A spectre is haunting this kingdom. I can feel it lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment. Is this another one of Salem's machinations, I cannot tell.

It is spreading, corrupting the land itself along it's path. Whatever that thing is, it cannot be good. It is my duty to contain this abomination, to destroy it before it's too late.

"You alright Oz ?"

The so-called Oz returned to the present time. He sat in his comfortable chair, a massive clockwork rotating over his head. In front of him stood his best agent, some would even argue they were friends, this possible friend stood before him in the form of a drunken brat parading as a responsible adult.

"It's fine, I was just thinking of a way to deal with this problem."

"Well if you want my opinion, this kid looked weaker than a fallen leaf, like a burst of wind would be enough to throw him in the air." The drunken brat picked up an half empty bottle of liquor laying around, a relic of an old meeting, and drank it in one go.

Oz politely ignored his agent. They should proceed with extreme caution, any mistake could prove extremely costly.

"Eventually he will have to leave his bodyguard, am I right ? And when he does I deal with him, quick, silent, and efficient. I probably won't even need to kill him, I could beat him barehanded from the looks of it."

This anomaly couldn't be allowed to go public, least the existence of magic be revealed to the entire world.

"No, I cannot afford to lose you, and we don't want to show him our capabilities yet. I will send a competent team, maybe even two. You will follow them from afar, don't intervene unless it's absolutely necessary."

"But... I... understood. I will give you my trust on this one, don't betray it."

"Good."

And if this attempt were to fail, he would need the help of an old friend.

For a few weeks we've been under constant attack by the Grimms. Nobody knows why they're being so persistent, but at least we're able to push them back everytime, at least for now.

Something's not right, whenever those beasts attack and we start opening fire, they simply retreat. This is not your usual wild pack, they're organized, it's like they're testing us.

There was an explosion in the city today, the walls weren't damaged but the Grimms still used the confusion to attack. They managed to break our defenses. We've lost the Eastern gate.

For the last few days we've been fighting them on the streets. We have three huntsmen left. People are starting to leave en masse, or trying to at least. The city is essentially encircled, and the underground railroad can only transport so many.

Vale is getting attacked too apparently, that would certainly explain the lack of help. We've given up on trying to hold the walls, there were simply too many breaches. The Grimms are getting dangerously close to the tunnels.

Nobody knows how it happened, but they have managed to infiltrate the underground network. For now it's only isolated incidents, a few people going missing from time to time, but it's already worrying me.

Our last remaining huntsmen is personally leading the defense, he even made the decision to awaken as many people as possible. Those won't be full fledged huntsmen, but it's still leagues better than your regular militiamen.

The underground network has been lost. We collapsed the exits. Most of the civilians were still down there, awaiting evacuation. I don't want to imagine what they are living through, if they are even still living at all.

We are losing ground. The only area that could be considered even remotely secure covers a single block around the town hall.

The night I can hear them, those people still outside the safe zone. One by one, scream by scream, until it's quiet...

The necromancer closed the book, and sunk into his comfortable armchair.

This had been more entertaining than what he had expected. To be honest there wasn't much else to read in this place. Most books had been burned and the few that remained aborded subjects escaping his understanding.

That isn't to say he didn't do anything productive, rather the opposite even. Teaching undeads how to use firearms had proven to be a difficult task. He barely understood how they worked himself. Mentally ordering each individual soldier to effectue each required steps to fire was hardly possible.

In the end he managed to reduce this problem by delegating a part of his authority to some undeads, giving back to those a small part of their living intelligence. There was ten of them for now, each having ten more normal ones under their mental command.

He could feel that this indirect command had weakened his control. It was harder to sense those lower undeads now, like trying to move a frozen finger.

Another problem had appeared at the same time. With the so-called Grimms regularly swarming their position, they were burning through ammunition like no one's business. The city's old stocks were getting dangerously low. A solution had to be found, and quickly.

That's why, on the low table before him, laid one of those firearms, along with a box of ammo and a small knife. Taking the weapon in his hand, he examined it closely. It was pretty basic in appearance, a solid wooden hilt with a rugged steel barrel. Only the areas around the trigger and the magazine looked somewhat complicated.

Like so many others, this gun had something inscribed into its wood, the name of its owner or creator it would seem. Putting the weapon away, he took the knife and tried to dismantle the gun.

It was in moment like those that he particularly missed his left arm, as holding down the weapon with his shoulder while disassembling it proved quite difficult. Eventually he got tired of this, and simply commanded a passing skeleton to hold it down for him.

It wasn't long before he managed to separate the wooden handle from the barrel. And judging from the snapping sound he heard, he probably wasn't supposed to do that. He continued his task anyway, and examined the barrel's interior.

Unlike the incredibly crude exterior, the interior was sporting a few thin lines engraved into the metal. Those lines followed the tube on all its length, each with a small angle, letting them form an hypnotizing spiral.

The trigger was next, and it proved to be relatively simple in its functioning. Whenever his finger pressed it, a small piece of metal would be removed from the barrel, allowing a sharp pin to hit the bullet that should be there.

