Forged By The Apocalypse - A LitRPG With Draconic Potential

Over the first hour of their wargame, Cal had spent their resources freely. It was more important to know the quality of the enemies they faced than to implement a strategy immediately. He may have gotten a primer on war straight from the System but it hadn’t exactly made him Sun Tzu or anything. His initial assumption of a rock-paper-scissors pattern to the battles fell apart quickly in the face of actual combat.

Cal had not accounted for individual heroics amongst the units on the field. As much as these mana-made individuals were simple beings, they were not robots. When given an order, they followed it and then attempted to act in the best interests of battle. The first skirmishes had been less effective than they might have been because the five commanders were still understanding their fighters.

And the enemy.

Rashid looked out over the Scarred Plains with a grimace. He was in command of the mage regiments, and was pacing the ravaged battlegrounds for straggler groups of enemies to pick off. It really was the only appropriate name for the third demarcation between the two armies, he judged. Battle was occurring in all sectors at this point, but the bulk of it was being meted out in the centre. The strength of the combatants had left an apocalyptic set of gouges, divots and craters which raised the need for caution when crossing. Large forces could be hiding anywhere.

Rashid focused on keeping his mages alive, a task which was becoming harder and harder as new enemy types began to appear. Initially, Rashid’s mages had been able to handle the melee fighters of the enemy but the new units started to tear through the defensive lines with ease. Flying vampire bats joined the approaching hordes of skeletons and zombies, armoured death knights began to prowl the arena and Rashid was sure there were more surprises waiting.

For his part, once Cal saw that his own options were limited, he quickly remedied the problem. With Hassian commanding the warriors and Morris on scouting duty with the archers, the bulk of the damage dealing had been left to Rashid. When a squad of mounted troops of their own blasted through a frustrating battle line, Rashid was relieved. Larry gave him a wink and a nod before he continued harrying the enemy forces.

In short order, true battalions were made. With each of the lieutenants helping the others, the growth in scale was easy enough to manage. The growing squads which each person now controlled were able to make strategic decisions and counter the enemy without waiting for the others to assist. Yet, despite all the progress they were making in leadership experience, the enemy were progressing in a more physical way.

Rashid was an anxious man by nature. Once the entire Scarred Plains had been lost and their base began to be harried, he started to get worried. He had just lost another expensive group of mages and shock cavalry to an ambush and the pressure rose to an unbearable degree. He had been about to voice his frantic worries when a hand fell on his shoulder. Everyone was preoccupied to the utmost, and his distraction might have caused a cascading problem. Turning to Grant, Rashid was grateful before the other man even said anything.

The strange eyes of Grant Kaeron were gentle and calm, even as awful screeching and howls could be heard from the battlefield below, approaching ever closer. “He’s got this.” Rashid followed Grant’s eyes to Cal’s unmoving form. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. This is all part of the plan. Even losing soldiers.”

Immediately, Rashid’s panic receded. Such was the confidence on Cal’s face, a small smirk locked in place and only widening as Rashid watched. His units were still fighting in places, so he returned to more specifically control them. The unstoppable horde was terrifying, as Rashid’s perception raced across the battlefield to get involved, but he tried to focus on what he was missing. Why was Cal smiling?

Did it maybe have something to do with all of the dead sheep and cows?

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Summon Options

Warriors

Archers

Mages

Spearmen

Healers

Supplementary Fighters

Horsemen

Shock Cavalry

Shieldbearers

Cattle Farmers

Army Points - 124 (+12 per minute)

Cal was enjoying himself and bought a few more sets of cattle farmers. He placed a few in the safest areas possible, as it was their feed which had increased their army point production so much. The System had shown him what he expected to see at the beginning, a simple set of warriors, archers and mages, like the starting classes in a video game, but Cal’s thinking had grown much less limited as his skills as a general grew. If he could reasonably have organised the groups together, then the System let him spend army points on them.

It was a strangely intuitive way of working. Once Cal could imagine a way it could be of use, it appeared in his menu. The enemy had begun to use calvary, so he had reacted with spearmen to counter them, while summoning regiments of shock troops himself. Reinforcing damage groups became possible with supplementary fighters, and the whole squad could be kept alive longer with one of the expensive healers around. The enemy gathered more imposing and dangerous creatures too and so, the equilibrium of battle seemed to be against them.

