Inside a grand hall, seven kings and queen convened around a formidable table, their gazes locked in tense anticipation. The air crackled with a palpable energy, a mix of urgency and skepticism.
"So, Arthur, if I understand correctly, an army of undead is marching towards your continent with the intent to annihilate it, isn't that right?" One of the kings rose from his seat, a mocking smile etched on his face. King Alfred, known for his sharp wit and cunning, relished the opportunity to provoke.
"King Alfred, I hold you in high regard, but I've already stated this multiple times in the past two hours... I don't have the fucking time to repeat myself, again and again." A man, around 58 years old, with vibrant green hair and piercing green eyes, spoke with a touch of weariness in his voice. He was none other than King Arthur, the resolute ruler of the continent that Anon called home.
"Arthur, do not show such attitude towards me. It is you who seeks assistance, not I," Alfred retorted, his face now contorted with anger.
"You're right; I should not speak to you in such a manner..." Arthur's voice trailed off as he rose slowly from his seat. He knew that diplomacy was crucial at this moment, but his patience had worn thin.
"Yes, that's the tone befitting a king who seeks aid and-"
"You foolish imbecile! If I do not act swiftly, my people will perish within the next 17 hours. Do you think I care about the way I speak to you?" Arthur shouted, his eyes fixated on all the kings and queens gathered around the table. His voice reverberated through the hall, commanding attention.
His words hung in the air, and a solemn silence fell upon the assembly. The weight of the impending disaster settled on their shoulders, eclipsing any personal disagreements.
"Today, I find myself questioning why I am even present in this assembly. I was meant to meet the heads of the seven royal families. I shall take my leave now, but before I go, I have one final thing to say to all of you." Arthur paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the room.
"If we fail to defend our continent, not only will the undead march upon your lands next, but they will also gain strength in numbers, for they possess the ability to transform humans into their kind with a mere bite." Arthur's voice carried an unwavering resolve as he turned to depart the hall, his steps echoing with purpose.
"Wait, Sir Arthur," a lady rose from her seat, her commanding presence halting Arthur in his tracks. Queen Derein, known for her unwavering determination and strategic acumen, stepped forward.
She appeared to be around 26 years old, tall and self-assured, draped in the royal robes of a queen, with a leering cane in her hand. Her eyes radiated determination and loyalty to her kingdom.
"Yes, Queen Derein?" Arthur pivoted, his attention now focused on her.
"We shall dispatch our entire forces to aid your frontlines, reserving only a basic defense for our own protection against any possible ambush," Derein announced, her voice steady and resolute.
"I shall remember this act of solidarity, Queen Derein," Arthur responded, acknowledging her support with a respectful nod.
"This is not merely a gesture of goodwill; it is a matter of security. I am determined to safeguard my continent and ensure the future of this kingdom. Those who endorse my decision, raise your hands," Derein declared, extending her hand in demonstration.
As she raised her hand, another gentleman followed suit. He possessed jet-black hair, black eyes, and a prominent scar that concealed his left eye. Two additional kings and queens joined in solidarity, while two remained silent, including Alfred.I think you should take a look at
"We shall commence our march as soon as we return. I have already instructed my knight captains to assemble the finest soldiers at our disposal. Let us convene on the frontlines before dusk falls," Derein proclaimed, her voice carrying an air of confidence and determination.
"But Queen Derein, there is no sun visible today. Heavy rain has enveloped the land since yesterday. How will we discern the location of the sun?" one of the kings inquired, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Prepare your soldiers. The sun will reveal itself once it descends," Derein responded confidently, her gaze unwavering.
"That's preposterous! How can the sun appear amidst such dense clouds?" Alfred interjected, skepticism lacing his voice.
"Indeed, the sun may never shine for someone like you again." Derein mocked Alfred.
"In three hours, I shall reveal the sun's location, albeit briefly. I implore all of you to observe it carefully and calculate the estimated time of its descent beyond the horizon. That shall be our appointed meeting hour," Derein explained, her words delivered with an unyielding determination that left no room for doubt.
"I acknowledge Queen Derein's decision and shall now depart to prepare my army for the impending march. Until later, everyone," the scarred-faced king declared, his voice tinged with a quiet resolve.
"Likewise, I shall take my leave to rally my soldiers."
"Well, it seems I require some time to make the necessary preparations."
