Ultimate Assassin Saga: Woodlands

The Star Elves looked at one another, muttering among themselves. He could hear some comments, most of them saying that they didn't want to leave. They wanted to gather the bones of the pit and take them back home. Others however knew that what he said was true and that they would come back to get the bones after the battle with the power and the Undead was over.

Finally, the Star Elves moved away from the pit and back into formation. Nodding his head to the four Warrior Lords that walked on either side of him, two to a side, he turned and walked towards the power once again. This battle was going to take place today, and win or lose, they would be facing off with the thing that had been plaguing the Star Elves for centuries. However, he was counting on their victory. If they didn't win, the Undead would continue to go unchecked.

Acheron wouldn't have that.

XXXXXXXXXX

Acre walked beside the Chaos Demon, but his mind wasn't on the upcoming battle. Instead, it was a whirl with thoughts of the corpses that they'd found in the pit. He hadn't been able to identify any of the skeletons, but he knew that they would return for them once the battle was over and then they would be able to identify them. He had to be confident that they would return from the battle in one piece and that they could return the bones to the Star Elf village without hindrance.

In the meantime, he knew that he had to appear strong for his people. If he showed any worry or any doubt, the men of the First Wave would waver and he couldn't have that. The warriors needed to remain steadfast in their belief that they would win this battle. That was the only thing that he could allow into any of their minds right now and he knew it.

Anything less and they would fail.

The Star Elf touched the broadsword at his hip and he felt wrong without his Pulse Rifle. They had decided collectively that there was no way they could bring their Pulse Rifles with them. To do so, they would have to charge a few energy stones with magic so the rifles would fire and they didn't have time for that. To charge so many stones, it would take a lot of energy out of them and then they would have to wait before going into battle because they would be tired from charging the stones. Time wasn't a luxury they didn't have so they'd decided to leave the Pulse Rifles at home instead.

The Warrior Lord knew that they would be a fighting force with the Pulse Rifles in hand, but they simply didn't have the time to wait. That was why they'd gone out into the Whispering Jungle with just their bladed weapons and their own wits. They had no choice but to use the weapons that were the easiest to make.

If he were honest with himself, Acre was more comfortable with a sword than a Pulse Rifle. The comforting weight of a sword in his hand brought him great comfort and he often went into a zone when he was fighting with a sword that he didn't get with using a Pulse Rifle. He supposed that was because he was actually having to exert himself and depend on his skills instead of how quick his trigger finger was.

He knew that most of the Warrior Lords liked depending on their bladed weapons instead, but the same couldn't be siad for the others. They'd gotten a little too attached to their Pulse Rifles and they had a hard time with close, face to face battles. They'd become to reliant on the technology that had always been there and it was time that they were broke of the habit. No, it was time that they were shown the true meaning of being a Star Elf Warrior and allow them to embrace it in their own time.

The Star Elf shook his head and he turned his attention to where he was going. He knew that there could be other traps so he kept his eyes on the ground, watching and being careful. If he saw one of these traps, he would make sure that no one engaged it. They couldn't afford to lose people before they got to the battle. It was almost guaranteed that they would lose warriors when they reached the battle and there was no way to keep that from happening. It would simply have to be accepted and they would have to move on from it.

Several minutes of walking later and they'd cleared many traps already. One had been a pitfall that was filled with sharpened stakes like the last one, only this one had been empty. Another had been an ankle snare that would snatch around your ankle when you stepped into it and lift you upside down in a tree. The other common one that they'd seen was a rock fall where you would trip a wire and a harness filled with huge boulders above would releases, allowing the boulders to fall, crushing anything below them.

Acheron had caught each of these traps, engaging them before anyone could see them. He knew that if Acheron hadn't been there, they would've tripped any one of the traps and they would've lost many numbers. It was only through pure luck that the Star Elves had Acheron on their side and that they were going to survive the traps because of his keen eyes.

