The swirl of magic faded, and Vanthelis stepped once more into the heart of the Necropolis. The sky above was a constant gray, unmoved by his return. Ghouls and Acolytes froze at the sight of him, their gazes filled with curiosity, doubt, and quiet hope.
He offered them no greetings.
"Be prepared," he said coldly, his voice slicing through the silence like a dagger.
Without another word, he walked past them, disappearing into the treeline that bordered the fortress. He made his way to the nearby river and knelt at the bank, letting the cold water run over his hands. The memory of the priest's final scream still echoed in his mind, and the burn of the Heart of Tarasque pulsed deep in his chest. He knew what he had done—stealing the orb, slaughtering the holy priest—was no small matter.
The Naga would not forgive it.
War was inevitable now. He had only chosen to strike the first blow.
He clenched his fists.
"So be it."
Back at the Necropolis, Haben didn't wait for further commands. With practiced urgency, he rallied the remaining Acolytes. There was no time to waste. The 36,000 gold Vanthelis and Ishlar had gathered would not last long—but it would be enough.
For two days straight, they worked. Spirit Towers rose one after another along the coastline, shaped from bone, shadow, and cursed steel. Their spires stabbed the sky, humming with dark energy. By the time the last coin was spent, the shoreline had transformed into a fortress.
There were no blind spots. No place to dock a ship. No way to swim ashore undetected. Any approach would be met with merciless fire.
Even the gnolls had changed. Once chaotic and wild, they moved with purpose. Their numbers had swelled to over seventy, thanks to their rapid breeding and ample food. The females hid their cubs deep in the tunnels below, while the males forged rough, brutal weapons. Many were born fighters. All were ready to die.
Every soul—living or undead—prepared for the storm that was coming.
Far across the sea, a Naga warrior circled the waters near the abandoned port city. For four days, he had waited. Watched. Yesterday, a ship had tried to flee. It carried civilians—elders and children. One of Ishlar's agents had warned not to touch them.
But the Naga's rage did not care.
He slaughtered them all.
Now, the city was silent. Even the birds were gone. No movement. No life. Only ash and bones.
Frustrated, he swam back to the Queen's lair with grim urgency.
The Naga Queen sat upon a throne of coral and bone, half-serpent, half-sorceress. Her long hair flowed like seaweed in the currents, her golden eyes burning with ancient wrath. As the warrior knelt, she leaned forward, voice like a blade drawn underwater.
"Well?" she hissed.
"My Queen… the city is empty," he said. "I believe Vanthelis and Ishlar died there."
The Queen's eyes narrowed. "Liar. I can no longer feel the orb, it means they used the orb for their own!"
Her voice rose in fury. "Go to that boy's base. Find out what happened!"
The warrior obeyed.
It took him over an hour to reach the distant shore—but what he saw left him speechless.
A wall.
No, towers—dozens of them—lined the coastline like a skeletal army. Spirit Towers, humming with the same cursed energy that once destroyed their sea worms. They hadn't been there before.
He retreated immediately.
Back at the Queen's throne, he bowed low. "They've built defenses… a wall of towers. The coast is surrounded. We cannot land unnoticed."
For a moment, the Queen was silent.
Then she laughed.
Low and cold.
"So… they dare." Her voice trembled with fury.
She stood, her trident crackling with arcane power. The sea churned around her, responding to her rage. "He stole my orb. He killed my pets before. And now he hides behind walls?"
She struck the floor with her trident, sending a shockwave through the water. Around her, monstrous sea beasts stirred—serpents coiling, crustaceans clacking, soldiers rising.
"Gather all our warriors," she snarled. "Bring the beasts. Bring everything."
She turned, her voice echoing like thunder beneath the waves.
"We go to war!"
The Naga warrior swam off at full speed, his heart pounding.
Behind him, the Naga Queen stared toward the distant coast.
"Vanthelis…" she whispered, hatred thick in her voice. "I will kill you myself. Your bones will decorate my throne. Your soul will scream beneath the waves."
And as her army began to rise from the deep, the sea itself seemed to tremble.
War had come.