Chapter 409: Imperial Bone Legion
With a ripple in space, the Portal tore open above the scarred and ravaged plain.
“Whoosh—” The Northern Wind howled.
Grass bent and swayed beneath its breath.
This was the site of the Past Battle of Okgaral—a flat expanse still scarred by artillery barrages, pockmarked with craters, and crisscrossed with trenches dug by sappers. The remnants of a brutal war lay scattered across the land, silent and forgotten.
Here, tens of thousands of Northern Kingdom soldiers had fallen. But after months of rain, wind, and time, their bodies had long since been washed away, consumed by insects and bacteria, slowly decaying—until finally buried beneath thick layers of soil, becoming fertilizer deep beneath the earth.
Night had fallen. Silence reigned. Only the whisper of wind and the distant chirping of insects broke the stillness.
The Lich, his ghostly flame flickering like eyes, surveyed the wasteland, drinking in the lingering scent of death carried on the air.
This was, in truth, his kind of paradise.
The skeletons of fallen soldiers were prime resources for transforming into the undead. That was why there was a saying: “A battlefield is a necromancer’s heaven.”
War brought endless slaughter and death—exactly the kind of nourishment the undead thrived on.
He could raise an army of the dead here.
But not today.
No longer did he serve himself. He worked now for the Empire.
And as he stared at the countless bones buried beneath the soil—nearly a hundred thousand in total—Orestes felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. A chill surged straight to the top of his skull… though, of course, he had no scalp. Only a yellowed skull remained.
“These… these…”
“Are you thinking they’ll all be turned into undead?”
“You’re correct. This is only the second batch. But don’t worry—I’ll help you complete it.”
Kai Xiusu spoke calmly, his lips curling slightly into a smile.
That faint smirk chilled the Lich to the bone.
Only the second batch?
Then what about the third? The fourth? The fifth?
And beyond that?
But the fate of his existence still rested in the hands of the other.
There was nothing he could do. He had no choice but to obey.
Orestes gritted his teeth, trying to comfort himself: “Just a few thousand common undead skeletons—nothing special. Just roots, really.”
“And besides, Master is here to help.”
Even as he whispered these words, his exposed jaw trembled.
The Azure-Footed Dragon Serpent, a creature over ten meters long, required considerable strength to transform. But turning ordinary soldiers’ skeletons into undead? That was effortless for a Lich like him.
Still—quantity had a way of accumulating, like sand forming a tower.
And there were nearly sixty thousand Northern Regions soldiers’ remains lying here.
Transforming them all into undead skeletons? It was an immense undertaking—so vast, even the Skeletal Staff of Milcor would struggle.
Yet under Kai Xiusu’s unblinking gaze, the Lich raised his staff with trembling hands and began to chant:
> “O dust-sealed skeletons, wanderers of emptiness… I call you back.”
“Buzz—”
The necromantic crystal at the staff’s tip flared violently, erupting into a sphere of dark green energy that swept across the entire wasteland.
At the same moment, Kai Xiusu gently unfurled his wings.
The strength of [Empire Domain] descended like a storm.
The very weave of magic in the air surged to life—spells sparked instantly, and the field of dead spirit energy expanded visibly, rapidly growing by several times its original size, engulfing the entire abandoned battlefield.
> [Undead Cataclysm]
Crack. Crack.
Beneath the soil, the skeletons began to tremble.
They writhed, shifting in the earth, making faint, cracking noises.
The wandering souls drifting above the wasteland wailed, screamed, roared in agony—yet were dragged back into the ground by an invisible force.
The Lich’s bony hand, clutching the staff, shook violently.
But Orestes had still underestimated the sheer power of these thousands of skeletons—and the true extent of Kai Xiusu’s “help.”
For the first time, he felt a surge of overwhelming power, one that could trigger an undead apocalypse across Anzeta.
Seventy thousand undead, bound together in bone and will.
Had he not been captured by Kai Xiusu, he might have already completed Milcor’s Sacrifice Quest and ascended to true immortality.
> “Return to me, in undeath… become mine.”
In that instant, Orestes nearly lost himself in the ecstasy.
He forgot his plight. For a moment, he even imagined himself the true master of these undead.
But then—a crushing aura of intimidation slammed down.
A wave of deadly presence washed over him. His soul flame flickered wildly, dimming and flaring.
That was a fatal mistake!
He snapped back to reality with a jolt, immediately changing his tone into a low, trembling growl:
> “No—no! Great Emperor of the Ashen Flame… your eternal servant!
> I serve the Empire of Ash until the end of time!”
The oppressive aura vanished instantly.
The Lich exhaled in relief. He knew—if he hadn’t corrected himself, his Fate Chest would have been crushed.
The ground trembled slightly.
Beneath the soil, the skeletons stirred, shifting and stretching.
“Shua—”
A single bone hand broke through the surface.
Then another.
And another.
Soon, a strange, eerie sea of pale, skeletal hands bloomed across the wasteland—like a field of ghostly flowers made of bone.
From the earth, the skeletons of Northern Regions soldiers and generals crawled out.
They staggered to their feet, their bodies clad in tattered, decayed military uniforms. In their bony hands, they gripped shattered swords and broken blades.
Most were incomplete—missing limbs, severed heads, half-bodies, or ribs still pierced with shrapnel.
One skeleton stood out—taller than the rest, its former armor still hinting at noble rank. Its skull bore clear bullet holes.
But that was perfectly normal.
According to Empire records, one-third of the Allied Forces’ casualties came from artillery barrages, another third from gunfire.
These poor souls had been slaughtered without mercy by the Ashen Flame Empire’s rifles—both in life and death.
Now, even in undeath, they were dragged from the soil to serve as laborers for the Empire.
The undead skeletons flooded the wilderness, forming a vast, terrifying wave of skeletal soldiers.
The seven thousand fallen of the Northern Coalition—once enemies—were now an army of the undead, serving the Empire.
Orestes struggled to support himself on his staff. His ghostly eyes dimmed further, his frame bent even more deeply.
He forced a smile, bowing low.
> “Master… this is your army. Your empire’s undead legion.”
Kai Xiusu gave a slight nod—then turned, his pale golden eyes locking onto the Lich with an overwhelming, piercing gaze.
> “You were about to say this was your own servant, weren’t you?”
> “No! No!”
> “You misunderstood!”
> “No, no—you’re right, I made a mistake!”
The Lich lowered his head even further, stammering apologies, his words incoherent with fear.
“Last Hope, was it?” Kai Xiusu turned away, slowly spreading his wings and rising into the air.
Bathed in moonlight, he looked down upon the vast undead legion below.
> “Orestes.”
> “So far, you’ve done well. Keep up this pace.
> Last Hope—don’t lose it.”
> “Rest assured, my Empire will never forget those who contribute.
> Whether you are a Lich or a brutal demon—everyone is equal in my eyes.”
> “M-Many thanks, Master…”
The Lich knelt, hunched over, trembling.
He felt a strange, almost overwhelming sense of honor—after all, only moments ago, he’d been terrified of dying.
> “Now… come with me. We have another site for transformation.”
Silence.
Orestes wanted to cry—but he had no tears left.
At last, the Lich who had once slaughtered countless lives now understood, with bitter clarity, what it meant to be exploited.
(End of Chapter)
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