Before the dawn arrived, the night was still thin.
The silvery moonlight spilled over the pine forest after the snowfall. Walking all the way, it was as if the fallen stars were glittering and translucent.
The girl wearing a snow-white furry cloak stepped through the not-too-deep nor-too-shallow snow on the path in the forest. Occasionally, pine needles would shake off snowflakes that drifted onto her hood, but they would melt away instantly before touching it. Frost silently condensed and covered those seemingly soft hairs.
In the darkness and shadows of the bushes on both sides, the wavering blue flames all came to a halt as if they were staring at this girl who walked forward without a care in the world.
The further she went, the sparser the trees in the forest became, and the temperature clearly dropped continuously. The withered grey weeds grew wildly, and the deformed and grotesque rotten logs were like corpses wailing and lamenting.
It was as if there was a dividing line that clearly separated life and death.
Seeing the scenery change so significantly, Daphne knew she hadn't taken the wrong path.
Near the foot of the mountain, a faint fluorescent green glow was shining ahead. From a distance, one could see the tall thorn hedges and bone ornaments.
Before she had completely walked out of the pine forest, a squad of nearly ten skeletal guards of the dead staggered out from the shadows and surrounded her.
These skeleton soldiers were hunched over. Their damaged armors reflected a cold luster under the moonlight. They held wooden kite-shaped shields and iron long swords in their hands respectively. Clearly, they had all been elite infantry of the imperial regular army in their lifetimes.
Daphne wasn't flustered. She flung open her cloak to reveal the evil ring made of a human finger bone. "The Falcon's Beak of the Archlich, the vanguard of the glorious dead, I demand to see your commander."
At the sight of the ring seal, the skeleton soldiers all took half a step back and made some distance from each other.
This wasn't because they had the intelligence to recognize the seal. These corpses forcibly awakened by low-level necromancy magic had completely lost their sanity once they stood up, leaving only the instincts to bite and destroy.
However, necromancers could control the dead. Even the most novice necromancer apprentices could command a squad of the undead.
There must be a necromancer nearby these undead guards patrolling around the camp.
A dark figure slowly walked out from the gaps between the skeleton soldiers. Wearing a grey-black hood and cloak, judging by the body shape, it looked like a young man in his early twenties.
A living being.
Klogthia wasn't entirely populated by the dead. Quite a number of mages who were addicted to necromancy regarded Klogthia as a holy land. They tried every means to avoid the sight of the imperial guards and secretly crossed the mountains to the desolate and frigid other side, believing that was where the truth and their dreams lay.
Unfortunately, what they didn't know was that the hierarchy in Klogthia had already solidified. The immortal liches had divided up the power and wealth completely. Any attempt to ascend to a higher position meant a bloody coup. Newly emerging liches would challenge the corrupt and weakened ones, and backstabbing happened every day. And ordinary necromancers could only manage small squads at the bottom of the army. Unless one day they grasped the essence of necromancy magic and turned themselves into immortal liches as well.
The hood covered the face of this young necromancer. "I see your silver fangs, you despicable half-blood. What tricks are you playing?" But just from the tone, one could tell his contempt and suspicion.
"Fool!" Daphne reprimanded sharply, though it didn't sound particularly fierce. "I come from the Ice Tomb, bearing the will of Lord Arsurga. How dare you be negligent? Let Grover Crane come out to see me!"
Apparently, the necromancer was intimidated by Daphne's self-assuredness. He trembled and paused for a long time before reacting. His tone became tremulous again. "Please follow me."
So, these young people nowadays don't even recognize the Death Seal of Arsurga. They only become sensible when threatened. Klogthia is really going downhill.
The skeletal guards of the dead lifted the siege and disappeared into the gloom of the forest again to continue their patrol. The young necromancer then led Daphne towards the camp not far ahead.
The thorn hedges were built into a wall that extended endlessly on both sides. On the watchtowers at the height, skeletal guards with eyes burning with death flames stood watch. The rotting hunting eagles with bulging eyeballs and dripping flesh screeched and circled.
This camp of the necromantic army was built at the foot of the Donau Mountains, in a blind spot outside the imperial defense range, yet extremely close to the town of Kohl.
Stationed here was the Dead Falcon, the vanguard of the dead led by Grover Crane, the most favored by the Archlich.
He was known as the "Falcon's Beak", a famous lich and a rare talent, the sharp eye floating above the cold clouds in Klogthia.
The Donau Mountains ran longitudinally, separating the empire from Klogthia. If the Archlich wanted to invade the empire to the west, he would have to find a way to cross this lofty and perilous snow-capped mountain.
Most of the Archlich's army was undead. Although they were not afraid of the cold, if they were to forcibly climb the steep mountains, the losses would surely not be small.
The narrow Silver Moon Canyon cut through the middle of the mountains, almost leading straight to the Northshire, and was the best invasion route.
However, this gorge was under the constant surveillance of the imperial guards. Their beacon fires would be passed all the way south, and any sign of trouble would be known, so it was not suitable for small-scale vanguard troops to conduct harassment and reconnaissance.
So, they thought of the dwarves' tunnels.
This cold and bitter land was not worth the increasingly declining and exhausted High Mountain Dwarves spending a huge amount of resources to fight for. Under the increasingly determined offensive of the Archlich, the dwarves finally decided to retreat to the warm south. After they evacuated, they blocked the tunnels connecting the north and the south, completely giving up this hidden barrier against the dead.
Now those intricate tunnels dug by the dwarves belonged to the Archlich, while the empire was completely unaware of it.
By the time the town of Kohl and Rokan, and even the entire Northshire fell in the future, they wouldn't even know where Grover's undead army had emerged from. The beacon fires in the Silver Moon Canyon had never been lit from the beginning to the end.
Apparently, this camp was built relying on the entrance and exit of the tunnels, and the part on the surface was just the tip of the iceberg of the camp.
The young necromancer asked Daphne to wait outside the camp for a moment. He was going to ask for instructions from the commander Grover.
Daphne didn't bother to make things difficult for this worker. Waiting for a while was fine.
In less than two minutes, the necromancer just now came running out of the camp gate, crying and kneeling in front of Daphne. "I'm so sorry! I was incredibly stupid to have been negligent towards the messenger of Lord Arsurga. Please forgive my rudeness and ignorance!"
A purple whip made of a virtual image whipped the young man hard and sent him flying several meters away. The whip looked soft but was as sharp as a knife, cutting through the fur cloak and a thick layer of winter clothes, and the opened wounds immediately bled profusely.
The young necromancer writhed in pain on the barren snow, crying and begging for mercy repeatedly. The snow beneath him was dyed bright red.
Daphne remained unmoved, just watching coldly.
The sound of shaking metal chains and the crisp sound of iron medals rubbing against each other. The one who slowly walked out next was clearly a emaciated and withered skeleton, yet it carried an air of undeniable authority.
Dark gold, the bones were full of cracks, and a deep scar ran diagonally across the face.
"Such composure. Truly the death messenger of the great lord, genuine indeed." The skeleton mechanically twisted its head around. The blue flames in the eye sockets burned fiercely. "I am the Beak of the Dead Falcon, Grover Crane the lich. It is my honor to meet the death messenger."