"Jesus fucking Christ!" I gasped as I turned back to an undead minotaur barreling through a tree as if it were a rotten stick.
The semi-umbral beast continued for two more thunderous paces before sliding to an abrupt halt to stand ominously still for a long moment. Only to jerk its fist over its shoulder towards the west. Towards the Tower, hundreds of kilometers away.
While I then took a moment to catch my breath, the minotaur simply stepped into the shade of a nearby tree and disappeared. As did the countless goblins, orcs, trolls, and other unearthly creatures that'd been stampeding behind it.
With a sigh, I assumed my Wraith Form to take flight. And immediately, my mind began recounting everything that'd transpired since we left the Tower's dungeon.
While my vassals awoke with the sun and assuredly enjoyed their day off in the Tower; I was in the mainlands, tirelessly fighting against the Necro Army.
For hours upon hours, I battled, ran, and rested to eat and regain strength, only lather, rinse, and repeat for the entirety of the day, and well into the night.
The first loss in the war came from the very minotaur that was just chasing me. A hunchbacked, club-bearing, ridiculously strong, and agile creature that appeared on the front lines of the mob my Grandfather summoned and impatiently lunged forth to literally punch me through the gut.
It was at that moment, that I realized the true extent of our training.
This. Was a real war.
The gaping hole in my belly had been sealed at once, by my one and only Aegis Soul. Forcing me to fight in my armor from there going forward; however, even while powered with a soul, my attacks did next to no physical damage to anything stronger than a goblin.
Though, my weapons and magic were a much different story.
Naturally, the undead were immune to necromantic spells; nevertheless, my blades were able to slice through their semi-umbral flesh with ease. Thus I spent hours upon hours hacking off appendages, impaling creatures, taking off heads, and generally stacking body after undead body without relent.
In turn, each mangled, crippled, or half-broken undead would simply stop in place and sink into a pool of shadow at their feet. Signaling their death.
Such a routine continued until my Burning Soul had been used up, forcing me to resort to hit and run tactics or guerrilla warfare; regardless, they kept coming. They kept chasing, they kept engaging. Relentlessly. Forcing me to use up over half of my mana and decide to run more than hit. Up until the time my Grandfather decided to end the exercise.
I saw him the moment his balcony came into focus. His massive frame, standing on the handrail, his bear-sized fists resting on his hips while he proudly observed my approach.
He turned to me, grinning wide when I came to a landing, and congratulated me on my efforts before sending me off to retire for the night with a firm pat on the back.
I awoke to go through more or less the same schedule as I had the week before. I'd take classes or train on my own until the time for Toril to train the students came. Then, I'd spawn their doppelgangers and supervise them until the sunset and the time for mortal combat against my Grandfather came. Followed by lessons in shadow or necromantic spells until 3 or 4 in the morning.
With the passing of another week, came a weekend that began with a trip to the Tower's basement to steal more souls. Followed by 48 hours of warring against the Necro Army.
Much the same continued every week and every month thereafter until the beginning of a new year came.
By then, Toril declared that the students were ready to begin learning Elemental Fusion. And it was at that time, that my vassals and I received changes to our blocks of instruction.
For starters, each of us received a mount; mine being permanent and theirs temporary, and we spent the year learning how to ride and fight atop them; additionally, we either continued or started learning how to perform with voice and instruments.
On top of that, Toril began accompanying my Grandfather in his office while I was warring against his Necro Army. Reportedly pointing out and explaining the movements of his units and my reactions to them. Jaimess on the other hand began taking the alchemy classes he so desperately wanted to take and started a sort of apprentice relationship with a few officials and politicians working in other areas of the Tower; meanwhile, Jonet started taking her acting to a higher level during the day and spent her nights working alongside the spies and undead patrol forces working in odd places in the Empire for my Grandfather.
As for the tinkerers, I extended their deadline to the second week of the year; something I decided to do only this once, as our schedule changes were rather abrupt.
At the end of that week, I had them put their wares on anonymous display to be reviewed, before booting out the six, lowest-scoring competitors.
Their second set of bills consisted of a pocket watch and a formal set of clothes, both in any style they prefer. A natural progression from the casual wears and watch they've been making thus far. additionally, I had them make a jetboard that I designed, with a nozzle that could be powered with fire, air, or water manipulation. Something that became quite a popular item in the entirety of the Tower's economy once all the different models were up for grabs at the end of that year.
