When Angar finished re-killing all the dead in Nalitha, Theosis sent him a new message.

  A Glorious Achievement!

  By God's grace, you have cleaved through the ranks of the befouled and accursed, felling 5,000 of the undead. Their bones, now at final rest, whisper of your valor. Yet, the path to glory does not end here; the next honor awaits at the slaughter of 10,000, where your name shall echo with more honor.

  In the name of the Holy Trinity, this being the first bestowal of this sacred triumph on this world, you shall twice receive laurels of renown for this honor.

  Glory Points bestowed: 5 x 2

  For God and Empire!

  Angar was certain he hadn’t killed five thousand undead. Not even close. Well over a couple of thousand, certainly, maybe three.

  “Does the Holy Empire count numbers differently?” he asked Spirit.

  “No. You received credit for all the bodies that would’ve turned undead if they hadn’t been destroyed in the eruptions. That Glorious Achievement grants 1 Glory Point upon first killing an undead, then more at killing ten, a hundred, a thousand, five thousand, and you’ll get 6 points if you kill ten thousand.”

  “Oh,” he replied. “Theosis once sang my praises for defeating a grawlok. It wasn’t a Glorious Achievement, but it’s nice having my victories praised. How do I get that to happen more often?”

  “I ended the New User Protocols and changed some of your settings,” Spirit replied. A lot more excitedly, she said, “Follow me. This is what we’ve been hoping to find,” before speeding off.

  Angar had thought they were trying to catch up to and stop the reavers. He had no idea they were looking for anything.

  “Wait!” he called out. Spirit stopped, facing him.

  “My resources are full. I suspect the Capstone had something to do with that?”

  “It did.”

  “Can you tell me the specifics?”

  Spirit, with impatience, said, “Fine. Bring up the System. It’s showing in your Annals now. But hurry. Please.”

  CAPSTONES

  Glory Thunders

  Increase Body, Mind, and Spirit by 3

  Select a main and two mirror Stats.

  Gain 1 Thunder per hit given, received, and per Energy Point spent, 4 Thunder per Charge spent, and 10 Thunder per enemy defeated.

  With 200 Thunder, empower your next attack to create a shockwave, dealing (10 x PL) x Tier damage in a 9-meter long, 45-degree cone. This attack also restores 4 Energy Points and 1 Charge per Tier. All Thunder is lost 3 minutes out of combat.

  This, also, Angar approved of. He used it many times in his great battle against the undead. He couldn’t wait to use it again.

  “Okay,” said Spirit. “Come. Follow.”

  She led him through the wide and gaping maw of a cave just beyond the city’s edge. Its yawning gallery contained multiple tunnels, each rigged with traps of stone, three of which had been triggered, the rockslides they caused now monuments to carnage.

  Many undead had been crushed beneath two rockslides, some of them not fully dead again, still clawing at a rock, kicking a foot around or the like.

  In the passage closest to the center, a reaver lay dead, its strange, twisted limbs protruding from beneath massive boulders, its skull split like overripe fruit.

  The fourth passage was sealed by a battered, cracked gate, its sturdy mai shoots nearly shattered under the relentless assault of the zombies. Before it, a mound of undead corpses lay piled, their fetid flesh stinking the air.

  And behind the gate stood a Kondunean legionnaire, bleeding but alive, his spear gripped with knuckles white as bone, his armor making his origin clear.

  The man was shy of twenty years, or thereabouts, at least as Angar reckoned years, well weathered and rough looking.

  He didn’t look nearly as soft as Angar had been told southerners were, his skin well marked by the burning fog, war, and a life led harshly. Still, the man was a Kondunean legionnaire.

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  Angar’s hackles rose. He clenched his fist, the muscles in his arm drawing taut.

  “He’s a citizen of the Empire of the Holy Trinity now,” said Spirit, her pleasant voice seeming wrong in the cavern’s stink, “not an enemy. He can’t hear or see me, so don’t make him think you’re mad by speaking to me. He killed a reaver in a rockslide and has slain nearly a hundred undead.”

  “He’s a Laymen, a level 12 soldier in the Imperial Army now. His Class doesn’t conform to our modern imperial system, in a similar situation as you. Most in the Imperial Army are granted the Fortes Milites Imperii Class, what we shorten to Milites. It should be Miles, but no one calls it that.

  “If he had that Class, he’d be dead now. I’m doing what I can to make Legionarius and Hastatus options everyone sees first. This man chose Legionarius, a type of heavy infantry.”

  As Spirit spoke, Angar and the filthy Kondunean locked eyes. They stared, unyielding, for a long moment after her voice faded, each man refusing to look away.

  The Kondunean broke the silence without breaking eye contact. “Does the garrison still hold out?”

  Angar’s one healed ear struggled to catch the words, but he understood well enough. He forced the hate in his chest to cool, reminding himself this man was no longer the enemy. “No.”

  “The undead? Where’d they all go? They stopped attacking me to run away somewhere.”

  “I killed all the ones plaguing Nalitha,” stated Angar.

  “What? How?” the man asked, surprised and disbelieving.

  “I’m a Crusader,” was the reply.

  “What? The great and Divine Theosis said we had to hold out for nineteen days, God willing, before the Crusaders arrived.”

