"YES!"

A roar of cheers erupted as politicians and officers watched what happened through the choppy video stream from the Tempest Scions' actions. The grainy stream showed the Necromancer get shredded by the mines, and in an instant, the entire conference room rose to their feet, cheered wildly and applauded.

"Excellent work, Omega-191," the Communication Officer congratulated the team for a successful mission.

But Emperor Maximo's voice rang out, "Hold on," he said, raising a hand. "The mission isn't over. We still need to confirm whether the Necromancer's death affects the Undead army."

Silence fell over the room as eyes returned to the screens, feeling their hearts pounding as they waited, hoping that with the Necromancer destroyed, the dead would finally no longer rise up.

-----------------------

Austronesian Empire, Imperial Majahapit, New Guinea, New Guinea Highlands, Ambush Site B

1st Year of God, Monday, 4th Week, Month of Abraham

Coughing through the lingering haze of gun smoke, Specialist Sergeant Riley pushed himself up from where he had shielded Tavish, who lay groaning on the forest floor. Without hesitation, Riley motioned for Mason to assist and treat Tavish, then turned and headed back into the clearing.

Dark red blood splattered across the ground, mingled with the remains of the Orcs they had just fought. Riley readied his weapon and scanned the area for the Necromancer's last known position. The robed figure, once cloaked in ominous robes, had been shredded beyond recognition by the claymore mines, only the upper half of the torso remained, with its female elvish face still lying there.

Riley grimaced and looked away from the face, recalling what had happened to Tavish when he stared too long at the creature. Steeling himself, he drew his sword and hacked it down with all his strength, severing the head cleanly from the body. He quickly reached into his Spatial Ring, retrieving a bag of kosher salt mixed with holy water, and liberally sprinkled the mixture over the torso and the decapitated head. The final touch was a flask of alcohol, which he poured onto the body parts before setting them on fire.

Salt and holy water, even from local churches, worked as powerful purifiers, dispelling dark energies, and were surprisingly working. The flames that followed would ensure there was no chance of reanimation.

"Squad Three, what's your status, over?" Riley asked as he watched the fire consume the Necromancer's remains.

[We've pushed them back for the time being, they are still confused about where our location is,] Price reported. [But we got a huge bunch of really angry Orcs here!]

"Roger. Extract yourselves and meet us at the designated rally point Alpha, copy?" Riley responded.

[Copy that. Bugging out now,] Price responded as he fired a few rounds before disappearing into the thick cover of gun smoke, using it to mask their retreat.

"Squads One and Two, head to rally point Alpha, now!" Riley barked into the comms. He took one last look around for anything useful left behind by the Necromancer, but apparently, the claymores had obliterated everything. "Move it, people!"

At that moment, the sound of a war horn echoed from the Orc camps.

"Detonate the rest of the mines at the other sites, keep them busy!" Riley commanded, supporting Tavish's limp body as he hauled him over his shoulder. The enhanced strength of his MK-I armor allowed him to carry Tavish and his gear with ease. With a quick glance around, he broke into a jog and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Price and Polities were leading a group of enraged Orcs straight into Site C, where the ambush had been set. The Orcs cried out in bloodlust and excitement at the fleeing two soldiers, screaming vulgarities in their guttural tongue as they chased after them. Price and Polities hopped over a fallen log where they had hidden the detonator and timed it perfectly. As the Orcs entered the kill zone, the trap was sprung.

When the dust settled, nothing remained but blood, gore, and shattered equipment. Not sparing a moment to check, Price and Polities sprinted toward the rally point.

By the time they arrived, the rest of the team was already assembled. Squad Two kept watch, keeping an eye on the surroundings for any sign of pursuing enemies, while Woods from Squad One was providing medical aid to the mentally stunned Tavish, who was slowly recovering his wits.

"What happened?" Price asked, nodding towards Tavish and Woods.

"He nearly got his brain fried by some chaos or dark magic," Riley answered, "Mason saved his ass just in time."

"We got the target?" Price asked again.

"Beheaded and purified," Riley confirmed with a rare smile. "Alright, set up the comms array. Let's see what further instructions Command has."

Price gave a quick nod and gestured to Polities as the two moved toward higher ground to deploy the portable comms array in their backpacks, while Riley made his way over to check on Tavish.

"How's he doing?" Riley asked, watching Woods as he examined Tavish.

Woods pulled back one of Tavish's eyelids and examined his pupils. "He'll be fine after some rest. His brain couldn't handle the backlash from the raw chaos magic. Lucky for him, his willpower's strong enough to resist the worst of it," he explained, stowing his medical supplies. "If not," Woods mimicked a bird flying away with a shrug. "I gave him 10 ccs of a tranq-shot. He'll stay sedated until we can get him to proper medical care."

Riley nodded and headed up to where Squad Three was setting up the comms gear. A small foldable antenna disk stood atop a compact device with dials and wires humming with life. Price was adjusting the dish and aimed it toward the sky where the recon UAV was scheduled to pass.

"We've got a connection," Price called out, nodding toward Riley. "All yours."

Riley adjusted his helmet's comms set and spoke into the mic. "Scion Actual to Thunderchief, do you copy? Over."

[-derchief reading you loud and clear. Over.]

"Scion Actual, requesting further orders. Over."

[Thunderchief here. Command advises standby for confirmation on undead activity. If the threat remains, proceed with a secondary mission. Over.]

"Scion Actual copies. Out." Riley groaned quietly as he switched off his mic. He was tired and so was his men. "Alright," he said, addressing the squad over the all-team channel. "Pack it in. We'll lay low until nightfall."

