Kingdom Of The Weak 339 Cold Swea

Renovations were ongoing at that base. The structure on top of the red mana site had turned into a fortress. Based on the food supplies entering it every day, at least five thousand soldiers had to be staying there on a constant basis.

Furthermore, they weren't just any normal soldiers. Based on what Tim observed and what the lynxmice reported, only Adept-level Draconians were permitted to enter, and all of them appeared to be part of the First Draconian Royal Legion, the honor guard of the First Prince himself!

Tim was scratching his head over how to infiltrate the compound when news arrived from the latest shift of lynxmice.

The supplies entering the fortress had been cut in half!

What did that mean?

It couldn't be that the soldiers' rations had been cut. There was no food shortage in the capital. Nor did it seem to be some sort of punishment. In fact, Tim's mind immediately locked onto the worst case scenario.

That is, of the five thousand elite troops in the fortress, two and a half thousand of them would not require food today… or ever again.

What happened? How did two thousand elite draconians suddenly lose their lives?! Tim could no longer wait. Burning curiosity consumed his common sense until he was driven to investigate this very day!

"Is the tunnel ready?" Tim asked Mikai.

"Miik." Mikai answered.

"How long more?"

"Mikiik."

"That's too long! Rush it. I want it done by tonight!"

"Kiik? Kikiiik?"

"Put Bun Nabber's clan and Dust Roller's clan to work. Have them trigger the distractions they had planned. With all the ruckus going on outside, perhaps n.o.body would notice the vibrations."

***

That evening, Remian got a call.

"Tim? I'm a little busy here." Remian said, putting down his tools for a minute.

"Really? What's so important?" Tim asked blandly.

"A hydrogen fuel cell. Why? What's up?"

"Oh, not much. I just found out where the red mana is coming from."

There was a crash as Remian dropped something that might actually have been important. Even so, what he said was, "Where?!"

"It's coming from another world." Tim said in an entirely casual manner. "A dead one, sort of. Everything there is dead except for the soldiers and workers who go through the portal. Oh, yeah; there's an actual portal to the sort-of-dead world."

"What do you mean, 'sort-of-dead'?"

"I mean, the locals decided not to stay dead." Tim said. "They're still moving around."

There was a short pause.

"Say that again, Tim? The dead are moving?"

"Yep. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls, call it what you want. The draconians call them ��undead'. Their nutcase magi thought it would be a good idea to use magic to play around with death, so all the magi here are liches. They're all dead and using death magic. They've killed some draconians and turned them into undead. There's rumors they even have a skeletal dragon."

"How is that even possible?!"

"How? Apparently it all starts with a necromancer…"

Remian grimaced. "So much for trading with other worlds."

"Uh, no, I wouldn't recommend it. Not with this world."

Remian sighed. "Guess I'll have to use a beacon."

"A what?"

"A beacon. It's like a signal telling otherworlders that we're open for trade. There are rules and such, but I think we can safely set up Craggy Falls as an independent trade post. I just need to clear it with one of the Dras clan."

"Great. Anyway... there's only one way to get to the Undead World, and that's through the portal at the bottom of the most heavily guarded fortress in the Dragon Empire. The crystals are so well-guarded, even I don't dare to steal them. I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do here."

"Understood, Tim. I think it's best to just leave them be for now. We'll focus on our own territories. Plus, I was hoping to plant some special crops on your farm. We can discuss that when you get back."

***

After the call, Remian turned around. "Death? Are you there?"

But there was no answer. Death was no longer always hovering over his shoulder. In fact, Remian hadn't been haunted by Death ever since the Conglomerate treatments.

For a moment there, he felt a slight sense of loss, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a flood of relief. Didn't that mean that he was in the clear? That he wasn't likely to suddenly keel over dead for no reason? For now, at least?

On the other hand, he wouldn't be able to ask Death anything about that Undead World.

"That's that, then. There's no way to get mana aside from the Dragon Empire and even they have to fight undead for it." Remian shook his head. "Maybe they'll be willing to do joint-ventures? We could help them. But why would they accept our help?"

Why indeed. Most of the world's militaries were faced with failing equipment, mana shortages, and a whole lot more chaos than anyone knew what to do with. Remian's own military potential was limited whatever his students and friends could sc.r.a.pe together, mainly junk-grade airships and lots of mice. Unless he could get Darian to bring some dragons? But what would be the point? The Dragon Emperor was already fielding draconians; the servants of dragons wouldn't stand for allowing juvenile dragon hatchlings to put themselves in danger. Between dragons and draconians there was no doubt all of them would vote for the draconians to face dangers to spare the dragons from harm.

Draconians themselves had abilities beyond most humans. Even magi fell short of their magical abilities. For a mage to cast a Tier 3 fireball, for example, he would need some time to invoke the sigils and channel mana properly. A wand or scroll could speed things up immensely, possibly even to the point of near-instant casting. But all of these relied upon proper casting.

An Adept Draconian needed no such time or complexity. He only needed to open his mouth and spit one out. No Sigil, no casting time, no usage of consumable items. Just spit.

Based on what Remian knew, it was still a form of magic and required mana, but that magic was in their blood, just like dragons. That's why Draconians were so fussy about bloodlines.

Also it explained why they were daring to raid the Undead World for mana. Draconians and dragons alike needed mana in a way that normal humans wouldn't understand. At least, that was what he learned from Conglomerate primers.

Which reminded him. He needed to talk to Kor'ag or Mal'thor as soon as possible. They were still asleep, last Remian checked, but once either of them woke up…

Suddenly, the crystal buzzed again. Remian frowned, taking the call. "Tim? What is it?"

There was a short silence, then, a gravelly voice said, "I am not Tim."

Remian froze. "What… who…?"

"I am Zor'khan-dras." The voice on the other side said deeply.

Remian froze.

"Your little spy has been caught peeping in places that he really shouldn't have been." The voice went on. "But I smell Khar'al on him. Tell my brother that if he needs mana, he can very well pay for it just like all our other brothers. No stealing from the cookie jar! This cookie jar is all mine."

"How much?" Brain frozen, that was the only thing Remian could think to say.

"You'll have to bid for it in auction, fair and square." Zor'khan sounded amused. "Buy it from me properly, and I will return your little spy at that time."

The call ended, leaving Remian dripping with cold sweat.