There was something therapeutic about shooting moving targets. Knowing that they couldn’t fight back. The crystal song of my ice bullets, the click, clack of the trigger pull, the firing pin shoving forward, followed by the cu-chunk of pulling back the bolt to eject the casing. By the time I shove it back, chambering a new round, a light crystalline tinkle reaches my ears.

  A constant, rhythmic symphony. Punctuated by the bullet finding its home, killing whatever I aim for. A ritual that seemed to bring me ever closer to the rifle in my hand.

  The past week, I’d grown all too used to my weapon. However, it only proved how much more I needed to practice. Standard rounds had decent range and penetrating power. When they hit, they hit with a good amount of force. Enough force that as long as I hit around where the heart was, it would shatter their core, thus killing them.

  Only for the shamans to retrieve the bodies or bring them back up on the field, but nonetheless, it was an easy kill.

  Piercing rounds had the longest range. They had a shrill tune, and punched through most anything, as long as it hit them at the right angle. The tip was a little narrow, with less upfront punching power, and functioned more like a drill with the spin it had. A slight deviation in angle could have the bullet ricochet off them, fail to punch through, or more usually just shatter on impact.

  The wounds made by piercing rounds were small and sure, which meant, I needed even better aim to use them properly.

  Shot rounds were medium ranged. Not as far as my standard rounds, but they still traveled quite a distance before the bullet would explode out into shrapnel. The shrapnel was fairly durable, with surprising penetrating power and punching power. However, they lacked mass, which significantly reduced the overall power of the bullet. It hit in a large area, if placed properly, it could put down entire groups of wicker men, but it wouldn’t truly kill them.

  Had they been human, they would have died after being perforated, but their core and head were left intact, allowing them to reconstitute rather quickly. Making it mostly useless, except for the cases of pushing back groups, at least in the current situation.

  The final type, explosive rounds had by far the shortest range. The bullet was heavier, and I had to aim slightly up, as if it were a grenade. The radius of the explosion was good, nigh obliterating and freezing over whatever was at the center of it. It was overall a good bullet, only… the cost was obscene compared to the others.

  For the most part, standard bullets proved time and again to be the better part of my arsenal. Which just resulted in standard rounds for the basic wicker men, piercing for archers or wicker men with shields, and explosive for the wicker beasts.

  Today was no different. The drum sounded out early in the morning. We were all at the ready, waiting for the coming attack. The field before us had been mostly cleaned up, primarily due to the efforts of the invaders reclaiming their dead.

  What made today different, was that the drums sounded far more urgent, almost feverish. No longer were they a slow, bum, bum, bum, but a rapid beat that had our hearts thumping in our chest like we were at a party or rave.

  I licked my lips. The ice crawling through my veins, choking down the anxiety and fear that tried to crawl up my throat. My rifle was a comfort as the first group broke out of the grove across the distance.

  It was the normal grouping, a Wicker beast followed by normal wicker men and archers. Only… it didn’t stop. As the first wave came out, more and more kept pouring out. A wave of terror took hold. We were facing the invasions combined forces.

  Mentally, I kept track, even as I loaded in explosive rounds and began to open fire on the leading wicker beast. I managed to down it before it could rush down the walls, but what did that matter?

  There was a total of nine wicker beasts, not counting the bear, that was still near the wall, the wolf in the courtyard, and the others that had died when they slipped into the corpse pit.

  Then there was the literal wall of wicker men, and the shamans at the back. Most, if not all of our javelins had been used up in past assaults. Nor had I the resources or time to make more…

  I didn’t want too, but… we had maybe another day or two before the month comes to an end. Based on that, and what I was seeing here, it was highly likely that this would be the final fight.

  Which meant… it was time. Inhaling, exhaling. I felt out the connection between me and the corpse pit. It eagerly responded. I only needed to give the command, and the ritual I had started, would activate.

  There should be enough energy in the ley line to support it and even if there wasn’t, I didn’t have a choice. All of us were tired. Covered in bandages, some bloodied, some not. The enemy was no different. Despite having been recovered, they were covered in wounds, with parts of their bodies missing or with broken weapons.

  It was now or ever.

  With the ritual primed, I stood atop the ramparts and extended my hand. I gathered all of my magic, linking up with the ritual and spoke.

  “Rise.” My voice echoed. The pool below shuddered. The slush-like bloody moat burbled and bubbled. But I didn’t feel it kick on. Like trying to start a lawnmower, or an older car.

  “Rise!” I commanded again, pushing in even more magic. Again, the moat bubble and burbled. I could feel the entire pool shake. Magic began to flow into it from the ley line, the bodies within slowly began to stir, far too slowly.

  So, I gave it one last push.

