Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

The scent of blood and smoke was rich in the air. One didn’t need to cast a second glance towards Tonberg to know that the city was not faring well in its defence. Many of its soldiers continued to fight solely because they knew that the fate which awaited them was one far worse than death. They had been driven to madness. The city’s beautiful plaza had been reduced to a corpse-studded battlefield, beyond which sprawled the lofty high street leading straight towards the castle.

Sokalar hovered a safe distance from the front lines, silently observing the battle. It was impossible even for a tactician of his level to comprehensively manage each and every thrall invading the city. The Deathguards had been created specifically to aid him in that regard. They were the executors of his will.

“Master Sokalar!” One such acolyte made himself known while hovering towards the Lich, lowering his head as he spoke, “A detachment of royalists was attempting to muster at our right flank, but Graeme’s regiment was able to ambush it from behind!”

“Graeme made it through? I suppose Drayya and Lieze must have supported his entry…” Sokalar placed a skeletal hand to his chin, “How many priests were among this detachment?”

“N-None at all… at least, not to my knowledge.”

“Something is amiss.” He noticed, “We have defeated only a handful of Dragon Cardinals. If the maggot king wished to improve his chances of victory, he would have ordered a few to delay the diversionary group’s attack as soon as news of its progress reached him, and he would have sent hundreds still to meet us long before we reached the city square.”

“What would you have us do, my master?”

“Capture the square, but proceed no further than that.” He ordered, “I would see Ricta’s strategy before making any rash decisions. We can afford to await his move.”

“As you wish.”

“I suppose Graeme is on his way here?”

“Yes. Alongside Margoh and the young lady, I believe.”

“Relay my orders to him. Drayya and Lieze will support our left flank. Have the two of them report to me beforehand.”

“Of course.”

Sokalar’s instincts were rarely incorrect. He knew that Ricta was more than likely to attempt something bold in order to guarantee the safety of Tonberg. But what in particular he was planning, the Lich couldn’t say. Guaranteeing the safety of his forces while awaiting the King’s move was the safest choice.

Drayya and Hede’s thralls had torn a wound through the eastern city on their way to regroup with Sokalar’s army. The speed at which they managed to rendezvous with the Lich only heightened his sense of unease. Retreating to the safety of the back lines, he lowered himself to the ground as Drayya and Lieze moved to greet him.

“Master Sokalar!” Drayya bowed, “We were able to breach the northern gate with minimal casualties thanks to Graeme’s diversionary tactic!”

“And the forest?”

“We successfully took out a group of royalists who intended to ambush our rear!” She reported, “The… young lady was helpful in that regard.”

Drayya couldn’t bear referring to Lieze with any kind of formality, but the thought of testing Sokalar’s strict patience didn’t quite appeal to her. The girl in question was more preoccupied with catching her breath than paying due respect to the leader of the Order, having just been forced to keep pace with Drayya, who levitated over buildings without a second thought for her wellbeing.

“Hm.” The Lich’s empty gaze graced Lieze for barely an instant, “Transmutation magic?”

“Wha-”

Drayya’s blood ran cold. The enchantments she’d granted Lieze on her way to open the portcullis should have dissipated--or, rather, they most certainly had. She cursed herself internally for thinking that the leader of all necromancers wouldn’t be able to detect and identify trace amounts of residual magic.

“The God of Many Faces is a troublesome deity indeed.” Sokalar continued calmly, “From the Dwarven archmage Halve, who became little else but an undulating ball of flesh, and the Dragon Cardinal Gauvain, who woke one morning to discover his features had been replaced with those of a swine’s… there are many anecdotes which warn against communing with the lord of transmutation.”

“Y-Yes.” Drayya blinked, “Of course, Master Sokalar…”

The calmness in the Lich’s voice told her that he wasn’t planning to kill her for daring to infringe upon the Order’s laws. Sokalar wouldn’t waste such a valuable asset. He knew that simply acknowledging Drayya’s folly would be enough to persuade her never to display such arrogance in his presence again.

“Lieze.” Sokalar diverted his attention, “Are you preoccupied?”

As if torn from a daze, the girl suddenly gave him her full attention. During his conversation with Drayya, she had been staring towards Tonberg’s castle in some kind of trance.

“There’s something…” She began, unsure of how to continue, “Something strange is happening in the castle. Can’t you hear it?”

As she spoke, the meddling chorus hanging in the air only seemed to grow louder. A heavenly chanting--thousands of voices airing in unison, poured into the lower city from the lofty heights of its castle walls.

“...What is that?” Sokalar raised his head, suddenly perceptive of the strange tune, “A choir?”