Yet, Cal didn’t worry. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew this was fine. There was an ebb and flow to the way the points were being spent and gained which suited Cal well. A few hours had passed, and the undead army had pressed far enough that there was little left of the green fields which had once stood firm against their approach. His weak, undefended farmers stood no chance as the hordes began to descend. It frustrated Cal as he lost army point production, and he agonised over the situation. Conveniently, his focus on the farmers gave him exactly the answer he had been looking for.

The most important squad became a unit of 10 farmers which cost 3 points. By running these poor homunculi and their animals into the fray, the hordes gorged themselves and became mindless. From there, Cal carefully chose the squads that were chosen to finish these groups off. Rashid’s mage corps was the main focus, and it was at the sixth hour mark that he saw the change begin in one of those groups. Unable to contain his excitement, he slapped the table. “Time to commence operation Turn Undead.”

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Sassarack took a deep breath of the foetid air surrounding the undead encampment. If he had lips, he would have smiled. “I love the smell of pestilence in the morning,” he sighed. Of course, he got no reaction from the commanders, which caused him to roll the flaming orbs in his skull which worked as eyes. He had been mortal once, and the old habits stuck.

There was a confusion in his mind about the cause for this battle and why he was leading the forces, but he trusted his lord Mortesax implicitly and was more than happy to follow orders. Crush the opposition. Crush the living. Crush the climbers. Orders made choices simple. If the choice didn’t help further his or his master’s goals, then it didn’t occur. As such, Sassarack was considered a fairly intense and unceasing general amongst Mortesax’s forces.

So, it was with the utmost surprise that Sassarack heard a throat cleared to his right. He turned his skull slowly, burning gaze firmly on the commander in charge of the Unblessed. With enough time, these poor husks would grow a soul, but alas. They were expendable, and made to be used, even if Sassarack wished it were not so. That didn’t mean he appreciated one of them speaking up. “What?” He asked, a voice of black ice.

The zombie was not of elite level, but might be one day. “Sassarack sir, there appears to be… a problem.” The general, who wasn’t in the business of asking second questions, nor waiting for exposition, destroyed the zombie’s form with a flick. One of these days, he would get an assistant, he decided. He simply wasn’t patient enough anymore. Grasping the fleeing soul of the zombie, Sassarack devoured it along with its information.

He processed for a moment before slamming the war table hard, cracking it. Sassarack would argue the cracks actually improved the design, but he didn’t see. His focus was within the horde now, trying to reign them in. How did this happen? The mindless mass was in a frenzy, which should have been a good thing. That meant they had all gorged to the next level. They would be less pliant, but with the loss of life they must have caused to do so would make it worth it. Surely there were no units left to battle them.

“WHAT?!”

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Larry and Morris burst out laughing as a pained and confused howl of frustration came from the enemy camp. They hadn’t been sure of the brutal strategy at first, but as their forces waltzed through waves of undead, the efficiency couldn’t be argued against. The ability to think up and implement the strategy suggested a darkness neither of the brothers wanted to analyse too much.

Thousands of cattle farmers had been used as a meat shield for their more valuable fighters, and the enemies which got stronger by devouring the farmers and their animals then became fertiliser for the true army. Every few minutes, the brothers reminded themselves that this grisly scene was essentially a simulation, but it didn’t make it much less disgusting to see people torn apart and eaten. Their clearly approaching victory, at least, made it worth it.

By feeding the farmers straight into the opposing army, the individualism of the undead started to appear. They became frantic for more, and those who had gorged were stronger than the others. The vampire bats began fighting with death knights over who would get to feed, and it was in that confusion and chaos that the forces of life took control of the battle.

The largest challenge had been making it seem and feel natural that they would be pushed back, but only Cal even knew that was happening at the time. He had impressed them all, and the brothers agreed that he had even started to feel a little bit like Grant when he spoke and gave orders. It was intoxicating, being near such obvious growth. “Let's finish off that general, shall we?” Morris asked his brother. The two were sat with eyes closed, their perceptions flying around the battlefield, but their physical proximity meant they could converse easily.

“Yes, brother, let’s.” Larry answered.