As night fell upon the camp, Zrol's two contingents – composed of 120 soldiers each – departed north towards the pass. The cool winds coming down from the rocky slopes were a refreshing change from the sweltering heat at the bottom of the dried-out valleys, and they struck a brisk march with a vanguard of Goblin skirmishers running ahead of the two columns.

With Zrol were the best of his forces, each consisting of thirty-six Goblin skirmishers, twelve Bugbear shock troops and sixty Hobgoblin infantry. Six officers presided over each column, and six mystics were included for support. Barring the Goblins, who mostly served as expendable scouts, they were the tip of the spear: trained soldiers who had been with him since the early days of The Neck. Adorned in Dwarven arms and armour, they had helped clear the haunted forest, destroying the forces of the Elder Lich that ruled one of the broken towers, then the Elder Lich itself.

They had slain many monsters and subjugated hundreds of tribes throughout their long journey, and now they would be the first to cross into the north. He looked forward to raiding the sleepy Human lands with them, once his other forces occupied the new camp.

At a certain point, the Goblins in the vanguard stopped. Zrol thought he recognized the surroundings and, sure enough, the old territorial marker stood in their path.

"What are you waiting for?" He told them, "We've already checked ahead – there's nothing out there to stop us."

He kicked the marker over and hurled a nearby Goblin forward. Several others stared at the broken post with its scattered skulls for a long moment before resuming their advance towards the pass. Zrol snorted dismissively as he strode by, slowing the columns' pace so their skirmishers could get a suitable distance ahead of the main body again.

As they continued their ascent, the trees thinned out and gave way to widespread patches of windswept brush. The skies remained as clear as the day, and silvery moonlight flooded the night. This was good, as it gave them a view of the surroundings beyond the range of their Darkvision, but Zrol would have preferred it to be a moonless night, or at least overcast. Humans relied entirely upon light to see, and a lightless environment would give them a decisive advantage when they started their raids.

The lieutenant leading the other column angled over, a question plainly on her face.

"We're packed pretty tightly here," she said, "and this pass is huge. You think we should spread ourselves out a bit? The Gobs around here never shut up about how this place is a deathtrap – it's possible that these Humans might try dumping a piece of the mountain on us."

Zrol looked up to the two peaks looming on either side of the pass. What the lieutenant said wasn't absolutely impossible, but what she had also said about the width of the passage made it difficult to pull off. It was a risk easily avoided, however.

"We can go through the centre instead," he told her, "anything like that won't be able to reach us all the way from the edges of the pass. I don't want to spread out our column any more than I need to…you ever fought Humans before?"

The lieutenant shook her head, and Zrol grunted.

"I've been on some modest raids against the Humans of the wall in the past few years," he said, "and in a big, clear place like this, they're likely to use cavalry."

"Cavalry…you mean like wolf riders?"

"Heh, kinda," Zrol said. "They use Horses instead."

"Ah…you mean those beasts that look like Centaurs without the top half."

"Yeah, those," Zrol nodded. "They're good in a sprint and pretty big, so getting caught alone can be trouble. Gobs'll get run down in droves unless they have somewhere to hide – like behind us. If we're packed tightly, we'll be able to stop any charge that they try to make…well, if they even show up."

The lieutenant returned to her column, bringing it closer to his own. Over time, the uneventful ascent started to draw his suspicions…there were no walls or forts, or even any sign of patrols. Save for the faint scents of Human habitation and the marker where their territory supposedly started, there was nothing. Surely someone would have noticed their procession under the light of a full moon, up a wide pass without any cover. It was a pass for crying out loud – you were supposed to defend them, or at least set watches. He idly cranked his crossbow and loaded it, just in case…

Zrol gave his head a shake as more and more paranoid thoughts crept out of the shadows of his mind. Maybe he had become infected by the incessant fears of the local tribes: a disease that stoked irrational thoughts…or a curse.

Ahead, it appeared that the Goblins in the vanguard had stopped again. Scowling, Zrol wondered if they had come across another marker. As the columns caught up with them however, they, too, came to a halt.

At the crest of the pass, a single figure stood under the streams of silver moonlight that filtered down from above. It stood about as tall as a Hobgoblin, though not as broad. In one hand, it held a long spear, from which a long silken banner fluttered and snapped in the wind: a vermillion standard upon which rested an unknown emblem emblazoned in shimmering gold.

Before Zrol could raise his voice and demand why it stood in their path, a clear, female voice washed over them.

