Surrounded by a semi-permanent foggy atmosphere, the Plains of Mort were once a large, open plain inhabited by thriving towns. But after the destruction brought by the Seven Great Sins and other impactful events, it became a battlefield where the armies of the Nexian Empire and the Ashen Kingdom were known to fight annually. Now it was nothing but a stain of his past, a large empty area inhabited only by the undead.

  Of the ancient civilizations that once lived there, nothing remained except a few ruins. They were just small houses and forts reduced to dusty rubble, but they remained the only source of a now-lost past, when neither the Empire nor the Kingdom yet existed.

  Every year, during harvest season, Ashen would seek an excuse to declare war on the Empire, forcing it to mobilize troops—thus draining precious labor from the fields. Over the centuries, deaths in battle were so high that it became a veritable paradise for the undead, where they seemed to spawn spontaneously.

  It goes without saying that this was extremely dangerous. Even though the Plains of Mort were far from inhabited areas, the mere presence of the undead made it possible for more powerful ones to be born. It was still an academic theory, but it was assumed that beings with negative energy were attracted to other beings who lived thanks to that type of energy.

  Just two skeletons would become dozens, those dozens hundreds, those hundreds thousands, and so on. The fear of higher-level monsters was extreme. In the past, dozens of human cities and kingdoms had been completely destroyed by undead that had suddenly arisen. The situation was so dangerous that the two states agreed to mobilize "Cleanup" troops. It was perhaps the only thing Empire and Kingdom could agree on.

  -However, despite the precautions, something had been born in that gloomy empty area.

  There were only sightings, and very little was known about this "monster." It didn't even have a name, as few actually believed in its existence. The only thing that was certain about the creature was that it violated all the laws of that world.

  Those who believed in its existence referred to that thing as the Death Ship.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  21st day of the month of the Green Elf (February ) 10:15 PM

  The campfire crackled in the night, as a man stoked it with wood from a nearby crate. At every campfire, at least two men were tasked with stoking the fire, to keep the area from falling into darkness. They were in the Plains of Mort, after all—it would be foolish to accommodate the arrival of the undead nearby.

  The plains of Mort were north of the infamous Dark Jade Forest, so the undead were only part of the problem. Unlike humans, most demihumans could see perfectly in the dark, so not having a constantly burning campfire would make spotting enemies from a distance easier, without the disadvantage of making themselves visible in the dark, since those approaching had already spotted them. An army of demihumans wouldn't be a problem for them, but care came first.

  They were an armed group of more than three hundred individuals; practically a small army.

  All the soldiers wore powerful black and red full-plate armor, a large halberd, and a spare sword. About half of them even carried a bow and quiver. The weapons were sharp and exquisite, as if forged with great care and dedication.

  -It could be seen from a mile away that they weren't troops from the Nexian Empire.

  Despite the crowds in that area, everything was quiet. No one spoke, no one laughed, no one left their position. This was normal, given where they came from: they were soldiers, not men.

  The only real sound came from the heavy boots of the lone man who was moving toward a tent in the center of the camp. He was the tallest of the company and struck fear even into the hearts of his companions, who might have called him more beast than human. It was Riktus, the second-in-command of that small army.

  Yet no one looked at him with fear. They had been trained to fight terror and not be dominated by it. They looked up to him with admiration, hoping to become as strong as him one day.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Ambessa Krieger sat at a fine wooden table inside her personal tent. Aside from that, the rest of the furnishings, consisting of a few candles and a bed, were extremely simple. It wouldn't have been unusual for a regular soldier to have such a basic tent, but she wasn't a regular soldier—she was the commanding general of that army.

  In a few more days, we'll reach the Ashen Kingdom. I'll avenge you, Kilan...

  The journey had been arduous. They were from the southern continent and had been away from their homeland for almost a year—nine months and thirteen days, to be precise. They had lost few men on the journey, and morale was still high, but supplies were running low.

  Ambessa sighed, shifting some of the papers on her table. If her calculations were correct, it would take them at least another year to reach their final destination, ten months at most, if they were lucky.

  "Damnit..."

  She slammed her fist on the desk, irritated. Ever since Tritox had risen to power in their home kingdom, everything had gone from bad to worse for her and her family. The once great House of Krieger was now seen as outlaws, nothing more than a fallen nobility.

  It was then that someone entered her tent, ringing the bell next to the entrance to signal his presence.

