NOVEL NEXT 758. Into The Storm
5,000 Repenters marched through the luscious forest that bordered the smoke and the black forest far behind. People of all shapes, sizes, age, race and combat abilities pushed forward at a command that resonated within their mind.
“Enter the smoke. You are to kill all enemies in sight. Failure to comply will result in a minimum punishment of 100 years added to your sentence.”
None of them knew who this voice belonged to. They only knew that they had to obey it if they wished to be freed from the shackles of CogitO. Their eyes darted around in suspicion as they were not informed of what the task at hand was, other than a vague: “You will be deployed to fight en masse.”
Indeed, thousands weaved through the forest not knowing the nature of what resided behind the veil of darkness. A saying went that the fear of the unknown was the greatest kind of fear, and it seemed that someone from CogitO was testing this theory through the Repenters.
At least that was what few believed as they trudged forward. No two people wore the same apparel. They were closer to a massive band of strangers than an attack force of one of the strongest bodies in Elysia.
Fodder was what they were, and it was because of this that many of them did not carry fear in their eyes. As would-be-Condemned, this was nowhere close to a fate worse than death.
Furthermore, as Repenters – death was a respite they sought in the first place.
As a result – they were the perfect cannon fodder to face the Memento Mori who valued living above all else.
The trees wrapped the closer they approached to the wall of smoke. Then, they collectively pushed through. Static immediately struck their minds with pain as they were severed from CogitO’s influence.
Under normal circumstances, this would give them the opportunity to escape. However, they did not display any signs of mischief.
An overwhelming aura of resignation and lament surrounded them like a haze equal to the smoke as they entered a world eternally plunged into night. The only lights in the sky were the faintest blue glow of the colossal moon and a star that shone far away like a beacon of hope.
Far, far ahead – precisely where that star shone – was a dark cyclone where a black tower rose past the clouds. It was the first thing they saw and what struck them with immediate confusion.
“Aren’t the clouds more than a kilometer high?”
“Two and a half kilometers. They’re nowhere near the 12 kilometers that is Mount Saris, or the 25 of the Dwarhelven mountain ranges.”
Several Repenters conversed with voices of disbelief.
“We’re all thinking the same thing… If that spire goes past the clouds, then why haven’t we seen it from the outside?”
“The gods only know why.”
“Ruins everywhere. The Undead did a number to Grandis. Poor sods.”
Their eyes gradually fell onto the horizon. Decaying homes, walls, and entire settlements littered the flat plains. Green grass could not grow here. Weeds took their place, as did dark, thorny plants that served as natural barbed wire.
Structures grew from out of the ground. They were mausoleum-like buildings, and they were angled in a such a way that made it seem like they were buried by the sands of time, rather than had emerged from the ground.
Some of these structures vented smoke into the air.
“The Corpse Snatchers…”
“I knew it wouldn’t be as easy as walking into the smoke. CogitO expects us to deal with this!? Aren’t the Ateliers right outside too!?”
“But isn’t that our role to play?” A figure unlike the others said, having already long accepted this as their reality.
Hundreds of shambling Undead moved as though they were puppeted by invisible strings. They scurried out from the mouths of the mausoleums. Zombified remains, shivering skeletons, and dark, rotting beings that hovered in the air with an umbilical cord attached to their heads marched towards them.
“They’re a reactionary force.” They continued. “This smoke cuts almost all forms of communications. By sending us in now, they won’t be aware that the Ateliers are waiting outside.”
“You mean we’re just here to gather information?”
“Not quite. We’re here to draw them out in the first engagement. We all come from the same flesh and blood. We will be born anew no matter what happens to our bodies… so long as ‘that’ remains. Fight. Don’t lose your head –”
The man they were speaking to had their head explode like a glass marble.
“– It will take time for it to regrow if you sustain such an injury.”
* * *
The Pawns of the Memento Mori were their dispensable fodder. The Pawns consisted of reanimated corpses and were indeed called the Undead by the Memento Mori and the System itself.
The Remembrance were also considered Pawns and the Undead of the Memento Mori, although these beings were usually specters that were created by a person’s memories or a connected Memoria.
2,000 rotting and bloated zombies, 3,000 Skeletons, 1,000 Blighted Riders, 500 Remembrance and 1,000 zombified archers took the battlefield as the swarm of 5,000 soldiers from an unknown faction appeared from the very edge of their smoke.
A Knightmare accompanied them but sat further back and atop a watchtower. Surrounding him were various entrances into their Hearts, which produced the Undead indefinitely. The entirety of Northern Grandis had fallen into their hands, bestowing them with a near infinite supply of material for their Hearts to create as many Pawns as required.
To the far left and right of him – deep within the heart of a ruined town – were towers that sparked with a brilliant green glow. They cut through the darkness like lighthouse, allowing the Knightmare to watch the carnage at the forest 5 kilometers away.
“No banners, no insignias. Could they be seeking revenge from the North?” He asked no one in particular, reveling in the fact that he had total control over this attack force. “No matter. Their numbers are pitiful. Welcome them into our lands. They shall make for fine Pawns.”
It struck him as odd. The sheer number of Pawns on their side should have dissuaded the attacking force. An army that could not perish was an insurmountable advantage in any war. Not only that, but the Memento Mori could not experience pain nor be slowed by injuries.
This made them terrifying foes to face. The terrain was also advantageous for their side. The mud from the earlier rainfall slowed the attacking force down. While the Pawns were slow, beings like the Skeletons were largely unaffected.
Because of this, the Skeletons and the Blighted Riders – who were freshly reanimated beings that rode skeletal horses – were the first to clash with the enemy force.
Unlike the higher ups of the Memento Mori, these things were not as sophisticatedly dressed like the Ankous who wore suits. This meant that they did not have protective armor, making them easily susceptible to certain types of attacks.
* * *
Bludgeoning damage. Because the Undead were rotting, decaying husks of the living, their bodies were therefore naturally weaker. Stabbing would only cause a person’s weapon to be stuck inside of them, and slashing would do little against beings that could not feel pain.
Therefore, smashing their bodies was the most effective way of taking them down.
200 Repenters on the front line understood this as they swung their weapons against the Skeletons and the Blighted Riders. Bludgeoning damage did wonders against them even more than other Memento Mori monsters.
An explosion of bone fragments and remains littered the skies of the battlefield. Both sides fought on only one principle – to kill the nearest enemy no matter the cost. This resulted in both sides maiming one another.
Red mist showered the air as much as the bones did. Magical barrages, both of fire and ice, pummeled the Undead from the skies. The first 200 Repenters fought till their last breaths until they were slain by both friend and foes.
Half of them were reanimated and made to join the Memento Mori’s side. Their bodies snapped at odd angles as they swung with their weapons. Fresh Pawns displayed the most strength as their muscles were still in peak living condition. In due time, they’d become nothing more than shambling remains – the fate of most lesser Memento Mori members unless they were given biomass to retain their flesh.
The Memento Mori were at a clear advantage here. With mounted units, they began to encircle and flank the Repenters who could only rely on their wits. The lack of a commander made them highly unorganized, not to mention that they did not know they were against the Memento Mori in the first place.
As a result, another 500 fell.
