and Undeath

"Three thousand decaying. Two thousand more longdead, five hundred of those mounted. And three Eidolons." Lucy relayed the information gathered by Kendar's scouts, and Katia translated. "Yuri," Katia added, her lips drawn in concern, "I hate this."

Yuri pulled Katia close and kissed her gently, hoping to reassure her. Lucy stomped her boots on the grassy hill they were standing on, looking out over the approaching army. An estimated five thousand undead from the Empire of Eleria marched through the forested mountain pass to the south, where Yuri had awoken just over a month ago.

"Me too," said Lucy. "I hate this." Lucy closed her eyes and puffed out her lips. Yuri broke her kiss with Katia and pulled Lucy in, sandwiching herself between her lovers. She kissed Lucy, and Lucy cupped Yuri's cheeks with her hands, holding her there for a little while. Before letting go with her hands, Lucy pulled her lips away and stared into Yuri's eyes. "Do. Not. Die."

"I'll be careful," said Yuri. She gave her lovers one last squeeze around their waists, then stepped forward, stretching her arms and legs to prepare for battle. Her long black hair, newly cut to a meter in length and bound in a single ponytail, flipped lazily from side to side as she warmed up. She was dressed in a new outfit, although ordered from the same boutique with almost the same specifications: an athletic, black-dyed top that held her breasts firmly in place with extra wiring, but left her impressive core and upper body muscles on full display; as well as simple white panties, and grey short shorts, covering her bulky genitals and hugging her ass, while showing off her long, powerful legs. Since she had given both of her lovers their parting kisses, Yuri took the last piece of her outfit from her pocket, covering her nose and mouth with a black, thick cloth mask. She secured it with a knot behind her neck, keeping the fit snug. Her breathing was slightly inhibited, but her lovers told her that it would be worth it for the upcoming fight.

In addition to the mask, they had also begged her to put on at least some sort of armor, terrified by the prospect of Yuri getting injured, or killed. She accepted a pair of metal bracers to protect her forearms, and armored boots that ended below the knee. This did little to assuage their fears, but Yuri claimed that any more armor would only get in the way.

While Yuri was stretching, Katia nervously outlined the plan once more. "The Eidolons are spread out within the Elerian formation, with one in the vanguard, one in the center, and one guarding the rear. The army only needs a single Eidolon to function, but if you manage to take out all three, the rest of the undead should collapse immediately. If Lucy and I think things look too dangerous, I'll fire a flare and you'll retreat as fast as you can. Even if we don't send the signal, you can retreat anytime you want. You don't have to do this, Yuri."

"I thought you two wanted me to protect this city?" Yuri looked over her shoulder, tilting her head playfully. She drew her sword, letting its bright light illuminate the growing dark. The Elerians had chosen to close the final gap to the city at dusk, as apparently the dark didn't hinder them at all.

"Not like this," Katia answered, shaking her head. "We can let them surround the city, and you can coordinate your attacks with Kendar's army during the siege. It'll be safer that way."

Yuri shrugged. "Safer for who?"

"For you!" Katia shook with frustration.

Lucy sighed, laying a hand on Katia's shoulder. The two women hadn't met before Yuri arrived, but over the course of the last month, they had grown close. Lucy said a few words in common, and Katia's shaking stopped.

"Go," Katia said, unable to look Yuri in the eyes. "And come back to us safely."

That was all Yuri needed. "See you later," she called back casually, before speeding off into the distance.

She approached the enemy head-on. They marched in six columns, stretching back far into the narrow mountain pass. The first several hundred ranks, basically all that Yuri could see, were formed by the decaying. Thousands of the undead, rotting creatures marched steadily toward Kendar. Their ranks were uniformly naked, although each individual had their own degree of decay, with varied amounts of flesh and bone showing. They also varied in size and shape. Most were human, but there were other races in the mix, as well as animals, and monsters. Elves, dwarves, demons, and beastmen; most of the humanoid races. Wolves, bears, dogs, deer, and apes; any beast big enough to pack a punch. Goblins, orcs, and ogres, the lesser humanoids often called monsters by their betters, as well as a few of the rarer monstrosities; lesser drakes, chimeras, and tentacled abominations. Some of the creatures were so rotted that determining their origin was impossible. All of them marched, or wriggled along. Their faces, where they hadn't already rotted away, were blank and expressionless. Together, they gave off a powerful feeling of despair, exceeded only by their incredible stench of decay, from which they had earned their name.