  “RISE!!!”

  The moment those words left my lips, I felt my magic rush out of me, nearly draining me dry, right before it could wring me dry like a lemon squeezed for lemonade, the ley line kicked in. The fortifications, the various glowing lines all flickered as the corpse pit drained and sucked it dry. Hell, there was even a sound like someone was slurping down on a straw for the last bits of a smoothie.

  All too quickly, the reserves were not only emptied, but drained. The entire ley line, all the fortifications found themselves sucked dry in mere moments. Even the flaming eye that we had grown mostly used too, winked out of existence.

  I had barely a moment to comprehend what that meant, before the corpse pit roared to life. Frozen entities rose from the pit, wicker beasts, now subsumed, changed, pulled themselves free of the moat, taking with them a generous helping of the frozen slush. Their eyes flickered with cold blue lights. Their entire body exuded a haze of bloody frost.

  The smell was indescribable. The smell of blood and rot, replaced with the smell of a bloody tundra. Without a noise, without a single cry, the risen revenants surged forward and clashed with the enemy.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Despite being near empty, I still had plenty of munitions set aside. I calmly loaded and fired, working to aid them. Faust shot out with his own blasts, Diva stood aside, unleashing bursts of sonic screams to daze or slow the enemy forces.

  As the two forces clashed and beat against each other, a tentative balance had been struck. A balance we were slowly winning.

  Anything killed by my revenants were swiftly corroded by the frozen blood they exuded. Their bodies reduced to half-frozen paste. Making them impossible to revive. Thus, with each true death they suffered, what came with it was a rush of revitalizing stream of starry energy.

  As I fired my last shot, emptying my rifle’s magazine. I felt something. A tremor that ran through my senses. Countless pings, surges, warnings all hit me at once.

  I tried to move, I raised my rifle in defense. Just in time, as something crashed into me. My feet left the rampart below me. For a single moment, I soared through the sky, then slammed into the hard earth below. The ice protected my organs, but even then, I felt my whole-body crack from the blow. The stone below me, enhanced as it was hardly made for a soft landing.

  All breath left my lungs. For a single moment, my heart stopped. Above me, a bone white blade had smashed into the body of my rifle.

  It was the gold rank, the wicker chief.

  He looked down at me with a wide smile, exposing sharp teeth. Taunting me, even as a long slithering tongue snaked out.

  Before he could move again, or strike again, the chief leapt off me, a bat whizzed right where he had been. Undeterred, Ruth charged forward. Her bat swung with blistering accuracy, pinging every time it clashed with the chief’s bone sword. Each strike, the bat whined and vibrated. As time passed, the low vrum of the bat grew in octave, becoming shrill and high pitched.

  At which point, the chief did all they could to avoid clashing with the bat. All the while Ruth kept swinging away, trying to slug the wicker chief. Above, Diana and Faust were dealing with the incoming enemy, while my corpse army met them in the field. The ground rumbled as I envisioned my animated wicker beasts clashing with the living wicker beasts. What came to mind was two kaiju beating into each other…

  My oni was on the move, working to back Ruth up. Terra was making her way over as well.

  I tried to move, but my body resisted the motion. I tried to breathe, and my lungs crackled while they struggled to expand. I could feel it, the landing had not been soft. My bones were covered in micro-fractures, by organs had been jolted and had countless small lacerations.

  The ice had protected me, keeping me whole, but also made me brittle in a way. What was soft had cracked, and even now, the ice was filling in the holes. My body protested and the ice that filled the gaps stung in a way that even numbed, I could feel.

  By the time I managed a breath, I coughed out a glob of half-frozen bloody phlegm. It hung in the back of my throat, threatening to suffocate me. Just the act of moving my neck sent lances of pain down my spine. With another rattling cough, I spit it out and took in a nice long breath. My lungs expanded against my ribs. The very action nearly had me doubling over coughing again as the many small wounds in my body made themselves known.

  If I had been human, this much damage might be lethal. As I was, the ice was slowly easing it over, coating my bones and damaged organs in a thin sheen of ice.

  Just when it felt like I could move again, a loud crash filled the courtyard. The main gate had shattered. Wood shrapnel and bits went flying. What followed, was a team of wicker men. Their bodies, black, covered in bark-like skin with wriggling red veins. Flaming eyes filled their eye sockets, and on their face were stark, bone white skulls. They wielded bone weapons, axes and swords, with shields made out of what looked like ribcages.

  Behind the initial wave, a battering ram made itself known. Made of twisting vines, the same vines that covered their kin.

