Building the Strongest Undead Empire from Scratch

High above the churning Endless Sea, the Race Kings clashed with the angel gods, the battle reaching a fever pitch. The fight between gods was a war of attrition, a delicate balance of divine power. No one held a decisive advantage.

The Race Kings fought on, clinging to the hope of reinforcements, knowing their duty was to buy time for their Queen, even if it meant their deaths.

Alex's success was their only hope.

Torin, already struggling against one angel god, now faced two, his strength waning.

He hadn't fought alongside the previous undead lord, who had faced the world alone.

But this time, his Queen needed him. He wouldn't hesitate.

He raised his crooked staff, his bony fingers surprisingly strong.

A dark magic barrier shimmered around him, but it melted away like snow under the angels' holy light.

His dark magic, a mixture of Bone Magic and blood magic, was no match for these divine foes.

"You think I'm just a summoner?" Torin roared, his staff dissolving as a sinister black energy enveloped him. He stood firm against the two approaching angels.

An invisible ripple spread outwards, freezing space and time. One of the angel gods froze mid-flight, then vanished, compressed into a small, square crystal.

Torin had sealed it.

The crystal plummeted towards the Endless Sea. The other angel, ignoring its companion's fate, lunged towards the weakened Torin.

The angel's sword pierced Torin's chest effortlessly. His body dissolved into golden light, his flesh and soul purified by the holy light.

"The undead race will never die," Torin said, a chilling smile on his face as a dark barrier reappeared. "And that seal will never break. You've achieved nothing."

A torrent of dark energy erupted, a terrifying explosion engulfing both Torin and the angel god.

The weakest of the Race Kings had taken two gods with him!

The explosion rocked the battlefield, forcing the other gods to retreat.

Garethor looked towards where Torin had fallen, a grim determination hardening his gaze. The other six Race Kings shared his resolve.

The angel gods, sensing the shift, grew cautious. These undead were as fearless as the Demon race madmen.

Did these dark races not fear death?

The angels, however, forgot that the undead were *already* dead. They had nothing left to lose.

Garethor bound an angel god with his chains, engulfing it in hellfire. A portal, leading to an unknown destination, opened beneath them.

He plunged into the portal, taking the angel with him, a fiery descent into oblivion.

Even if he couldn't take two gods with him like Torin, he would take one.

The other angel gods, shaken by this suicidal tactic, were momentarily pushed back, just like on the Demon race battlefield.

No angel dared to approach the Race Kings, fearing they were all walking time bombs.

Crane seized the opportunity, plunging its blade into an angel's chest. Its dark power was incredibly effective against angels, burning them from the inside out.

A golden sword beam flashed, forcing Crane back. It had dodged, but not entirely. Its arm was severed, its weapon, the source of its dark power, falling into the Endless Sea.

Two massive dragon breath attacks forced the angels back, giving the Race Kings a moment to regroup.

Crane, knowing it couldn't outrun the angels, looked at the equally exhausted Vulture.

"Vulture, consume me!"

Vulture stared at Crane, stunned by the desperate plea.

"Consume me," Crane repeated, its voice firm. "You'll regain your strength, become even stronger. You can fight the angel gods. Without my weapon, I'm useless."

"I... I can't. We're Race Kings. I don't have to obey you," Vulture protested, unwilling to accept Crane's sacrifice.

"Vulture, do it," Death Spirit's voice echoed through the air as it materialized beside them. "It's for the Queen! If she succeeds, we can all be resurrected. The undead empire will rise again!" It looked at Crane, and they nodded in silent agreement.

Vulture could refuse Crane, but not Death Spirit, the Queen's appointed general, whose authority superseded theirs.

Moreover, Death Spirit's presence and its approval of Crane's sacrifice meant the other battlefields were also struggling.

Unlike the other Race Kings, summoned or recruited, Vulture had been created by Alex. Its loyalty was absolute.

"For the Queen!" Vulture roared, consuming Crane. Its power surged, surpassing even Xiao Hui and Arthas at their peak.

Vulture, now the strongest of the Race Kings, lunged towards the angel gods, its massive claws tearing through the air.

Eight angel gods remained. The undead had five Race Kings.

The battle raged on.

...

On the Nytheria continent, the allied forces poured through the breach in the angel divine kingdom's wall.