Switching back to the local channel, he briefed the team. "Command wants us to assess the undead situation. If they're still active, we'll move to the secondary mission. Belinski, you'll hold the rally point and take care of Tavish. Squad Two will reinsert and standby at the mass grave site, while Squad Three and I head toward the Necromancer's suspected tent."

"Questions?" he asked, scanning the faces of his team. Seeing none, he added, "Rest up in rotations. We move out when night comes."

-----------------------

Jiak the SkullKrusher stood on top of a cliff, his gaze fixed on the battlefield below, barely flinching at the "pow pow" of human weapons filling the air. His attention was locked on a trio of Orc stone-throwers hard at work. Sheltered behind thick log walls, the Orc crew heaved the ropes of their massive trebuchet and launched a boulder the size of a full-grown Orc toward the enemy lines.

"Warleada! Warleada!" a scrawny Orc messenger came scrambling from the rear, panting as he approached.

"Wut iz it?" Jiak growled while his eyes were still on the battlefield.

"Someth'n 'as happened at 'da kamp! Smoke an' fire!" the messenger frantically stammered wide-eyed.

"Slow down!" Jiak snarled, using his fist to thump the messenger's head, causing the smaller Orc to stagger, clutching his head, but Jiak wasn't in the mood for babbling. "What happened at 'da kamp?"

"Uh... don't know," the messenger shrugged his shoulders as he rubbed the growing egg-sized lump on his head. "Just see'n smoke where 'da Elda was headin' ta."

"The Elda?" Jiak frowned, why has this idiot come to disturb him with such matters. "Da shamans can take kare uv demselves. Don't disturb me unless da kamp's unda attack or on fire!"

The messenger blinked and scratched his head in confusion, then nodded hurriedly. "Okey dokey," he mumbled and scrammed off.

Jiak grunted as he shook his head and returned his focus to the stone-throwers at work. Just as another boulder flew toward the humans, the same scrawny Orc came running back, flailing his arms.

"Eh, Warleada-"

"Wot now?" Jiak snapped, feeling his irritation rising. This war wasn't going the way he had planned, and his temper was growing shorter by the day.

"More smoke... an' boom booms an' shootas 'n 'da forest!" The messenger waved his arms wildly, trying to emphasize the size of the explosions.

"Shootas?" Jiak scrunched his face in confusion. Then it clicked. Boom boom, the sound of the 'umiez's tiny cannons. "Where?" he roared, grabbing the messenger by the scruff.

"Back at 'da kamp!" the Orc yelped, trembling as he pointed toward the rear.

Jiak paused, sensing his ears twitching as distant cracks followed by thunderous booms echoed through the forest, and his face twisted in fury. Shoving the messenger from his path and sprinted back toward the camp with his warriors fell in behind him.

The sharp cracks of human cannons rang in the distance, growing louder with every step.

As Jiak entered the camp, chaos surrounded him. Warriors stood around aimlessly, their faces contorted in confusion. The ground beneath his feet trembled as another ripple of sharp claps echoed through the camp, sending a faint shockwave that ruffled his cloak.

"Dis way!" Jiak bellowed, rallying his warriors. "Ta me!"

Following a well-worn path deeper into the forest, he found the bodies of Orc warriors scattered along the ground, some dead, others writhing in agony. Jiak knelt beside one, shaking him awake.

"Wot happened?" he demanded.

"The 'umiez..." the wounded Orc rasped as blood seeped from his mouth. "Dat way..."

"Go!" Jiak roared, sending his warriors ahead. Grabbing a nearby Orc, he growled, "Alert 'da kamp! 'Da 'umiez are attackin', prepare for battle!" He released the Orc and sprinted after his men, just as another ripple of explosions tore through the trees, closer this time. The shockwave hit him and his warriors hard, causing them to stumble.

"Wot iz happenin'?" Jiak cursed, teeth clenched as he ran. "How did 'da 'umiez appear without 'da patrols noticin'?"

The forest opened into a clearing and the air became thick with the scent of blood and death. Jiak gagged at the stench of charred flesh and soiled bowels. The ground was blackened, scorched by whatever powerful magic had ravaged this place. His eyes scanned the carnage, twisted limbs, smoldering corpses, and fragments of blood-soaked robes scattered like leaves.

"Where iz 'da Elda?" Jiak growled as he tried to piece together what had happened here, while his battle-hardened warriors, upon seeing the scene, were speechless and their faces became pale. They looked at him and shook their heads in helpless silence as they were unable to answer Jiak's question.

"Find 'da Elda! Spread out!" he roared which shook the terrified warriors from their hesitation. "GO!"

The camp was in disarray, but despite the best efforts of his trackers, no trace of the Elder Shaman could be found, even the fellow Shamans remaining in the camps as they were unable to sense even a faint hint of the Elder's presence.

"We kouldn't feel 'em at all," one of the hooded shamans muttered to Jiak in a trembling voice. "Not even 'da Spirit..."

"Kurses!" Jiak spat, feeling his frustration boiling over. "How about 'da 'umiez? Any trace?" His lieutenants shook their heads while avoiding his gaze.

"Wot have ya been doin' all dis time!" Jiak roared angrily.

One of the lieutenants scratched his head sheepishly. "We... umm... found 'da sky nice..."

Jiak's temper flared. "Nevermind! Use da squigs or da vroom vrooms! FIND 'DA 'UMIEZ AN' DA ELDA NOW!!" He waved madly at his warriors, making them flinch back in fear and respect.