  It sounded strange to hear a Kondunean utter ‘God willing.’

  As far as Angar knew, all Konduneans were Zarstists, forcing their subjugated to convert to their faith. They believed Vefol was once a paradise, cast down by the sins of man. They worshiped Ahka, the mightiest of the major spirits, and sought to unify Vefol, purging it of sin so the spirits of Zarst might return and restore it once more to paradise.

  “Well, I’m one now. The name’s Angar, son of King Baraga.”

  “Of Mecia?” asked the man, surprise clear in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  There was a pause before the Kondunean spoke again. “You’re very large, young Crusader Angar. A blessing of our new God. My name’s Trooper Initiate Varko, new Legionarius of the Imperial Army of the Empire of the Holy Trinity. Did you truly kill all the undead?”

  “I did. Open the gate. See for yourself.”

  The Kondunean moved to open the gate but drew his hand back. “You know we’re on the same side now, right? This invasion, the survival of our world, is more important than prior animosities.”

  Angar grunted. “Easy to say when you’re the subjugator and not the subjugated, but I agree. Saving our world is more important. I honor your deeds. It seems you killed a reaver and many undead.”

  The gate was stuck, and Varko couldn’t budge it. Angar ripped away enough shoots for the man to pass through.

  Spirit had been quiet this whole time, and Angar didn’t want to speak to a woman Varko could neither see nor hear. They made their way a short distance into the center of Nalitha, Varko’s eyes darting warily, as if expecting undead to come charging at him.

  After a minute, he whistled sharply and said, “Looks like you did kill them all. There had to be at least a couple thousand of them, maybe three. My gratitude, young Crusader.”

  “It’s my duty,” replied Angar, his voice tinged with pride. “Tell me, did you have issues converting to our new religion?”

  A smile like a grim slash spread across Varko’s weathered face before saying, “None at all. We worship Kondune far more than the spirits anyway. No one really believes we’d ever make this world return to a paradise. And I should say worshiped and believed.

  “Anyway, it’s hard to argue with Divine words shown in my eyes, especially after being granted the magical empowerment coursing through my veins. Not like you were, I’m sure. My armor fits a but snugger, but you’re like half a giant. I swore eternal loyalty to this Holy Trinity and meant every word with all my heart.”

  Angar wondered if, as a Crusader, he should offer some wise blessing, some sacred utterance. All that came to mind was, “May our God grant us many more glorious battles.”

  Varko touched his forehead, his right shoulder, then his left, intoning, “The Lord above, blessed Messiah, Divine Theosis.”

  Angar hadn’t seen that gesture before, but it made sense.

  “What now?” asked the Kondunean. “Surely God and Holy Theosis brought us together for a reason.”

  Angar was unsure. He awaited Spirit to provide some guidance. Since none came, he told the man what he knew. “Forty or so reavers are heading south and east, slaughtering all in their path, turning those killed into undead, and those killed by undead rise as the same. I seek to catch up and kill them.”

  “Forty?” asked the man.

  “Yes, or thereabouts. One less, counting the one you killed.”

  Despondently, Varko said, “Then this world is doomed. Kondune is doomed. Three, maybe four, did this to Nalitha.”

  “Forty isn’t so many,” replied Angar. “I just need to catch up to them, and I’ll be their doom.”

  “Whatever I can do to help, just ask,” said Varko solemnly. “My life for my empire. Both old and new.”

  Angar considered sending them down separate roads, each to a different city, looking for reavers, but he knew Varko couldn’t handle one alone. He had hidden behind a gate poking undead with a spear. A good and smart strategy for a man to employ.

  But Angar was far more than a man now. He didn’t think the Classes given to the Laity were comparable to those offered Crusaders.

  He’d be sending this man to his death, something he’d do without hesitation if he thought it would accomplish something, but it wouldn’t.

  He started to say, “I…,” but time stopped, the world locked around him frozen, and he was trapped within it too.

  Spirit stepped before him, her usually serene face sorrowful. “I’m glad we made it in time. We can stop the reavers spreading their blight, but it will require great sacrifice.”

  That was a given. So many had already been sacrificed to these invaders, these spawns of Hell, the city they stood in a testament to that.

  “There’s a way to call out to the reavers in challenge,” she said. “If done correctly, they’ll come to us. Some of the undead too, the closer ones, but not all of them. It will have to be enough. And it should be. The inhabitants of this world are doughty folk.”

  “Understood,” said Angar, eager for more battle. “How do I challenge them?”

  “One of you needs to use a Skill Point on Sacred Rites: Lay Rituals - Battlefield, Neophyte. It’ll take time to prepare, and we lack the recommended sacramentals and ritual objects, so it must be performed perfectly to work well enough for our needs.”

  Angar grunted and said, “Sounds easy enough. Then the reavers come to me?”

  Spirit’s face twisted with annoyance at his words. “It’s not easy!” she snapped out. “It’s a terrible thing. But it’s necessary. I wish it wasn’t, but it is. As Varko said, his life for his empire.

  “This ritual requires one of our faithful willing to martyr themself for this Holy cause. It’s the only way to stop the reavers from spreading their death too far and wide for us to stop. It’s the only way we can save your world.”