"You have crossed into the sovereign realm of Ainz Ooal Gown, the Sorcerer King," she said. "To you, who approach with arms brandished, I will ask but once: what is your business with the Sorcerous Kingdom?"

By the voice and scent that carried over the pass, it was a Human female. Zrol remained silent, studying her carefully. Where had she appeared from? Was she a Hunter from the lands beyond, belatedly tracking their Goblin scout? Her equipment was inferior to the Humans of the wall, and certainly far beneath Zrol's own Dwarven plate mail. Though her spear gleamed in the moonlight, it did not appear to be magical, nor was there any obvious sign of magical items upon her person.

A single Human against over two hundred trained Hobgoblins, Bugbears and Goblins. What could she possibly do? Recalling his thoughts from before, Zrol glanced from side to side, registering the details of the wide pass. There were no other Humans in sight, and the field of bare stones, short grass and sparse shrubs provided no cover to conceal oneself behind.

Were there traps between them? Even if there were, the Goblins that they sent in first would spring them all. Based on their relative positions, more Humans might be concealed behind the top of the pass, but the odours carried on the wind were weak and did not indicate any other Humans – or anything else – nearby.

It didn't make any sense. What was her ploy? She mentioned the 'Sorcerous Kingdom' – did that mean she was a magic caster? Humans were skinny compared to most other races, but she did not give the sense of being a mage or mystic. By her equipment, she was a single warrior standing in the middle of a very wide pass, which made for a rather ludicrous image.

Did she think that she could just block them all by herself? He did not have the senses of a scout, so he only had a vague idea of her strength, but she was clearly weaker than he. Even with what he thought should be a sizable difference, however, she still radiated a keen sense of danger that caused his much weaker Goblin vanguard to cringe back.

"Captain?"

The uncertain voice of one of his lieutenants prodded Zrol from behind. He was being needlessly hesitant in front of his own subordinates. He had been through Jaldabaoth's hell and marched hundreds of kilometres to reach this point, and he would certainly not be turning back. They were headed north – whether these Humans liked it or not. The lone female before them was clearly challenging their advance, and there was only one answer for such heedless fools.

He raised his crossbow and pulled the trigger. The heavy wooden bolt streaked out towards its target. A hand's breadth from the centre of her torso, the projectile stopped in midair.

Protection from Arrows? Zrol frowned, I guess this Human's a magic caster, after all.

The bolt remained suspended in front of her for a second before clattering to the stones.

"I see," she said.

Fiery light glinted off of the Human's eyes. A flash filled the pass, and an explosion rocked the column somewhere behind. Zrol threw himself forward as dancing shadows were cast over the barren slope. Cries of panic and pain filled the air. He looked back up to see the Human still standing there, dispassionately gazing right past him as the light of flickering flames played over her face.

Zrol rose to his feet, turning around to see what had happened to his soldiers. A line had been blasted through the back of the column, and scores of dead lay scattered and scorched over the stones. Shouts and screams continued to issue from the rear, but Zrol couldn't see anything through the curtain of thick smoke from the dried grass and shrubs that were set aflame. He ran around to the side, trying to get a view of what was going on.

Orbs of flame streaked down from behind the smoke, blasting another series of holes into the column. Screaming Goblins were incinerated, while Hobgoblins and Bugbears fell back from the blaze. They were being attacked from behind, but how did their enemies get there? It looked like magic casters of some sort were hitting them, so probably Invisibility or the like.

"Shield wall!" He shouted, "Harden yourselves against magic! The rest of you – spread out!"

Zrol's core of well-trained veterans assumed stances that raised their resistance against magic. His officers repeated his orders, and the Hobgoblin infantry formed up into shield walls that would block any more incoming Fireballs. Everyone else started to scatter to avoid becoming ideal targets for further bombardment.

The moans of horrifically burned soldiers were joined by the dull, metallic tread of heavy boots, reverberating off of the slopes of the pass. An unsettling wave of intangible dread washed over him.

Through the wall of billowing smoke, a figure emerged, encased in wicked, spiked armour. Crimson lines that traced over its dark form like pulsing veins glowed through the haze. From behind the huge tower shield that covered most of its body, a weapon flashed out, cleaving through a half dozen Goblins that were still reacting to the orders being shouted out. Zrol blanked out for a moment as his gaze followed its sudden appearance.

What the hell is that thing?!

