Chapter 31

  The party materialized in a dimly lit courtyard, the imposing silhouette of Doombringer's white stone castle looming over them. "Split up, find us an easy way in, and stay stealthy," Pierce whispered over the mental chat, his voice barely audible.

  "YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHISPER, YOU KNOW!" Flint boomed back playfully, his mental voice echoing through their minds.

  Pierce, with a mental eye roll, began his reconnaissance, circling the castle's perimeter clockwise. He carefully navigated a flowerbed bursting with pale yellow blooms, his keen eyes scanning the walls for any signs of weakness. A third of the way around, he discovered a wide, unguarded staircase leading to a set of imposing wooden double doors. No obvious locks or guards hindered his progress. With a gentle push, he slipped through the left door, silently closing it behind him.

  "I'm checking out a cellar door roughly a third of the way clockwise around the base of the castle from where we started," Pierce reported to the group. "Ten-foot-wide white marble stairs leading down about twelve feet to a set of double doors with no lock. I'm inside, waiting for my eyes to adjust."

  "Front door here has fifty skeleton guards," Grok announced, her voice laced with disdain, "and groups of over a hundred roaming squads on the main floor. Not exactly a welcoming committee."

  "I climbed through an open window into a library," Evolon chimed in, her voice tinged with excitement. "Stealing any spell scrolls and cool magic books I find. And yes, Ignis, I'll grab any cookbooks or books on magical food."

  "Found the armory," Flint grumbled, "but it's all low-level crap the skeletons use. Nothing worth risking a noise complaint for."

  "I found the kitchen," Ignis reported, "nothing interesting, just a bunch of skeletons doing prep work for a meal. It seems they can only be given extremely basic commands like 'peel potatoes,' 'place peels here,' 'place peeled potatoes there.' There must be a chef with a real brain somewhere, but I can't find him."

  Pierce, his vision enhanced by his night sight enchantment, surveyed the vast chamber he had entered. It stretched at least a hundred feet in each direction, its massive stone pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling lost in the shadows above. No light sources illuminated the space, but row upon row of four-foot-tall wooden crates filled his vision, stacked nearly to the ceiling. Finding a corner where the crates were arranged in a climbable configuration, he ascended to the top, gaining a better vantage point. The basement warehouse was nearly full, stretching into the distance, where faint light revealed skeletal workers moving hover pallets with practiced efficiency.

  "Guys, come to the basement," Pierce instructed his companions. "It seems to be a warehouse down here. Reminds me of the warehouse they left the Arc in. I don't see any guards. I think this is the best way in. Look for the gold coin on the ground." He placed a single gold coin at the base of his crate stack, marking his location for the others.

  "You know, being invisible is nice and all," Flint grumbled as he navigated the maze of crates, "but not being able to see the rest of you is a problem."

  "We can split up when we get together and use gold coins to mark our rally point," Pierce suggested, mentally reviewing his inventory for a better solution but coming up empty.

  Once everyone had arrived at the rally point, Pierce retrieved his coin, and they proceeded deeper into the warehouse. They easily slipped past the oblivious skeletal workers, their invisibility rendering them undetectable. The first large chamber devoid of activity seemed promising.

  "Going right into this chamber with the large copper thing in the middle," Pierce announced.

  This room was well-lit, revealing a massive copper cauldron bubbling over a roaring fire. Wooden ramps led up to the rim of the cauldron on one side, and steps descended into the churning water on the other, forming a continuous loop.

  "Boiling the bones," Ignis observed grimly.

  "This must be where they bring the corpses," Pierce deduced, tossing an uneaten piece of a Snickers bar into the pot. "The water is quite acidic. I bet you're right, they boil the bones and animate the skeletons to march out the other side." He recalled the necromancers' debate back at the party, their arguments about the merits of different undead minions now taking on a chilling new significance.

  "Is it weird that I kinda want to jump in to see if it's like a hot tub?" Evolon joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

  "I would heal you," Pierce replied, shaking his head, "but I'm sure it wouldn't be pleasant." He then realized, with a mental facepalm, that his companions couldn't see his gestures.

  "I've seen enough here," Flint declared, his voice somber. "Let's hope it's only for corpses and not living beings."

  The group continued their exploration, splitting up and reuniting at designated rally points, but finding nothing of particular interest. After what felt like hours of tense maneuvering, they stumbled upon a small spiral staircase descending into a cold, foggy abyss. As they cautiously descended, the metallic clanging grew louder, drawing them onward. They emerged into a vast chamber, its scale dwarfing even the massive warehouse above.

  Before them sprawled a scene that defied their expectations – a sprawling factory, its floor a dizzying labyrinth of conveyor belts and crude machinery. Skeletal workers, their movements eerily synchronized, tirelessly operated the complex contraptions. The skeletons stamping metal into intricate shapes and sorting the refined components from the scrap. It was a mesmerizing ballet of industry, but one performed by an army of the undead.

