My abominations roll through the piles of corpses, many of them burned, but bones are still a perfectly viable material. Their flesh sloshes forward as if it were a liquid, and they roll over themselves, using the bones sticking free from their blobby bodies to drag themselves forward over the bodies, which are consumed, and emulsified into the mass.

  The four weakest of them are in the Mid C ranks, but they grow incredibly fast in active combat, and the 5 strongest of them have pushed into the B ranking, one of them leading the way at B-4.

  That high ranking abomination is easily the size of a 10 story building, and can consume very quickly.

  As they draw close to any wounded enemies, the many limbs protrude from their bodies assemble into long spindly appendages, with bones protruding throughout it, and like a whip they swing the arm, the bones piercing the bodies of the still living before they are dragged back to the main body, while the lucky ones lay limp, and dead, but the really unlucky ones scream, and scratch at the dirt as they are dragged until their fingernails fall off, and they are pulled into the mass where the bones grind them up into a mash, and their flesh joins the abomination.

  I reassess the zombie forces, and we lost about 900 or so which bodes well for our future, because if we can buy that much time with only that quantity of losses we will be doing well.

  As we wait, and buy time, I withdraw my abominations from the cleaned battlefield. 222

  Milo

  I grimace as I stand on the wall, and watch Aistairs abominations eat. I turn away from the gory uncomfortable sight.

  I turn, and walk to the city hospital where our B ranking fire mage is being kept. I enter the hospital, and find his bed, where lesser fire mages form his guild surround him, and channel mana back into his body. He used every bit of mana he had to cast those spells, and was completely drained. With the help of his fellow guild members he should be full up again by the next time they attack.

  I sigh, and glance at him. A tall man, probably 7 feet tall, but with barely any meat on his bones. He is clean shaven, with a round babied face, and yet today he displayed such power.

  “Curious isn't it?”

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  I jump in fright, and spin around. Standing behind me was Eli. He's eating some type of crunchy food out of a weird yellow bag. But the weird thing is he was wearing that creepy belt of his, and the belt was holding the bag of food in its weird little hands.

  I sigh. “What is?”

  Eli nods, and continues. “His power. He's only a B ranker, but his power is spectacular.”

  I shrug. “Yeah.”

  Eli continues. “Alistair told me about this, Artillery mages are usually nobles, because they are usually people who have naturally large mana pools, and have access to expensive items that allow them to increase that. Then, when they would usually spend time, expanding the size of their aura, or the strength of their body, they put it all into casting spells like that, and into a big mana pool.”

  “Indeed.” With a rasp, the tall fire mage opens his eyes, and stares at me. “That's exactly what happens. Instead of strengthening our body, or our aura, we put it all into our mind, and our mana. Usually this is something we fix once we enter into the A ranks, if we are able to make it. But it's rare to see an Artillery mage not from a noble house, because we are so useless for anything other than providing artillery support for large armies.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Then why would anyone want to be one?”

  Eli interrupts with a wild wave of his hand. “Because its fucking awesome!”

  The tall man chuckles. “No, no, it's because when you're a noble, and the head of your house tells you to do something, you do it. I've been raised since a young age to be nothing more than an Artillery piece, and yet I do kind of enjoy it, and when I enter the A ranks, i'll be able to retain that powerful spell strength while still gaining the majority of the physical benefits of being a mage.”

  I nod. “So, either they are forced to, or they want the trade of being frail at the beginning of their career in return for lots of power?”

  The tall man nods. “Indeed. Have you thought about what you would like to specialize in? Even being a generalist is a specialization. People don't realize it, but if you are a generalist, you specialize in doing a little bit of everything. So in truth even generalists are specialists in generalizing.”

  I nod, and tilt my head, in thought, before the man interrupts me again, and puts his hand out.

  “Ah, my name's Lysander by the way.” He puts his bony hand forward.

  I smile, and shake vigorously. “Nice to meet you Lysander.”

  He smiles. “Nice to meet you Milo. I should hopefully be back in the fray of things by tomorrow, leading the defenses, as our artillery.”

  I smile, “Indeed, we need all the help we can get.”

  Lysander smiles. “Of course, of course, I'm very helpful.”

  I nod, and then turn to leave. “I’ll be seeing you Lysander.” I wave my hand over my shoulder as I leave, my boots leaving tracks of dirt, as a walk.