The forest that separated the northern region from the central kingdom was not a simple stretch of wilderness.
It was a living boundary.
For centuries, it had served as a natural buffer between civilizations, swallowing armies, caravans, and monsters alike. Fog clung low to the ground even during daylight, dense enough to mute sound and distort distance. The further north one traveled, the less the forest resembled anything tame.
Trees twisted into unnatural shapes, their bark darkened and hardened as if scorched long ago. The soil beneath was rich with decay, thick with the remnants of things that had lived, died, and risen again.
It was here that Aldrin's group now hid.
When Squad Five had first picked up their trail, Aldrin had not been deep into the forest at all. Back then, escape still seemed possible with speed alone. That illusion shattered quickly.
At the moment, his group was hidden beneath a mountain ridge where the forest gave way to jagged stone and frozen mist. Brago had carved a secondary refuge into the rock, smaller and less fortified than their previous cave, but far better concealed.
They were not alone in this land.
The ruler of the surrounding territory was a powerful necromancer. One who commanded the dead with authority. A vampiric necromancer named Heinz.
Even Brago, whose arrogance bordered on pathological, had acknowledged him as a threat.
"He is comparable to me," Brago had said flatly. "In raw magical authority, perhaps even superior in prolonged engagements."
That alone made Aldrin cautious.
"If he really is comparable to you," Aldrin had replied, "then he's no slouch. We'll take our time. This is what gives us power after all."
Patience was survival.
Aldrin sat near the back of the cavern, a dim glow of mana tracing along his hands as he practiced shaping spell constructs. The heart circle throbbed faintly with every pulse, steadily feeding his reserves. His breathing had grown calmer since its creation, his control sharper.
Brago stood near the entrance, glyphs floating lazily around him. Infernal runes etched into the air, scanning and listening beyond mortal senses.
His second weekly summon had arrived just hours earlier.
A one star imp.
Small, hunched, and ugly, with leathery wings and jagged teeth. It lacked intelligence beyond obedience and hunger. Aldrin had not even bothered naming it.
The creature now crouched obediently near the cave wall, claws scraping faintly against stone as it waited for orders.
A fledgling demon.
A disposable asset.
Aldrin glanced at it briefly before returning his focus to spell formation.
"My luck seems to have been spent all on you, Brago," he said. "Did your glyphs catch any glimpses of them?"
Brago did not turn.
"They are marching with an army," he replied. "The forces gathering at the border are substantial. However, the northern defenses are not weak. The undead patrols and vampire sentinels will slow them considerably."
He paused.
"I would give them a few months before they make any real progress. And even then, following us through this territory will cost them dearly."
"I see," Aldrin murmured. "A few months."
He clenched his fist.
"Then we don't have long. I need to get lucky with my new summons."
Brago's lips curved faintly.
"Luck favors those who survive long enough to use it."
While Aldrin trained and Brago observed the battlefield from afar, Firak moved through the forest.
The ghoul blended seamlessly with the land.
His form, once human, now matched the other undead that roamed the region. Rot and shadow masked his presence, allowing him to pass without drawing attention. He moved carefully, mimicking the slow, aimless behavior of lesser undead as he approached a settlement hidden within the forest.
An abandoned town.
Or what passed for one.
Cracked stone buildings leaned into one another, streets buried beneath frost and bone. Undead figures wandered aimlessly, some wearing rusted armor, others little more than animated remains.
But there was order beneath the chaos.
Firak felt it.
A command structure.
He followed it.
At the center of the town stood a cathedral long since defiled. Blackened spires pierced the fog, stained glass shattered and replaced with crimson sigils. Necromantic energy radiated from it in slow, deliberate waves.
Firak lowered his presence and entered.
Inside, the air was cold and heavy. Rows of undead knelt in silence, unmoving. At the altar stood a figure clad in dark robes, pale skin visible beneath the hood. Red eyes glowed faintly as he traced runes into the air.
Heinz.
The vampiric necromancer.
Firak remained at the edge of the chamber, listening.
"Border activity has increased," one undead lieutenant reported. "Living forces approach from the south. Well equipped. Numerous."
Heinz turned slowly.
"Heroes?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord."
A faint smile touched Heinz's lips.
"Inform the outer patrols," he said calmly. "The border guards will require reinforcements. I will not have outsiders trampling through my lands unchecked."
"Yes, my lord."
Another voice spoke.
"The Vampire King has requested updates on the situation."
Heinz laughed softly.
"Of course he has. Tell him this is a minor disturbance. Nothing more."
His gaze shifted briefly, scanning the chamber.
Firak felt it.
A brush of awareness.
But Heinz did not react further.
Firak withdrew slowly, careful not to break the illusion.
By the time he returned to Aldrin's camp, the fog had thickened, snow drifting lightly through the trees.
"My lord," Firak said, kneeling. "The necromancer Heinz is not merely a lone ruler."
Aldrin's eyes sharpened.
"Explain."
"He is one of three vampire nobles," Firak continued. "Subordinates to a Vampire King who rules the deeper north. Heinz governs this region in his name."
Brago turned slightly.
"That explains the discipline," he said. "And the restraint."
Firak continued.
"He has ordered reinforcements to the border. Living forces are approaching. Likely Zeke's people or allied hunters."
Aldrin exhaled slowly.
"So the locals are preparing for war."
"Yes."
Silence settled over the cavern.
Multiple powers converging.
Heroes from the south. Vampires from the north. Undead in between.
And in the middle of it all, a Summoner still growing into his role.
Aldrin smiled faintly.
"Good," he said quietly. "If everyone's looking at the borders, no one will notice what's happening beneath the fog."
He stood, mana flickering along his veins.
"Let's keep it that way."