Ethan raised his hand and the general knew instinctively what he wanted. The group of behemoth lizards stopped and prepared for battle, after climbing down from the lizards they streamed to the front and positioned themselves in orderly rows. Ethan, still holding the sphere of ice in his hand, stood up and looked over the head of his mount.

  Then he saw them, an army of undead, multiple times bigger than the horde that attacked the camp only a day ago. While the last ones looked like they just died, this horde was different. More skeletons than skin and muscles were visible. Large parts of their bodies were covered in black flames and amalgamations of bodies walked around like giants, entire bodies serving as building blocks for those abominations.

  Ethan stared at the black flames that gave them life, the image of James coming back to his mind, He was sure that James had died that day, but could he really say that with certainty? He didn’t want to believe it but his feelings told him otherwise. That prick was alive, how the fuck was that even possible? Ethan didn’t know but he just needed to kill him a second time!

  While he could use his army there was still the sphere, a kind of magic he was sure he couldn’t replicate in the near future, but he needed to know, needed to see it at work. Maybe it was his desire for knowledge or pure curiosity but he waved the general to his side and handed him the sphere.

  “General Kra'kulgar, I need you to throw this into the midst of the enemy, As long as it hits with some accuracy.” The general’s hand was starting to freeze from the intense energy it radiated but he said nothing, just nodded and grabbed his sling. He was after all a soldier and felt a lot more pain before than a little frost.

  The Crocodiarii could feel the power the sphere contained, it was the essence of winter and pestilence to him, a lesser being would have dropped the sphere, not even touched it, he was fighting his instincts while the seconds dragged on. Still he followed Ethan’s instructions and soon the only sound heard was the whistle of his sling rotating at an impressive speed over his head. With a shout his arm snapped forward and the sphere flew towards the horde.

  His aim was true and Ethan, the soldiers, the behemoth lizards and even the general himself followed the sphere as it flew over their heads. Ethan tapped his staff on the saddle and the orb of promised death glowed before landing in the horde. For a moment nothing seemed to happen but then a dome spread over the whole horde. At first it was focused on the sphere but it expanded rapidly covering the undead in a thin mist that seemed to lock them in place. A cage of ice and the promise of death.

  This was the moment, for the first time Ethan was scared of his own magic, this wasn’t something he should be able to handle at his level. The power he felt from it would be able to wipe out the entire forest in the first circle. It was magic on another level and he now realized what kind of scary achievement this was.

  He watched with bated breath as it started slowly, those that still had skin started to turn pale blue or straight up white. Long dead tissue started to move, like worms crawled inside their skin and then…it started to grow, whole body parts expanded before they broke open like parasites escaping from the skin, Pus and black blood oozed from the open wounds. Then they revealed them, spindly ice spikes that grew in all directions, even penetrating the other zombies that stood too close. Those that didn’t die outright from the growths slowly started to rot, necrosis took a hold of them and he saw a few of them stumble and fall down. Especially when a foot fell off or their knees corroded too much.

  While he couldn’t witness most of the psychological effects, he saw some of them grow violent and how they attacked others around them. Then it slowly got silent again in the desert. The only thing that remained was a twitching pile of barely functioning zombies, but even those stopped once their brains got claimed by the aggressive necrosis.

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  Ethan just looked, he didn’t flinch, he didn’t puke all over the saddle. He watched the last of them die and he felt…nothing. A cold wind occupied his mind and didn’t let him cope with the thing he had done, he knew they were dead but seeing so many people die due to his magic felt wrong.

  If a god did this he wouldn’t be shocked but he was just some guy in the tutorial. What right did he have to do this? But his traitorous mind whispered to him the answer. He, Ethan, had every right to do this because the system saw no right or wrong. The strong survived and the weak died and that was the end of it.

  He ordered the troops back on their mounts and the procession continued on their path, following the source of the undead. While riding he only glanced at his notifications.

  [You killed multiple enemies of varying levels - You gained experience!]

  *Update* [Plague Mage] reached Level 16! Stat points allocated!

  The bitter taste in his mouth didn’t really help. He was wondering what else he had to do before the tutorial ended. This war would end quickly or drag out for weeks. He hoped the Brammgestir would accept his alliance against the undead horde.

  Standing on the hill, wrapped in dark fabrics that hid his entire body and face, James looked at his now undead horde, the big undead lizard that served as his mount hissed aggressively. He would kill this winter asshole and if it was the last thing he did, those were his thoughts at first but when he saw the power he wielded…James wasn’t so sure anymore.

  He looked down at his belt, a black skull with green flames in its eye sockets was the only thing that gave him hope. His new patron, Nyxalith, gave him this skull and said it would allow him to raise hordes of undead to fight for him. That was true but there were only so many dead creatures he could revive. His main horde was steadily advancing, each battlefield, each mass grave, each outpost he could find enlarged his army and soon he could defeat the entire circle with his might.

  Then he would roll over the last circle and finally end this tutorial for good, with victory so close he started to laugh, it was so loud and so filled with malice that even the undead lizard under him shuddered, a forgotten instinct surfacing in his undead mind.

  James turned his mount around and returned towards his horde. He was excited, maybe now his life would finally get better. His thoughts wandered to Marie, how she left him and how she died fighting. He was glad that she died, James never wanted to resurrect her in the first place.

  After riding over two more sand dunes he was back with his army, thousands of shambling forms moving towards the cities of the Brammgestir, sometimes smaller groups split off to defeat an outpost. In the middle of the horde was the wight king, he materialised from the skull when he first got it and was an excellent commander

  James grinned like a child, the imposing figure in its black armor, the skull formed like a crown and his eyes burned in bright green. With him there was nothing that could stop his plan.

  Behind James, always keeping his distance was one of the many scouts the general sent out even before they found the smaller horde. He watched with horror as the shambling mass of zombies moved over the red sand. He ran as fast as he could, trying not to stir up any sand, with this information they could finally make a plan to defeat the enemy and bring back peace to the land.

  In the scouts mind he has spent a whole life here but that was as much created by the system as the ground he was walking on. So he returned to the army with real determination and real hope that they could win despite the size of the enemy's army.