Boundless Evolution: The Summoning Beast
Chapter 50: Army of the Dead

Chapter 50: Army of the Dead

’Ravos... he’s the benefactor,’ Kieran thought, his stomach twisting into knots as the realisation settled like a stone in his gut.

Ravos- the same Ravos that had been cast out, condemned, and thought to be buried in history- had returned... And he had not returned to ask for a place in Eldoria.

No. He had returned to burn it all down.

He, once a talented servant of Eldoria, now stood as the role played in Eldoria’s downfall, the master of Zavareth’s might.

Kieran felt his limbs freeze as the weight of it all bore down on him.

"Windbreak was merely the beginning," Ravos spoke, his voice a cold spooky tone as his skeletal hand tapped on the table, "The dragon was our first triumph, but it will not be the last... I have already given my contribution and filled the cost of the first summoning ritual, as agreed."

King Aldros leaned forward, his sharp yellow eyes narrowing with interest. His youth betrayed his ambition, but the arrogance that laced his every movement was unmistakable.

A small smirk curled at the corner of his lips, "And what of the next summoning, Ravos? How often can this ritual be repeated?"

A low chuckle emanated from the Archlich, a sound that seemed to rattle the air itself, "Summoning a dragon is no trivial feat, my King. It is bound by blood and sacrifice- not merely spells. It requires life itself."

’Life?’ Kieran’s ear perked up as he immediately paid closer attention to Ravos and what he was about to say next. He was about to hear more than just a war strategy- he was about to hear the very foundation of Zavareth’s power.

Ravos continued, his voice unwavering, "A hundred thousand souls were required for the first. And so it shall be again."

Aldros’s fingers tapped against the armrest as he leaned back, a smile appearing on his face rather than horror, "So all we need to procure another dragon is simply another hundred thousand? Hahaha...very manageable."

Kieran’s breath came shallow and uneven. His stomach clenched, nausea rising in his throat. He fought to stay still, but his hands trembled. His heart pounded against his ribs, the weight of this knowledge crushing down on him.

A hundred thousand lives... And they speak of it like a trade deal? His vision swayed. His pulse roared in his ears.

He forced himself to inhale. Stay calm. He could not afford to react. Not now.

"A fair exchange," Kaelis said, amusement flickering in his eyes. "A single dragon is worth more than keeping a hundred thousand peasants alive."

Among them, Lord Veyron, however, was less at ease. His jaw tightened, his fingers curling slightly as he glanced around the room, "Your Majesty, one hundred thousand lives... that is not a price that is so easily gathered. Even with our occupied territories, it will take-"

He hesitated, his mind racing. Armier, no matter how well-trained or powerful, were nothing without the people that sustained them.

Farmers who grew their food, blacksmiths who forged their weapons, healers who mended their wounds- without them, a kingdom rotted from within. Even the most powerful ruler could not stand atop a crumbling foundation.

Looking around the chamber, he saw that he wasn’t the only one uneasy.

Across the table, High Commander Malamar’s jaw tightened. He opened his mouth as if to speak—but hesitated. His gaze flicked to Aldros, then quickly lowered.

Commander Kaelis scoffed, amused. "Do not overthink this, Veyron. Our kingdom is vast. Zavareth holds over twenty million souls. These people exist to serve the throne. And those who do not..." He chuckled. "Will serve as fuel."

Veyron’s stomach turned at the word. Necessary. He knew Malamar didn’t believe it—but he had ambitions of his own. He was waiting for Aldros to overextend himself. Waiting to strike.

Commander Kaelis leaned back with a smirk, "Your Majesty, I must commend you. Few men have the resolve to make necessary sacrifices."

The room fell silent. Veyron forced himself to swallow his disgust.

What good were his words against a room full of men who only saw numbers, not lives?

Aldros’s fingers tapped against the armrest as he leaned back, a smirk forming, "A hundred thousand lives... is a mere investment. A kingdom is built on sacrifice. The weak fall so the strong may thrive."

He turned his gaze to the chamber, his golden eyes glinting, "My father hesitated. He sought mercy, and what did it bring him? A weak, fractured realm. I will not make the same mistake."

His voice dropped lower, almost thoughtful, "When my father spared the rebels of Bralorne, they took his kindness as weakness. A year later, they burned our supply lines and led our forces into an ambush. We lost thousands."

"A ruler must be ruthless. To hesitate is to die."

Hehehehe!

A cold chuckle left Ravos’s lips.

"A king with vision," he mused, "You understand the weight of sacrifice, my King. Power is not given; it is taken. If we wish to summon the dragon again, the souls must flow."

From above, Kieran could only stare in stunned horror.

’A hundred thousand lives... and they speak of it like it’s a trade deal...’ his stomach twisted as he scanned the faces of Zavareth’s leaders, not one of them, except for Veyron’s momentary hesitation, looked disturbed.

No outrage. No resistance. Just cold efficiency.

’This news...’ he swallowed hard, ’I need to get this to King Alden and High Commander Callen as soon as possible.’

He had to remember everything and his pulse quickened, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was no longer just gathering intelligence.

This was Eldoria’s only hope of survival. Windbreak stronghold had been a massacre, but that only had one summoning. If Zavareth had the means to do this again, the consequences for Eldoria were not even imaginable.

High Commander Malager cleared his throat and shifted the discussion back to their original focus, "Your Majesty, we were discussing our next actions. We agreed that we must strike Titan’s Gate before winter arrives."