  “General, sorry for the interruption.”

  “Here you are, Riktus. Is everything okay out there?”

  “Yes. No monsters or undead, at least for now.”

  Ambessa nodded and motioned for the trusted companion to sit in the chair across from her. Every soldier in that camp would have given their lives if she had ordered it, but the one who would do even more than what was asked would be Riktus. He could be considered Ambessa’s only true friend.

  “Is the soldiers' morale still high?”

  She asked, looking at the big man with a stern gaze.

  “Yes, no one would dare complain about your leadership, General.”

  “It’s just you and me, use my name. Do I have to tell you this every time?”

  “Certainly, Ambessa. I'm sorry...”

  "Now, with these pleasantries out of the way, let's get to the real problem: supplies. How many days can we go on?"

  Riktus sat composedly in his chair, which was quite small given his size. Although Ambessa was a large woman herself, Riktus towered even over her.

  "We have enough for two weeks, provided we ration them like we have done for the last month. However, many soldiers are complaining of thirst. These plains are practically deserted, and the constant walking there is exhausting."

  “They will have to resist.”

  “I know, but-“

  “They're soldiers, for heaven's sake!”

  Ambessa's fist hit the poor desk again.

  "We can't rest on our laurels! Doesn't anyone understand? If we show weakness, we'll soon be like walking corpses!"

  “I agree, but we have to stay calm. Everyone here is risking their lives to follow you.”

  The woman had to nod at that. Ambessa tried her best to remain calm, but it was difficult. The recent events had severely affected her. Not only was she not allowed to return to her homeland, but now she had to confront her past choices, which had come back to haunt her.

  Noticing the woman clenching her fists, almost ready to hit the table again, Riktus decided to speak.

  “Ambessa...I'm sorry about what happened to your son, but we need your guidance.”

  “Don’t talk to me about Kilan, please.”

  “Yes. Forgive me.”

  The woman's order seemed more like a desperate plea, and Riktus had no choice but to obey. He had never had children, only soldiers. But Ambessa? She was different. She had had two children in her entire life, and it was precisely them that her enemies had turned against.

  “Do you think she will help us?”

  “Yes, she has to! I know my daughter and I haven't had the best of relationships, but she's still a Krieger! She's got wolf blood in her veins.”

  Ambessa raised her right arm, proudly displaying the tattoo everyone in the family bore: a black wolf with open jaws. In their state religion, the wolf was the God of death in battle, standing next to the lamb, the Goddess of peaceful death. For soldiers like them, it would be a disgrace to die of old age when they could have fallen honorably in battle. That said, dying in bed- surrounded by family loved ones- was not seen as a disgrace if one had given everything on the battlefield when was young.

  "From the information we've gathered, it seems she's become a big shot in the Pitova Kingdom. She's one of the nine council seats that form the government."

  Riktus reminded her.

  “Yes...She's always had a great brain, like her father Azibi.”

  Ambessa sighed as she thought of her late husband. She had married him only for political reasons, but couldn't deny that she had grown fond of him. What she initially saw as a weak merchant soon became a great help to the family, both personally and financially.

  He always knew how to make ends meet, in and out of the bed.

  She knew well that the Kingdom of Pitova was the bearer of all the new technologies that the Bashad Federation had been churning out over the last twenty years: From bullet-firing rifles to steam trains – everything had been conceived and tested there.

  “You must remain firm, Ambessa.”

  The big man declared, standing up. He knew the woman better than anyone and knew what to say to support her.

  “I know, Riktus!”

  Ambessa roared. She hated having her strength questioned, so it was more of a natural reaction than an outburst.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I'll go back and make sure nothing moves too much. Rest well, General.”

  With that, Riktus left the woman alone in the tent, abandoning her to her thoughts and sorrows.

  "Shit..."

  Ambessa pounded her desk once more, huffing in irritation. After everything she'd been through, her nerves were on edge. Her hands were turning white with rage. Her soldiers were fiercely loyal, that was true, but even trust had its limits.

  “Meldara...”

  She clicked her tongue as she thought of that name. She and her daughter had never had a good relationship, but she was her only hope. Pitova's weapons were the only thing that would give them a chance to survive if they ever returned to their homeland.

  “There will be a war, but will I be ready to win it?”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  22nd day of the month of the Green Elf (February ) 10:15 AM

  Almodeus didn't want to do it, not at all. Yet there he was, sitting on a chariot dressed as Amon, the Marquis of Darkness. Accompanying him, of course, was Alcina, the Poet of Darkness. However...