The remaining supportive kings swiftly assented to Derein's decision and left to ready their armies for the impending battle. The urgency in the air intensified, a collective determination driving each ruler to act swiftly.
"Well, it appears you have garnered ample support. I shall take my leave as well, hmm...?" Alfred stood up from his chair, a mixture of frustration and reluctance evident on his face.
"Rest assured, Alfred, I will not forget this. I vow to repay you tenfold," Arthur stated resolutely, his eyes locked with Alfred's.
"Heh, first survive, then we can entertain such talk. Meh-Meh-Meh... a mere wordsmith." Alfred sneered, his retort steeped in skepticism and mockery, before turning and leaving the room.
Now, only two men remained within the hall: Arthur and an elderly gentleman in his nineties. The atmosphere grew solemn, the weight of their decisions and the impending battle palpable.
His silver beard shimmering, and his robe reminiscent of a samurai, complete with a regal cape, the old man exuded an aura of wisdom and experience. Sir Grad, the revered elder, known for his strategic brilliance and unyielding loyalty, stood silently.
"Sir Grad, may I ascertain whether you stand with me or not? For if you choose not to speak, I shall assume you have no intention of lending your aid," Arthur inquired, seeking clarification.
Grad, though his aged frame appeared frail, held an air of unwavering resolve. Without uttering a word, he stood and fixing his curved swords on his back, his eyes meeting Arthur's for a fleeting moment, before he turned and exited the hall. His silence spoke volumes, leaving Arthur to decipher his intentions.
"I believe I have my answer..." Arthur's voice trailed off, a mix of resignation and determination in his tone. Before he could complete his sentence, a peculiar sound emanated from the table situated between the chairs.
"What is th-" Arthur's hand reached out to touch the table, causing it to tremor violently, as if cleaved by an exceedingly sharp blade. The shards fell to the floor, forming a single word, 'Yes.'
"You could have simply spoken. There is no need to always showcase your skills, old man." Arthur exclaimed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as he too departed the room.
As Arthur left the grand hall, his thoughts swirled with a mix of hope and trepidation. The path ahead was uncertain, and the looming battle would test their mettle and resilience. The fate of their continents rested on their shoulders, and the decisions made within those walls would shape the course of their shared destiny.
Each ruler, with their armies and determination, prepared to face the approaching darkness, knowing that only together could they stand a chance against the imminent threat. Their paths would converge on the frontlines, their resolve unyielding as they embraced the challenges ahead.
In the face of adversity, alliances were forged, and destiny beckoned. The battle for survival had begun, and within the hearts of these kings and queens burned the flames of valor, ready to ignite a new chapter in their history.
King Alfred returned to his room, his footsteps echoing in the silence. With a regal air, he removed his royal robe and cape, letting them fall to the ground. Yet, as he did so, an unnerving sensation crept up his spine, a feeling that he was not alone. Instinctively, his hand found the hilt of his sword, drawing it forth with a swift, practiced motion.
Turning with graceful swiftness, he pointed the blade towards the unseen presence. There, standing before him, was a figure draped in black from head to toe, their face concealed within the depths of a dark cloth.
"How dare you enter my chamber without my permission?" King Alfred's voice thundered with authority, his gaze unwavering.
The figure stood it's ground, it's voice heavy and commanding. "It is urgent, my master has sent me to inform you of a change in the plans."
"Change in the plans?" King Alfred's voice dripped with skepticism. "Listen here, you insolent fool. I have entrusted your master with the wealth and resources to forge an invincible army, one that cannot be vanquished or feared. If you dare speak of altering our agreement, I shall unleash a wrath upon you that will reduce you to mere dog food. Inform your master that if he wishes to modify the plans, he better present himself before me like a lowly cur and explain himself."
King Alfred's grip tightened around the collar of the mysterious intruder, asserting his dominance. The figure remained calm, their eyes locked on the king's unwavering gaze.
"As you wish," the figure responded, their voice low and stoic, before vanishing from the room as if they were never there.
With a satisfied nod, King Alfred released his grip on the collar and turned back to his task at hand. He resumed removing his clothes, the weight of the encounter still lingering in his mind. It was then, in the midst of his contemplation, that another presence materialized behind him.I think you should take a look at
The figure appeared to be in their thirties, with a cascade of blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Dressed in a pristine white lab coat and donning a pair of glasses, the newcomer exuded an air of intelligence and authority.