It was far more intimidating than the single Human female 'blocking' the pass. Chaos erupted as it charged into their ranks, crushing slower Goblins underfoot while striking down others with an undulating blade of unreasonable length in one hand. Crossbow bolts splintered against its armour, and even javelins glanced off to no effect. Though it was not much larger than a Bugbear, and shorter than an Ogre, it seemed an inexorable juggernaut as it plowed a bloody furrow through the shattered Goblin ranks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another dark figure emerge from the smoke.

So this was it, then. This was the answer to all of his rising questions that culminated in the appearance of the Human at the top of the pass. He had to admire how well the ambush had been executed. A single Human had stopped their entire column – which had absolutely no need to stop in the first place – allowing the unseen magic casters to disorder their rear with area effect spells. They hit them with magic again just to shift them into a more vulnerable stance before sending these strong troops through the smoke and into the fray.

But that was where it would end. They had a practically limitless pool of Goblins to replace their losses from, and the elites of Zrol's unit were too well-trained to be overwhelmed with just this. Now that battle was joined, he was confident that hard-earned discipline would carry them to victory.

"Tighten it up!" Zrol's voice rose over the din of violence, "Defensive stances! Pin that thing down!"

Unlike the Goblins, who were already caught up in a panicked retreat around the advancing enemy to disappear into the smoke, his Hobgoblins remained stalwart. As they tightened into a densely packed defensive formation, Zrol stepped closer, keen to discover the true mettle of this new enemy. It smashed into the line like a savage beast clad in gleaming black plate. The wall of Dwarven steel was pushed back slightly, but did not buckle.

"Bugbears!"

Zrol clenched his fist in anticipation as the dozen Bugbears waiting behind the defensive line came around to assail their opponent from both sides. Judging from its charge into the Hobgoblin defenders, it appeared to be a bit stronger than elite Hobgoblin officers like himself. The Bugbears would be able to overwhelm it with brute force.

To its credit, their enemy caught the first three massive war mauls descending towards it with its shield, then parried two others with its blade. Brutal blows rained down on its helmet and shoulders, and Zrol allowed himself a satisfied smirk. No matter how hard its armour might be, whoever was inside would still suffer grievous damage from the merciless hammering. He relaxed slightly as he awaited the inevitable result…

…and then he waited some more. After nearly a minute, the smirk slid off of Zrol's face. The rise and fall of the Bugbears' war mauls slowed, then stopped. Half of his shock troops could no longer be seen, and the remainder eventually sunk out of sight in front of the shield wall. With barely a pause, the enemy warrior let out a bestial howl and reared back before slamming its massive shield into the line.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The air seemed to shudder with every strike, and the formation was pushed back, step by step. The defenders were stacked four deep, yet it continued driving forward in its relentless assault. How could it continue? The toll of its exertions should be visible by now, yet it ignored mace and hammer; axe and spear, its armour unyielding before any and all attempts to injure it by the other formations that closed in on its flanks.

Zrol came forward, hefting his warhammer. He was a good deal stronger than his soldiers – he could settle his side of the fight by breaking this ridiculous stalemate. As he approached, the unsettling feeling in the air grew, though it had nothing to do with their enemy's looming figure. There were plenty of Bugbears in the army that were around the same size, and a number of Ogres had been recruited as well. He finally realized just what that feeling was when he came close enough to recognize the features that could be seen from between the gaps in its helmet.

Twin points of crimson flared from within, casting lurid light over its ruined features. What it used to be, he could not tell…but it could only be one thing now.

Undead. These damned Humans!

His realization unraveled the mystery of their opponent's unlimited stamina, but how did the Humans manage to bind such a powerful Undead creature to their will? Why hadn't the officers reported this? Perhaps their dauntless mindset gave them the resolve to face down whatever their enemy might be.

"Close in!" He barked out over the bang and screech of metal, "It's not as strong as it is tough! Seal its movements and get to work – as long as you hit an exposed piece of it, it'll take a bit of damage!"

Spurred by his orders, the flanking formations pressed in to carry out his commands. The Undead monstrosity ground to a halt, eventually becoming so restricted that it resorted to bashing the shields in front of it with short, overhand blows. Zrol looked over to the other side of the battle, where the officers were imitating his maneuver with the one on their end. Now that the situation was under control, they could chip these Undead warriors down until the dark energies fueling their unnatural forms were depleted.

His ears pricked up at a new sound, and his eyes widened when he recognized the rhythmic steps.

Damn it!

"More enemies," he shouted, "coming from the back!"

Metallic stomping filled the air, and two more of the Undead warriors broke through the curtain of black smoke. To Zrol's mounting horror, the mutilated remains of his own soldiers emerged in their wake, surging forward in a wave of Undeath.