Yuri was thankful for the mask as she cut into their ranks. The smell was more than she was ready for, and it might have overcome her if she didn't have at least a little protection. As it was, she worried about how long she would have to bathe to get the stink off of her skin.

She didn't worry about the decaying themselves, as they crashed down around her, flailing, biting, trying fruitlessly to tear her to bits. With each swing of her blessed blade, she felled several of them. The fallen decaying twitched a few times, smoking where they had been cut, and then stilled. They kept coming, and Yuri kept stepping forward, climbing over their bodies where she had to, wading toward the center of their formation. Dozens of limbs struck at her from all directions, but she knew her Way. The attacks failed, inevitably deflected, dodged, redirected or countered. The decaying were nothing against Yuri, and with the rejuvenating energy of the blessed sword in her hands, she could maintain her sword dance for days on end.

Eventually, after only a couple minutes spent testing Yuri's impregnable defenses, they seemed to realize the futility of their actions, and the sea of groaning, decaying corpses split open, falling and tumbling over each other into the forest, to make way for the first Eidolon. A massive, imposing figure, three meters tall, armored in spiked black metal from head to toe, and wielding a heavy, single-sided black axe high above their shoulders, walked toward Yuri. The Eidolon's weapon and armor both exuded an otherworldly, green flame-like aura.

In the previous two weeks, Yuri had asked all of her partners about Eidolons. All of them told her to be wary of them, and her more knowledgeable partners, Agnes and Katia, warned her of their ethereal aura. Neither of them claimed to be experts, but they told Yuri that the aura around an Eidolon protected them from physical weapons. Only the blessing on Yuri's sword could cut through the aura, and even then, the perpetual green flames would drain the blessing upon contact, ending it prematurely if the fight were to drag on.

Yuri took her stance before the glowing, armored giant. She noted the lack of gaps in the Eidolon's armor, and the ease with which they carried their great weight. Their helm held no slits for vision or breathing, and was fused seamlessly with the metal gorget over their neck. Their joints were covered in layers of heavy plating, limiting mobility but leaving no openings. She'd need to pierce the armor if she wanted to reach whatever was underneath.

"I wasn't aware of Kendar having a champion," said the Eidolon. Their voice was eerily resonant, and very gruff, giving Yuri the impression that she was dealing with a man. "I am Lictor Gallo, third Eidolon Officer of the Empire's Fourth Legion. State your name, before I end your life."

"My name is Yuri," she answered, and then charged. One leap covered the distance between them. The Lictor swung his axe diagonally, without missing a beat. His swing was fast, but Yuri was faster still. In midair, Yuri contorted her legs and kicked against the flat of the axe, using it as a platform to flip over the Lictor's head. Her feet burned briefly when they entered the axe's flaming aura, but she ignored the pain. She brought her sword down against the back of the Lictor's neck in a perfect thrust. The white aura of her blade clashed with the green flames of the black armor, angry orange sparks spewing from the point of impact. Yuri's blade bit through, driving a few centimeters into soft flesh and brittle bone before the Lictor crouched down and rolled away.

The warriors faced each other anew, taking stock of their wounds and preparing for the next exchange. Yuri's metal boots were melting around her burnt feet. She cut the straps securing them and kicked them off, and the Lictor took advantage of her preoccupation to bring his axe down at her head. He shouted with his arms above his head, "Now, die!"

The light on her sword was dimming where it was covered in the black ichor that had poured out of the Lictor's wounded neck. She swung at the side of the axe above her, trying to deflect it, but the blade's light flickered and her instincts told her that it was going to crack before the axe could be moved away from its path. As the green flames over the axe's sharpened edge licked at her hair, Yuri dropped and weaved her body carefully and quickly through the Lictor's open legs.

The Lictor immediately arrested his axe's downward momentum and spun around with a horizontal swing and a powerful, echoing warcry. Yuri was already up above him, performing a graceful backflip and slotting her sword into the same hole she had formed earlier in the back of the Lictor's neck. Before he could duck away again, Yuri maneuvered her body until the balls of her feet landed on both sides of her sword's crossguard. She kicked, sending the blade tearing through flesh and bone to smack against the front of the Lictor's black armor, just above his sternum. He gave a weak grunt and then dropped, forming a small cloud of dust with the weight of his fall.