The Last City Standing
His army had grown stronger—far stronger than before.
With every conquest, his control over death itself deepened.
But now, something else loomed on the horizon.
Something far more dangerous than a mere city.
A Council of the Doomed
Before him knelt three men—former nobles of Dunmark, their faces pale with fear.
"You ruled this city," Ren said casually, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "You knew its weaknesses. Yet, you did nothing to stop me. Why?"
The eldest of the three swallowed hard.
"We—w-we never thought—"
Ren sighed. Weak.
He had no patience for men who broke so easily.
"Kill him," he said.
A shadow moved—one of his undead knights stepping forward. The noble barely had time to scream before a sword drove through his chest.
The other two gasped, their bodies trembling.
Ren leaned forward.
"Now," he said, his tone like ice. "Let's try again. Who truly holds power in this kingdom?"
The second noble broke immediately.
"The Triarchs!" he blurted, his breath ragged. "They rule from the capital, ruling over the three major cities—Dunmark, Velstadt, and Ironreach!"
Ren smiled.
Perfect.
The March to War
Hours later, the war drums sounded once more.
Ren's army moved like a storm, sweeping across the land without resistance.
The living soldiers of Dunmark had surrendered, too terrified to fight against a force that never tired, never bled, never feared.
And with every mile they marched—Ren's undead ranks grew.
The fallen rose again under his banner.
Velstadt was next.
A city of knights. Warriors bound by honor and tradition.
Ren would break them.
The Final Stand of Velstadt
When Ren arrived at Velstadt's gates, he found them already fortified.
The knights had heard of Dunmark's fate.
They would not surrender so easily.
Ren stood before the army—his undead generals at his side.
Goaty snorted, sparks of golden energy crackling around his horns.
Ren raised a hand.
"Attack."
The siege began.
The undead swarmed the walls, arrows and ballista bolts tearing through them—but it didn't matter.
They did not stop.
They did not feel pain.
And then came Goaty.
The golden beast charged—crashing into the walls with a force that sent stone and steel flying.
Velstadt's defenses collapsed.
And as Ren stepped through the shattered gates, he knew.
This kingdom was already his.
A New Era
That night, as he stood atop Velstadt's citadel, Ren gazed upon his growing empire.
Three cities. An army that only grew stronger.
Soon… the capital would fall.
And then, he would take the throne.
Goaty let out a victorious bleat.
Ren grinned.
"The world belongs to the dead now."
---
The banners of Velstadt lay in the dirt, trampled beneath the boots of the living and the undead alike. The city had fallen, its once-proud knights reduced to either loyal servants of Ren or lifeless corpses reanimated for his cause.
Yet, he was not done.
One final city stood between him and complete control over the kingdom.
Ironreach.
The capital.
The seat of the Triarchs—the last rulers of this land.
A city built not on honor like Velstadt, nor on strategy like Dunmark, but on power.
For centuries, it had been the beating heart of the kingdom. The stronghold of mages, warlords, and legendary warriors.
And now, it would be his.
Ren stood before his war table, eyes fixed on the map of Ironreach.
It was different from the other cities he had taken.
The walls were thick and layered with magic.
The soldiers were battle-hardened veterans.
And the people?
They knew that surrender meant more than just death.
It meant becoming part of his army.
He needed to be smarter.
Roderic, his most competent human general, spoke first.
"My lord, a direct attack would cost us thousands. The city's defenses are unlike anything we've faced."
Ren nodded.
That was obvious.
Yet, he had no intention of a direct attack.
Not when he had another way.
Ren stepped forward, dragging a dagger across the map, cutting a path through the city's outer districts.
"The people of Ironreach," he said, "believe their walls will protect them."
His red eyes gleamed.
"But walls don't stop starvation."
The room fell silent.
Roderic's expression shifted.
"You plan to siege them?"
Ren smirked.
"No," he said. "I plan to isolate them."
He turned to his undead officers.
"Every road, every river, every trade route that leads to Ironreach—cut them off."
His knights saluted.
He faced his human generals.
"Any remaining farmlands? Burn them."
Roderic hesitated for only a second before nodding.
And then, Ren turned to Goaty.
The golden-furred beast stomped the ground, sparks of pure energy crackling from his horns.
Ren grinned.
"You," he said, patting the goat's head, "are going to take their hope."
The Fall of Ironreach
Days turned to weeks.
The siege did not come with battering rams or catapults.
It came in silence.
Merchants stopped arriving.
Food stores ran low.
Fear spread like poison.
And then—
Goaty arrived.
One night, as the people of Ironreach watched from their towers, a golden blur moved across their fields.
Lightning crashed.
Farms burned to ash.
And every last hope they had of survival was erased in an instant.
The city shattered before the first soldier even stepped inside.
When Ren finally entered Ironreach, he was not met with swords.
Only silence.
The Triarchs had fled.
The army had surrendered.
And the people?
They bowed.
As he walked through the streets, past the starving, broken souls who now served him, he knew:
The war was over.
The kingdom was his.
Goaty let out a victorious bleat.
Ren chuckled.
"Time to find a new kingdom to conquer."
The banners of Ironreach fluttered under a sky of ashen gray. The city, once the heart of the kingdom, now lay silent under Ren's rule.
The war was over.
But Ren knew—wars end, but conquest never stops.
He stood atop the balcony of the royal palace, surveying the streets below. The people of Ironreach, his people now, were busy rebuilding. Some did so out of loyalty. Others out of fear.