The third-year started with the dozen or so remaining tinkerers being told to make a grandfather clock and a complete set of any type of armor. Alongside two more items: Any type of musical instrument they preferred, and a saddle.
More importantly, that year marked the end of my necromantic lessons, and marked the start of a yearlong period of war against the Necro Army, with Toril; and later, the other two, by my side.
Eight days a week, we'd play a sort of chess game, against the undead legions. Where we'd battle a platoon or company of my Grandfather's forces and take their territory if we won. Then, we'd fortify it and use it as a forward operating base, observation post, staging ground, or some other aid for our mock expansion across the Empire.
Throughout that entire time, the students continued to train in the arts Toril taught them. After a year and a half of continuing their lessons in Elemental Fusion, they went on to flight training, much the same as my vassals. Once my vassals had joined my campaigns, the students were more or less allowed to train in whatever they felt themselves lacking during their after-school lessons. Most of them trained on their own or in groups; however, some of them took it upon themselves to begin training the students in the grades below theirs.
An admirable endeavor, in my opinion.
Regardless of what they chose to do after classes though, come the weekends, the entire class of students was placed under my command to receive the same harsh training I'd been subjected to for the last three years.
The result of that was 556 soon-to-be graduates who were more or less just as self-reliant, nearly as well-trained, and just as experienced as my vassals. Which in turn, equated to at least five companies to take command of, in just a few years' time.
Or if not that, five companies worth of individuals who could protect this land alongside the Necro Army.
Time well spent, if I do say so myself.
***30 day, of the 13th month. 1489 C.E.***
"So, we're really doing this?"
Toril and I turned at the same time towards the source of the voice. Towards Jaimess, standing next to a branch with a bag in hand, feeding a small flock of origami birds that'd been vibrantly colored with crushed stone, powers, and other materials.
"Why wouldn't we?" Toril spat before I could say anything. "It's the last run."
Jaimess' arm remained outstretched as he turned to Toril, and spat back. "Exactly. His Imperial Majesty surely anticipates us attacking the big one. If you haven't noticed, there's only the four of us."
"Four is enough." I quickly quipped, silencing Toril. "Besides, we have no choice. The timer on our little game is running out. And, I'm sure my Grandfather will be the one to move first."
As if to prove my point, a sudden rift in the snow arced from the woodline to trace around our position and rise into a wave of curved, slanted ice. Followed by Jonet, riding atop the wave like a speed skater.
"He's moving." She panted, sliding to a halt.
Prompting Toril to immediately turn to me and ask, "What's the plan?"
"I need you to immobilize him and cover our movements on the ground, while you, use your birds to distract him." I pointed to Jonet and Jaimess respectively before turning to Toril to hand him a slingshot and a large, hollow stone. "While he's occupied, I need you to pick up as much speed as you can and shoot this at his chest. I'll take care of the rest."
Toril spent a moment of silence by thumbing the pinhole of his ammo before grunting softly, looking up to me, and softly shaking his head. "Won't work." He grunted, yet took the weapon anyway. "He'll swat me like a fly."
"I'll void it." I shook my head back and pointed at the abyss-black enchantment on the blade of my spear. "All you have to do is your part."
There was a slight wince in his left eye as I said those last words. A wince that exclaimed his disgruntlement or disagreement with my orders; nevertheless, he silently nodded and stood aside to wait while I summoned my Beholder.
Once the multi-eyed sphere was twitching away in the night sky, I assumed my Wraith Form to squeeze through the pinhole in Toril's ammo. Where I marveled at the magnificence of my most marvelous spell while I waited.
After investing a little time for refinement after its creation and giving it a name, the Pall Beholder wound up becoming a type of shadow beast that was capable of reverse-scrying; wherein, anything caught in its line of sight would be transmitted and displayed to any shadow in my line of sight like a media screen. The limiting factor, of course, was daylight; inside which, it could not exist. On the contrary, it retained the ability to force me to Shadow Step to any place it could see, on my command.
It was an invaluable spell, that proved its worth when I finally defeated that minotaur, years ago. Now, it was proving its worth yet again by giving me a real-time feed of the battlefield.
As I ordered, Jonet was skating towards the target, gathering as much snow and ice as she could in her wake while Jaimess constantly spawned bird after bird that dipped and fed and shrouded itself in the materials gathered in our camp before joining a flock that chased after the receding avalanche.