His warriors bowed and turned to their subordinates and started handing down orders and instructions, using kicks and punches to drill it into their thick skulls.

Jiak returned his gaze at the bloody site, the sticky blood already turning dry in the sun, attracting hundreds of insects and small creatures to feed on the mess.

"'Da Elda kouldn't have been stomped..." he muttered to himself. "No... 'da Elda's protected by 'da spirits. Even if I faced 'da Elda, I wouldn't stand a chance."

"'Da Elda kouldn't have been stomped..." he muttered to himself, "No... 'da Elda iz protected by 'da spirits. Even if I match against 'da Elda, I won't possibly win at all."

But yet a doubt remained in his heart. He looked at the charred patch of grass in the middle of the clearing again, wondering what had happened here.

-----------------------

Riley cleaned Tavish's shotgun and bandolier, the rhythmic clinking of metal parts and the soft hum of field maintenance filled the air as the team prepared for their next move. Tavish's remaining 8.5mm magazines were distributed among the others, each soldier silently checking their gear to ensure everything was in order. The team rotated through sentry duties while resting, eating, maintaining their weapons and waiting for the cover of night to descend.

Polities had already cast [Field of Non-Detection], erasing both their physical and magical traces, leaving no hint of their presence. From their hidden place in the trees, they watched as Orc patrols tramped past several times, searching the forest floor for any sign of the humans.

The only time they nearly got found was when two strange large two-legged large mouth creatures, ridden by Orc scouts, sniffed around the trees like hounds.



The entire team had their weapons trained on the beasts and fingers hovered over triggers. But after an agonizing few minutes, the creatures failed to pick up a scent and lumbered off, allowing the squad to finally exhale in relief.

Riley fired off another short microburst message to the UAV drone circling over the forest, waiting for Command's response. After receiving confirmation, he gathered the team and huddled them together under the dense canopy.

"Alright, we're going back in," Riley whispered. "Command confirms undead activity is still present, which means there's likely an anchor keeping them alive. This time, we're not taking chances. Polities, you keep that [Minor Invisibility] spell going, and I want 'no one' getting spotted."

The team nodded in silent agreement with grim determined faces. Once Polities cast the invisibility spell, they began their climb down from the trees and moved like shadows through the thick undergrowth. Squad One stayed behind, covering their exit, while the others split off toward their objectives.

The journey back toward the Orc encampment was painstakingly slow. The forest, now draped in the dim light of the twin crescent moons, offered little help as they navigated through the thick canopy. Orc patrols were everywhere, hearing their guttural voices and heavy footsteps echoing through the trees. Torches flickered like fireflies in the night, casting ominous glows as the Orcs poked and prodded at the underbrush, as if expecting something, or someone, to pop out.

Despite the noise and lights cast by the patrols, the sheer numbers of Orcs wandering around made progression slow as they had to stop and time their movements and try to avoid having an Orc walk into them. Luckily they did not encounter any of those two-legged creatures in the area, making their infiltration easier.

Despite the commotion, it wasn't the noise or light that made the infiltration difficult, it was the sheer number of Orcs. The team was forced to halt frequently, waiting for patrols to pass and timed each movement. Every step had to be calculated to make sure that they didn't bump into an unseen Orc lurking in the shadows. Fortunately, the two-legged creatures from earlier were absent, giving the team a slight advantage.

Riley and Squad Three reached the outer perimeter of the Orc camp just after midnight. Looking at the hive of activity in the camp, it appears that the Orcs were not all sleeping as they moved around despite the hour, and a large number of undead could be seen gathering on the far side. The faint glow of campfires illuminated their pale, decayed bodies as they shuffled aimlessly around a series of tents.

Price tapped Riley's shoulder, pointing towards the mass of undead.

"Over there?" he whispered.

Riley adjusted his night vision goggles to maximize the zooming, looking at the glowing green silhouettes of the undead filled his vision, all crowding around a cluster of large tents. Among them, a few shadowy figures stood at the head of the undead crowd, waving and gesturing emphatically, likely the remaining shamans trying to regain control of the dead.

"Looks like the remaining shamans are trying to take back control of the dead," Riley whispered back. "Price, you stay here with the AF-3 and provide overwatch. If shit happens, I want eyes on us. You elf, on me." Riley glanced at Polities, who gave a quick nod, already casting the [Minor Invisibility] spell again. The spell shimmered faintly in the air as it took effect, leaving Polities momentarily dazed from the magical exertion.

Once they verified the spell was functioning, the team began their approach, keeping close to the camp's edge and staying within the shadows as much as possible. They moved like ghosts through the night and slipped between the shambling hordes of undead.

Riley ignored the stench of rot as he reached out and grabbed the back of a decaying Imperial Japanese soldier, his fingers sinking into the leathery and shrunken flesh. He lifted the confused undead's bony frame in front of him and used it as a macabre shield as he pressed forward. The undead, too mindless to resist, simply shuffled along with Riley, oblivious to the human now guiding it.

Mason followed closely with one hand resting firmly on Riley's shoulder and followed behind their makeshift cover. With the [Minor Invisibility] spell shrouding them in a blurred, semi-transparent outline, they moved through the horde unnoticed. The undead, for their part, remained unresponsive and did not show any signs of aggression, completely unaware that two living soldiers had infiltrated their ranks.

As they drew nearer to the shamans' tents, Riley ditched the undead he had been using as cover and let it stumble back into the crowd. He and Mason dropped low, fast-crawling between the legs of the undead and weaved through the bodies in near silence. They reached a patch of shadows cast by a burning brazier and used it as their last cover before darting across an open space, diving behind the closest tent.