.OU. GO.D.N G.A.CE

.OU. GO.D.N G.A.CE

DEL.V.R .S .R.M EV.L

DEL.V.R .S .R.M EV.L

“Ah…” He realised, “The chant of the Golden Dragon?”

“Are they praying to their God?” Drayya wondered, “How pitiful.”

“Do not deride the efforts of the desperate, Drayya.” Sokalar scolded, “We must proceed cautiously. All is in place for the emergence of a miracle.”

“Master… you don’t believe that we could possibly fail, do you?” She insisted, “Tonberg is the royalists’ last bastion of resistance. It would take far more than a miracle to save them now.”

“No.” The Lich did not break his gaze from the castle, “Lieze is right to worry. Something is wrong…”

Sokalar’s sensitivity to magic allowed him to pinpoint a disturbance originating from the castle. Alongside the chorus of voices was a steadily-increasing concentration of holy magic, which eventually ballooned to such an extent that the golden rays of its influence could be seen shining from the stained-glass windows plastering its walls. The veritable maelstrom of sorcery rose towards the overcast skies, splitting the cloudline and forcing sunlight down to the earth.

“Hoh…” Sokalar almost chuckled, “I see. So this is your gamble, Ricta…”

“M-Master Sokalar!?” Drayya exclaimed, “What is that!?”

“Haven’t you noticed the distinct lack of priests taking part in this battle, Drayya?” He asked, “One would have expected the maggot king to deploy his forces entirely, but it appears he had other plans. To think he was bold enough to disregard his own people for a single chance at victory…”

“And what ‘chance’ is that!? Please be frank with me, Master Sokalar!”

Her answer came not a moment later. The divine light soaring towards the heavens heralded the arrival of something extraordinary from the golden skies. A grand silhouette, larger than the mind could possibly fathom, descended from the cloudline. Its form was enshrouded by a membrane of leathery amber, as if slumbering within a cocoon. The many voices pouring out from the castle became unbearably loud.

Your Golden Grace,

Your Golden Grace,

Deliver us from evil,

Deliver us from evil,

With holy light and breath,

Descend to the King’s realm,

Offer up your trial of penance,

Grant us the gift of suffering,

And take unto yourself the disasters of man

As the creature emerged--or, rather, unfurled from its prison, the brilliance of its golden scales was almost too much for Drayya or Lieze to bear. It was a beast that had no place in such a simple world. And yet, from the desires of its worshippers, it had manifested. Tonberg was enveloped entirely in shadow beneath its wings. Golden flames licked greedily at the corners of its mouth.

Without room for doubt, it was a Dragon.

“The Golden Dragon…” Drayya couldn’t help but stare, “It can’t be…”

“Yes. The very manifestation of humanity’s struggle against the Order.” Sokalar watched the scene unfold calmly, “When the fervent desires of so many can no longer be contained, a ‘miracle’ is bound to occur. The Gildwyrm is no exception to this rule--nor is the Blackbriar.”

“How can we hope to defeat a God!?” She exclaimed.

“We cannot.” He answered simply, “When fate is handed over to such forces, the future becomes uncertain. Reality is mangled. Bent to the whims of strange, cosmic calculations. Ricta understands this well, I presume. And he will discover firsthand the consequences of altering our shared destiny with such a ploy.”

“...Should I order a retreat?” Drayya wasn’t certain of how to respond to his rambling.

“Do what you believe is just. For only a just heart can overcome the Golden Fire.”

The girl didn’t waste any time questioning Sokalar further. The other Deathguards were just as hypnotised as anyone else by the sight of the Golden Dragon descending from the sky, and it was suddenly her responsibility to ensure that they escaped from the city with their lives.

As the Order’s undead legions were pulled from the city, only Lieze and the Lich himself were left idling near the city square, staring with uncertain eyes towards the castle.

“Hm. The gift of suffering…” He muttered, “Lieze?”

“Yes, father?”

“Why are you not accompanying Drayya? I imagine she will be ordering a full retreat to the Deadlands.”

“That’s…” She began, but immediately surrendered, “You already understand why.”

“Do you crave death?” He asked, “Perhaps your ineptitude has finally driven you to insanity, just as the advent of our victory has ushered Ricta’s soldiers towards madness. We stand before the Gildwyrm, and still you bother yourself with personal inadequacies, blind to the sacrifices of your peers.”

She didn’t need to complain to him about anything. Like everything else in her life, the conversation was one she’d already experienced a thousand times before. Her contributions to the siege of Tonberg had been adequate considering her lack of ability, but not impactful enough to make a difference in the long-term. As always, she was but a measly footsoldier wearing the mask of a necromancer, unable to influence events in any meaningful fashion. Her existence was only an incremental improvement to the state of things. She was growing tired of it.