  "I toured a Tesla factory once," Evolon commented, her voice echoing through the mental link. "If you replaced the skeletons with robots, it would look exactly like this."

  "I don't think they're making electric vehicles down there," Ignis replied, his tone laced with a grim humor.

  Intrigued, the party moved closer, their invisibility allowing them to observe the factory's intricate workings without being detected. They watched as raw ore was fed into massive furnaces, molten metal poured into molds, and intricate components created with meticulous precision. Following a branching conveyor belt, they arrived at a closed-off room. They easily bypassed the two skeletal guards posted outside, slipping through the doorway and into the dimly lit space. The air hung heavy with the scent of metallic dust and the rhythmic clang of machinery. Rounding a corner, they were met with a sight that chilled them to the bone.

  Instead of the endless rows of skeletal workers they had come to expect, they found a group of humans, their faces gaunt and pale, their eyes hollow with exhaustion. Over a hundred men and women hunched over workbenches, their trembling fingers meticulously tracing a single rune onto small components through stencils. Each finished part moved down the conveyor belt to the next station, where another rune would be etched onto its surface. A smaller chamber off to the side revealed more humans, sprawled on bunks, makeshift bedrolls, and even the cold stone floor. Their bodies twitched and shuddered in their sleep, haunted by exhaustion and despair.

  The atmosphere in this section of the factory was heavy, not just with the metallic tang of industry, but with a palpable sense of despair. The humans moved with a listless lethargy, their actions mechanical and devoid of any thought. A handful of skeletal archers stood watch on raised walkways, their empty sockets fixed on the workers, ensuring no one dared to defy their silent overlords.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Evolon," Pierce's voice spoke through the mental link, raw with barely contained fury, "take out the trash." He wiped an angry tear from his invisible cheek.

  With a surge of righteous anger, Evolon unleashed a volley of arrows. Each shaft found its mark with deadly accuracy, piercing the eye sockets of the skeletal archers and exploding them in quick succession into clouds of dust. The humans, startled by the sudden commotion and the rain of bone fragments, looked up in confusion and fear.

  "Flint and Grok," Pierce commanded, his voice cold and sharp, "guard the entrance."

  With that, Pierce, Ignis, and Evolon deactivated their invisibility cloaks, appearing as if from thin air. "Don't be alarmed!" Pierce announced, forcing a calming tone into his voice. "We're from Earth, and we're here to help."

  A wave of hesitant relief washed over the faces of the captives. A young woman, her eyes filled with a desperate hope, stepped forward. "I'm Sarah," she croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse. "They don't let us speak." Tears streamed down her cheeks, tracing paths through the grime that coated her face.

  "David," a man near her offered, his voice trembling. "They said it was a gift," he explained, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "They would teach us magic, but only if we used it to create for them."

  "Things were good at first," Sarah continued, her voice gaining strength. "Until... until we noticed that the more we enchant, the weaker we become. It's like... it's draining our life force." She gazed down at her trembling hand, the finger that had traced countless runes, once youthful, now frail.

  A younger man, barely out of his teens, cautiously approached the small group. "Alex," he said, pointing to himself. "I liked to play role-playing games. I was on the team that procured video games for stores. I first recognized the small life steal runes in the stencils. I think it uses a part of our life force, along with the ambient mana we refine, to make the runes we produce slightly stronger. They're killing us for a measly ten percent gain." Overwhelmed by the realization, he collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Pierce, his heart aching for these people, stepped forward. "We're getting you out of here," he promised, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "Is this all of you from Earth?"

  "Seven died and were taken for 'processing,' whatever that is," David said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "More are back in the town. They were the ones who didn't resist. We were brought here, broken, and put to work."

  "I know they're tired, but wake the others," Pierce instructed, his voice firm but compassionate. "Line up here, and I'll heal you before we send you home." He noticed a spark ignite in their eyes as the gaunt figures stirred and began to follow his instructions. Even the smallest act of defiance, of regaining control, seemed to rekindle a flicker of hope within them.

  With a series of gentle gestures and soothing incantations, Pierce channeled his healing magic into the exhausted humans. He started by calming their minds, soothing the trauma and fear that had taken root. He purged their bodies of any lingering ailments, and soothing raw nerves. Finally, he unleashed the full force of his healing power, restoring them to full health and vitality. As he worked his way down the line, a chorus of sobs and heartfelt "thank yous" filled the air, a testament to the depth of their gratitude and the profound impact of his magic. Pierce, pushing his mana pool to its limits, didn't stop until every single person was whole again.

  "Ignis," he said, his head aching with a migraine from running his mana pool low, "let's get these people home."

  A swirling vortex of blue and green materialized near the front of the line, a beacon of hope in the dimly lit factory. Hesitation flickered across the faces of the humans, the trauma of their captivity still fresh in their minds. Pierce, sensing their fear, stepped through the portal, emerging into the brightly lit portal square at the Walmart Home Office. He quickly briefed the waiting soldiers, preparing them for the influx of over two hundred exhausted but liberated captives. Then, he stepped back through the portal, offering a reassuring smile to the hesitant humans.