Suddenly, they stepped out of the Jungle beyond and into a clearing. Acre stopped and stared at the scene before him. There was a huge, egg shaped rock floating in the middle of the clearing and it was surrounded by shimmering, sickly green light. There were several markings on the rock that he had no idea what said and he had a feeling that it was no known language of this world. However, the rock seemed...different somehow. Insubstantial, like it wasn't even there while there at the same time.

That wasn't the most distressing thing though.

What was distressing was the fact that there were hundreds upon hundreds of the Undead gathered around the stone, all slavering for live flesh. They were of several races: Human, Elf, Dwarf, Centaur, Orc, Ogre, Goblin, Troll, Giant, and several other species'. As he watched, they seemed to be multiplying by the number, growing in larger and larger numbers, but they all had one thing in common. They were surrounded by that sickly green light, but it was quickly fading from their skeletal like bodies.

As if on a string, every one of the Undead's heads turned and their glowing ruby red eyes lit upon the force before them. There were loud, hungry groans from the Undead and they began to race towards them, their legs carrying them faster than they should've been able to move. He stared at the creature's in amazement, their speed that of a regular human being when they should've been traveling slowly.

When had they gotten so fast? Every single Zombie that he'd ever fought had barely lumbered and that had made things much easier. However, these Zombies were moving like normal people and didn't seem affected by their deaths at all. There was something different about these Zombies, their speed was a clear indicator of that.

He noticed that some of the Zombies were complete bone while others were covered in rotting flesh. Some were without weapons and others wielded swords and shields. It was an amazing mix of people's all united under one goal: to feed on the live flesh that had come into their den.

Acre reached down and closed his hand around his sword hilt. Before he could even draw the weapon, Acheron had drawn his Diamond Blade and was rushing into the clearing towards the Undead. Seeing this, he knew that they couldn't leave him alone so he drew his broadsword and raised it in the air. He let loose a battle cry and he raced after the man.

He heard the cries of other Elves as they joined in on the attack, swords ringing free of their scabbards and boots stomping the grass under their feet. The battle had begun and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. Until the last man was dead, they would fight on, and hopefully, they would be victorious.

That thought fled his mind when he clashed against the Zombies, his sword swinging and slicing through flesh. He blocked the attack of one Zombie sword with his own and he swung forward with his other hand, punching the Zombie in the face. When it stumbled back, he swung his sword and decapitated the creature. Before it fell, he was turning away and slicing through the next member of the Undead.

The Star Elf ducked the broad pickaxe strike from a barely there Minotaur Zombie, the pickaxe sweeping just above his head. When the axe had passed, he drove his sword forward and it slammed home into the beast's gut. Then, he straightened, put a foot against the creature, and pushed, freeing his sword so he could continue on with the battle unhindered.

He angled his sword downwards, blocking the low sweep of a Dwarven hammer at his kneecaps. The sound of metal ringing together filled his ears when the hammer hit his sword and repelled it. Then, he raised his sword overhead with both hands and brought it down on the Dwarf's skull. The blade split the metal helmet the tiny man held, cutting into flesh and blood flew from the wound. The creature cried out and fell over, its eyes glazed over in final death. The moment he turned, a large goblins handaxe was coming down and he tried to sidestep the attack, but the edge of the axe struck through the sleeve of his tunic, biting into flesh.

He hissed at the sharp edge biting into flesh and he felt the warmth of blood pouring down his arm. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he blocked the next blow from the goblin, knocking the blade aside. Then, he brought his sword to bare and he disemboweled the goblin with a single slash deep into the creature's gut.

The Warrior Lord turned once again and he saw a heavily armored Human Zombie racing towards him. The creature had already lifted its greatsword above his head and was swinging it downward, obviously trying to cleave him in two. He sidestepped the attack at the last second, the greatsword flying right past him and slamming into the spot that he'd just been standing. Without hesitation, he plunged his broadsword into one side of the Human Undead's jaw and watched as it popped out the other side. Pulling the blade free, the creature fell and he turned again, ready to keep battling.