Aldros nodded, his expression thoughtful, "Yes... Tita’s Gate is the only one that will remain to stop us from Eldoria’s heartlands. We must ensure its fall before the cold comes."

Hearing this, Ravos then spoke, "Then let’s go forward with that, his tone unnervingly smooth, as if he were speaking not only to the warlords, "But I have other plans. I will be moving down South and strike at Ironwatch Keep and Riverward Bastion. I’ll break their supply lines and cut off reinforcement, leaving the Western region of Eldoria to starve before winter even sets in."

He paused for a moment, his skeletal lips curling slightly, almost imperceptibly.

King Aldros seemed to have no problems against that and even smiled, as if supporting it, as he leaned forward, "And you will need an army for that, Archlich Ravos. Tell us how many soldiers you will require?"

A chilling smile crept across Ravos’s face.

"The living can be defeated," he said, his voice quiet like a whisper that echoed unnaturally, "But the dead obey without question."

As he said this, Ravos held his staff and raised it before slamming it down on the ground, a burst of eerie green energy glowing around them and a number of runes began to appear, written onto the ground by the energy that escaped from the staff.

Before them, the bodies of twisted, reanimated warriors began to appear. Their forms were grotesque, their bodies gnarled and warped by death’s touch. Some bore the armour of Eldorian knights, their once-proud insignias now tarnished and defiled, their faces locked in eternal expressions of agony.

Others were mere husks, flesh clinging desperately to bone, their hollow eyes glowing with a sickly green energy that bound them to Ravos’s will.

A cold wave of silence fell over the chamber as the grotesque figures appeared. Kaelis and Veyron turned themselves as they leaned towards the figures with curiosity, their eyes gleaming with a twisted sense of admiration.

Kieran’s stomach churned uncomfortable as he laid his eyes on the dead figures. He had seen death before but seeing dead bodies seem to be animated and come alive was totally different... It felt like a violation of nature itself.

’It cannot be...’ he thought as he refused to believe that Ravos had succeeded... but just as he was stuck in his thought, Ravos spoke again, confirming it.

"I have perfected the art of resurrection," Ravos said, " skeletal fingers tracing the air as the figures shifted and moved, "So to answer your question... I will not need any soldiers for I have my own."

"Hahahahaha!"

King Aldros suddenly burst into a thunderous laughter, echoing through the chamber as his golden eyes gleamed with an almost manic delight as he leaned forward, gripping the armrests of his seat, "We have long planned for Eldoria’s destruction, and this-" he gestured at the dead zombie figures with a flourish, "just brought Eldoria’s ends faster. We can press them from all sides."

Kieran, hidden in the shadows of the chamber’s vaulted ceiling, fought to control his breathing. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, the weight of the revelation suffocating. Every muscle in his body tensed as he took in the forbidden knowledge unfolding before him.

This was far worse than he had anticipated.

Ravos’ words rang in his head like a curse, their implications too monstrous to fully comprehend.

Not just a dragon or even dragons, but also an army of the dead—soldiers that would never tire, never retreat, and never die. The very balance of war itself was about to be rewritten, and Eldoria had no idea.

His breath came in slow, measured exhales, his mind racing. How did it come to this? How had the tables turned so drastically that a former outcast of Eldoria now held the keys to its destruction?

His pulse quickened with every second he remained in the chamber, but he could not leave yet. Not before he committed everything to memory. The troop movements, the battle strategies, the dark rituals—this knowledge was not just valuable.

It was Eldoria’s last chance.

His gaze flickered to the table below, where the warlords examined parchments detailing their carefully laid plans—how they would crush Titan’s Gate, how they would starve Eldoria’s forces, how they would fuel their unholy legions with blood and suffering.

His stomach churned. They spoke with such cold certainty, as if the fate of his homeland had already been sealed.

’No,’ he thought fiercely. ’Not if I can stop this.’

He burned every detail into his mind, forcing himself to stay even as his instincts screamed at him to flee.

He had to memorize everything—every number, every name, every horrifying revelation—because once he left this chamber, he would be Eldoria’s only warning.

Kieran shifted back, inching toward the shadows. His foot brushed against something solid.

Click.

The faint sound echoed in the silent chamber. His breath caught.

Ravos’s skeletal fingers halted mid-motion. His hollow gaze lifted slightly, scanning the chamber. The flickering candlelight cast unnatural shadows along the walls.

Kieran’s pulse thundered. Move. Move now.

But Ravos didn’t look away.

He tilted his head slightly, his empty sockets staring. A long, agonizing pause.

Kieran’s entire body screamed at him to run.

Then Ravos stepped forward. Slowly. Towards the sound.

Kieran clenched his teeth, willing himself not to move. Not to breathe. If he did, it was over.

Ravos lingered. Too long.

Then, at last, he smirked.

"King Aldros," Ravos murmured, his voice smooth but knowing, "you have the will to rule. The weak should fear you."

Kieran exhaled slowly. Too close. Too damn close.

He didn’t waste another second. He turned and fled.

This isn’t just another war.

This is extinction.

Eldoria didn’t have months. It barely had weeks.

A cold sweat ran down Kieran’s spine as he ran. Will they even believe me? The thought lodged in his mind like a blade.

He had seen it—he had memorized every plan, every name, every atrocity about to unfold—but what if it didn’t matter? What if by the time he reached King Alden, Zavareth had already begun the second ritual?

The dragon had only been the first.

The dead had already begun to rise.

And he was alone.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his panic into resolve. No. I will not let Eldoria fall.

Even if no one believed him.

Even if he had to fight alone.

He would not let them win.