-Retreat immediately, no arguments. Head to the Pit and the Teleport Focus there. If they advance past the Shrine, you immediately Teleport out, no hesitation. If anyone argues, just leave them behind, because they are going to die.-

  -Affirmed!- he /replied shortly, mental motion in the background. Their support mage screaming at them to run by order of the Lady Magos as he booked should prompt even the overconfident paramounts to turn their heels and exercise some discretion. There was nothing in the place worth dying for.

  “Second scenario on the beach. ‘Porting out!” I announced to everyone.

  “Give ’em Heaven, girl!” Kris whooped confidently, none of them breaking away from the middle of a slaughter of the powerful shades of this place, the need to kill them dead quickly too high to interrupt anything.

  With a shimmer I was off and away, and amazingly, I had a Lived-Line running right through the Wall I’d put up down there, so I could unerringly pop myself down on top of it.

  I stood there and looked west at the horde of berobed Dark Falatacot Cultists, a good dozen red robes bright among them, with a score of sclavi guards escorting the priestesses.

  Probably five hundred black-robed undead there, most of them scooped up off of Spawn Points on the way here. Wizard Sight let me see which were Summons by the simple fact they emanated Conjuration magic, which let me paint the ones that were not Summons as my targets.

  They were the only important ones. Without their orders, the Summons would turn around and run right back to where they came from.

  This, see, was why I hadn’t alerted them to my range yesterday.

  I was Invisible, so they couldn’t see me atop the Wall that was stretched across the beach now, cutting off the view to the far side, the pale stone destroying the sanctity of the Blight here.

  However, the Shoreward here ran out past The Deep’s shoal and to the far side out there, and I hadn’t built the Wall out that far. Thus, they could run out into the water and around it, sweep up behind us, and initiate a Surge that would travel up along the inside of the Wall and undo pretty much everything we’d done fairly quickly. They didn’t even have to attack us, just show how futile what we’d done was.

  And that was why they all died.

  Presper’s group had retreated down the Shoal to the Deathstone Pit and the Seal Focus nearby. It was the traditional arrival spot long ago, and a good, safe place to pop into, all other things being equal.

  The undead obviously saw the paramount team retreating rapidly and prudently from them, swinging out past the edge of the Wall and retreating to the far end of the shoal, ready to disappear. The horde moved to do the same, the real Falatacot hanging back and letting the Summons lead the way.

  Then I lit them up, and suddenly it wasn’t a concern of theirs anymore.

  The real undead were my primary targets, and the most vulnerable to me by far. That didn’t mean I couldn’t kill the sclavi, I just needed to have six different sets of Burning Chains go through each one of them to bump them off. I didn’t need to do quite so much to the undead, as they were taking x8 damage in comparison, and were innately vulnerable to Fire… although they’d also Buffed against Fire, so that was pretty immaterial, and basically only on there as Kickers.

  No, they got the Holy Lost Light treatment, and funnily enough, didn’t have any Void Magic to guard against Force and Positive energy having puppy-kittens.

  The screams of the undead were cut very short, the hissing thrashing of the sclavi lasted a bit longer as they went down in the drink, churning it as they thrashed at the holes punched through them, and then were still.

  The onrushing horde of male Falatacot undead in their hooded black and gold outfits stopped, turned around, and looked at the circles of clear white water with the robes and cloths dissipating. Their orders broke, they realigned themselves, and started to head back the way they’d come.

  Well, ducks, sitting, what’s a girl to do?

  It took me two more volleys to wipe those that remained, lines of Chains boring through the closely-packed undead there and downing them. Amusingly enough, that also popped up a grand total of over a hundred crimson Priestess pack-bosses and their two bodyguards each, giving me another three hundred undead to play with.

  I was a hundred yards away from them and they didn’t know who had spawned them, but their Spawn locations were locked to their arrival points, so they weren’t going anywhere.

  Two more volleys ripped through them, and I got a second set of boss kills for The Deep, just like that.

  It did cost me a lot of Valences and Mana to supplement it, but that was fine, good AoE opportunities were worth the expenditure. I’d just have to stay in Aurora Stance to build the rest of the Wall and let the others handle support for the next hour or two.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  I waved to Presper and his team, and they waved back in relief.

  The waters for a good hundred yards around the kill points were all crystal clear, the sands had gone pure white, and fallen khopesh weapons were bubbling and rusting very quickly under the surface.

  -Good down here. Coming back,- I /messaged Kris, and Linejumped Invisibly thataway in a flash, materializing over top of my previous position and gliding smoothly down to the base of the Wall where they were all waiting for me to return.

  “Oh, they were watching to see if anything happened on our end,” I noticed, seeing two red robes in the distance. “I don’t think they’re going to like what happened to their expeditionary force.”

  Kris walked up, grabbed Crown, and rolled her eyes sideways as she tracked what had happened.