  It's embarrassing...

  The one sitting next to him wasn't his daughter Almodea, but Shaco instead. The clown had taken the young girl's form, as the original would have had a capture mission that evening. They needed test subjects to study the Battle Arts, and Almodea would enjoy venting her pent-up anger over Fiora's death. It was also the perfect opportunity to test the three succubi he'd gifted her.

  I've upgraded them up to level 30. They're still extremely weak by our standards, but still better than their starting state.

  Almodeus looked at the men driving the wagon. The tall one holding the reins was named Ferc, while the short man sitting to his right was the one who had specifically requested Amon's help on this mission, the merchant Marcow Bonanza. He was just a bourgeois, but he had paid a lot for this assignment, and the money would be useful for C's cover—financing a rich lady was hard, after all.

  The assignment was simple: defend the wagon as they crossed the Plains of Mort. They would be free to leave once they reached one of the cities on the border of the Ashen Kingdom: Lesbar.

  “How much longer until we arrive, Mr. Bonanza?”

  “About two days’ journey, Mr. Amon. Thank you again for accompanying me.”

  “It's not a problem...”

  “I’m glad! If I may ask, aren’t you hot in your armor?”

  In the Plains of Mort, it was extremely hot in the mornings, while at night it was freezing cold. This was another disadvantage in those lands- obviously only for humans, since the undead were immune to climate change, as were some types of demi humans. Almodeus didn't have that problem either. He was completely immune to the effects of the weather or the elements in general, so he could keep his armor on without breaking a sweat.

  “Yes, don't worry.”

  She noticed how the little man was glancing at Alcina. He couldn't blame him; she was objectively beautiful, gorgeous even. Shaco had chosen a perfect form to embody, and every detail was faithful to the original.

  “Listen, Mr. Merchant...”

  Alcina began, smiling seductively. She was clearly aware of being watched with a lust-filled gaze.

  “Since it’s so hot, how about giving us a raise?”

  “Um...Here, I-”

  “It’s sooooo hot, you know? I’m sweating all over!”

  At that moment, the girl moved her hand to fan herself, leaving her chest slightly open. A few drops of drool began to drip from the merchant's mouth.

  You idiot...

  Almodeus wanted to intervene, but it would have been futile. Shaco was trying to use his new "Assets" to make the applicants pay more. Normally, he wouldn't have disagreed with such a tactic, but the fact that his daughter's body was being used for that didn't please him at all. He didn't want Alcina to be known as a brothel woman.

  “I-I can think about it. How much would you like?”

  “Shall we make 20% of the total?”

  “20%?! No offense, Lady Alcina—but that seems excessive for a little sweat.”

  “You think?”

  As she asked her question, the girl stretched slightly, moving her already exposed breasts even more. This made the man salivate once again, and his face went red.

  “Y-Yes...But I-I can try to do 15%, if that’s okay with you.”

  “How about 30%?”

  “30!? B-But...”

  “Okay! Okay! I'll come to meet you half way...25%?”

  Anyone would have noticed that this was a blatant hoax, but Marcow was too busy devouring the girl's curves with his eyes to realize it.

  One is worse than the other.

  For his part, Almodeus was losing patience. He wasn't averse to vicious tactics, but seeing his daughter's image so vulgarized was getting on his nerves, even though the situation was in his favor.

  “Um…Okay, I’ll give you a 25% raise.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Merchant!”

  A single smile from Alcina was enough to completely shut down the man's mind. The women of the Fear Tower were inhuman beautiful compared to the average female in that world—enough so, that it was a miracle that Marcow hadn't already passed out from a heart attack.

  “Alcina, come here. We need to discuss some...Tactics.”

  “Oh? Got it!”

  The girl dropped her seductive pose and moved to stand beside the knight. Shaco, hidden by his disguise, could see Almodeus' irritation despite the helmet. He loved to anger him, and that added insult to injury.

  “Will you stop acting like a loose woman?”

  Almodeus whispered to him.

  “Why? I’m acting perfectly! Almodea would do the same thing I’m doing, wouldn’t she?”

  “Not with a man…”

  “You are right...Oh, well! Those are details!”

  “Exactly my point, idiot.”

  “Uh Ah Uh! Almodea is really lucky to have a father who supports her despite everything!”