  At their entrance, my oni pivoted and met them head on. With a crash, spikes erupted from the earth, breaking up their formation. He swung his club, which crashed into the first few, sending them flying into a heap where they did not stay. Their bodies wriggled, bones and ligaments pulling back together until they stood back up with cracked weapons and shields.

  Terra glanced at the newcomers, then back to Ruth currently fighting the chief then me. With grit teeth she too joined with my oni, seeking to push back the encroaching enemy. Each of whom clearly had the aura of a bronze rank.

  The soldiers near the gate were quickly cut down, with the sole exception being the bronze rank captain. The captain managed to peel back and was actively protecting my oni’s flanks. Even then, they got strikes in, leaving gouges in my oni’s body. Terra joined in moments later, further pressing them back. Blocks of stone and spikes of earth smashed into the bronze ranks, buying my oni and the captain space.

  Even then, it was falling apart.

  Had I made a mistake?

  The corpse pit had overdrawn the ley line, and with it, taken down our defenses. The walls and gate were far stronger than normal wood, but without the ley line pumping energy into them, they could barely handle the abuse they were being put under.

  But what else could I have done?

  The question gnawed at me, and as feeling came back to my body, I started the long process of forcing myself up.

  In the courtyard, the wicker men warriors were pressing in. Like beasts, they rushed forward with too wide grins. Even with Terra backing them up, my oni and the captain wouldn’t last. Both already sported deep scoring marks.

  As I forced myself up, something gave. I fell. The short fall jostled my ice coated wounds, eliciting a sharp gasp.

  I wouldn’t be able to help or assist. Another wracking cough had another glob of half-frozen blood leave my lips.

  Then, I heard it. A shout. A command.

  “GET DOWN!” The word rang out like a gong, an almost physical force emanated out from the source of the command. Diva. The wave washed over me, Terra, Ruth, my captain and oni to no effect, but… The wicker warriors froze and immediately hit the ground. The wicker chief didn’t hit the ground, but they shuddered, very nearly getting clipped by Ruth’s bat.

  Sensing a change in tides, the Wicker chief immediately slid away from Ruth and fled. Running for the wall. Ruth… followed.

  “RUTH!” I cried after her, but my strangled cry didn’t reach far. Seeing her rush forward, I too pushed myself up and forward.

  I rushed past the slaughter as my oni and the captain destroyed the wicker warriors. I moved past Terra that was impaling them with blocks of stone or burying them alive.

  My first few steps were unsteady. Every step jostled my fracture ridden bones and lacerated innards as the ice coating and filling them settled. Then, it evened out. I was in a full run, rifle in hand.

  I went up the steps, and without a second thought leapt off the rampart, with a single bound I managed to overshoot the ditch at the base of the wall. I hit the ground and nearly fell forward as ice crackled and threatened to give, but with grit teeth, I pressed on even as the bloody bog sucked at my shoes.

  Ahead, Ruth was swinging wildly with her bat. Her eyes focused, an angry scowl on her face. The wicker chief was retaliating, moving as if boneless, swinging their blade, drawing blood or sparks depending on where he hit.

  Ruth’s jacket was filled with cuts. Blood soaked it through, and just under the jacket, I could see metal flashing out as it protected her where it could. As she was wounded, she pressed harder. Her swings grew wider, the air howled with every strike as if it could feel her growing wrath.

  I pumped my feet, trying to close the distance. I didn’t try to load my rifle. I couldn’t afford even that slight distraction. Even if every part of me wanted to leave Ruth to her fate, she was part of our team, more specifically, she was our bruiser, our beat stick. Without her, we didn’t have the direct oomph to directly handle the stronger wicker beasts, and I knew for a fact…

  I knew for a fact that she couldn’t hold her own against the wicker chief.

  As if to prove me right, Ruth swung another wide blow. Further incensed by another slight cut. However, such a swing left her wide open, and furthermore, the chief was in just the right position to bisect her with his next strike.

  Ruth’s eyes widened, just as the wicker chief brought the blade around, seeking to bisect her. Just before it could, I slammed into her like a linebacker would crash into a quarterback. I felt something crack under my strike and she went flying, rag dolling into the nearby brush. She continued to roll down a slight incline, further into the grove.

  I brought my rifle up, and the blade struck. I felt it in my bones as the force traveled up my arms and down my spine. I grit my teeth and held my ground, planting my feet into the soggy ground.

  The wicker chief briefly appraised me, his eyes flickered with both amusement and annoyance.

  His blade was still pressed against my rifle. My rifle still held before me like a staff.

  For a long moment, we looked at each other. It felt like an eternity as we assessed one another, felt each other out. Our weapons pressed against each other, our feet shifted and moved slightly to adjust our grip. Our whole bodies shifted.

  Then, he grinned and pressed forward.

  The fight was on.