"You called, Alfred?" the man's voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension in the air.
"Haha! So, you have arrived," King Alfred turned, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"I am here. Is there a problem? I heard you had a confrontation with my messenger," the man in the lab coat inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity.
King Alfred's expression darkened as he recounted the encounter. "Indeed, there was an issue. Your messenger dared to suggest a change in plans. I hope you understand, I am not one to be trifled with. The resources and support I have provided can just as swiftly be taken away. The clothes on your back, the sustenance within your laboratory, and the people the i supplied from my kingdom—I can strip it all away. Do you comprehend the consequences, you insolent fool? The plans will proceed as originally agreed, or you shall face the repercussions."
The tension in the room grew palpable as King Alfred's words echoed through the chamber. The man in the lab coat remained composed, his gaze meeting the king's fiery glare.
"Rest assured, Alfred, everything shall proceed according to your desires. However, I believe it is time for you to meet someone of utmost importance," the man in the lab coat spoke with an air of intrigue.
Curiosity piqued, King Alfred raised an eyebrow. "And who might this person be?"
"Come fourth," the man commanded.
Before him, emerging from the shadows, stood the figure dressed in black—the same one who had delivered the message earlier. King Alfred's eyes narrowed, suspicion etched across his features.
"I have already encountered this individual. He was the messenger you dispatched, correct?" King Alfred asked, his voice laced with a mixture of confusion and anticipation.
A smile danced upon the lips of the man in the lab coat. "Indeed, you have met them. However, I believe it is time for a proper introduction. Remove your covering," he commanded the figure in black.
The figure started undressing and what unfolded before Alfred's eyes made him surprised to his roots.
Before King Alfred could voice his objection, the figure began to unwrap the cloth, revealing a face that mirrored his own in every aspect. It was as if he was staring into a distorted mirror, his features reflected back at him.
"What sorcery is this? How can this be?" King Alfred's voice faltered, disbelief washing over him.
The man in the lab coat stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Allow me to explain, Alfred. This doppelgänger of yours is the true king of this land, operating under my command. And as for you... who are you, really?"
King Alfred's anger flared, his fists clenching at his sides. "You dare mock me? I am the rightful king, the ruler of this kingdom. This imposter is nothing but a pawn in your game. Do not compare him to me!"
A wicked smile played upon the man in the lab coat's lips. "Oh, but I no longer have trust in you, Alfred. That is why you must be eliminated, making way for this pawn of mine to take your place."
Fury coursed through King Alfred's veins, his voice laced with venom. "You ungrateful wretch! I granted you power, bestowed upon you everything, and this is how you repay me?"
"Well, I must decline your generous donations, but allowing you to take command is out of the question. Your mental instability and lack of patience make you unfit for my plans.
Your naivety is apparent, as you failed to discern friend from foe, using me as a prime example. By manipulating you with visions of an invincible and feared immortal army, I effortlessly obtained everything I desired. However, Alfred, you are now a mere stepping stone in my path toward a greater goal."
"That's why you must die," the man in the lab coat proclaimed.
"You deceitful bastard! You used me?" Alfred's face contorted with anger.
"Indeed, you could say that in a nutshell," he replied with a mocking smile.
"Heheh... Hahahhahaha..." Alfred erupted into uproarious laughter.
"Hmm? Have you finally lost your mind, my friend?" inquired the man in the lab coat.
"Hahaha, no... Hahaha, it is you who's about to lose," Alfred declared, his smile fading and a menacing expression taking its place.
Suddenly, the ceiling of the room slid open, and seven to ten assassins emerged from it, their bodies cloaked in shadows.
The man in the lab coat widened his eyes in surprise as he observed the assassins, their lethal presence undeniable.
"Do you honestly believe I would risk my life by feeding a dog that could easily bite back?" Alfred questioned with a serious demeanor.
"Hmmm... Those assassins appear to be well-trained, don't they?" the man in the lab coat mused, eyeing their poised stances.
"They are the finest assassins within the human domain. Now, you have two options: either accept this slave collar and obey my every command or die here and now. Make your choice," Alfred declared, summoning a slave collar in his left hand. Its cold, metal surface gleamed ominously.
"Ah, well, since the odds are stacked against me, a wise man shall choose wisely. However, there is one thing I must give you before becoming your slave," the man in the lab coat said, searching inside his coat pocket with deliberate movements.