  Slowly, one by one, they shuffled through the portal, their eyes widening with wonder and relief as they stepped onto familiar ground. Cheers erupted from the waiting crowd, tears of joy mingling with the shouts of reunited families and friends.

  The group watched the scene unfold, a surge of satisfaction washing over them. They had done it. They had rescued their people, thwarted Doombringer's plans, and brought hope to a world teetering on the brink of despair. Their mission, however, was not complete. Doombringer and his lieutenants still remained, and they had a score to settle.

  "Seven," Pierce said grimly, his voice echoing through the now-empty chamber as the portal closed behind the last of the returning humans. "We owe this asshole for at least seven deaths. More, I'm sure, that we don't know about, from the battle back on Earth. But even seven is far too many." His face hardened with resolve. "Who's ready for round two?"

  "I feel sorry for this guy," Flint growled, retrieving his hammer and shield. "He managed to piss off Pierce."

  "No more sneaking," Pierce declared, his voice laced with steel. "We're going to burn this place to the ground."

  "My man!" Ignis exclaimed, conjuring a blazing fire blast and launching it towards the flammable wooden catwalks overhead.

  Flint, with a guttural roar that reverberated through the prison door back into the factory. His hammer, imbued with the fury of a thousand swings, crashed down upon the nearest skeletal worker, shattering bone and metal into a cloud of dust. The other skeletons, their programming seemingly oblivious to the escalating chaos, continued their work, their movements a macabre parody of life.

  Evolon, her eyes blazing with righteous anger, unleashed a torrent of arrows, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Skeletal bodies exploded into motes of dust, raining down upon the factory floor. She moved with a predatory grace, weaving between the conveyor belts, her bow a blur of motion as she decimated the undead ranks.

  Grok, her massive frame radiating an aura of primal fury, waded into the fray, her sword flashing and her three tigers tearing through the skeletal workers with savage efficiency. She cleaved through two skeletal bodies with a single blow, her every swing a testament to her honed skills and raw strength. Bones shattered, gears ground to a halt, and the factory floor became a gruesome tableau of death and destruction.

  Ignis, his normally jovial demeanor replaced with a mask of cold fury, unleashed a barrage of spells. Fireblasts erupted, incinerating skeletal workers and sending shockwaves through the factory. Lightning bolts crackled, throwing caution to the wind, arcing through the air and reducing skeletal bodies to smoldering ash. The air sizzled with raw power as Ignis, fueled by anger, channeled his magic with devastating precision.

  Pierce, his face a mask of cold determination, moved through the chaos, his hands glowing with an eerie green light. He focused his healing magic, not to mend and restore, but to twist and destroy. He targeted the skeletal workers one by one, his corrupted healing energy surging into their brittle forms. Bones warped and buckled under the onslaught, joints fusing and limbs contorting into grotesque angles. With a final surge of green light, the undead lifeforce extinguished, their forms collapsing into inert piles of bone and metal. But Pierce's magic didn't stop there. It leaped from one expiring skeleton to the next, creating a chain reaction of destruction that spread through the factory floor like a plague.

  The party, their initial fury spent, surveyed the scene of devastation. The air was thick with bone dust, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the light orbs above. The cacophony of industry had been replaced by an unsettling silence, punctuated only by the occasional groan of collapsing metal and the clatter of gears grinding to a halt. It was a symphony of destruction, a testament to their righteous anger.

  With no more enemies in sight, they ascended to the castle levels, their thirst for vengeance still unsatieated. Every skeletal guard, every patrolling squad, every lone sentinel they encountered met the same swift and brutal end. The castle's once-pristine halls now echoed with the sounds of battle – the clang of steel against bone, the roar of magic, followed by the chilling silence that marked their passage. The party, their faces streaked with sweat and grime, their eyes burning with a cold fire, showed no mercy. They were a force of nature, an unstoppable torrent of destruction, and the castle trembled under their onslaught.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of relentless combat, they reached a set of imposing double doors, fifty feet high, their dark wood intricately carved with scenes of skeletal armies clashing with hordes of monstrous beasts. Pushing through the doors, they found themselves in a lavishly decorated, well-lit hallway with lush red carpet underfoot. Still on high alert, they cautiously proceeded, Evolon expertly checking for traps as they went. The hallway opened into a grand chamber, fifty feet square, with five arched doorways leading to unknown destinations. Heavy wooden doors barred their way, each adorned with a distinct symbol etched into the stone arch above: crossed swords, a bow and arrow, a fireball, a single dagger, and a skull. The party paused, their chests heaving, their weapons coated in the dust of countless battles, and prepared to face the final challenge.

  "Which one first?" Pierce asked, his voice echoing through the silent chamber. The weight of their mission, the culmination of their long and arduous journey, hung heavy in the air. The fate of worlds rested on their next decision.