There were no Zombies coming towards him so he took a moment to stop and take stock of the battle. The other Warrior Lords were easily slicing through the Zombies, not one of them showing any wounds, though they did look a little haggard from the battle. The other Star Elves weren't faring as well though. The sheer number of the Zombies were starting to take its toll and more than fifty Elves lay on the Jungle floor, either dead or dying from grievous wounds.

He also noticed that the battle was seemingly unending, the crowd of the Undead not thinning in the least. In fact, the number of Undead seemed to be increasing as they battled and he knew that it was a very real possibility. He didn't know where all the Undead were coming from, but it obviously had something to do with that huge glowing rock in the center which was being protected by the Zombies.

Wait, that was it. The Undead were protecting the stone. They didn't have minds of their own so they couldn't be doing it on their own. Something was controlling the Undead and keeping them in line to protect the stone. The stone, which still seemed to shimmer in and out of existence, was the key to this whole thing. If they destroyed the stone, then the Undead would stop manifesting and the battle would be over. The Star Elves would be free.

As he looked on, he noticed that Acheron was pushing deeper and deeper into the Zombies. He was yet to be injured either, his Diamond Blade blocking attacks with deceptive ease and swinging the blade to end the lives of the Undead around him. However, his path was a set and obvious one. He was moving right towards that stone. He must've figured out what he'd figured out: the stone was the key to it all.

Acre sensed movement behind him and he knew that it could only be an enemy. He quickly whirled around, his broadsword swinging in a wide arc downwards. The Elven Zombie that had been intending to impale him on its long spear was cut down with a blade to the neck, decapitating the creature. The head of the creature rolled on the ground as the body fell to the ground and he watched as three more Elven Zombies moved towards him, their speed incredible considering that they were suppose to be dead.

The three Elves all wielded the same weapon: a shortsword. They moved in a flanking position, one to come at him from the middle while the other two came at him from the sides. This was the perfect way to corner him, and even if he were to counter one, the other two would cut him down while he did so. This only went his way of proving that these Undead were being directed. There was no way a creature that's only thoughts were of eating live flesh could come up with such a battle technique alone.

Seeing no other option, the Warrior Lord cast his eyes to the Jungle floor. Gritting his teeth at the sight of the Goblin at his feet, his eyes went immediately to the handaxe that it held loosely in its hands. Cursing inwardly, he quickly bent down and picked up the weapon in his free hand, standing to stare at the three Elves with battle lust in his eyes.

If he was going to die here, he was going to take a couple - if not all - of them with him.

"Come on, you bastards." Acre growled angrily at them and he twisted the two weapons in a tight circle in his hands. He bent his knees slightly and got ready to move. It was as if his words sent a message to their brain because at that very moment, all three of them shot forward and swung their blades at him.

Seeing this, the Star Elf did the only thing he could. He sidestepped in front of the Elven Zombie on the far left and raised his handaxe, blocking the sword of the Elf in front of him. At the same time, he raised his broadsword and blocked the Zombie in the middle. The Elven Zombie on the far right's blade completely missed him and now all he had to do was get these two off of him.

Gathering strength in both of his arms, the Warrior Lord pushed with both of his arms and sent the two Zombies stumbling backwards. The moment this happened, he shot forward and he sliced the throat of the one in front of him with the handaxe. When that creature fell, he decapitated the Zombie in the middle, but before it could fall, he dropped the handaxe in his hand, catching the Zombie in the middle's shortsword before it fell to the ground. All in one movement, he spun and blocked the coming strike from the last Zombie with his own broadsword before plunging the blade of the shortsword into the last Zombie's gut.

He released the blade and took a couple of steps back, watching the creature. It cried out in pain and dropped its own sword to the Jungle floor. It grabbed at the blade in its stomach with both hands and tried to pull it out, but it failed. The creature fell to its knees and then collapsed, sprawling on the jungle floor, dead.