"Squad Two, we are in position," Riley whispered into his comms. His heart raced as he scanned their surroundings and listened to the murmured incantations of the shamans just on the other side of the thin tent wall.

The mission was at a critical point now, any wrong move could send the entire Orc camp into full alert and their mission went into shit.

-----------------------

After splitting off from Riley and Squad Three, Mason and Woods made their way directly toward their objective, skirting past through the maze of Orc patrols with torches flickered in the darkness as countless Orcs roamed, and their guttural laughter echoing through the trees as they entertained themselves by poking or beating the undead with crude jabs and blows.

Despite the abuse, the undead remained unresponsive, and Mason and Woods eventually reached the mass grave, where hundreds of corpses stood in eerie, motionless rows.

"I don't think anyone's controlling them at all," Mason whispered as he glanced at Woods, who nodded in agreement. "Do you see anything alive?"

Woods scanned the area through his night vision goggles, slowly shaking his head after a while. "No, it looks like it's just the dead."

"Alright, I'll search this side. You take the other," Mason instructed, gesturing to divide the area.

Woods nodded again and cautiously stepped out into the open with his large AF-3 strapped to his back while his AF-2 Magespitter remained ready in his hands. Mason followed suit with his own AF-2 trained on the lifeless horde, a bright green beam emitting out from his laser sights as he swept his gaze left and right through his night vision, making sure that the undead were truly dormant before proceeding.

With a quick tap of his Spatial Ring, Mason summoned several small drones that materialized from thin air, floating around him before dispersing in all directions. He cursed under his breath as they scattered and struggled to keep them under control.

"Damn, there is too much magical interference here!" he growled.

Some of the drones landed on the corpses, others into trees or simply dropped to the ground. Mason glanced over at Woods, who was also deploying his drones with little success. Shaking his head, Woods waved Mason off as both of them were frustrated.

"How are we supposed to find the anchor with this much interference?" Mason muttered, feeling his irritation growing.

Just then, the dead began to moan, breaking the oppressive silence. The mindless horde shuffled away from the grave site, and Mason and Woods exchanged looks of surprise, wondering where they were moving off.

"What's happening?" Mason hissed, as they dove behind a pile of deadwood, watching the undead march off.

"Looks like someone's taken control of them," Woods guessed. "They're heading toward the Orc camp."

"Damn it, we need to warn Riley!" Mason whispered urgently, fumbling with his comms. "Scion Actual, this is Squad Two, do you copy?" He tried again and again, only to be met with static. "It's not getting through!" he cursed after the fourth attempt. "What do we do now?"

"We keep searching for the anchor," Woods said firmly as his eyes scanned the now-empty field. "I am sure they can handle themselves. It's easier to search now that the dead are gone."

"Do we even know what we're looking for?" Mason asked as he lifted his head up and peered around the clearing, making sure no hostiles were around.

"At least the interference should be cleared. We can use the drones properly now," Woods pointed out.

Mason grinned sheepishly. "Right. Let's get them back in the air."

Not long after, the drones navigated the field more perfectly, clustering around a central point where several burrows were visible through the night vision goggles.

"We've got something here!"

As they cautiously approached the location where the magical specks had converged, they remained vigilant and scanned their surroundings.

"Looks fresh," Woods remarked, rubbing the disturbed soil. "Something's buried here, while everything else has been dug up."

"Cover me," Mason replied as he brought out a foldable entrenching tool from his Spatial Ring. He flipped out the spade, gripping the D-handle tightly, and began to dig, shoveling dirt away. Woods moved back to seek cover in a convenient trench created by the buried dead, bracing his AF-2 against the moist, loose earth as he kept watch over Mason.

After nearly forty minutes of digging, Mason exclaimed, "Found something!" He lifted the object from the earth and dropped it into the trench where Woods had taken refuge. "Here," he tossed it to Woods, then removed his helmet to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"What the hell is this?" Woods asked, inspecting the dirt-crusted pouch and turned it over in his hands. "Something's moving inside!" He hurriedly dropped the bag in alarm and aimed his AF-2 at it with growing tension.

"You felt that too?" Mason asked as he swallowed a mouthful of water. "I thought it was just my hands trembling from all the digging too much or something." He capped his water bottle and secured it back in his Spatial Ring to keep it cold thanks to the Temporal effect within the small pocket dimension. "Should we salt and burn it?"

"Shouldn't we report to Riley that we found the damn thing?" Woods said, his eyes not leaving on the pulsing pouch on the floor. "Are we even sure it's the anchor?"

"I've tried, but I still can't get through," Mason replied, pulling out a small can of purified salt, a bottle of holy water, and a container of flammable liquid. "The only way to know is to find out for ourselves." He grinned. "Go on, open it."

"Wha-What?" Woods's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?"

"Come on, I need to purify and burn whatever this witchcraft is," Mason teased.

"I'll salt and burn it, but you open it!" Woods countered, reaching for his own supplies. "You do it!"

"Haha, I didn't take you for someone so timid," Mason laughed as he kept his salt and fuel. He unsheathed his sword bayonet, crouching next to the pulsating pouch, and glanced up at Woods. "Ready?"

Woods nodded, gripping a can of salt in one hand and a bottle of holy water in the other. Mason reached down and quickly slit open the pouch and shook out the contents onto the floor.

"Aww, what the hell?!"

