The freezing grey mist swirled wildly around Lucien’s boots. He stood completely alone in the open space deep behind the enemy lines.In front of him was a nightmare.The corrupted First King, a twenty-foot-tall giant wearing black iron and burning gold armor, stood ready to attack. His massive broadsword hummed with a sick, green magical light. Behind the giant King, floating on a throne made of human spines, sat the Tide-Commander. It was a tall, terrifying Lich-like Necromancer wearing rotting black robes.Millions of glowing green magic strings connected the crystal staff in the Lich’s hand to the back of the First King’s neck. The Lich was completely controlling the ancient ancestor.Lucien did not move. He gripped his jagged black weapon, the God-Slaying Spear, with both hands. He breathed slowly. His heart beat with a steady, calm rhythm.Suddenly, the Tide-Commander spoke. It did not open its bony, fleshless jaw. The voice echoed directly inside Lucien’s mind. The voice was

Lucien lowered his spear. A profound feeling of sadness and pride filled his heart. He had saved his ancestor’s soul from eternal slavery. But the war was not over yet.Far away, at the broken iron walls of the Forgotten Village, the effect of the shattered core was instantaneous.The Grave-Tide had been a perfectly coordinated, terrifying army. The skeletons had marched in straight lines. The Corpse-Catapults had aimed perfectly. The ghouls had attacked the weak spots.Now, without their hive-mind commander, the magic coordination disappeared entirely.The two million monsters suddenly became mindless, stupid, staggering corpses.A skeleton standing near Kordas suddenly stopped swinging its sword. It looked around in confusion. It dropped its weapon and began to wander aimlessly in a circle.A giant Corpse-Catapult in the backlines tried to fire a ball of acid, but without the magical aim, it fired the acid straight up into the air. The acid fell back down, melting the catapult itsel

"I accept your challenge, Chieftain," Lucien said. His voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp and focused.Lucien looked at the ground. He saw a plain, normal iron sword lying in the dirt. It had been dropped by a dead Inquisitor earlier. It had no magic. It did not glow. It was just a heavy, sharp piece of metal.Lucien walked over and picked up the iron sword. He gave it a few test swings. It was heavy, but it felt good in his hand."No magic," Lucien declared, looking directly at Kordas. "No shadows. No spells. Just blood and iron."Kordas smiled. It was a huge, brutal, happy smile. "Now you are speaking my language, boy."Kordas did not wait. The giant warlord charged forward.THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. The ground shook as the eight-foot-tall man ran. Kordas raised the massive, six-foot-long Leviathan bone greatsword high over his bald head. He brought it down with unbelievable, terrifying physical force, aiming directly for Lucien’s head.Lucien did not jump back. He raised the normal

The victory celebration in the Forgotten Village lasted through the night, though there was no real day or night in the deep dark. The glowing blue and green mushrooms provided the only light. The people sang old songs, ate their simple food, and hugged each other. They were safe.But inside the grand stone mausoleum at the top of the village, it was very quiet.Lucien stood next to the large bone table. Around him stood the leaders of the unified tribes.Matriarch Elara sat in her chair, her blind, milk-white eyes facing Lucien. Chieftain Kordas stood with his arms crossed over his massive, scarred chest. Silra, the leader of the Weaver Tribe, sat quietly, cleaning her black spider-wood bow. And Kael, the young, brave hunter, stood right next to Lucien."I cannot take the whole army to the surface right now," Lucien said. His voice was calm, but serious.Kordas frowned. "Why not? We have thirty thousand people. We have your ghost knights. We can march up the stairs and smash the go

Lucien reached into the dirt near the stream. He grabbed a handful of wet, brown mud and rubbed it all over his face, his neck, and his arms. He made himself look dirty, tired, and poor. Then, he found a patch of wild, dark berries growing on a bush. He crushed the berries in his hands. The juice was a dark, ashy grey color. He rubbed the juice into his black hair. It made his hair look dusty, dry, and slightly grey, like he was older and had lived a very hard life.Finally, Lucien needed a cloak. He could not wear his liquid shadow-cloak out in the open.He remembered a dead Imperial scout he had found in the tunnels days ago. He reached into his bag and pulled out the dead scout’s cloak. It was an ugly, torn, faded brown piece of cloth. It smelled like old rain. Lucien put it on and pulled the hood up over his head. He looked at his reflection in the water again.The prince of the Saint-Aurelius Clan was gone. The terrifying Shadow-Lord was gone.Looking back at him from the wate