The battle that ensued at the entrance was nothing short of vicious. The reanimated Werebats fought with the mindless ferocity that only the undead could muster – no fear, no hesitation, no concern for self-preservation. They threw themselves at the attacking hounds with complete abandon, tearing at them with claws and teeth despite taking terrible damage in return. Their unnatural stamina meant they could fight endlessly without tiring, driven only by their master’s command and their own twisted hunger for violence rather than any biological need.
The Lesser Hell Hounds, dangerous as they were individually, stood little chance against this wall of undead fury. They were being torn apart almost as quickly as they could attack, their numbers doing little good against opponents who felt no pain and couldn’t be intimidated. However, Ludwig could see that the real problem wasn’t the hounds – it was the other, more sinister creatures that stood behind them in the darkness outside. These humanoid but clearly not human figures simply watched the battle unfold with disturbing patience, their elongated claws twitching occasionally but otherwise making no move to join the fray. They seemed to be waiting for something, though Ludwig couldn’t guess what.
[One of your Undead has been slain]
[Tainted Contagion effect is spreading!]
The sudden system message caught Ludwig by surprise. “Huh? I never cast that,” he said, confused by what he was seeing.
The Knight King’s spectral form flickered into visibility nearby. “They died because of it,” the ancient warrior explained in his gravelly voice. “Those Werebats were already infected with your Taint when they were alive. Now that they’ve died again as undead, the curse is being released once more. They remain carriers of destruction, whether alive, dead, or undead – quite the vicious cycle you’ve created.”
Ludwig watched as the purple-black veins of the Tainted Contagion began spreading through the attacking hounds, but then something unexpected happened. Rather than continuing to grow and multiply as the curse normally did, the infection seemed to be fading away, the dark patches shrinking and disappearing entirely after just a few moments.
[Tainted Contagion is ineffective against Soul-less creatures]
Now Ludwig understood. “Soulless, they’re dead. I see, no wonder it didn’t work,” he murmured, putting the pieces together.
Thomas, who had been watching the battle nervously, looked thoroughly confused. “What do you mean? How can something without a soul even move? That doesn’t make any sense!”
Ludwig kept his eyes on the ongoing fight as he explained. “These aren’t natural creatures that were born and live like you or I did. They’re afflicted with the malice of the Wrathful Death – extensions of whatever dark power controls that bloody moon up there. Since they weren’t truly alive to begin with, a curse designed to kill living things won’t affect them. And that also explains why they don’t leave behind any souls when they die – you can’t take what was never there in the first place.”
Ludwig sighed as he turned his attention back to the battle at the entrance. His fingers moved deftly as he summoned several Explosive Mines along the perimeter, careful not to drain too much of his remaining mana. He needed to conserve his energy in case he had to raise more undead reinforcements or make a sudden escape. The situation was growing more dangerous by the minute, and he couldn’t afford to be caught unprepared.
Just as he finished placing the last mine, a sharp crackling sound echoed from above. Ludwig’s head snapped upward, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted yet another Hell Hound squeezing its way through one of the spire’s upper openings. The creature’s body seemed to phase in and out of existence as it descended, its obsidian fur shimmering unnaturally in the dim light.
“God damn it,” Ludwig cursed under his breath. If more of these things kept pouring in from above while the entrance was still under siege, he would soon be fighting on two fronts—trapped inside the spire with no way out. The thought of being overwhelmed in this stone tomb sent a rare flicker of unease through him. He needed to act fast.
But before Ludwig could formulate a new plan, one of his undead Werebats—previously standing idle near the back—suddenly hunched low, then launched itself upward with surprising force. Its torn, leathery wings shouldn’t have been capable of flight, but magic defied logic. The undead creature flapped its tattered membranes with unnatural vigor, propelling itself straight toward the descending Hell Hound.
The two collided in mid-air with a sickening crunch. The Werebat’s claws clamped around the hound’s torso, and the two spun violently before the undead minion released its grip, sending the hound plummeting downward like a stone. The creature hit the ground with a heavy thud, right in the middle of a group of waiting Werebats, who immediately descended upon it like starving wolves. They tore into the hound with savage efficiency, ripping it apart limb from limb in a matter of seconds. The corpse dissolved into smoke soon after, but the flying Werebat remained hovering in the air, scanning for more threats.