"Well, that was easy." Acre muttered sarcastically to himself and he turned once again, searching out for more combatants. Already, there was a Troll headed right for him, its large wooden club held tightly in its hand. The creature reached him and swung the weapon down, aiming for his skull.

Surprised by the large creature's speed, the Star Elf nearly didn't react in time. He managed to step back three times, the club slamming into the ground right in front of him and blasts of dirt, rocks, and twigs flew up into his face, hitting him. He closed his eyes instinctively, and when he opened them once more, the Troll was already attacking again.

The Troll's club slammed into his gut and sent him sprawling backwards as pain erupted inside of him. He flipped backwards again and again in the dirt, his head hitting a rock when he stopped. He was laying on his side, pain fluttering throughout his entire body, but he knew that he had to get up. If he didn't, his death would be met and he had no intention of going to his patron god just yet. He still had many things to do in this life and he wasn't going to miss out on even one of them because of some undead flesh addict.

"Fuck." Acre spat out as he managed to roll onto his fours and he could feel the ground shaking under him. The Troll was moving towards him and was obviously intending to end this battle. Cursing, he raised his head and saw the Troll right above him, its lips peeled back in a battle snarl as it raised its club over its head, intending to swing it downwards.

Panic filled him and he found that time had slowed. So, this was how he was going to die huh? It wasn't anything like what he'd thought it would be. He'd thought he'd go out on his feet, but apparently, he was going to die on his knees. Well, wasn't life funny.

Time sped up once again and he watched the club coming closer to him, its extreme force enough to tear his body to pieces with one hit. He kept his eyes open, wanting to see his death when he went to see his god. Suddenly, something slammed into the club the Troll was using and it exploded into splinters in its hand. He stared wide eyed as the Troll raised its shattered club and stared at the handle of the destroyed club, obviously bewildered.

Before the beast could react, the Star Elf quickly pushed to his feet, ignoring the pain that exploded through him. The moment that he had his feet under him, he gritted his teeth and lunged forward, his broadsword held in both hands. It sank into the creature's chest, breaking out of its back with extreme force and the creature cried out as blood poured over his hands. He stared up into the ugly face of the Undead Troll and he saw no fear there. It was alreay dead after all and it wouldn't have a mind to no fear.

With great effort, the Warrior Lord pulled his broadsword free of the creature and he watched as it fell to its back on the ground. Seeing the handle of the club in his hand, he frowned and he looked around, searching for the one that had destroyed the club, saving his life in the process. His eyes alit upon Acheron on the distance and he winked with a grin before continuing his own battle towards the large egg shaped stone.

Grinning to himself, Acre ignored the pain and he fought on.

XXXXXXXXXX

Acheron turned away from saving the Warrior Lord of the First Wave. He'd seen the Warrior Lord was in trouble and he'd manifested a dagger, throwing it as hard as he could. When the dagger had slammed into the club of the Troll, it had exploded and the Warrior Lord had dealt with the creature.

With his friend saved, he could focus on his own battles. The large egg shaped stone was more than one hundred yards from him, its green glow like a beacon to him, drawing him closer. However, he noticed once again the strangeness of the item. It seemed to move in and out of reality, substantial at one moment and like a ghost of an item the next. This confused him, but he wasn't about to allow that to get in his way of getting to and destroying the stone.

It was the only way to end this battle.

The Chaos Demon saw a heavily armored Dwarf charging him, its flesh having been peeled back from its face, revealing its skull beneath. It had once been someone's son or brother or father or uncle, but now, it was nothing more than an Undead creature that needed to die. To raise the dead and use them as your own personal army was an abomination. The dead were dead and they belonged in their graves, resting in peace. They didn't deserve to be in battle after their spirits had left, fighting against an enemy that they would never have fought against in their first lives.

Shaking off his reverie, the Command Assassin watched as the Undead Dwarf got closer, its armored boots clanking. It was a strange noise for him to notice in the middle of all the screams, battle cries, and metal ringing against metal or bone. Nevertheless, he heard it and there was no ignoring it, making it seem like some sort of suspenseful death knell.