The March to Xendria
With half the enemy force slaughtered, the survivors attempted to regroup.
Marshal Darius, despite the horrific loss, refused to retreat.
"We still outnumber them," he told his officers. "We will crush the undead before they reach the capital."
But Ren was already three steps ahead.
He didn't just want to cripple the enemy.
He wanted to eradicate them.
The Ambush at Dawn
With the remaining 150,000 soldiers marching toward Ironhold, Ren prepared his final trap.
He sent a small force of 5,000 undead riders to harass the enemy, forcing them into a narrow canyon known as The Black Maw.
Marshal Darius took the bait.
He led his remaining forces into the canyon, believing they were about to crush Ren's last defenders.
Instead, they walked into a massacre.
The Canyon Collapse
The moment the Xendrian army entered the Black Maw, Ren gave the order.
His necromancers, stationed on the canyon walls, unleashed devastating magic.
The very earth trembled, as massive boulders crashed down, crushing thousands beneath the rubble. Dark fire rained from the sky, turning once-proud knights into charred husks. The dead rose from the canyon floor, tearing into the panicked survivors.
There was no escape.
Within hours, the greatest army in history was reduced to nothing.
The Xendrian Empire's last hope had been obliterated.
Ren Nightfell, the Undying King
News of the disaster at the Black Maw spread like wildfire.
The five allied kingdoms, upon hearing of the loss, withdrew their support, fearing that they, too, would be destroyed.
For the first time in centuries, the Xendrian Empire was defenseless.
Ren Nightfell now had a clear path to the capital.
He had conquered two fortresses, annihilated the empire's greatest army, and shattered their alliances.
The world now belonged to him.
And soon, all would bow before the Undying King.
---
The fall of the Black Maw was a turning point in the war.
The Xendrian Empire had gambled everything on one final battle, and they had lost.
With their armies in ruins, their alliances broken, and their morale shattered, the once-mighty empire was now on the brink of collapse.
And Ren Nightfell was ready to end it all.
Securing the Path
Ren stood at the edge of the battlefield, his glowing red eyes surveying the endless sea of corpses.
"How many of them are usable?" he asked, his voice calm yet filled with an unmistakable authority.
His necromancer lieutenant, Varian Graves, bowed slightly before answering.
"Nearly 80,000, my lord," Varian said. "Their bodies are fresh, and their spirits have not yet faded. They will serve well."
Ren smirked.
"Then raise them."
With a single gesture, dark energy surged across the field, creeping into the corpses like roots spreading through soil.
Moments later, the dead twitched, convulsed, and finally stood once more—their eyes glowing with a cold, unnatural light.
Just like that, Ren had turned the empire's greatest army into his own.
The March Begins
With his undead legions now stronger than ever, Ren gave the order:
"We march to Xendria."
The capital city was only three weeks away, and there was nothing left to stop him.
As his forces advanced, the last remnants of the Xendrian military fled before them.
Border towns surrendered without a fight. Villages threw open their gates, fearing total annihilation. Even the remaining noble houses sent envoys, begging for mercy.
But Ren had no intention of showing mercy.
This was not a war for territory or politics.
This was a reckoning.
The Emperor's Last Stand
In the heart of the Xendrian capital, Emperor Lucian Valerius III sat upon his golden throne, his hands trembling as he read the latest reports.
Ren Nightfell was coming.
And there was nothing left to stop him.
"How many soldiers do we still have?" Lucian asked, his voice weak.
His military advisor, Duke Albrecht Vaughn, hesitated before answering.
"A mere 12,000, Your Majesty."
Lucian felt the weight of the words crushing him.
Twelve thousand? Against an army of over 200,000 undead?
It was suicide.
But what choice did he have?
If Xendria fell, so would the entire empire.
And so, with no other option, Lucian declared martial law and ordered every able-bodied man in the city to take up arms.
Even the nobles and merchants were forced to fight.
Xendria would not go quietly.
Siege of the Capital
Three weeks later, Ren's forces arrived at the gates of Xendria.
The greatest city in the world—home to over a million people—now stood on the verge of destruction.
From atop the city's massive walls, the last defenders of the empire stared down in horror.
The fields outside the capital were blackened with undead, stretching as far as the eye could see.
The army Ren had brought to finish the war was unlike anything the world had ever witnessed.
Siege beasts, animated by necromantic energy, prowled the front lines, their rotting flesh dripping with dark power. Wraith knights, clad in spectral armor, floated above the ranks, their swords glowing with deathly energy. And at the center of it all, Ren Nightfell himself, seated upon a throne of bones, watching the city like a predator stalking its prey.
With a single wave of his hand, the assault began.
Breaking the Walls
The first attack came at dawn.
Ren's siege necromancers unleashed devastating dark magic, bombarding the city walls with waves of shadowflame.
Massive explosions tore through the stone, sending debris and defenders flying. Dark tendrils snaked through the cracks, infecting the fortress with an unstoppable curse. Undead gargoyles, summoned from the depths of the abyss, soared over the city, attacking from above.
Within hours, the first section of the wall collapsed.
And the undead poured in.
The City Burns
The streets of Xendria became a war zone.
Soldiers clashed with skeletons, their swords breaking against enchanted bone. Necromancers raised the dead mid-battle, turning fallen defenders into enemies within seconds. Civilians ran screaming, only to be cut down in the chaos.
Despite their desperation, the defenders fought valiantly.
But Ren's army was endless.
For every undead that fell, ten more rose in its place.
It was not a battle.
It was a slaughter.
The Emperor Falls
Deep inside the imperial palace, Emperor Lucian stood with his last guards, waiting for the inevitable.
The throne room doors burst open, revealing Ren Nightfell, flanked by his dark champions.
Lucian drew his sword.
"Do you think I will beg for my life?" he spat.
Ren smiled.
"I was hoping you wouldn't."
Lucian charged.
It was futile.
With a single motion, Ren raised his hand, and dark energy engulfed the emperor.
Lucian screamed as his body withered, his flesh rotting away in seconds.
When the light faded, the emperor was gone.
And in his place stood a new undead servant, bowing before his new master.
The Birth of a New Empire
By midnight, Xendria had fallen.
The city burned, its once-proud streets now filled with the walking dead.
Ren stood on the balcony of the imperial palace, overlooking his new domain.
The Xendrian Empire was no more.
In its place, a new order would rise.
A world where the dead ruled the living.
A world where Ren Nightfell was king.