Chapter 252: What This Means

This was not a small addition. This changed what reconnaissance looked like entirely. He had always been limited by what he could see with his own eyes, by what his scouts could report, by what his spies could discover.

Now he had eyes everywhere. He could see anything, anywhere, at any time.

He thought about the Valdenmoor operation and what he could have done differently with this skill available.

He remembered how he had sent the bats into the Valdenmoor barracks during the infiltration.

He had released them into the night, watched them flutter through the windows, and hoped they would do their work.

He had listened to the reports later, heard about the chaos they had caused, the venom they had spread, the knights who had fallen to their invisible attacks.

But he had never seen it himself. He had only imagined it, pieced together fragments, built a picture from the aftermath.

Now, with Borrowed Sight, he could have been the bats, not literally, not feeling what they felt, but seeing what they saw.

He would still be standing in his own body, still aware of the ground beneath his feet, but his eyes would be in the sky.

He could have watched through their eyes as they flew through the windows, could have seen the knights sleeping in their bunks, could have watched their faces as the venom took hold.

He could have guided them through the corridors, chosen the targets, directed the attacks. He could have been there, not as an observer, but as a participant.

Not feeling the air rushing past their wings, but seeing the darkness of the barracks interior, perceiving the warmth of the sleeping bodies below.

Imagine it. He could have been inside the barracks, his eyes invisible and untouchable, watching everything unfold from a perspective that no one else could access.

He could have seen the guards as they stumbled, confused, as the venom took hold. He could have seen the panic spread, the confusion, the chaos. He could have been the one directing it all, guiding the bats like a conductor leading an orchestra.

The thought was exhilarating. He had been limited before, constrained by what he could see with his own eyes, by what his scouts could report.

Now he had no limits. He could be anywhere, see anything, know everything. The possibilities were endless, and he could feel the excitement building in his chest. This was going to change everything.

He could have avoided the close calls, the near misses, the moments of uncertainty. He could have been more efficient, more effective, more deadly.

He thought about the winter and whatever came with it. The cold months were coming, and with them would come new challenges, new threats and new enemies.

He would need to be ready. He would need to be prepared. And now, with Borrowed Sight, he would be.

Seren was watching him. She had learned to recognize when he was processing something significant by the way he went still and his eyes went slightly unfocused.

She knew that look. She had seen it before, many times, in the moments when he was turning something over in his mind, weighing the implications, deciding what to do next.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," he said. "We’re heading back."

She looked at him for a moment and decided not to press it. She knew him well enough to know when he was ready to share and when he wasn’t.

"You looked zoned out for a second there," she said.

Darion smiled. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He shook his head. "I was just thinking about how useful the birds would be."

Seren smiled, looking at Darion unsummon all the undeads to his inventory.

The Archers watched too, the act fascinating some of them. One by one, the creatures dissolved in flashes of green light, the Horned Yuimons, the undead birds, the Slitherer, the knights.

Each one vanished into the inventory, leaving nothing behind but disturbed earth and fading memories.

The archers had seen this many times by now, but it never lost its strangeness.

The way the creatures simply disappeared, the way the green light swallowed them whole. It was unsettling, but also captivating.

"I mean, if you keep on accumulating many undead knights and animals," Seren began, her voice thoughtful, "Then maybe the shortage of knights won’t be much of a problem."

Darion digested it, noting she had a very good point.

He had been thinking of having many men, like kingdoms who had that many too.

He had looked at the larger territories, the ones with armies of thousands, and felt inadequate.

He had wondered how he could ever compete, how he could ever match their numbers. But what if instead of that, he just instead have many undead knights?

The living knights were limited, finite. They could only recruit so many, train so many, feed so many. But the undead? They were unlimited in a way.

They didn’t eat, didn’t sleep and didn’t complain. They just fought.

"Imagine you went on to have thousands of undeads," Seren told him.

Darion thought about it too. Thousands of undead knights. He imagined the sheer scale of it, an army that stretched across the horizon, their green eyes glowing in the dark, their weapons raised, their bodies unyielding.

It would be a sight that would make any enemy pause, any kingdom reconsider.

He imagined marching on an enemy territory with thousands of undead knights at his back, their boots pounding in unison, their presence overwhelming. It would be unstoppable.

He also thought about the deception.

Kingdoms would think he had just a few hundred undead knights, that he was weak in capacity.

They would underestimate him, dismiss him as a minor threat. And then boom, he would just shock them by summoning many undead knights.

The sudden appearance of thousands of undead soldiers would be enough to break morale, to shatter formations, to end battles before they even began.

It would be a weapon of psychological warfare, a tool of fear and intimidation.

"That would be really helpful," Darion said to her after his really brief thinking. "I’ll try to achieve that."

She nodded, accepting his answer.

She turned to the archers and began organizing them for the return journey.