The divine kingdom was vast, teeming with angel civilians, ordinary beings who provided the angels with immense faith power.

They fled in terror as the dark races invaded, their prayers for divine intervention unanswered. The angels they worshipped were locked in a desperate struggle high above, unable to protect them.

Despite their vast faith power, the Angel race's true strength lay in its elite. Their lower ranks, though powerful, were no match for the combined might of the three races.

The three generals were elated. At this rate, they would crush the angel divine kingdom, crippling the Angel race.

The loss of faith power would weaken the angel pseudo-gods and gods, turning the tide of the war.

But just as victory seemed within their grasp, an invisible force pulsed outwards from the divine kingdom, unlike the familiar holy light.

All angel civilians fell to their knees, the divine kingdom bathed in a blinding golden light.

The invading forces within the city were annihilated.

Stunned, they looked towards the divine kingdom. A beautiful angel, clad in white, with long flowing hair and six pairs of wings – a twelve-winged angel, a true god – rose from the city's center.

Unlike the other angels, her face wasn't obscured by her wings.

Her eyes were closed, her arms outstretched, as if accepting the adoration of the kneeling civilians.

Death Spirit was shocked. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The Titan true god had already been deployed. Why was the angel true god still here?!

Before the stunned invaders could react, the angel true god attacked.

She raised a hand, and the sky darkened, storm clouds gathering.

A massive golden holy sword pierced the clouds, hurtling towards the ground with terrifying speed and power. The Sovereign level beings below felt a wave of despair.

No one could stop this.

"Wait, it's not targeting us!" Death Spirit exclaimed.

The sword wasn't aimed at the invading armies, but at a specific location behind their lines.

A seven-colored light erupted from that spot, a swirling vortex of elemental energies forming a beautiful rainbow.

The elements merged, transforming into a new, volatile energy that collided with the descending holy sword.

A massive explosion ripped through the sky, splitting it in two.

The shockwave sent the lower-level troops tumbling to the ground. The battle stopped as everyone stared at the figure now hovering in the sky.

A young man in black robes, a gleaming medallion on his chest, stood defiant.

The leaders of the three races were stunned. A human?

"President!" the Holy Church pseudo-god exclaimed, relief flooding his voice.

The Mage Guild president, having escaped the Arcadia continent with his followers, had ascended to true godhood!

"You are stronger than he (the Divine Mage) was," the angel true god said, her eyes still closed, her voice emotionless, as if she didn't consider him a threat.

The president, his face a mask of rage and grief, didn't reply. He charged towards the angel true god.

The Mage Guild was destroyed, his friends were dead, and this angel was to blame.

Regardless of Alex's success, he would have his revenge.

The two true gods clashed, their power shaking the continent.

The invading armies could barely withstand the shockwaves. Attacking the divine kingdom was no longer an option.

Their plan to weaken the Angel race had failed. The allied forces retreated, fleeing the true gods' battle.

The clash alerted the other battlefields.

The remaining Demon race pseudo-gods exchanged worried glances, but they continued their assault.

The two battlefields merged, undead and Demon race pseudo-gods fighting side-by-side against the angels.

Despite being outnumbered, they were confident in their eventual victory.

"Fools," a cold voice echoed through the air.

A Demon race pseudo-god exploded, its body disintegrating.

Another demon pseudo-god was obliterated.

A single attack, instantly killing a pseudo-god. The Angel race's true god had arrived.

The allied forces turned to flee. They couldn't face a true god.

But it was too late.

A twelve-winged angel, a male this time, stood behind them, blocking their escape.

He raised a hand, sealing the surrounding space. They were trapped.

Was this the power of a true god?

A strange energy flowed from the trapped pseudo-gods, draining their life force and divine power.

Within moments, they were all dead, their power absorbed by the angel.

There would be no more reinforcements for the undead race.

...

Eight of the eleven undead Race Kings were dead. The Demon race pseudo-gods were annihilated.

Death Spirit watched in horror, not at the deaths, but at the angel true god's actions. He had absorbed the dark races' power, then killed his own pseudo-gods!

Why?

The angel, seemingly unaware of Death Spirit's presence, turned and left. The battles around the Aether Isle were over. His destination was the island itself.

He flew towards the Aether Isle, a smirk on his face as he saw Xiao Hui and Arthas standing guard.

He looked towards the island, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"It's time."

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