  The knight simply crossed his arms, nodding proudly.

  “A parent should always support their children, even if they have unusual tastes.”

  His daughter was a complicated girl. Her emotions could easily fluctuate and were extremely uncontrollable. If she got really angry, it would be difficult to stop her without resorting to forceful measures. And better not get started on her tastes, that were not those of an average girl.

  “I don't care about those, but I admit I'd rather not have Almodea against me. That girl is a monster if she wants to be one. Hahahaha!”

  The clown laughed as usual, while Almodeus just sighed.

  I should have brought Nocturn along, but Shaco's abilities are more useful in this case.

  Despite being considered the weakest of the Terror Trio, Shaco was by no means to be underestimated. His fighting style was nonexistent, and therefore unpredictable. His illusions were practically perfect; he could multiply and take on the appearance of others. He was the best at deceiving reality itself.

  Chaos Demon in name and in fact.

  Almodeus sighed wearily. Shaco was truly unbearable when he started making idle jokes. He could easily have had him play both Marquises of Darkness, but he didn't want him to misrepresent Amon in such an important mission.

  “Hey! Do you know what the worst thing is for a Penguin?”

  “Don't start with those things!”

  “Calm down! I was just lightening the mood. Anyway, you could have had me play Amon, you know?”

  "No."

  Almodeus answered coldly.

  “But why?!”

  “Why?! WHY?! Because you can't keep a low profile! That's why!”

  Shaco snorted and puffed out his cheeks, offended. In a strange sort of way, he was mimicking Almodea perfectly in that moment.

  “That’s not true! I’m really good at that!

  “No offense, but that’s a hypocritical statement.”

  “What do you mean?"

  “The inn...”

  Some time ago, Almodeus had Shaco play Amon for a mission, which ended with a drinking session in a tavern. Naturally, knowing the clown, things didn't go according to plan.

  “Come on! Walking into a inn and saying out loud, 'I'm here to fuck bitches and break tables!' isn't attracting attention!”

  “But grabbing a random guy and saying: and I just found a fuckload of tables!- while throwing said guy into the air, making him slam on a random table in front of everyone? Yeah…that’s attracting attention.”

  There were a few minutes of silence between the two. The knight watched the clown disguised as his daughter through the opening in the helmet, while the other remained silent, his expression neutral.

  “Your point?”

  Shaco asked, smiling.

  “Are you serious?!”

  “I had to make it clear that I shouldn't be taken lightly! It's part of Amon's character, right? You said so!”

  “Our goal is to be seen as heroes by humans, not as assholes!”

  “Oh, come on! I wanted to have some fun! When you're as powerful and crazy as I am, the whole morality thing doesn’t mean much.”

  Hearing those words, Almodeus couldn't help but sigh. Talking to Shaco was like talking to a wall made of exploding cakes and balloons. He couldn't disagree with him on the last part, but it still remained a problem.

  “You have no morals, but no common sense either.”

  "Guilty of all charges on that one!"

  The clown gave him a thumbs up, as if it were a good thing.

  “What can I say? I'm crazy!”

  “Not stupid, however. I expect better behavior in the future, okay?”

  “How boring you are! Working for you is getting so fucking lame!”

  “Do you want me to send you back to your old job at our IRS?”

  The smile Alcina had been holding up until that moment suddenly broke. Although his current appearance was entirely an illusion, it was clear that Shaco had become paler than usual. He had fallen completely silent and was starting to sweat.

  “No! No more IRS! I'm crazy enough to wreak havoc on the world, but getting in trouble with the IRS? Noooooooo, thank you!”

  “Then stop acting stupid for five minutes, okay?”

  Shaco nodded and began to survey the surroundings. They were on the open plain, and there didn't seem to be any fog on the horizon.

  “Listen, boss... Why all the secrecy? Why this Amon thing? Why not just deploy an army and conquer the world?”

  Almodeus simply looked away, as if searching for the right words to express himself.

  “First of all, ravaging the world would be too damaging for us. We'll suffer few casualties, but do you have any idea what would happen if one of Almodea's friends were caught up in the cross fire and died? Fiora and her group have already done more than enough.”

  He declared, in a stern tone.

  “Regarding the character of Amon...It's good to get away from this Absolute Lord thing every now and then. Spending some quality time as a father and daughter is a great way to get closer to Almodea.”