A blackish crimson heart, still beating unnaturally, flopped with a sick slap on the grave floor, looking like some sort of abomination slug. Without hesitation, Woods quickly dumped the whole can of salt over it, burying the heart in a small mountain, then poured a bottle of holy water and flammable oil into the mix. Mason expertly flicked his flint lighter, sending sparks flying as the concoction ignited.

"Seriously? You used a whole can of salt?" Mason exclaimed as the unholy object erupted into flames. "You could feed a family of four for weeks with that much?"

"Take no chances!" Woods defended himself as he breathed out a sigh of relief, watching the blackened heart slowly cook, the congealed fats popping and hissing in the fire. "You think this is the anchor?"

Mason nodded, "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" He looked out of the grave and blinked his eyes, trying to readjust them back to the darkness. "Let's find higher ground and see if we can contact Riley."

"Yeah, let's go," Woods said, casting a final glance at the dying flames, where the heart lay in the middle of the embers now became unrecognizable.

-----------------------

Present, Orc camp, Shaman Tents

"Shit, we can't get through Squad Two," Riley whispered to the rest. "I think there is too much magic interference in the air here."

"So what now?" Price muttered. "Do we push forward or pull back?"

Riley considered his tactical options. They are currently deep in the middle of an entire Orc camp and surrounded not only by Orcs but by an army of undead too. If they get discovered, there will be almost no chances of escape.

Yet if they complete the mission, the Orcs would be crippled, their forces weakened, and the enemy's chances of breaking through significantly diminished.

"To hell with it," Riley growled, his decision made. "Burn it all down. Douse the tents with oil and set up every claymore we've got left."

Price and Polities exchanged grim smiles and nodded in agreement. They quickly soaked the crude hide tents with oil and positioned their experimental explosive shotgun shells close by. Riley placed his stores of claymores, two aimed at the tents, the other two covering the most likely points of attack.

He unrolled the spools of fuses and laid them beside the oil patches, making use of the flames later to serve as a delayed trigger for the explosives.

"Ready?" he asked in a voice. The others nodded. "Get to cover."

Riley moved silently through the camp, eyes scanning for any movement, until he spotted a brazier burning dimly in the distance.

Seeing no one looking in his direction, he dropped the remaining spool of det cord into the fire, and quickly sprinted away to where the rest of his men went. The spool of det cord suddenly burst into flames, causing the brazier to flare brightly, kicking up sparks and showers of embers into the night sky, and a tiny flame raced down the trailing cord, charging towards the pool of oil at the back of the tents.

-----------------------

"Yer kan't find 'da Elder's spirit?" Jiak asked in surprise at the three hooded Shamans gathered in front of him. "Did yer try all ways?"

"Yes, Warleader, we did," the lead Shaman replied with a deep bow. "We've searched through every method, there was no trace uv his Spirit 'n 'da physical plane."

"How about 'da Spirit Walkers?" Jiak asked after he got over his shock. "Can dey be kontrolled now 'dat da Elda iz not ere?"

"We can manage," the Shaman said confidently. "While we might not be as powerful as da Elder, we'll share control among ourselves." He offered the Hand greeting before leaving Jiak to his thoughts.

Jiak's expression darkened. "Summon Orth ere now!" Jiak shouted out from his seat inside his tent to his warriors outside, and shortly after, the flaps of the tent lifted up and a heavyset Orc stepped inside.

"Warleader," Orth greeted, raising his hand in the traditional salute.

"Did yer find anythn' 'n yer search?" Jiak asked with his eyes narrowed.

"No, Warleader. Even 'da squigs kould not find any trace uv 'da 'umiez," Orth replied.

Jiak's fists clenched. "Find them! Dey kilt da Elda right unda our noses! This iz a disgrace ta the warband! We must find im an' make im wish dey were neva born!"

Orth nodded, "I will kontinue da search for da soft skins den."

"Go." Jiak waved him off, already lost in thought, pondering how to explain the Elder's death to the Great Warboss.

Outside, the Shamans gathered before their tents and started chanting in low, guttural tones, the beat of their bone drums echoing with a rhythm that made the bones of those listening nearby ache. The Orcs kept their distance and cast wary glances as they passed. Slowly, the area in front of the Shamans cleared, and one by one, the dead began to rise, drawn by the Shamans' call.

Satisfied, the three Shamans split, each taking command of a portion of the undead. Inwardly, they felt no sorrow for the Elder's demise. In fact, they felt happy.

The position of Elder had been occupied for many many generations, and the other Shamans had long been unhappy with the fact that the Elder's use of forbidden dark arts to prolong his life, especially his practice of transferring his soul into captured elf slaves when his decaying body failed him.

Now, at last, the coveted role of Elder was vacant.

Just as the three Shamans were thinking of plans and schemes against each other, vying for the coveted position of Elder, a nearby brazier flared violently, sending sparks and embers into the sky. Startled, they turned toward the fire, the sudden brightness blinding their night vision and preventing them from seeing the fuse that snaked its way toward the back of their tents.

A flicker of light soon appeared among the tents, and the realization hit them all at once.

"Fire!" they yelled, panic seizing their voices. "Fire!" The Shamans scrambled, watching helplessly as flames licked the sides of the tents. "Our scrolls! Our artifacts!" they shouted, frantically calling for their followers and apprentices to douse the flames and save their precious relics.

As they dashed back into the tents, one Shaman broke away, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the others hadn't noticed him. He ran toward the largest tent, which belonged to the Elder's, hoping to salvage whatever treasures had been left behind. But before he could even reach the entrance, a makeshift explosive of shotgun shells detonated.

