A New World, an immersive game experience

One gold... That was what her life was worth. No, even less than that. Dead, a corpse. Her body would be worth a handful of silvers, perhaps even a dozen. After all, just a few days ago, she was a captain of the guard, someone who has perfected her skills and reached Tier 5 through diligent training. Her young age meant she still had much to look forward to, that she had...

Her body was the perfect material for the undead. An average necromancer wouldn't be able to keep her at that level, they might turn to making her a flaming reanimate. But even then, the chances were that she would die. After all, successfully creating a flaming reanimate was only a 1 in 3 chance.

Knowing this, or at least speculating such, Adriana knew her life was actually only worth eighty or so silvers. A pitiable amount. It could keep a family fed for a few months, but to assign it as the worth of life was cruel.

That, however, was not what occupied her mind as she moved along with the others. Nor was it fear for the experimentation to come. She was sure it would, as that was the only reason to keep them alive.

Experimentation to form unique undead variations. Such as the skeleton who owned her now and the zombie before, undead capable of thought were rare.

As dreadful as she was sure it was going to be, it did not occupy her mind. No, what she saw each time she closed her eyes were her younger brother and father being tossed to the undead. Torn apart as those beasts fed.

It was for this reason too that no centaurs were among them. Their larger frames meant more food, and unless they were outstanding, they were used as such.

The only silver lining, perhaps, was that she did not need to fear being violated. The undead had no such desires—at least, that held for most of their kind, but not all.

It was not much, but her maiden pride would not be torn asunder. A silver lining to the dark, pitch black clouds above her and the others.

Attempting her utmost to expel her nightmares, she placed one foot in front of the other. Trudging along as their new owner ordered them to march. A march of the undead, endless, restless.

Some might drop dead if the skeleton did not allow them to rest. Yet, even with death before them, they could not resist. The slave collars around their necks made it impossible to do so.

The collar wasn't a contract, there was a possibility of escape. But not without a third party's help. Adriana did not think such luck would befall them. Not after Trigora had fallen.

Thinking of what would come from its collapse, her heart ached. Many more would follow in her footsteps. Much like how the western corner of the kingdom had collapsed under the orcs' invasion, the eastern side would now follow. Perhaps the entire southern border would fall.

—

Weeks had passed since Theas invited, or more so, dragged her to Ganalin. Weeks of slaughter.

Their line had been pushed back to the edge of the passage, where they had erected makeshift walls and brought dozens of cannons to bear. Thanks to Theas and those under his command, the battlements were completed, and they kept the reavers at bay. Still, fighting occurred daily.

Resting after an incursion, Vivian enjoyed the simple flavor of the soup filling her mouth. It was reaver soup, the horrid rubber like meat cooked to the point where even it became edible. And the vegetables and spices masked its monster taste.

It was by no means an enjoyable dinner, but it was no longer disgusting. It was on even above what a common farmer would be able to enjoy.

Vivian ate in silence, not because she had made no friends, but because she was working through her thoughts and didn't want to be bothered. However, Theas soon interrupted her mulling.

"Drink up, las." Offering her a mug of ale, Theas downed his own. Setting aside her soup, Vivian did the same.

"How many lost today?" She asked.

"Just four died. Some lost their arms or legs, but they'll be back on the field in a month. Gotta hand it to these cannons. They make things simple. We don't need to clash with them directly."

The dwarves couldn't allow such a large horde of reavers to move freely, so each day, they dispatched a group to lure them to the walls. Where the cannons would then make quick work of them.

Even knowing it was a trap, the reavers never learned. Especially since if they tried to hold back, the group would aim for a queen. Which sent all their younglings into a frenzy.

"Was this why you brought me here?" Vivian asked. Being on the battlefield, she was no stranger to death, but losing her father had struck her far harder. Throwing herself into training, she had tried to fill the hole his loss left in her heart, but it remained, bleeding.

The artifact Eldrian had created certainly helped, but it did not fill the hole. It allowed her to accept the facts, but that didn't mean her heart didn't ache, her anger didn't boil.

"Nah, I know you've experienced enough death. Now, stop being a snob and join the others." Dragging Vivian with him, Theas brought her to the squad who she had joined on today's incursion.

Seeing them, she faltered. Her mind immediately turning to those they had lost. She had not been particularly close to them, but their loss still hurt. But what hurt more was how close those dwarves were to those lost.

As if waiting for her arrival, as soon as she joined, they downed their drinks to those they had lost today.

"To Sven!"

"To Arvid!"

"To Unn!"

"To Edith!"

Each time, they downed a mug. This left Vivian near her limit. Even with her body's enhanced vitality, five mugs of ales was simply too much for someone who had only recently started drinking.

But that was the point. Even the dwarves felt the effects of the ale. Not to the effect that their footing was unstable, but it opened their hearts.

"I still remembered when I got a spanking because of Sven." One dwarf started recounting with a faint, reminiscent smile playing on his bearded face. "The bugger thought he was smart, so we sneaked into grandpa's basement to steal some brandy."

"Naturally, he dragged me with. It was grandpa's pride and joy, so I also wanted a taste." The dwarf laughed, recalling this memory extremely fondly. Tears formed in his eyes as he continued to speak. "Little did we know just how strong it was. One whiff and we stumbled. And our stumbling caused the keg to fall..."

"We were so drunk off the fumed it took days before we recalled anything, and once we did, our grandpa really let us have it..."

With the story finished, everyone downed another mug. Then the next dwarf spoke. "I only recently worked up the courage to ask Unn to marry me..."

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