After ten minutes or so, the Beholder began to follow. Leaving Toril and I to remain in place amidst the sounds of fluttering paper. Waiting for the moment of honor.
And not long after, our target came into view.
While the 'Queen' of our Empire-wide chess match was indeed my Grandpa Lich, he deemed himself as a non-participant from the very start. Leaving only the 'King' in his place. An undead frost giant.
Since I was first driven away from the Tower at the start of the game, the giant had spent his time placidly seated atop a large outcropping roughly thirty kilometers from the eastern edge of the Tower's Dead Zone.
Now, he was ducking under the clouds just to track Jonet racing over the ground, guiding an avalanche that encompassed the entire clearing behind her and willing it to condense into a massive shard of ice that churned behind her like a freight train.
Meanwhile, swarm after swarm of vibrant, origami birds gathered in the sky above her, undoubtedly blocking the giant's view of Jonet and shifting its gaze to the flocks of paper diving towards its arms, knees, and neck. Where they mimicked their natural counterparts and scratched their flint-covered beaks against their similarly coated bodies, igniting the cocktail of kindling, explosives, and gunpowder their master had been feeding them.
From the Beholder's vantage point, the night turned to day in a veritable instant, nearly forcing the spell to end as a series of fireballs combusted in a line, up the giant's side, reeling it backward on a single leg.
A leg that Jonet then skated by with her arm held behind her as if to grasp the colossal shard of ice and throw it through the giant's knee, shearing it clean off before she trailed off to the side, disappearing into the woodline.
With a roar greater than any thunderstorm I've ever heard, the giant fell. Plummeted backward and began to tip over on the massive shard below him until Jonet permeated the night with a similar scream. Shattering the structure into trillions and trillions of pieces that quickly began subliming into an all-encompassing cloud of mist.
"Now, Toril!"
Through the multi-paneled screen inside my little stone, I saw Toril nod resolutely before grasping the slingshot in hand and charging himself with lightning mana. Then, he disappeared.
Leaving only a few sparks in his wake, Toril raced towards the 'King' at the literal speed of lightning. Forcing the Beholder to twitch ever faster and endlessly switch between eyes to keep up with his movements.
Within moments, we crossed a distance that took Jonet and Jaimess' birds upwards of twenty minutes to traverse.
Once we entered the cloud of mist, Toril grasped the slingshot, canceled his spell, then fired. And from within, I emerged, shrouded in my Void Skin. Rocketing over the foot of a colossal old man with ice-gray skin and a chalky, white beard.
His head began swaying madly the moment he laid eyes on me. Toppling the great, blackwood trees in the Dead Zone, like someone breaking through high brush as he scrambled.
With a deafening roar, his body spasmed. His arm faded to a blur and was behind me in the next moment, a me-sized hole gaping in the center of his palm.
With my spear held out behind me, I activated my Rage Soul. Spawning my grimoire and allowing the chorus of whispers to scratch at the back of my mind.
Clenching my teeth, I pulled shadow mana from my core and let it flow in the Reaper's haft, extending it far behind me before I started channeling void mana into the enchantment housed in the blade.
From the enchantment, void mana began to pour, condense and reform into the shape I most desired.
As I reeled back, the energy arced out from the blunt end of the blade, forming a point that remained beside me as the haft and void blade extended and curved into the shape of a massive scythe.
As I began to swing, the whispers grew ever louder. The rage burned ever brighter, and together, we screamed ferociously and sent the Void Dragon's Claw arcing through the center of the giant's frame.
With no resistance, the massive claw of void energy split the giant in two and carved a deep scar in the land beneath him. The barren permafrost; exposed to fresh air for the first time as a result of Jonet's assault, was immediately seared by a pool of magma that burst from the bedrock and flowed into the ravine where it quickly began cooling. Thickening the already dense cloud of water vapor with more steam.
After retracting my spear, I flipped in midair to face retrograde before canceling every spell except the Burning Souls and spawning my armor. Then, I flexed my knees a bit and waited for the horizon to rise to meet me.
With a few felled trees and a rolling series of thunderous booms, I landed and slid to a halt near the western end of the Dead Zone. Where I immediately gazed up to the small protrusion of my Grandfather's balcony.
Only to hear a deep, bear-like growl radiate from behind me.
I turned towards it once. My arms spread to my sides and my face cramped upwards into a grin that I was sure would be permanent; still, I gave respect where respect was due and bowed. Grinning and all.
"I win."