The blast rocked the camp, drawing every Orc's attention to the Shamans' tents. Those nearby stood frozen, stunned by the sudden explosion, making them wonder what was going on.

Unbeknownst to the camp, two claymores had been rigged as their detonations were set by a carefully timed fuse. Riley had calculated ten minutes, and as the Shamans and their apprentices were inside the tents confused with the earlier explosion, the special blend of black powder and mana stone dust shaped charge blew, each releasing a deadly volley of 700 ball bearings into the tents.

The materials of the tents had been reinforced by magic, designed to withstand both physical and magical attacks. But the constant strain of the fire was draining the barrier, and the initial explosion had already weakened the defenses. The ball bearings punched through what was left of the shield, tore through the thick animal hide, and with a ferocious force, turned the inside of the tents into a slaughterhouse. Blood sprayed in every direction as the occupants were shredded by the hail of metal.

Another five minutes after the first wave of claymores that went off, the Orcs that arrived on scene to investigate and put out the growing fire were cut down by the last two claymores placed in strategically located positions to cover any attempt at rescue. The second explosion sent even the undead, gathered by the Shamans, crashing lifelessly to the ground.

Jiak who came rushing over to find out what had happened in his camp managed to witness first hand his warriors were reduced to nothing more than blood mist as they were vaporized by the second wave of claymore mines.

"Wha-?" He stood paralyzed, feeling shocked at the sudden deaths of over twenty strong and powerful Orc warriors as they lay in pieces before him, and to further pour salt in his wounds, the gathered undead suddenly collapsed bonelessly into heaps of bone and flesh onto the ground with hardly any sound, as their connection with anchor were severed.

"FIND 'DA 'UMIEZ NOW! I WILL RIP 'DA SKIN OFF, TEAR DERE BONES OUT AN' MAKE IM WATCH BEFORE DIGG'N OUT DERE EYES!"

-----------------------

[-ore Actual co-in over! This - Squad -wo!] Riley barely made out Mason's choppy voice through the static of his comms. [Scion Actual here! Can you hear me?]

[-nk god! -tual, -nal is bad,] Came Mason's reply in Riley's helmet. [If you can hear me, rendezvous back at Rally Point Alpha now!]

The forest around them seemed to come alive in the wake of the claymore blasts. Following that, Riley and his team could hear something roaring in the distance, likely from the direction of the Orc camp.

"Belinski, do you copy?" Riley switched frequencies, calling for Squad One's leader.

[I copy,] Belinski's voice came in loud and clear.

"Get to Command. Tell them the Necromancer threat has been eliminated completely."

As they retreated, Riley noticed more undead collapsing, meaning they must have destroyed something important.

"Tell Command we need immediate extraction!" Riley ordered. "The Orcs are VERY pissed off with us!"

Suddenly, the deep rumble of engines cut through the night, followed by another and another.

[Oh shit! Their pets must've picked up our scent! And they're using our vehicles!]

"Run!" Riley shouted as the sound of heavy footsteps and revving engines grew louder behind them. "Go!"

Glancing back, Riley's night vision picked up a hulking dark green shape, which revealed to be a spiky Orcish vehicle with its lights glaring through the trees. Alongside it were a couple of two-legged beasts, each carrying an Orc rider.



Immediately, Riley pivoted his aim and squeezed the trigger of the AF-2. Upon firing, the silenced pops of his weapon accompanied by muzzle flashes, momentarily clouding his vision with smoke.

Several of his mana-infused mithril rounds managed to pierce the tires of the spiked vehicle, stopping the spiky car the Orcs rode.

In the same instant, the two-legged creatures flinched and their riders cried out in surprise as the beasts crashed headlong into a tree, and the Orcs were thrown from their saddles like broken toys. One of the creatures sat back on its hind legs and shook its head, clearly dazed from the impact.

Seizing the opportunity, Riley switched to his shotgun and unleashed two explosive rounds at the beast. The blasts rocked the creature, sending it crashing to the ground.

Without pausing, Riley turned and sprinted, knowing there was one less enemy vehicle on the chase, but more were surely on their way.

-----------------------

Watching the human escape into the distance, the biggest Orc in the driver's seat slammed his fists against the wheel in pure frustration.

"Why won't dis fing work?!" he roared angrily as he continued bashing the steering wheel, oblivious to the fact that one of the tires had been flattened by the gunfire.

"Uh... Zog, I fink we're outta gas," muttered a smaller Orc from the backseat.

"Wot are ya sayin'? I filled 'da gas tank a few moons ago! Been ridin' dis fing every day an' night since. Gas ain't empty!"

The other Orcs scratched their chins, nodding thoughtfully as they considered the big Orc's logic. After a long moment of silence, they all agreed.

"Oh yeah, yer did do dat!"

As if by some strange magic, the vehicle managed to drive forward again, not knowing either their tires were flattened or their gas had probably already run out long ago.

------------------------

Pops and muffled barks of silenced gunfire erupted from the defensive line Riley had his men hold. They hunkered behind cover to avoid enemy gunfire while conserving their shots and make sure every round counted as the horde of Orcs charged blindly toward them.

Without the night vision goggles of Omega-191, the Orcs could only blindly charge at where they believed the humans to be hiding at and rushed forward in a disorganized frenzy. The Tempest Scions, with superior training and weaponry, held their ground. Their tactics allowed them to take down an enemy force a hundred times their size while dodging Orc gunfire that could tear them to pieces.

