Danmachi Familia from Hell

18

- Perhaps - the vampire replied after regaining his composure. - But not for long.

The red-eyed creature shot forward with the speed of wind racing across an open field, baring his fangs and claws, which repeatedly sliced the skeletal monsters into pieces before they had the chance to react. A few archers drew their bows, but they couldn’t keep up with the bloodsucker's movements and froze, only weakly turning their heads before they too parted with the "life" Belakher had granted them.
As for the Landgrave himself, he didn't exactly have an easy time keeping the vampire in sight, yet he managed to fire Ghostcrowd while hidden behind two orcs, preventing the opponent from seeing the attack coming. First the elf released the skeletons from the influence of his Skill so they wouldn't absorb most of the blow. Two piles of bones collapsed beside each other, and the spell surged straight toward the white-haired figure. He managed to step back to the edge of the spell's impact zone, suffering only minor burns on the left side of his torso and arm. He fled from the violet phantoms, sprinting up the castle wall as if it were a perfectly flat walkway rather than a vertical fortification over fifteen meters high.

- Void - Belakher said, summoning new minions to replace the fallen ones.

Thirty! It took him only a handful of seconds to strip me of thirty skeletons, the elf thought.
He has even more of them? Why didn't he summon them all at once? Wondered the vampire as he stared at fresh ranks of human and monstrous corpses emerging from the black sludge, feeling his wounds closing completely.
Belakher could, of course, deploy far more undead into battle, but he knew that cramming every square meter with skeletons was unwise. They would hinder each other's ability to wield their weapons due to lack of space. And the truth was that even in an open field, Belakher had never summoned all the undeads he'd gathered over the centuries at the same time. The reason was simple: although the undead under his command lacked independent thought, the Landgrave still controlled their behavior through his will, imposed via words or thoughts. If he was forced to divide his will among too many undead at once, he would lose full command over them. They would never harm him, for even within their thoughtless skulls lingered an instinct warning them that killing the violet-eyed one would result in all resurrections being deactivated. It was a different matter entirely for any other living being unfortunate enough to cross their path. Without the elf's commands serving as their "brain", they were driven by an overwhelming urge to take life from others—life they themselves lost long ago. This applied to both reanimated monsters and humans alike. The Landgrave had no intention of endangering his god, who remained inside the castle. Besides, his inability to issue commands to all his minions would turn them from Belakher's support into a chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes even harmful horde.
From the dark abyss among dozens of other undead emerged a harpy, which immediately wrapped its taloned feet around Belakher's shoulders to lift him onto the wall to confront the vampire. The remaining skeletons, at their master's command, began climbing or rushing up the narrow steps toward the bloodsucker.
But the white-haired one had no intention of waiting for these abominations and their demonic leader to surround him. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve.
As Belakher ascended toward the battlements, he saw the self-proclaimed ruler of the province close his eyes with a smile and cross his hands over his shoulders. His figure, from the soles of his feet to the tip of his head, began to darken. His skin, hair, and even clothing took on the color of endless black, making him resemble a shadow more than a living being. But that shadow quickly lost the form of a dark silhouette. Crooked lines, bulges, distortions, and tremors began appearing along his back. Before Belakher could strain his eyes enough to make out the details of the vampire's transformation through the night's darkness, the creature shattered into dozens of fragments that shot into the air, scattering as far apart as possible. A collective, chaotic screech coming from many throats yet from one rang in the Landgrave’s ears.
Damn it, I'd really like to run a few tests on him, the dark-haired thought as he saw the swarm of bats encircling him from all sides like a cyclone.
The enemy's assumed form didn't resemble the small brown mammal that elf and his god had seen in the banquet hall. These were much larger, completely black, their skin appearing scaled like that of a reptile, and their eyes glowed red like perfectly polished rubies catching rays of sunlight on a clear day.
The necromancer ordered his minions to fire their bows and throw spears or axes, depending on what each skeleton held. The altitude and speed of the bats' flight made hitting them extremely difficult; only one of them was seriously wounded by an arrow in its wing, causing it to fall and be torn apart by goblins. But the remaining ones, despite suffering minor injuries, continued to close in on Belakher.
Split into dozens of bodies, the vampire observed the elf with nearly two hundred eyes from every possible angle. The drawback of this ability was that he had to divide his will among all his forms—just as Belakher did with his undead. However every bat was him, so he could never lose control over them, but in this form he had more limbs than any creature alive. He couldn't direct each form individually while performing other actions, but as long as every bat did the same thing, there was no issue.
Narrowing his living tornado tighter and tighter, he finally attacked with all his forms at once.
No matter how powerful a mage that bastard is, he can't fend off attacks from every direction simultaneously, the bloodsucker thought. I only need one hit to finish this.
The bats came rushing from all directions toward the Landgrave and the harpy, who spun like a top, tracking the incoming swarm.
How many times have I seen this? the vampire thought. How many before you could do nothing but watch and wait for death? Whether it was the sight of their comrades being slaughtered or the anticipation of their own demise—whether beast, monster, or sentient race—the faces of my victims always showed fear and helplessness.
Not this time. On the violet-eyed one's face there was not a trace of terror or weakness—only cold resolve. Ordering the harpy to spin in place upon reaching a stable hover was not meant for observation but for preparing for the incoming strike.