Chapter 13: The First Strike
The storm had broken by dawn, but the ground was still slick with mud. A heavy mist clung to the trees, making the forest eerily silent. The perfect cover for what Leon had planned.
Standing at the head of his assembled militia, Leon scanned the faces of his men. They were no longer just farmers and tradesmen. They were warriors now—rough, unpolished, but determined.
Garrick adjusted the straps on his armor and stepped up beside Leon. "We're ready."
Leon nodded. The bandit camp was only a few miles east. If left unchecked, they would become a threat. But more than that—Leon needed to know if they were just common outlaws or something worse.
Tonight, he was going to find out.
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Leon led the strike force through the forest, moving silently between the trees. The Scouts had already mapped the area—six bandit tents, a central bonfire, and a few wooden barriers hastily thrown together. A sloppy setup, but the numbers were concerning.
At least thirty bandits, maybe more.
Leon crouched behind a fallen log, watching as the bandits lounged near the fire, drinking and laughing. They weren't expecting trouble.
Perfect.
Leon gestured to his men. Archers took position on the ridgeline, while the main force crept into striking range.
Then, with a sharp motion—
The attack began.
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Arrows rained from the trees, striking down sentries before they could react. Screams of confusion erupted as the bandits scrambled for weapons.
Leon surged forward, sword flashing. He parried a wild strike, spun, and drove his blade into an enemy's gut. The man collapsed with a choked gasp.
To his right, Garrick barreled through another, shield slamming into the man's ribs with a sickening crunch.
The militia followed, their training paying off. They fought in groups—shields forming a defensive wall, spears striking out from behind.
The bandits, caught off guard, began to break.
But as Leon drove his blade into another enemy, a strange feeling crawled up his spine.
Something was wrong.
That was when he heard it.
A deep, inhuman growl.
---
From the largest tent at the back of the camp, a figure emerged.
Not a man. Not entirely.
Tall, cloaked in shadow, with glowing red eyes peering from beneath a hood. The air around him shimmered unnaturally.
Leon's grip tightened on his sword. "Garrick, pull the men back."
Garrick didn't hesitate. He banged his shield twice, signaling a retreat formation. The militia fell into defensive positions, shields raised.
The hooded figure raised a hand.
The ground trembled.
Corpses twitched. Then, slowly… they stood.
The dead bandits rose with vacant eyes, weapons still in hand.
A Necromancer.
Leon gritted his teeth. So this was the real reason for the bandit camp.
Not just common outlaws—they were being used. Controlled.
---
The Necromancer tilted his head, studying Leon. Then, in a voice like dry leaves in the wind, he spoke.
"You are more troublesome than I expected."
Leon didn't respond. He was already calculating. A direct fight was too risky. His men weren't ready to handle this kind of enemy.
But they didn't need to win.
They just needed to cripple the bandit forces and escape.
Leon turned to Garrick. "We're falling back. Burn the camp as we go."
Garrick nodded.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, Leon activated his Extraction Ability.
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[Extraction Activated]
- Wooden Barriers → Salvaged Lumber (Usable for defenses)
- Abandoned Weapons → Usable Materials (Iron, Leather, Cloth)
- Campfire Embers → Spreading Fire
Leon directed the power toward the largest pile of supplies. The fire leapt unnaturally, spreading faster than it should have.
Smoke erupted into the sky.
The bandits—those still alive—began fleeing in panic. The undead, confused, stood motionless as the flames crept toward them.
The Necromancer scowled. "Clever."
Leon smirked. "I try."
Then he turned and ran.
---
By the time Leon's forces reached the settlement, the first light of dawn had broken.
They had lost two men in the skirmish, and several were wounded. But the bandits? They had been scattered. Their camp was gone.
And more importantly—Leon now knew what he was truly up against.
A Necromancer.
One tied to the Eclipse Covenant.
As he stood atop the walls of his settlement, watching the smoke rise in the distance, Leon clenched his fists.
This was only the beginning.
But now? Now he had a name.
A target.
The war had truly begun.
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