“I will ask you again--do you crave death?” Sokalar repeated, “If so, then the Gildwyrm will gladly grant your request. In a single instant, your meagre efforts to improve the situation of this siege have been overturned by an errant factor completely out of your control. Perhaps you have struggled--but the world does not favour those who struggle. It favours those who are victorious.”

Did she want to die?

Or, the better question may have been, did she want to continue living? Despite her attempts to catch up to prodigal necromancers like Drayya, her grasp of the art was still comparable to that of a child’s. Despite her efforts to make up for her weaknesses using strategy, she was awarded no recognition or thanks for risking her life to further the Order’s cause. Was she an idiot? What was she expecting to happen?

Wordlessly, Lieze took her first steps towards the castle, watching as the Golden Dragon hovered ominously above the city like a bad omen. Even she was capable of feeling the God’s power. It was a wonder Sokalar could bear to remain nearby with the concentration of holy magic in the air. Her own father, who had long since abandoned his soul, watched the girl disappearing towards the plaza, feeling neither sorrow nor annoyance that his own flesh and blood was about to throw her life away.

Even as the Dragon descended, the chorus from the castle continued in earnest. In fact, it only seemed to grow in intensity, as if the choir within was being commanded by some otherworldly force. Indeed, Lieze didn’t see much in the way of anything on her way towards the Gildwyrm--no citizens, no undead. Shadows seemed to dance behind thin curtains, and a melody like laughter seemed to be spreading throughout the city. Had the world gone mad, she wondered? Perhaps that was the price to pay for witnessing a God in the flesh.

The beast perched itself atop the castle spires with graceful movements. The malefic, destructive image of a Dragon Lieze had enjoyed fantasising about as a child seemed like a faraway dream. As she came to a stop near the fountain in the centre of the city square, her blood froze to ice as the Wyrm seemed to direct its divine attention towards her. She knew that one of the Eight Divines could kill her in an instant if it so pleased. Not only that, but she was staunchly opposed to the holy magic which the Golden Dragon represented.

There was a pause. Somehow, Lieze felt at peace despite never having accomplished much for herself. As the Dragon’s cavernous maw widened, she braced for a torrent of divine flames which would rend her soul asunder. But instead, there was a flash of light which encapsulated her vision. When she was finished doubling over and rubbing her eyes, the place she found herself in was no longer Tonberg.

Rather, she appeared to be standing on the clouds themselves, though they were so thick that she couldn’t peer beneath the haze. Above her, an endless abyss of white extended unfathomably towards the edge of reality. The Golden Dragon was there, too. Its harsh, scaled features were even more intimidating up close. It almost seemed like an entire village could fit on its back.

Lieze wasn’t dead. Or, perhaps she was?

“Hah…” Mixing resignation with relief, she sighed and dropped to her knees. From the deepest recesses of her mind came a voice that threatened to rupture her eardrums, seemingly originating from every direction at once.

Child of man…

Thou’rt burdened with unease…

The Dragon spoke to her. She wasn’t sure of how to reply.

“...Who summoned you?” She demanded, “Why did you have to appear?”

Faith found and commanded me.

The just were rewarded, and in doing so, became unjust.

One door closes. Another opens.

The Light demands penitence for miracles rendered.

A gift of suffering.

“You’re going to kill me?”

The King’s realm shall pay its debt.

For this--a newborn scion of despair.

All is as it should be.

Turning its gargantuan hand, Lieze could make out the shifting of something crimson amidst its scales. A still-beating heart, staining the Dragon’s glimmering skin red with blood, hovered in the air above its palm.

Child of man…

Receive thy gift…

Balance thy kind’s hubris…

She was being offered something. What, exactly, she couldn’t say. Power? Wealth? The heart beating in the Dragon’s palm was much too large to be a human’s, as if stolen from some otherwordly beast. Was she being given a chance to submit to the Dragon’s will? Or was it just as the Wyrm said--a gift? Lieze could feel an unbearable strength from the heart; something not entirely subject to explanation or comprehension. She felt drawn to it.

Her legs accepted the Dragon’s offer before her mind did, padding through the void of clouds towards the beast’s outstretched claw. Clambering onto its hand was no small feat. The beast’s scales were uncomfortably warm, as if some grand fire burned beneath its skin. Slowly, she moved towards the bleeding organ, unable to control her breathing as it seemed to beat in time with her own heart.

Her hand reached out, and just as her fingers graced the smooth muscle, her vision went black. Only a single sentence accompanied her fall into unconsciousness, pulsing out from the back of her head.

Divine Providence Accepted

Calibrating Subject [Lieze Sokalar]

Please Wait…