Riley cleaned Tavish's shotgun and bandolier as the team prepared for their next move. Tavish's remaining 8.5mm magazines were distributed among the others, each soldier silently checking their gear to make sure that everything was in order.
The team rotated through sentry duties while resting, eating, maintaining their weapons and waiting for the cover of night to descend.
Polites had already cast [Field of Non-Detection], erasing both their physical and magical traces, leaving no hint of their presence. From their hidden place in the trees, they watched as Orc patrols tramped past several times, searching the forest floor for any sign of the humans.
The only time they nearly got found was when two strange large two-legged large mouth creatures, ridden by Orc scouts, sniffed around the trees like hounds.
The entire team had their weapons trained on the beasts and fingers hovered over triggers. But after an agonizing few minutes, the creatures failed to pick up a scent and lumbered off, allowing the squad to finally sigh in relief.
Riley fired off another short microburst message to the UAV drone circling over the forest, waiting for Command's response. After receiving confirmation, he gathered the team and huddled them together under the dense canopy.
"Alright, we're going back in," Riley whispered. "Command confirms undead activity is still present, which means there's likely an anchor keeping them alive. This time, we're not taking chances. Polites, you keep that [Minor Invisibility] spell going, and I want 'no one' getting spotted."
The team nodded in silent agreement with grim determined faces. Once Polites cast the invisibility spell, they began their climb down from the trees and moved like shadows through the thick undergrowth. Squad One stayed behind and covered their exit while the others split off toward their objectives.
The journey back toward the Orc encampment was painstakingly slow. The forest, now draped in the dim light of the twin crescent moons, offered little help as they navigated through the thick canopy. Orc patrols were everywhere, hearing their guttural voices and heavy footsteps echoing through the trees. Torches flickered like fireflies in the night, casting ominous glows as the Orcs poked and prodded at the underbrush, as if expecting something, or someone, to pop out.
Despite the noise and lights cast by the patrols, the sheer numbers of Orcs wandering around made progression slow as they had to stop and time their movements and try to avoid having an Orc walk into them. Luckily they did not encounter any of those two-legged creatures in the area, making their infiltration easier.
Despite the commotion, it wasn't the noise or light that made the infiltration difficult, it was the sheer number of Orcs. The team was forced to stop frequently, waiting for patrols to pass and timed each movement. Every step had to be calculated to make sure that they didn't bump into an unseen Orc lurking in the shadows. Fortunately, the two-legged creatures from earlier were absent, giving the team a slight advantage.
Riley and Squad Three reached the outer perimeter of the Orc camp just after midnight. Looking at the hive of activity in the camp, it appears that the Orcs were not all sleeping as they moved around despite the hour, and a large number of undead could be seen gathering on the far side, shuffling aimlessly around a series of tents.
Price tapped Riley's shoulder and pointed towards the mass of undead.
"Over there?" he whispered.
Riley adjusted his night vision goggles to maximize the zooming, looking at the glowing green silhouettes of the undead filled his vision, all crowding around a cluster of large tents. Among them, a few shadowy figures stood at the head of the undead crowd, waving and gesturing emphatically, likely the remaining shamans trying to regain control of the dead.
"Looks like the remaining shamans are trying to take back control of the dead," Riley whispered back. "Price, you stay here with the AF-3 and provide overwatch. If shit happens, I want eyes on us. You elf, on me," Riley glanced at Polites, who gave a quick nod and already cast the [Minor Invisibility] spell again.
As the spell took effect, it left Polities momentarily dazed from the magical exertion.
Once they verified the spell was functioning, the team began their approach, keeping close to the camp's edge and staying within the shadows as much as possible. They moved like ghosts through the night and slipped between the shambling hordes of undead.
Riley ignored the stench of rot as he reached out and grabbed the back of a decaying Imperial Japanese soldier. He lifted the confused undead in front of him and used it as a macabre shield as he rushed forward. The undead, too mindless to resist, simply shuffled along with Riley, oblivious to the human now guiding it.
Mason followed closely with one hand resting firmly on Riley's shoulder and followed behind their makeshift cover. With the [Minor Invisibility] spell shrouding them in a semi-transparent outline, they moved through the horde unnoticed. The undead, for their part, remained unresponsive and did not show any signs of aggression, completely unaware that two living soldiers had infiltrated their ranks.
As they drew nearer to the shamans' tents, Riley ditched the undead he had been using as cover and let it stumble back into the crowd. He and Mason dropped low, fast-crawling between the legs of the undead and moved through the bodies in near silence. They reached a patch of shadows cast by a burning brazier and used it as their last cover before darting across an open space, diving behind the closest tent.
"Squad Two, we are in position," Riley whispered into his comms as he scanned their surroundings and listened to the incantations of the shamans just on the other side of the thin tent wall.
The mission was at a critical point now, any wrong move could send the entire Orc camp into full alert and their mission went into shit.
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After splitting off from Riley and Squad Three, Mason and Woods made their way directly toward their objective, skirting past through the maze of Orc patrols with torches flickered in the darkness as countless Orcs roamed, and their guttural laughter echoing through the trees as they entertained themselves by poking or beating the undead with crude jabs and blows.
Despite the abuse, the undead remained unresponsive, and Mason and Woods eventually reached the mass grave, where hundreds of corpses stood in eerie motionless rows.
"I don't think anyone's controlling them at all," Mason whispered as he glanced at Woods, who nodded in agreement. "Do you see anything alive?"