A flicker of curiosity danced in Alfred's eyes as he observed the man's actions. What could he possibly have hidden within that pocket?
"Assassins, if he makes any suspicious moves or reaches for a weapon, eliminate him immediately," Alfred ordered, his voice laced with authority.
The assassins remained poised, their gazes fixed on the man in the lab coat, awaiting the signal to strike.
"Ah, there you are," the man in the lab coat announced, halting his search and producing a small, gleaming object.
Alfred's curiosity gave way to suspicion. His instincts warned him of potential danger, urging him to remain vigilant.
"Here you go, my friend. This is the gift I wanted to give you," the man said, displaying his middle finger to Alfred. A sinister smirk played upon his lips.
"You son of a bitch, haven't you learned your lesson?" Alfred's voice dripped with scorn.I think you should take a look at
"Nope, I don't learn. Teach me," the man mocked Alfred with a defiant smile.
The assassins remained still, awaiting their command.
"Assassins, kill him and this clone of mine as well," Alfred declared, pointing at both the man in the lab coat and his own clone.
Five seconds passed... Ten seconds passed... Nothing happened.
"Oi, didn't you hear me? Kill him!" Alfred exclaimed, his frustration mounting as he realized the assassins were not obeying his commands.
Realization dawned upon Alfred. The man in the lab coat held control over the assassins, rendering them immune to his orders.
Alfred decided to bide his time, keeping his intentions hidden as he reached out for his sword lying on the nearby bed. Retrieving it would be his only chance at survival.
Without delay, Alfred lunged toward the bed, his movements swift and calculated. His hand closed around the hilt of the sword, its familiar weight reassuring in his grasp.
"Eliminate him," the man in the lab coat uttered with an icy tone, his voice devoid of mercy.
As if choreographed, the assassins sprang into action. In a blur of deadly precision, their blades shimmered through the air, aimed directly at Alfred.
Zzzzz
Chk
Chk
Chk
Chk
Chk
Chk
Chk
The sound of daggers piercing flesh echoed through the room as seven blades found their mark, ending Alfred's life in an instant. The assassins moved with an astonishing swiftness, rendering him defenseless.
The man in the lab coat approached Alfred's lifeless body, a sinister grin playing upon his lips.
"Well, that was all I wanted to inform you about the change of plans. I hope you understand," the man patted Alfred's lifeless form from behind, a grotesque mockery of friendship.
"You are now Alfred. Continue the supply of humans, meals, and money as before," the man in the lab coat instructed the Alfred clone, his voice laced with authority.
"As you wish, sir. I will dutifully carry out every command you issue," the clone pledged, bending down on one knee, a subservient posture.
"Good." The man in the coat vanished, leaving behind a lingering aura of malevolence.
As the room fell into silence, the clone of Alfred, bearing his appearance but lacking his essence, rose from his subservient position. His eyes glimmered with a cold determination, a reflection of the darkness that had overtaken his soul.
Two hours until the impending zombie invasion...
Beyond the first ring, a formidable sight unfolded. Over a million soldiers stood in resolute formation, a formidable force gathered on the open field. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, dark clouds swirling overhead, as if the very sky were preparing for the imminent storm. The air was thick with an impending sense of doom, the silence punctuated only by the distant rumble of thunder. Rain was on the cusp of releasing its fury upon the land, while intermittent flashes of lightning danced menacingly within the churning tempest.
Standing at the forefront of the amassed soldiers was Arthur, a figure of unwavering resolve. Adorned in resplendent golden armor, he exuded an aura of command and authority. A magnificent leather cape, outlined in striking red and white, flowed majestically behind him. Gleaming at his side, a colossal mithril sword awaited its destined moment to unleash havoc upon the encroaching darkness.
Arthur was not alone in his formidable presence. Standing beside him were the seven leaders of the noble houses, each a pillar of strength in their own right. Together, they formed an indomitable alliance, united in their purpose to defend the kingdom from the impending onslaught. Clad in their regal armors, these leaders radiated an air of power, their hands firmly gripping a range of formidable, magically imbued weapons.
As the appointed leader, Arthur stepped forward, his voice commanding attention and respect. His gaze swept across the vast expanse of soldiers before him, the unyielding determination in his eyes a testament to his unwavering resolve.