A slow grin spread across Ludwig’s face as an idea struck him.
“Oh, I guess I have an idea,” he muttered. With a quick mental command, he summoned two more unoccupied Werebats to his side. They shuffled toward him, their glowing azure eyes fixed on him expectantly.
“Fly me out of here through one of those openings,” Ludwig ordered, sheathing Durnadal into his lantern’s inventory for safekeeping. The two undead creatures obeyed instantly, gripping his arms with surprising care before flapping their wings in unison. Their movements were oddly synchronized, as if guided by a single mind. With a powerful thrust, they lifted Ludwig off the ground, carrying him higher and higher toward the spire’s ceiling.
The ascent was smoother than Ludwig had expected. The Werebats adjusted their flight to avoid jagged rocks and narrow passages, maneuvering with precision despite their decayed forms. Within moments, they reached one of the larger openings near the top of the spire, and with one final push, they carried Ludwig through it and out into the open air.
The sight that greeted him was both breathtaking and horrifying.
The entire Bastos March was encased in a massive, pulsating red dome—a barrier of dark energy that stretched from the ground to the sky, sealing everything within it. The Gibbus Moon hung at the center like a bleeding eye, its crimson light saturating the land below in an unnatural glow. The very air tasted metallic, thick with the scent of blood and something far more sinister.
Below him, the land was transforming. Trees bent at impossible angles, their roots tearing free from the earth as if trying to escape. Stones oozed black ichor, bubbling and reshaping into grotesque forms. And everywhere—everywhere—monsters were emerging. Not just the Hell Hounds, but new horrors Ludwig hadn’t seen before. Twisted humanoid figures with elongated limbs, their backs studded with pulsating growths. Gaunt, skeletal beasts that moved with eerie silence, their hollow eyes fixed on the sky.
And then there were the others—the ones that stood apart from the rest. Tall, regal figures draped in flayed skins, their heads adorned with antlers of blackened bone. They didn’t rush into battle like the mindless hounds. They waited. Watched. As if they knew something Ludwig didn’t.
The flying Werebats kept him aloft, their wings beating steadily as he surveyed the nightmare unfolding below. For the first time in a long while, Ludwig felt a flicker of something he rarely acknowledged—doubt.
Clearing this land and commanding ownership and rule here looked like an infeasible task. He was surrounded by enemies from everywhere, monstrous, ravenous and quite terrifying creatures.
His eyes caught the Bastos Manor which seemed for some reason completely isolated from all the terror and horror happening outside.
“Fly us there!” Ludwig ordered, the two bats didn’t hesitate as they withdrew Ludwig away from the spire.
Yet even the skies weren’t safe, as Ludwig seemed to realize, the humanoid creatures who were waiting outside began screeching a long soul rending howl, their bent and hunched backs shuddered and rattled, and then tore open revealing slime and blood coated black feathered wings, they shuddered some more as they gripped their heads and continued their screams, and only when their wings were fully spread did they all snap their heads at Ludwig.
And with a single flap, they took to the skies.
“For crying out loud!” Ludwig cursed and gave a mental command to his undead.
The group that was inside the Spire immediately flew up and began rushing out of the Spire to come to him, while the two Werebats flying Ludwig rushed him toward the manor.
The monstrosities following Ludwig were no easy opponent as even though Ludwig’s dozen or so Werebats tried to stop them, they fell to their talons with ease, the dagger sized and sharp claws in their hands would tear through the numerous Werbeats as if they were made of paper.
The flimsy army of Werebats proved to be far less useful than Ludwig had hoped, and the two Werebats flying him to safety were too slow to escape the impending doom.
Ludwig couldn’t fight while both his arms were being held, but he could still cast some magic.
In his wake, several glowing orbs of magic were let loose, Explosive Mines riddled the skies as Ludwig poured the remaining of his stamina in a way to hamper and slow down the incoming creatures.
Explosion after explosion boomed behind them while the Werebats fluttered their wings as fast as they could from danger.
From the flames and smoke in the skies, Ludwig turned his face to peer at his pursuers, a small hope in him thinking that they would withdraw, but the reality hit hard when all dozen and more of those creatures emerged out of the smoke without even a singe mark on their bodies was all Ludwig needed to see to know that he wasn’t escaping the easy way this time.