Now to the last part, the one that perplexed him the most. The box next to him was filled with a bunch of strange bullets. Unlike the ones he used to know, those weren't round but cylindric.

They were divided into two compartment, one housing a vibrant orange powder. He could feel a some magic emanating from it, it's wasn't consequent at all, probably just a remnant of some ancient magical activity.

When he tried to touch it however, it was so burning hot that he felt the hair on his hand briefly catch fire before being consumed, all this in the instant it took him to retire his hand.

The second compartment was filled with a white powder this time, and in opposition to the first, this one was ice cold. A similar magical presence as before could be felt too, different in some strange, unnatural way.

It seemed like the gunpowder he was slightly familiar with was completely absent. This type of weapons was even more incomprehensible to him than the ones from his homeland.

Not discouraged by his ignorance, the necromancer took a new bullet and loaded it into an intact gun. When pulled the trigger the bullet raced out of the barrel and hit the other side of the room with a loud bang.

It took some time for the ensuing dust cloud to dissipate, and when it did the targeted wall revealed itself to be covered by a thick layer of ice. A few sharp spikes were pointing out and a snowy mist hovered next to it.

It looked like the second compartment was the origin of this ice, but what use did the first one have in this case ? Maybe it was just a replacement for black powder, or maybe something else entirely.

With a tired sigh the necromancer put the weapon away. Nothing more could be learnt for now, he would have to find someone more knowledgeable in the future. One thing was sure however, he would have to get more of this powder if he wished to make more ammo.

It was at this moment that he felt an incoming signal from one of his minions. According to a nearby undead leader, there was some kind of weird metal box flying towards them.

The necromancer got up and ordered his bodyguard to follow with what was probably an unnecessary hand gesture. He got out of the town hall just in time to witness said metal box landing on the street.

It was somewhat similar to the dwarf's gyrocopters, but probably even more advanced. It's metal was smooth, and instead of the giant blades used by a gyrocopter, there were only two big tubes spitting fire towards the ground.

One of the thing's sides slid open, revealing the presence of 4 individuals, all armed with strange weapons. While they jumped off the vehicle, he could feel his own soldiers moving into position. In the buildings bordering the street, the underground below, and behind him.

Those intruder were probably enemies, their armors and clothes too golden, too bright. This impression was confirmed when one of them pointed at the undeads behind him, looked at something in her pocket, and gestured for the group to attack.

Immediately they separated themselves, two of them going straight towards him while the two others began a flanking maneuver on both his left and right.

As the threat approached, the necromancer remained still, waiting for the right moment. Only when the two flankers had sufficiently moved away from the center, did he give the order.

Instantly a veritable wall of fire and lead fell on the two flankers, who had made the mistake of wandering too close to the buildings in which his undeads were hidden.

While the group was distracted, he ordered Siegfried to attack the duo in the center, composed of a nimble fighter and a beast of a man able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the champion.

He quickly followed this order by rushing to his right, between the enemy center and their left flank currently paralysed by his soldiers. Just as his champion crashed into the duo, the massive enemy dodged the attack with a surprising amount of dexterity, and proceeded to chase the necromancer.

The necromancer in question could soon hear his pursuer's breath behind him, he was gaining ground ! The big warrior slashed at him with his sword, but his target managed to escape by abruptly turning left into a cramped dead-end alley.

Little more than a few seconds later he slid into a narrow opening in the wall at the end of the alley. He didn't slow down to look behind him, but was soon informed by the sound of stone breaking that he was still being followed.

The path he now found himself in was leading him sliding down on a steep slope, and a small hole in the ceiling acted as the only source of light. A rotting corpse laid next to this opening, but in his hurry the necromancer didn't seem to notice it.

His opponent still hot on his trail the necromancer soon arrived into an underground room of consequent size.

As he heard the warrior getting back on his feets behind him, he turned around and faced his opponent.

"If you choose to surrender now, I promise on my honor that you will be treated well."

The necromancer waited a few seconds before answering, using this opportunity to recover his breath.

"Not that I doubt your word, but I don't plan to get captured. Sorry."

"What a shame that it had to come to this, but you leave me no choice."

The warrior got into a fighting stance, raising his sword and visibly getting ready to attack. The necromancer sighed, closed his eyes, and stomped the ground with his foot twice.

Immediately the sound of stone scraping against stone was heard, just before all light in the already dark cave disappeared.

The necromancer kept his eyes closed, focusing on the magic around him, focusing on the undeads around him, including the one who sunk the room into darkness.

He could feel the life energy of his opponent, who was turning in place searching him. As quietly as he could, he began to slowly approach.

When the warrior clumsily stepped towards his general direction, the necromancer graciously moved sideways. Now his victim was close enough that he could touch him, he could feel his life force, strong and vibrant, and began pulling on it.

A quiet gasp escaped the target's lips as he jerked around in surprise.

"What's happening ? Is this another one of your dirty tricks ?"

Remaining hidden, he continued to draw onto the life force. The incoming energy even allowing him to become completely silent by removing his need to breath.

"Why is it suddenly so cold ?" Muttered the young man as he stubbled around.

