The wasteland rarely had news. It preferred silence, dust, and bones that forgot the names of their owners. But that morning, the wind arrived with a message. It carried the stink of men who had gathered in fear, and the noise of their oaths—a noise that tried to be brave and only managed to be loud.
Lucas felt it before any scout reported. Crypt Sense licked the horizon and found fire-pits in triplicate, close enough that their smoke tangled. Not one enemy camp anymore, but three.
Selena leaned over the parapet of the Blood Gate, hair cascading like spilled light, eyes narrowed against the gray. "They huddle like rats when the torch comes out." Her smile was slow, almost indulgent. "An alliance."
Lucas said nothing. His gaze dissected the distant lines: standards planted together, sentries doubled, the rhythms of hammers striking faster as men built walls too thin to stop what already stalked them.
[Ding!]
[Foreign Alliance detected.]
[Participating Lords: Ramius of Iron Fang (F), Torrhen of the Ash Pike (F), Deyra of Hollow Flame (F).]
[Joint Objective: "Exterminate the aberrant Crypt Lord."]
[Alliance durability: High (fear-bonded).]
[Estimated coalition strength: 280 troops, mixed classes.]
Selena read the prompt aloud in a sing-song, mocking cadence. "Exterminate. Such a pretty word for men who couldn't keep their own knees from shaking." She glanced sidelong at Lucas. "Shall I go tonight and drink their pact dry before it cools?"
Lucas's expression did not change. "No. Let them finish binding themselves. The tighter the knot, the easier it strangles."
The council was convened again in the Red Gallery. The banners listened, their sigils curling tighter, as if hungry for new names to stitch. The black stone table was already scarred from claws and nails—Mirk's doing, when excitement outpaced obedience.
Vicarius, the Death Knight, loomed at the far end, his frost aura crawling along the floor like spilled smoke. Mirk and Var stood to one side, ropes coiled, their eyes alight with the joy of future work. The Bone Pack Alpha crouched beneath the table, tail vertebrae ticking like a metronome. Sentinels lined the walls, crimson eyes patient, silent judges.
Selena sat on the table's edge, bare feet swinging lightly, her elegance making the chamber itself look shabby. She had been watching Lucas since he entered, her lips curved in a smile that was not mockery and not affection, but something sharper.
"Their fires are close enough to gossip with one another," she said. "Three Lords, each weak enough alone, but together…" She shrugged. "A meal with too many side dishes."
Mirk rasped, "We kill. Fast. Dogs chew. Ghouls tie."
Var grinned with teeth too long for his mouth. "Hang heads. Show wall."
Selena tilted her head at them, amused. "Always so enthusiastic."
Vicarius spoke last, voice a grave opening. "Alliance breeds discipline. Discipline resists dread longer. Strategy is required."
Lucas allowed the words to settle. He could already see the shape of their error—three Lords thinking numbers were answers instead of variables. His mind laid the battlefield over the ribs and gullies: where their camps overlapped, where their patrols crossed, where pride kept them too close and suspicion kept them too far.
"They come because they believe alliance makes them safe," Lucas said. "We show them alliances rot faster than flesh."
He pointed at the map etched into the stone. "Ramius—Iron Fang. He bleeds first. Torrhen and Deyra trust him, but not each other. When he falls, their bond thins. Then we cut between them."
Selena clapped once, delighted. "Divide. Instructive."
Lucas's gaze swept the council. "Preparation. We seed fear deeper. Expand the slaughter zone. Pitch thicker. Arrows readier. When they march, they will step into death as if it were a gift."
The system answered his cruelty with its own enthusiasm.
[Ding!]
[Mutation Effect: Cruelty Index feeding into predictive algorithms.]
[Event Horizon widened: Alliance morale projected to falter 22% sooner under concentrated dread.]
[Option Unlocked: Dread Projection — spend Entropy Credits to haunt enemy camps nightly.]
Selena leaned close, lips brushing the air near his ear. "Haunt their dreams, Lucas. Make them wake screaming before they've seen our teeth."
Lucas chose without hesitation. Activate Dread Projection.
The banners above twitched. The spires exhaled, their shadows lengthening unnaturally. That night, the enemy camps would not sleep. Their fires would flicker in rhythms that suggested whispers. Their water would taste faintly of blood. Their horses would shy from invisible fangs.
On the ridge beyond, the alliance gathered.
Ramius of Iron Fang, his black coat still straight despite sleeplessness, slammed his gauntleted fist onto a map spread across a crate. His voice carried the sharp edge of pride too tired to dull. "We march together. We crush the Crypt. End this nightmare before it spreads."
Torrhen of Ash Pike sneered, his pike taller than he was, his armor stripped down to speed. "March? Into that charnel ground? You saw what happened to your scouts."
Deyra of Hollow Flame, pale and sharp-eyed, her hair bound with ash-soaked cloth, tapped a finger against the map. "We burn it. Fire makes no distinction between crypts and castles. We encircle, we torch, we leave nothing breathing."
Their lieutenants muttered. Their soldiers shifted, unease palpable even around the fires. The air already tasted wrong. Some swore they heard laughter just outside the ring of light.
Ramius snarled, "Fear is what he wants. Hold to the alliance. Three Lords together—nothing stands against that."
But when he turned, the shadows of the other two Lords stretched away from him, not toward.
Back in the Dark Castle, Selena perched on the parapet, watching the fires multiply. Her crimson eyes reflected them upside down. "They cling to each other like drunks holding hands in a flood. Shall I pull one finger at a time?"
Lucas joined her, cloak heavy with night. His gaze did not waver. "Not yet. Let them march. Let them believe alliance makes them immortal. Then we teach them alliances die screaming."
Selena's laughter slid into the air like silk drawn over a blade.
The system chimed again, cold and eager.
[Ding!]
[Incoming Event: Alliance Offensive scheduled within 48h.]
[Coalition Path: converging on Night Crypt.]
[Mutation Effect: Suffering will accelerate systemic instability.]
[Audit probability rising.]
Lucas placed his hand on the gate. The stone pulsed back, hot as blood.
"Good," he murmured. "Let them come."