Woods scanned the area through his night vision goggles, slowly shaking his head after a while. "No, it looks like it's just the dead."
"Alright, I'll search this side. You take the other," Mason instructed, gesturing to divide the area.
Woods nodded again and cautiously stepped out into the open with his large AF-3 strapped to his back while his AF-2 Magespitter remained ready in his hands. Mason followed suit with his own AF-2 trained on the lifeless horde, a bright green beam emitting out from his laser sights as he look left and right through his night vision, making sure that the undead were truly dormant before proceeding.
With a quick tap of his Spatial Ring, Mason summoned several small drones that materialized from thin air, floating around him before dispersing in all directions. He cursed under his breath as they scattered and struggled to keep them under control.
"Damn, there is too much magical interference here!" he growled.
Some of the drones landed on the corpses, others into trees or simply dropped to the ground. Mason glanced over at Woods, who was also deploying his drones with little success. Shaking his head, Woods waved Mason off as both of them were frustrated.
"How are we supposed to find the anchor with this much interference?" Mason muttered, feeling his irritation growing.
Just then, the dead began to moan, breaking the oppressive silence. The mindless horde shuffled away from the grave site, and Mason and Woods exchanged looks of surprise, wondering where they were moving off.
"What's happening?" Mason hissed, as they dove behind a pile of deadwood, watching the undead march off.
"Looks like someone's taken control of them," Woods guessed. "They're heading toward the Orc camp."
"Damn it, we need to warn Riley!" Mason whispered urgently, fumbling with his comms. "Scion Actual, this is Squad Two, do you copy?" He tried again and again, only to be met with static. "It's not getting through!" he cursed after the fourth attempt. "What do we do now?"
"We keep searching for the anchor," Woods said firmly as his eyes scanned the now-empty field. "I am sure they can handle themselves. It's easier to search now that the dead are gone."
"Do we even know what we're looking for?" Mason asked as he lifted his head up and peered around the clearing, making sure no hostiles were around.
"At least the interference should be cleared. We can use the drones properly now," Woods pointed out.
Mason grinned sheepishly. "Right. Let's get them back in the air."
Not long after, the drones navigated the field more perfectly, clustering around a central point where several burrows were visible through the night vision goggles.
"We've got something here!"
As they cautiously approached the location where the magical specks had converged, they remained vigilant and scanned their surroundings.
"Looks fresh," Woods remarked, rubbing the disturbed soil. "Something's buried here, while everything else has been dug up."
"Cover me," Mason replied as he brought out a foldable entrenching tool from his Spatial Ring.
He flipped out the spade, gripping the D-handle tightly, and began to dig, shoveling dirt away. Woods moved back to seek cover in a convenient trench created by the buried dead, bracing his AF-2 against the moist earth as he kept watch over Mason.
After nearly forty minutes of digging, Mason exclaimed, "Found something!" He lifted the object from the earth and dropped it into the trench where Woods had taken refuge. "Here," he tossed it to Woods, then removed his helmet to wipe the sweat from his head.
"What the hell is this?" Woods asked, inspecting the dirt-crusted pouch and turned it over in his hands. "Something's moving inside!" He hurriedly dropped the bag in alarm and aimed his AF-2 at it with growing tension.
"You felt that too?" Mason asked as he swallowed a mouthful of water. "I thought it was just my hands trembling from all the digging too much or something," He capped his water bottle and secured it back in his Spatial Ring to keep it cold thanks to the Temporal effect within the small pocket dimension. "Should we salt and burn it?"
"Shouldn't we report to Riley that we found the damn thing?" Woods said, his eyes not leaving on the pulsing pouch on the floor. "Are we even sure it's the anchor?"
"I've tried, but I still can't get through," Mason replied, pulling out a small can of purified salt, a bottle of holy water, and a container of flammable liquid. "The only way to know is to find out for ourselves." He grinned. "Go on, open it."
"Wha-What?" Woods's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?"
"Come on, I need to purify and burn whatever this witchcraft is," Mason teased.
"I'll salt and burn it, but you open it!" Woods countered, reaching for his own supplies. "You do it!"
"Haha, I didn't take you for someone so timid," Mason laughed as he kept his salt and fuel. He unsheathed his sword bayonet, crouching next to the pulsating pouch, and glanced up at Woods. "Ready?"
Woods nodded, gripping a can of salt in one hand and a bottle of holy water in the other. Mason reached down and quickly slit open the pouch and shook out the contents onto the floor.
"Aww, what the hell?!"
A blackish crimson heart, still beating unnaturally, flopped with a sick slap on the grave floor, looking like some sort of abomination slug. Without hesitation, Woods quickly dumped the whole can of salt over it, burying the heart in a small mountain, then poured a bottle of holy water and flammable oil into the mix. Mason expertly flicked his flint lighter, sending sparks flying as the concoction ignited.
"Seriously? You used a whole can of salt?" Mason exclaimed as the unholy object erupted into flames. "You could feed a family of four for weeks with that much?"
"Take no chances!" Woods defended himself as he breathed out a sigh of relief, watching the blackened heart slowly cook, the congealed fats popping and hissing in the fire. "You think this is the anchor?"
Mason nodded, "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" He looked out of the grave and blinked his eyes, trying to readjust them back to the darkness. "Let's find higher ground and see if we can contact Riley."
"Yeah, let's go," Woods said, casting a final glance at the dying flames, where the heart lay in the middle of the embers now became unrecognizable.