!"

The field leader grunted, how was he supposed to bait Doom knights, these weren't low level scrubs, if any player tried to give them an opening, they will go right through the player. Sword in, and sword out, all left were mots of light. This situation repeated itself massively on the battlefield, and the worst thing was, the Doom Knights only attacked whenever one of the low level undead was assaulted.

Especially for melee players, whenever they exposed themselves by swinging their swords or attacking with their weapons, a Doom Knight would be waiting for that opportunity, where the player could not withdraw and cancel his attack, and they would smack him down, stunning them and finishing them off with a couple more attacks.

"R-Retreat!" a player shouted.

He was not one of the field leaders, not anyone of any important rank, the player was non other than a casual person who decided to join the battle. But seeing his party members dying, losing their heard earned EXP was a frightening experience to him, and he didn't want to suffer. However, his words, were the dreads of White Ghost's nightmares. And the blessing of Skelly's.

In his panic, other players began following after the player, deserters. They left their posts, giving up the defensive, and this brought even more pressure on the remaining players. The more the players deserted their posts, the more the undead pressured, and the more the remaining players felt desperate.

Once the first batch gave up their position, the rest followed, and a never ending culling began. The Legion, by nature are Knights of honors and valor, however, once the players sided with the demons, they were no longer worthy of the compassion and mercy of Knights. Even if the players had dropped their weapons, even if they gave up the battle, the Undead slaughtered them.

Low tiered undead made their greatest effort in stalling the players, some latched on to them, bony arms and disgusting limbs clawing at the players, grabbing whatever they could. Clutching at their faces, their arms and legs, until the player was unable to move by the mass of Undead grabbing at him. Then came, 'mercy', a sword from a Death Knight or a Doom Knight across the neck, or through the chest to bring finality to the now dead.

The Ash King's demons had noticed that the advanced human party was being culled, yet they did nothing to intervene. Bar form the players that had a few demon soldiers under them, the other Demons belonging to the Ash King didn't move a muscle.

Yet, what could a couple thousand Demons do against hundreds of thousands of undead?

The players that have sent in their demons to hold off the Undead Charge have been woken rudely. The Undead mowed through them, swords too numerous to block pierced through demons with sickening ease. Demonic ichor coated the ground, demon blood spilled unnecessarily, and idiotically. The situation was no different than an ant trying to stop a cart. And the result were the same. The thousands of demons vanished under the assault of the undead, and the latter's charge wasn't even affected in the least.

More forces squandered, more power lost, and moral? There was none to begin with. The Undead took the first move, and they did so beautifully.

The ranks of Demons were stationed in irregular formations, they weren't fully organized, as the demons had a very low sense of camaraderie and discipline, they obeyed force and power. And the Ash King had those in abundance.

Once the players reached the safety of the Demons, the latter were finally issued an IA command to move to the battlefield. Behind the Demons was the long walkway to the Ash King's keep. And if the Undead made their way, the battle would end soon.

The Ash King's keep had four entrances, and the Undead army was separated into four section. Amazingly so, only Dave's Legion has made it this far. On the other sides of battle, the Undead Army was still pressuring the points of entry to the Keep.

"Good, Low level Undead and Doom Knight Regiment swap with Death Knights! Death Knights move in Square Formation! I need Ten Brigades up front one thousand Death Knight each! Two Supporting Brigades to follow. Archers! long range casters! Move in to the sides. Doom Knight, hold the army wings! MOVE NOW!" Dave shouted and his command was followed like a well-rehearsed choreography.

Not a single Undead stumbled not a single crossed path with another. They all moved with a smooth liquid grace only water could mimic. And in no less than ten seconds, Dave's current forces were positioned.

Ten thousand Death Knights at the front, behind them two thousand more to fill in the gapes. On the sides of the supporting Death Knights were the casters and archers. And on these ones sides were Doom Knights to protect them from any flanking charge. Dave's army was organized to bore through the enemies, tanking the damage with the sturdy and powerful Death Knights, piling down rain of steel and hellfire from above thanks to the well protected casters and archers.

This formation is meant to destroy armies and break through the enemy forces. And so was it shown, when Dave's undead began advancing like one single unit.

Demons charged the front, while Undead moved, a step at a time. Every footstep sounded as one sonorous stomp of a giant. Every sword drawn as one, sounding like a god drew a thousand sword to slaughter his enemies. And the first swing, cut down at the demons, also at once, sounding like hell has broken, and the world was about to meet its most calamitous end.

Demons dared stand in the Undead's way, and the latter all slew them with ease. No Demon had the time or ability to break through the Undead Tower shield formation. Especially when the front Death Knight row were protected by the second row who wielded lances.

The Death Knights at the front row chopped down at the Demons that repeatedly tried to crash into their shields to no apparent avail. While the second row impaled anyone that tallied too long. Even if this demon, by some ungodly miracle survived the unstoppable force of the marching undead, the casters finished them off with hails of curses, hexes, black fire. And the archers turned them to pincushions of arrows. All of this happened while the undead force never, EVER, once stopped moving. Their footsteps marched, over the dead bodies of the demons, over the mots of lights, remains of the players bodies. And eve over the dead bodies of their comrades.

The Undead Marched! The Undead Moved! The legion, never stopped.

This sight, brought an even greater fear into the players hearts. How could they stop this moving mass of destruction? It was like a moving train, and it was not about to stop anytime soon.

"We need help! Now! Send in the A team!" A field leader shouted for reinforcements.

"WE ONLY HAVE ONE A TEAM! The undead are attacking from four places! If I send them there, who's going to protect the other three!" White Ghost shouted.

"If you don't send them! There will be no one left here for the A team to protect! SIR!" the player shouted back.

White Ghost was about to rip his hair out. Under no scenario did he ever imagine skelly's forces would move this far in at this speed and in such a short time. His planning and contingency plans all went to waste. He, unlike Dave was a man with a plan, yet his plans needed time to implement. Unlike Dave who would come up with a situation on the spot. White Ghost needed to think of all other possible scenarios lest his thinking fails him. And due to this, his mind was in chaos. He was at a loss, stressed out, unknowing of what to do.

And if anyone were to see the proclaimed Grand Strategist of Conquest sweating like this, they would certainly doubt their eyes. A genius needs only one setback to throw him off. And if White Ghost is unable to regain his composure and think up of how to deal with the still marching undead, everything will turn up in flames while he watched.

"Need a hand?" a private message appeared right in front of White Ghost.

White Ghost cursed, "Shit, does it really have to be this way." He said.

He then replied to the message. "Yes Zhang Shi. hold them off. I can't do it with one A team."

"Got it," said the Guild Master of the Blood Ragers. "I have a beef to settle with Skelly anyway."

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