The AF-2 Magespitter proofed to be very efficient in close-quarters combat as the rate of fire of the weapon allowed the Tempest Scions to take down large groups of charging Orcs while Polities and Woods sniped at the giant two-legged creatures and the Orcs armed with guns on their vehicles with the AF-3 Magekiller or the elf's magic.

One to three well-placed shots were enough to bring down even the hulking creatures. When the Orcs rallied to attempt for another charge into their lines, Mason and Price switched to shotguns and fired explosive rounds that ripped through the advancing masses, leaving carnage in their wake.

"I'm out!" Belinski shouted, tossing his spent AF-2 aside and drawing his Single Action Dragon revolver, rapidly firing off five shots of .500 magnum rounds, each blast knocking a charging Orc backward. "Reloading!"

"Here!" Riley tossed a fresh magazine to Belinski, who fumbled for it in the dark. Riley, switching to his shotgun, pumped round after round into the densest clusters of Orcs. "Come on, where's the pickup?"

[Omega-191, this is Golden Eagle One, inbound to your location in five mikes,] came a welcome voice over Riley's comms. [Heard you guys got some pest problems?]

"Golden Eagle One, this is Scion Actual! Requesting immediate extraction! Area is hot! Repeat, the area is hot!" Riley yelled into his comms, craning his head up to look into the dark sky.

Moments later, the faint whine of engines filled the air, growing louder.

[Scion One, keep your heads down, we've got some presents for your friends!]

"What?" Riley was confused by that statement, before confusion quickly turned to panic as he realized the obvious. "Oh shit! DANGER CLOSE! DANGER CLOSE!"

A series of whooshes pierced the night, followed by earth-shaking explosions that tore through the forest ahead of the Tempest Scions, turning the night into day with the blinding flash of fire and debris.

"Say hello to my little friend!" the pilot shouted as he hovered the helicopter over the rally point. From twin rocket pods, a salvo of 70mm experimental rockets screamed into the forest below, tearing through the trees and igniting everything in their path.

These 70mm rockets carried a volatile mix of hydrogen, oxygen, aluminum, and mana stone dust. Upon impact, the fire rune fuses on the rocket noses triggered a massive thermobaric explosion, which worked similarly to a fuel-air bomb, and dispersing aluminum and mana dust into the air before the hydrogen and oxygen mix ignited, creating an inferno that consumed everything within its reach.

His wingman stayed in his position 200 meters away, firing his own volley of rockets into the patch of forest, sending huge balls of fire into the night sky as the rockets detonated with earth-shaking force.

"Golden Eagle One to Two, dropping cargo. Cover me, over," the pilot radioed.

[Roger that,] came the response as Golden Eagle Two spun his bird on its axis, releasing another barrage of rockets and turned the forest into a chaotic hellscape of flames and explosions.

Golden Eagle One turned, its tail facing the approaching Orcs, and hovered over the clearing. The tail ramp lowered, and dozens of soldiers poured out, fanning into defensive positions and formed a security perimeter around the landing zone.

Armed with AF-1 Magic rifles and heavy machine guns, the soldiers unleashed a storm of fire on the shell-shocked Orcs, who stumbled, backlit by the blazing forest and roaring explosions raging behind them.

Golden Eagle Two soon joined, hovering over the clearing once Golden Eagle One had completed its drop. More soldiers leaped out, reinforcing the defensive line and driving the Orcs back into the burning forest, where the flames and explosions continued their deadly work.

----------------------

After the explosive firework show, the engines of the Golden Eagle roared as it lifted off and climbed into the night sky while the distant sounds of the final battle between the Liberation Army and the Orcs faded beneath them.

Inside the aircraft, the Special Forces team leaned back and felt their muscles tight from the battle.

"Finally, it's over," Riley muttered, exhaling heavily as he held a large sack at arm's length, inside which the decapitated head of the Elder Shaman rested.

Even in death, its presence sent an unnerving chill through the cabin.

Nearby, Tavish lay unconscious on the floor, while two medics crouched beside him, checking his vitals as the aircraft's interior was filled with the hum of engines and muttered conversations.

"Hey, Sarge," one of the medics called over to Riley, "He's whispering something..."

"Weird, the tranquil should've kept him asleep for a few more hours," Riley frowned and stepped closer. "What's he saying?"

The medic leaned in with his ear just inches from Tavish's mouth, when suddenly, Tavish's eyes snapped open and glowed a sickly green. His lips twisted into a grotesque grin, glowing the same eerie light emanating from his mouth.

Before anyone could react, Tavish's hand shot out and grabbed the medic's head in an iron grip.

Spurt!

There was a sickening crunch as Tavish's enhanced strength crushed the medic's skull like a melon.

Chaos erupted in the cabin as everyone jumped to their feet and weapons drawn, but the shock of seeing their comrade destroy a man's head with his bare hands left them stunned.

"What the fuck just happened!?" a soldier shouted, leveling his rifle.

Three more soldiers followed suit as they aimed their weapons at Tavish. But he moved with unnatural speed as he swung his arm like a blade. In a flash, two heads hit the floor and rolled down grotesquely, but the third soldier managed to dodge under the swing and fired his shotgun point-blank into Tavish's chest.

Bang!

The blast sent Tavish flying back and slammed into the wall of the helicopter. For a moment, it seemed over, until the dust settled, revealing glowing runes of the magical shield around Tavish's body as it had absorbed the blast.

Everyone froze as Tavish rose slowly with the crumpled shotgun pellets dropping uselessly to the floor.

