Undead Beast Master: Living Solely for My Desires

Usually, when there was a battle between two forces, the one with superior numbers of soldiers would come out on top. Of course, when powerful people were added in the scenario, the outcome of said battle would be shifted.

But even they were not unkillable.

One skilled warrior could kill hundreds, even thousands of enemies before succumbing to their own wounds.

So, in theory, even the mightiest of individuals would eventually fall if enough common men were to attack them.

This was what the Crimson Sun forces generally believed; this was what they had been taught. Even if they were to face individuals that could kill them without breaking a sweat, they would have played a part in exhausting them.

Their deaths weren't going to be in vain! If they could protect the people behind them by giving their lives for the cause, they would gladly do it!

Yet at this moment in time, most began to feel a particular emotion—one that no commander would want their troops to feel in the middle of battle:

Doubt.

More than a million forces stood before their home, the capital, with the intention to defend it to their last breath.

They didn't face some giant monster, not a god that had descended into the mortal realm.

What they faced were just two individuals. Yet the amount of dead bodies on the ground spoke volumes about their might.

Eldros, wielding his two giant swords, carved through the enemy ranks, unfazed by their attacks. Above him, the Judgment Gaze loomed—its presence slowing every movement and thought, for their sins weighed heavily, draining them of vitality.

Even the spells hurled toward his figure seemed to be unable to reach him, as if the eye defied all logic and reason, forcing the attacks to dissipate in the air.

'How many?' Eldros wondered. He had long lost count of the people that had fallen by his blades.

He was a skilled combatant, yet just by the sheer amount of energy he had to use, his strength and stamina were slowly leaving him.

But he wasn't going to stop. Zaroth relied on him, and he wasn't going to let down the person that had freed him!

He was a force to be reckoned with… yet what he did paled in comparison to Midnight.

She, a vampire of the ancient blood, seemed to be in her prime despite the sun that was high in the sky. Using the blood all around the area, she empowered herself, making her demonic attacks even stronger, killing more and more soldiers.

And that was not even the worst part of it. Some of the fallen soldiers slowly began to rise on their feet and join the fight once again. This time, however, their blades were pointing at their comrades.

For they were now Wights, created by the vampire. And even if they wanted it or not, they were forced to battle against their brothers and sisters.

The sight greatly affected the morale of the Crimson Sun forces… but the true terror had not yet arrived..

Screams, pleas, shouts, cries resonated in the whole area, loud enough for everybody to hear. They, however, did not come from the front… they came from the back. The capital was slowly being raveged by Ghost and his beasts.

Initially, when they saw him fly into the capital with his dragon, the soldiers felt relieved, for they knew that half the council was there, ready to put an end to the fearsome fighter… yet contrary to their expectations, cries began to be heard behind them.

Slowly, fear began to spread in their souls. What if the council members had lost? If their strongest members failed to beat the enemy, what hope of surviving did they have?

This caused hesitation, fear that slowed down their movements and thoughts even more, leading Eldros and Midnight to capitalize on the opportunity.

Each fighting for their own personal reasons, yet at the end, they all had the same goal: supporting Zaroth!

*****

The sight below him was somewhat similar. When Zaroth had fought against the Demigod, he remembered how the entity began to target the houses below to cause as much damage and devastation as possible.

And now he was doing the same thing. Zaroth could make excuses to himself, say that he was doing it because Solara had run away from him and he was trying to make her show herself.

Yet he didn't bother himself to do something that meaningless.

Why should he justify his actions?

No one bothered to do it. The slave traders that treated humans like livestock, not caring about their lives in the slightest. The Purifiers that accumulated donations under the pretext of helping the poor, only to not even lift a finger in their help. The general population that was ready to hate another group of people that differed from them, be it with their place of birth, beliefs, or actions.

Nobody cared for morality.

They just did what they wanted.

Real rules didn't really exist. Take him, for example: he was supposed to be executed for having Mythical beast under his command, yet nobody had tried to come for his head for the sole reason of his beasts.

And the reason was simple:

He had power—much more power than those people burning below him. In a way, that was the only rule in this world. The strong did what they wanted, while the weak simply endured and tried to survive.

He knew that struggle all too well. He had spent most of his life powerless, with no say in his life.

This wasn't the case anymore, however. He now could change the world in a way he saw fit. He could do what he desired, and few could stand before him trying to stop him.

He was no hero. He wasn't living for the general people. He had some friends, and he cared for them—that much was certain. But these weak people below him bore no importance to him whatsoever. they were enemies, and enemies deserved no mercy.

'What about forgiveness?' Luna spoke, bringing him back to reality. She naturally knew what her master thought but decided to ask anyway. It wasn't because she cared for the people she was in the process of burning with her breath.

She wanted for Zaroth to feel comfortable speaking with her and say his thoughts out loud. Should he grow too accustomed to not sharing anything, there was a chance he would only grow more insane.

Zaroth's eyes never stopped scanning the terrain as Luna soared overhead—constantly alert for any threats that might catch him off guard, and relentlessly seeking any sign of Solara.

After a few seconds of consideration, he parted his lips.

"I believe forgiveness is just an excuse made by the weak who cannot seek revenge due to their lack of power."

His mother was dead due to the gods. This was something he would never forget nor forgive.

The same was for Althea. Solara had killed her and even started a war against his home empire, trying to use the opportunity.

After a few seconds, his gaze hardened, growing colder as he locked onto a distant figure—Solara, running toward the volcano.

"Found you."