  Normally, he would never reveal this information to anyone of his subordinates, as they wouldn't believe him, but Shaco was different. Logic wasn't his strong point, and any answer that made even the slightest bit of sense would have been fine. If it had been comical, even better.

  “I really don’t want to be in a warzone and have to deal with Almodea and C at each other throats for a stupid daughter-mother argument, and GOD FORBID if Nikusa is present!"

  “Oh...Ok. Now it makes sense- “

  The clown's statement was interrupted by the neighing of the horses. The wagon had stopped suddenly, and the two men driving it had turned pale, as if they had seen a ghost.

  “May I ask what's going on? Oh-”

  The knight roared, staring ahead; he had answered himself. The scene unfolding before him was something unreal. A large number of men in full armor were fighting an army of undead—skeletons warriors, to be precise.

  They don't look like Imperial soldiers. Could they be from the Ashen Kingdom? No...They don't have their own coat of arms.

  The enemy armor was different from that worn by the soldiers who had impersonated the Kingdom during the assault on Anna's village. Almodeus assumed they were from another nation, but he wasn't sure which. He ruled out the Theocracy; they were too different from Bork’s and his team.

  Are they from the Federation? What are they doing here, in this remote place?

  “Mister Amon, what do we do?”

  Marcow asked him, alarmed. He was clearly frightened by the huge influx of undead.

  “We could get around them, after all the skeletons seem only interested in those soldiers.”

  It was the most logical choice. The undead were armed with shields and swords, and Almodeus knew that meant they were serving a higher-level being.

  Is it a demon? Or a Skeleton King maybe?

  These were all realistic options. He could exploit the situation to subdue the undead army and gain additional soldiers, but it would be difficult to do so without arousing the suspicion of the merchant or the army before him.

  “But it's strange. Why do undead attack during the day?”

  The coachman, Ferc, asked.

  “There's no rule that says they can't do that. Only vampires and wraiths have a disadvantage under the sun—”

  The knight replied, looking at the battlefield.

  “-The soldiers seem to be doing well, but I don’t see the leader of the undead.”

  “The leader?”

  “Exactly. It must be a superior undead with intelligence. They are attacking in a too coordinated way.”

  “Y-You are a genius, Mister Amon! I can see why you are a high-ranking adventurer!”

  Marcow complimented him, clapping his hands. However, the knight seemed disconnected from reality. It was as if he were in a trance, watching something. They wanted to ask him what he was doing, but no one dared interrupt his thoughts.

  “Alcina, get ready for combat!”

  “Huh? But the skeletons are far away!”

  “They are the least of our problems…”

  “W-What do you mean, Mister Amon?!

  As the girl scratched the back of her neck in confusion, Marcow broke out in a cold sweat, as if fearing something might come at any moment. Amon simply unsheathed his greatsword, pointing it in front of him.

  “The gang leader is coming.”

  At that moment, the earth began to shake, creating a gigantic fissure in the center of the battlefield. The human soldiers retreated to avoid falling into oblivion, while the skeletons continued their advance, fearless of death. It was then that something began to emerge from the center of the crater...

  A sail?

  From the bowels of the earth emerged a massive structure, rising into the sky as if it were a plane. Despite everyone's disbelief, it was clear to everyone what it was: A Skeleton Galleon. The ship was made of pitch-dark wood, and had some bones added in the structure, like ornaments. It carried three torn sails hoisted, as large as a two-story house. The vessel itself was titanic, with the skull of what looked like a shark on its prow.

  “W-What is it?!”

  “Help! Let's run away!”

  While the two men panicked, the knight remained motionless on the chariot. Almodeus stared at the ship with wide eyes. Even for him, it was a startling sight; he had seen skeletal vessels before, but never one this large.

  A Skeleton Ship? I haven't seen one in ages. I wonder what undead commands it...

  His curiosity had been piqued by this new encounter. What had begun as a banal defense mission had now become something more. The two humans he was escorting didn't seem to be of the same opinion; in fact, they breathed a sigh of relief when the ship seemed to be targeting the soldiers instead of them.

  “It didn't see us, thank goodness! Quick, Frec! Let's get out of here right now, and—”

  Marcow's happiness was short-lived. The bow of the great flying galleon shifted toward them, as if something were drawing it. The two men blanched with terror, while the adventurers remained completely unfazed by the ship's change of course.

  The knight tightened the grip on the hilt of his broadsword, preparing for battle.

  Finally... Something interesting!