"I told yer I'd be back," Tavish chuckled, but the voice no longer his own but instead sounding similar to the Elder Shaman, with a rasping growl that twisted the air around them. "Yer friend is gone," he sneered as his voice seemed to distort the space around him unnaturally. "An' soon, yer'll follow his path."

"You motherfucker!" Riley roared as he snapped his AF-2 rifle up and fired, joined by the other soldiers as they unleashed a storm of normal and magic-infused bullets into the possessed soldier.

But Tavish lifted his hand, and an invisible magical barrier formed into existence, stopping their bullets in their tracks midair and disintegrated into magical dust before vanishing entirely.

Suddenly, Tavish screamed, and the sound reverberated through the Golden Eagle, vibrating the walls, but worse, it tore at the soldiers' minds. Their vision blurred, and the world around them twisted in grotesque ways as insanity took hold.

"MAKE IT STOP!" Woods yelled as he covered his ears while rolling on the floor from the pain that stabbed right into his brains while the unholy screams of their possessed friend slammed into everyone like a shockwave.

Even the pilot lost control, causing the helicopter to jerk violently as Tavish's scream sent waves of insanity crashing through the cabin. Some soldiers held their heads, others screamed in primal fear, and their sanity slipped as the air filled with Tavish's nightmarish howls.

And then, as if by divine intervention, the helmets worn by the Special Forces team began to glow, and runes etched into the metal igniting with radiant light. The soldiers blinked, and the madness evaporated instantly as if it had never been. It took the soldiers a moment to realize why, and that they had forgotten about a key detail when their gear was crafted.

Their helmets had also been enchanted by the Elf Queen herself, blessed with holy magic to shield them from mental assaults.

"Thank the Elf Queen," Riley muttered under his breath as his mind snapped his focus. Around him, the others blinked in confusion, but quickly understood what happened. The helmets had saved them. But Tavish, still possessed, stood screaming, unaffected by their regained sanity.

"Polities, cast [Mental Fortitude] now!" Riley yelled out to the elf member while putting his words into action.

Nodding his head, Polities quickly cast the spell, and the air around them shimmered as the spell fortified the rest of the soldiers' willpower to defend them further from Tavish's sanity-rending screams.

"Damn, that was close!" One soldier gasped, rubbing the back of his head and felt like something had squeezed his brains for fun. He rubbed the trail of blood that dripped out of his nose and quickly stuffed earplugs into his ears to block off the screams.

The helicopter shook again as it dipped sharply, threatening to fall from the sky, and Riley knew they had to act fast.

"We need to shut him down, fast."

"You're not thinking of killing him, are you?"

"God no," Riley replied. "These helmets were blessed by the Elf Queen herself. Her magic could reverse whatever that green fucker did to our friend."

"You're gonna rush him by yourself?" someone asked, incredulous.

"...Yes."

Ignoring further protests, Riley crouched down and his boots glowed faintly as the enchantments activated. With a burst of speed, he dashed forward and dodged the floating debris in the Golden Eagle's cabin.

In one fluid motion, he brought out his AF-2 rifle from his Spatial Ring, loaded with a lightning-infused magic round and squeezed the trigger. In an instant, the bolt of a mithril-imbued lightning bullet struck Tavish dead-on, stunning him as arcs of electricity crackled over his possessed body.

Riley didn't waste a second as he lunged forward to deliver the decisive blow. But before he could close the distance, Tavish raised his hand, and an invisible force gripped Riley, stopping him mid-charge as he felt the crushing force around him and his body freeze in place as if caught in a vice.

Slowly, the grip tightened, and his bones threatened to snap under the pressure.

Behind Riley, more gunfire erupted, but Tavish's magical barrier absorbed every shot without flinching as his glowing green eyes were locked onto Riley as he began to squeeze, causing the telekinetic force to tighten around Riley's body, threatening to crush him entirely.

"Aaaahhh!!" Riley screamed in pain, struggling against the invisible hold.

Suddenly, Price charged forward and zigzagged across the field. Tavish sensed him at the last second and swung his hand to slice through him, but Price ducked under the attack and slid across the floor. In one swift move, he whipped out a gleaming mithril dagger and slashed at Tavish's leg, severing it cleanly.

The possessed Tavish toppled to the ground as his severed leg was already beginning to regenerate. But it was enough to give Riley the opening he needed. With a final burst of strength, Riley ripped off his helmet and jammed it onto Tavish's head.

In the next instant, the enchanted runes flared to life and burned with intense holy light.

Tavish, no, the Elder Shaman, screamed in pure agony as the Elf Queen's magic seared through him. The sickly green glow in his eyes flickered violently, then with a blinding surge of light, the shaman's corrupted soul was expelled from Tavish's body, banished from the physical realm.

The interior of the Golden Eagle fell silent as Tavish's limp body collapsed and the oppressive pressure in the cabin lifted. The soldiers, dazed but alive, gasped for breath as they looked around, feeling their sanity fully restored.

Riley turned toward the cockpit. "Pilot, status!"

The pilot, with his eyes wide in disbelief, grabbed the controls and steadied the aircraft. "We're... we're back on course, sir! I've got control!"

Riley sank to his knees, exhausted but relieved. Around him, the team began to recover themselves, some helping to treat Tavish while others kept their weapons trained on him, just in case the Elder Shaman returned.

This mission was intense. They had survived the Elder Shaman's wrath twice, but barely.

Riley took a deep breath. This mission was unlike any other. In the past, his team faced militias, crime syndicates, and threats to the Austronesia Empire. But now, they were fighting horrors straight out of a fantasy RPG.

And it felt like this was only the beginning.

"...Fucking hell."