This was the first time since Darion became a Necromancer that his system had shown [Legion formation, initialized!].

Since all the time Darion had summoned them in battle during Valdenmoor, during Gonnb, during forest hunts when at once, it had never shown that message. His undeads just came from his inventory and got to work, appearing in whatever position they happened to materialize in, spreading out however they needed to. But now, it was showing [Legion formation, initialized!].

The reason was pretty simple. It was because he was summoning this many undeads at once, over a hundred. One hundred and fifty, to be exact. Before, when his inventory had been smaller, he had only summoned twenty or thirty at once.

That was all the space the system had given him back then. The undeads would appear in a loose cluster, and they would spread out naturally as they moved toward the enemy. There was no need for organization and no need for structure. They just fought because they were smaller in number.

But now it was different. Now he had more space and more undeads. One hundred and fifty knights appearing all at once required something more than just a loose cluster.

They needed a formation. They couldn’t be scattered everywhere, getting in each other’s way, tripping over each other’s feet. They needed order. They needed structure. They needed to function as a single unit, not as a chaotic mob.

The system had recognized that. It had taken control of the summoning process, organizing the undeads as they appeared, placing them in their correct positions. The knights didn’t just materialize randomly, they materialized in ranks, in rows, in a formation that Darion hadn’t commanded them to take. The formation was initialized as they were summoned. That was why the message had appeared.

This was new. This was different. And Darion realized, as he watched the knights form up, that he liked it. They felt more like legions than an army now.

The undeads were organized in a simple but effective formation. At the front, leading the charge, were the heaviest and most powerful undeads: Ghet Ulg and Edric Vorne.

They moved ahead of the others, their massive frames cutting through the air like battering rams. Behind them, the infantry knights formed a solid block, their swords raised, their steps synchronized.

They moved as one, their boots hitting the ground in unison, creating a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. On the flanks, the lighter undeads moved faster, spreading out to prevent the Yuimons from circling around. They were the shield, the sword, and the claws of Darion’s army, all working together in perfect harmony.

Darion grinned and muttered under his breath: "Nice!"

The undeads were running towards the Yuimons, their weapons held up high. Ghet Ulg and Edric Vorne led the way, their massive forms at the front as the undeads ran. Their battle axes and swords gleamed in the dim light, raised high, ready to strike.

Seren, who had wanted to shoot, hesitated now, looking at the scene in awe. When Darion first summoned the undead, it had felt captivating to her, the way the undeads just unwrapped from thin air, so many of them, appearing on the battlefield with their weapons held so high, ready to fight.

She had seen him summon undeads before, but never like this. Never so many at once. It was like watching a tidal wave form out of nowhere, a wall of green-eyed soldiers that seemed to stretch from one end of the clearing to the other.

She had been ready to fire her arrow, to help in whatever way she could. But now, seeing this, she lowered her bow slightly. She didn’t need to shoot. The undeads would handle it. They would handle everything.

Now, as Darion and Seren watched, their question was: would the undeads do the job? The Yuimons were massive, powerful creatures, with thick armored skin and circular mouths filled with teeth. Their limbs were like tree trunks, their claws like scythes. They could crush a man with a single blow, tear through armor like paper. The undeads were strong, yes, but they were still just bones at the end of the day. Bones could be broken. Bones could be crushed.

The Yuimons had the advantage in size and strength. Their thick hides might be difficult to penetrate, their powerful limbs would be deadly in close combat. The undeads would have to use their numbers, their coordination and their discipline to overcome the brute force of the Yuimons.

Ghet Ulg started the hit on the Yuimons, taking on a creature with a loud jump, his battle axe in the air, ready to strike. He soared through the air, his massive frame cutting through the dim light, his axe raised high above his head. The Yuimon turned, its circular mouth opening wide, its teeth glistening in the darkness.

The axe came down.

The axe, even though seemingly rusty and looking like it would break if hit against the Yuimon, the thought had flashed through Darion’s mind. What if this thing broke? What if it shattered on the Yuimon’s armored hide, splintering into useless fragments?

Then Ghet Ulg would be good as dead. The undead’s weapon would be gone, and without it, it would be defenseless against the creature’s massive jaws and crushing limbs. Obliterated out of existence by the bite of the Yuimon.

Darion’s heart rate spiked as he watched the giant undead soar through the air. The Yuimon’s circular mouth was open, its rows of teeth glistening in the dim light, ready to close around whatever came within reach.

Just look at the teeth, each one was as long as a man’s hand, sharp and curved inward, designed to grip and tear and never let go. One bite from that mouth would be enough to crush a man’s body entirely, bones and all.

If Ghet Ulg landed wrong, if his axe didn’t do enough damage, if the Yuimon got a hold of him, this promising undead would cease to exist.

Darion couldn’t imagine how much he would lose. The potential of this undead was immense: strength 90, endurance 95, loyalty 98. Ghet Ulg wasn’t just another soldier; he was a weapon, a force of nature, the kind of undead that could turn the tide of a battle all on his own.

He had invested so much in this creature, so much time and effort and hope. To see it destroyed now, by a creature he had never even heard of until today, would be devastating.

Thooom!

The axe landed right in the middle of the face of the Yuimon. It landed close to the mouth, underneath the nose, the blade burying deep into the creature’s flesh. The impact was massive, the force of the blow driving the Yuimon’s head backward, its body staggering under the weight of the attack. The axe carved a deep gash into the creature’s face, tearing through the armored hide and revealing the dark flesh beneath.

The Yuimon yelled in pain and anger, the sound vibrating through the trees and shaking the very ground beneath their feet. It was a terrible sound, a mix of rage and agony that seemed to echo through the entire forest, sending birds scattering from their perches and smaller creatures fleeing in terror.

But boom!

Edric Vorne was already in the air, his sword aimed and ready. He had seen the opening, seen the distraction Ghet Ulg had created, and he had seized the opportunity. His blade arced through the air, a flash of rusted steel cutting through the dim light. Thoom! Right at the neck of the Yuimon. The sword struck with precision, slicing through the creature’s thick hide and burying itself deep in the flesh beneath.

The Yuimon reeled, its body convulsing as it tried to shake off the attacks. Blood poured from the wounds, thick and dark, pooling on the ground beneath it. But it was still standing. Still fighting.

Then more undeads rose. Thirty of them, all at once, their weapons raised high, their green eyes glowing with cold determination. They surged forward in a wave, their boots pounding against the forest floor, their swords and axes glinting in the dim light.

They moved as one, a synchronized assault that left the Yuimon with no room to defend itself. Thoom! Side of the neck. Thoom! Chest. Thoom! Legs. Each hit was precise, each blade finding its mark, each strike adding to the creature’s accumulating wounds.

Thirty undeads together on a single Yuimon. They swarmed it like ants on a fallen beetle, their blades rising and falling in a relentless rhythm. The creature thrashed and screamed, trying to shake them off, but there were too many. They had it surrounded, cornered, trapped.

They kill it. The final blow came from Ghet Ulg, his axe swinging down once more, this time aimed at the creature’s skull. The blade sank deep, splitting bone and flesh, and the Yuimon’s body went rigid. It gave one last scream, a long, drawn-out sound of pure agony, and then it fell to the ground.

Dead.

The sound of its impact echoed through the trees.