  “Eight hundred undead. Ten spells,” she informed everyone, and everyone groaned very loudly and threw their hands into the air as if they’d practiced for it.

  Well, they probably had, the snarkers!

  “Right, let’s see how many more of their own they’re going to throw away,” she grinned, hoping they would.

  Aun Moaha’s paramount team was working the north side, so they’d see any approach by the beach from that direction, and I could pop back down as was needed if that was so.

  I adjusted myself into Aurora Stance, the flickering lights of the magic around me telling everyone what I was doing. They knew I was on final Support, which was cool, as Thera and Nippo should have no problems with the secondary Healers scattered among the main fighters able to deal with emergencies.

  Vivic Shaped Stone flowed up out of the ground, poofs of mist Burning at the blightstone as it amassed into a ten-foot wide, thirty-foot tall Wall, the outside gleaming with some nice Glyphs ready to be powered up by ley lines or power surges. The Wall marched along behind the steady progress of the Wagon and the killteams of the Skeeters and Roaches.

  The Temple and the Shrine where we needed to go were two different places, but we were going to have to hit both of them, and we all knew it. The pace was easy and the fighting was steady but not pushing it, as we did indeed have miles to go…

  -------

  There were two more abortive attempts to stop us from progressing.

  They did indeed send a group of two hundred Summons to attack us during our Sealing work. Unfortunately for them, I could pick out the one real cultist giving them orders. I lit him up with Faerie Fire and Imperil, and the Archers filled him full of vivic holes.

  The others turned around and ran away, and for some reason those off in the distance watching us didn’t send them back with more overseers, imagine that.

  ---

  “A truce flag?” Kris asked aloud, laughing under her breath. “They must be vastly irritated with us if they would deign to speak with us. Proper fanatics should just die blindly following the dictates of their unmentionable gods, right?”

  Snickers rose all around, but none of us went out to meet her, given there were Summons scattered all around the area who could be pulled up to fight us with little effort. The seven-foot female in the tight red garments and hood with the glowing eyes had a crude white flag in her hand as she approached, arrogance and confidence showing in every step, refusing to show any fear just because the ground was stained white behind us… in a whole bunch of places.

  “Approach, Priestess,” I said in Necrus as we lined up to face her. She paused at being addressed in a language that she didn’t know, but which she understood perfectly. It threw her off a moment, but she sneered and let the flag lower, striding forward to within easy charging distance from us, stopping about twenty yards away.

  Kris stepped forth, Quaver droning the Deepsong and letting the undead woman know that we had our own Sponsor looking after us. “I am Imperial Princess Kristie Rantha, Warlord of the Free Armies of Osteth. You play a dangerous game, Elder. What do you want that is not better solved by us dusting all of you?” she asked in proper barbarian princess fashion… and in perfect High Dericost, right down to the utterly correct sneer at a social inferior.

  The priestess actually blinked at someone daring to address her with such confident effrontery, and Kris just curled her lip back at her, exposing two gleaming canines ready for work. “I am Matriarch Xil Riai, of the Temple to N’cthail!” she was obliged to identify herself, her glowing eyes scanning the rest of us and reading just how unimpressed with her we all were… and just how real and dangerous those Vivic Weapons looked to her. “For what reason are you bringing those defiling Weapons to the sacred soil of N’cthail’s chosen land?” she challenged us arrogantly.

  “By the will and command of The Deep, Elder,” Kris answered, her head tilting sideways and her accent indicating that was like the queen of stupid questions. “There is a shrine to It right down there off the shore. You can go verify the matter with It if you like.”

  “The Deep has no realm or influence above the waves!” the priestess shot back curtly, making a cutting motion. “It has no say in matters now that the island is once more risen!”

  Kris’ smile grew dangerously, monstrously, eight canines wide. The Deepsong spiked, trembling at the very edge of two very specific notes the undead had been hearing going off for days now, and every time they sounded, Summons died with brutal speed.

  “I think, Elder, that you had best choose your next words most carefully,” I said in Necrus, before Kris could verbally rip into her and start a fight.

  A Name began to warble on the edge of the Sublime Chord, and the undead Priestess took a full step back as the manafield bent. She felt a distant presence suddenly become aware of her as that Name echoed in the winds and waves all around her, and the magic itself turned hostile to her.

  “The Deep considers that the souls of those on the island when it rose are its, too slow and confused to flee when it was proper. But if you think that excuses the influence of T’Thuun you have let seep into the land and the infestation of its corrupted golum servants, helping the Blight spread into the seas and giving Its great enemy a continuing hold on this world still, I think you gravely overestimate The Deep’s respect for the powers you venerate.”

  “The Lost Light is here, and the Radiance calls to it!” Kris roared at the undead woman, for just a second every inch the killer Hag, and the priestess actually jumped back a step in shock at Kris’ aborted lunge… and the shining Motes flaring proud and deadly upon Quaver, and indeed, every Weapon facing her!

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