"My comrades, it is with great honor that I have ruled over this kingdom throughout the years, and I have sworn an oath to protect it until my dying breath," Arthur proclaimed, his voice ringing with conviction. "Today, I, Arthur James the Third of my lineage, declare that should anything befall me as we lead our forces into this perilous battlefield, one where our chances of victory and survival seem bleak, my son, Fredrick James the Fourth, shall assume the mantle of the next king."
Arthur's declaration hung heavy in the air, challenging any who dared to oppose it. With a firmness of purpose, he awaited a response from the seven leaders and the soldiers who stood steadfastly behind them.
As if moved by an unseen force, all seven leaders immediately bowed, their heads lowered in humble acceptance. In unison, they dropped to one knee, a powerful symbol of loyalty and submission. A ripple of awe and reverence surged through the ranks of the soldiers, who mirrored the actions of their esteemed leaders.
Arthur's gaze swept over the scene, his voice resonating with authority. "Very well. Today, we face a choice: to fight or to perish. Let the gods themselves bear witness to our valor and decide our fate." With these resolute words, Arthur withdrew his colossal sword, its gleaming blade catching the waning light. He drove it forcefully into the ground, a thunderous impact that reverberated through the ranks.
In that instant, a surge of otherworldly power coursed through the air. A brilliant, purple radiance pierced the sky, momentarily tearing through the suffocating shroud of clouds. An explosion of energy erupted, briefly parting the heavens to reveal the fleeting glimpse of the sun. The ephemeral illumination served as a signal, an omen of hope amidst encroaching darkness.
Unknown to Arthur and his loyal forces, the arrow responsible for this spectacle had been expertly shot by none other than Queen Derein herself. Hidden deep within the recesses of the kingdom, she wielded her power and skill to provide a beacon of light and inspiration for their collective endeavor.
In the secluded rear of the kingdom...
"My King, the sun has emerged from behind the clouds. It is time to set our plans in motion," spoke a loyal butler, his voice tinged with urgency, as he addressed the scarred-eyed monarch.
"Initiate the march," commanded the king, his scar serving as a stark reminder of battles past.
"Yes, Sir," responded the butler with unwavering devotion.I think you should take a look at
With the royal command given, the vast alliance began its deliberate advance, a synchronized movement guided by the unseen thread of unity. They heeded Queen Derein's signal, converging gradually with Arthur's amassed forces.
Inside a war tent, the atmosphere crackled with intensity as six kings and a queen convened to discuss their strategy for the forthcoming battle. The flickering light cast their faces in an ethereal glow, the gravitas of the moment etched upon their expressions.
Queen Derein, her voice laced with determination, addressed Arthur directly. "Sir Arthur, how far have the enemy advanced?"
Arthur's gaze turned toward the distant horizon, his finger extending to indicate the nightmare forest's ominous edge. "There," he declared, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency and steely resolve.
An eerie silence descended upon the room as all eyes focused on the seemingly impenetrable forest. And then, as if summoned by the dark forces that lurked within, a horde of grotesque zombies began to emerge, their twisted and decaying forms an affront to all that was natural. While their movement was sluggish, their sheer numbers posed a threat that dwarfed the might of the assembled kingdom.
Queen Derein recoiled in disgust, her voice laden with revulsion. "They are vile and repugnant creatures. Who could have conceived of such abominations?"
The scar-faced king interjected, his voice resonating with grim determination. "Whoever spawned these wretched creatures harbored no benevolence in their heart."
Arthur interjected, his tone firm and resolute. "The originator matters little to me. My sole concern lies in safeguarding my people from this vile threat. Investigations into their creator can wait for another day."
"Now, where shall each of us be on the battlefield?" the scar-faced king inquired.
"I will lead the charge from the front with my forces, and you shall follow up with the second advance," Arthur responded.
As if to emphasize the gravity of the situation, Arthur punctuated his words by resuming his meal. His actions conveyed a profound understanding that every bite could potentially be his last, a poignant reminder of the peril that lay ahead.
Grok, the scar-faced king, observed Arthur's seemingly relaxed demeanor and inquired with a hint of incredulity, "Why, in the midst of strategizing, do you partake in your meal?"
Arthur paused, his gaze steady and unwavering. "This may well be my final repast. Why not relish it before stepping into the great unknown? After all, I may not have the luxury of savoring such pleasures once we are immersed in the throes of battle."