"Show yourself you coward !" The warrior suddenly shouted, standing tall for a moment, just before staring down and looking smaller than ever. "Please... I'm so tired... I don't want to die... not like that..."

He could feel the last bits of energy leaving the man's body as he fell down to the ground, but just before he was completely done for, the necromancer ordered his minion to once again let light flow in, and stepped forth.

Fear was evident in the man's amber eyes, even when he was struggling to keep them open. The necromancer knelt down next to his dying victim, and held the latter's head in his only arm.

"It's okay, everything will be fine. I know you're tired. You're just going to take a nice, long rest." A weak sob escaped the man lips. He tried to speak, but no sound came out.

"Everything will be fine... I won't leave you alone." He then watched in silence as light left the man's eyes. He had died.

This wasn't the first time he had blood on his hands, far from that, but right now it felt different, it felt wrong. This man didn't deserve his fate, he didn't deserve to die.

If only things hadn't come to this, if only he hadn't landed in this foreign land in the first place. If only he had been a good boy all those years ago, maybe none of this would have happened, maybe his family would still be alive. If only.

Yet here he was, this wasn't right, nothing about it was. But they had attacked him first, he was only defending himself. He had no choice, and there was no going back. To press forward, to continue no matter the cost, this was the only option left to him.

How long he stayed like this, he didn't know. But when he stared once again at the corpse in front of him, he knew what he had to do. To end this fight. To avoid any more death.

"I'm sorry..."

Pooling deep into himself, he pulled back the drained magical energy. In a process done the many times before, identical yet different, he forced the magic to follow his will.

As the transfer continued, he found himself drawn to his victim's empty eyes. He stared at them with a mixture of sadness, pity and even, carefully suppressed in the back of his mind, hope.

But no light returned to those lifeless eyes, even as the corpse began moving, even when it stood up straight, towering over his master, there was no light.

The necromancer let out a deep sigh while standing up himself, there was still work to do.

He began rapidly walking towards the exit, his freshly resurrected slave silently following behind him. As he reached the street on which the confrontation had begun, he was met with something unexpected.

Even before the action was made visible to him, he already noticed that his soldiers' numbers had been considerably dwindled. But now he could see that a new fighter had appeared, and was fighting alongside the only survivor of the initial four enemies.

The new arrivant was currently having a hard time trying to pierce the undead champion's armor with his scythe. The other combatant was a young lady with strange bunny ears protruding from her head. She wasn't in a good shape, using a nearby wall as support while her bloody hands rested on a severely injured belly.

It didn't take long for the fighting man to notice his presence, quickly followed by the injured girl. A silent gasp escaped her mouth at the sight of the new undead, and tears started appearing in her already red eyes.

The man recovered from the shock relatively quickly, and soon assessed that the current situation wasn't in his favor. He slowly began stepping back, closing in with the crying girl.

The necromancer used this moment of weakness to strike.

"Now that half of you are dead, maybe you will be willing to tell me what you want from me ?"

"Who are you kidding ?!" The man retorted. "We both know you're nothing else than another one of her pawns."

What was this man talking about ? Who was 'her' ? He had to play his cards with caution.

"And what makes you think that ? I may very well not even know who you're talking about ?"

The man spat on the ground in front of him. "Only someone as twisted as her would use this kind of magic. You're a monster, no better than the lowest Grimm, and we will treat you as such."

At those words his scythe suddenly transformed into a sword and he leaped at his opponent. With a practiced ease, the necromancer let his new minion block the incoming blow. And when the assailant inevitably jumped back after his failed attack, he was unable to dodge the fist swung at him by the Champion.

You could almost see the breath being kicked out of the man's lungs, and you could certainly see the dust cloud created by the man's impact on the ground.

As he was gasping for air, the necromancer approached, trying a different method.

"I'm impressed that you managed to get this far, do you even know how many of my combatant you killed ?"

"Kill ? Those people were already dead long before I destroyed their empty shells."

Shit, this didn't seem to work either.

"Listen here, I'm trying to give you a chance to get out of this situation alive, but if you refuse to cooperate I won't have any choice other than silencing you, definitely."

This did seem to make him pause, the man was staring at the sky, visibly in deep thoughts. Good, this probably meant that he was at least considering the offer, they were making progress.

After a few seconds however the man began laughing, quietly at first, almost like he was trying to hide it, only to give up after barely a second.

He suddenly pointed at the sky behind his captor, said captor soon turned around and his eyes widened at the sight over him.

"It's over... hahaha... You can kill me, you can kill her, but can you kill them ?"

And he was right, unless he had a special anti flying warship fleet spell, he couldn't kill them.

Hello everyone ! New chapter today. Thanks for your comments, they helped me a lot, both in term of ideas and motivation.

So yeah, I killed everyone in team CFVY except Velvet. I hope no one will stop following this fic because of it. But I prefer to warn you, they probably won't be the last, even if I will try to develop those deaths more in the future.

We now have the base for mass firearm use, vehicles are still a long way to go but we're getting there.

I tried to introduce a small human part to the MC, to show that he's not completely heartless, at least not yet. He won't be a goodie two shoes but he won't be a big bad guy either.

Til next time.