Chapter 48

Despite the looming threat of the spider riders, the Cathayan merchant convoy remained composed and organized, a testament to their experience in traversing the perilous routes of the known world. Among the merchants, a contingent of Cathayan troops stood vigilant, ready to defend their valuable cargo at a moment's notice.

The Cathayan armies, renowned for their exceptional prowess, were a formidable force to be reckoned with. They had faced countless adversaries, from rampaging Hobgoblins to Chaos Marauders and jungle primitives, and had emerged victorious time and again. Not even the island warriors of Nippon could withstand the might of the Cathayan warriors.

In the north of Cathay, the Great Bastion stood as a formidable barrier against the Chaos-corrupted tribes of Kurgan and Hung, a massive magical wall protected by a garrison tens of thousands strong. The armies of Cathay were said to be innumerable, drawing warriors from all corners of the realm, including fierce hill tribes, enigmatic warrior monks, and well-disciplined soldiers armed with ornate cannons.

At the heart of the Grand Imperial Army of Cathay, also known as the Celestial Army, were the bannermen. These oath-sworn warriors, adorned with emerald green back banners, wielded long curved swords, wicked polearms, and deadly crossbows. Famed for their unwavering resolve and unyielding courage, the bannermen stood ready to defend their homeland, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

The martial dedication of Cathay was shown now in the escorts of the merchants; something only the most elite of the Empire could match. The escorts of the Cathayan convoy were a sight to behold, their presence instilling a sense of security amidst the looming threat of the spider riders. Among them were the Jade warriors, clad in gleaming steel armour adorned with intricate engravings, their green shields emblazoned with the symbol of Cathay. With unwavering determination, they stood ready to defend the convoy against any adversary that dared to challenge them.

Alongside the Jade warriors were the Crane Gunners, a formidable duo armed with specialized weaponry designed to pierce even the toughest hides of the spiders. One warrior wielded a giant shield, providing cover and protection for their companion, who wielded a large rifle capable of firing armour-piercing rounds with deadly precision. Together, they formed a formidable team, their coordination and skill unmatched as they prepared to face the oncoming onslaught of spider riders.

As Atlas observed the clash between the two groups, his expression remained stoic and detached, unaffected by the carnage unfolding before him. On one side, the Cathayan troops fought with precision and skill, their superior training and weaponry evident as they pushed back against the relentless onslaught of goblins and spiders.

However, despite the Cathayan troops' prowess, the goblins showed no fear of death, their numbers seemingly endless as they continued to charge forward with reckless abandon. With each casualty among the Cathayan ranks, the pressure mounted, and their formation began to shrink under the relentless assault.

Though Atlas remained unfeeling, he recognized the strategic advantage the goblins held in their sheer numbers and lack of regard for their own lives. It was a grim reminder of the harsh realities of war, where even the most skilled and disciplined troops could be worn down by the relentless tide of battle.

"Strickler, lead the Vanguard and slay the goblins," Atlas commanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

Strickler hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he glanced between Atlas and the chaotic battlefield. "But what about the Cathayan merchants? Should we not slay them as well?"

Atlas shook his head, his expression resolute. "No, our priority is to save the merchants. Attack the goblins with all your might, even if it means sacrificing some of our undead. The merchants must be protected." Despite his difference of opinion, Strickler was obedient in quickly understanding the urgency of the situation.

Strickler nodded, determination flashing in his gaze. With a swift motion, he turned and dashed towards the Vanguard troops, his vampire speed allowing him to dart through the chaos with ease. As he unleashed his deadly magic upon the goblins, explosions erupted like fireworks, decimating their ranks and turning the tide of battle in favour of the Cathayan merchants.

As Atlas led his strengthened skeletons into battle, a sense of awe and dread rippled through the ranks of both allies and enemies alike. The skeletons, now taller and more imposing than before, marched in perfect formation, their weapons gleaming with the varied craftsmanship of different realms. From the sturdy Gromril of the Dwarfs to the finely wrought steel of the Empire, each weapon held a story of battles won and enemies vanquished.

At the forefront of this fearsome display stood Atlas himself, his presence commanding and authoritative. Flanked by the towering greater undead ogres, he exuded an aura of power and mastery over the forces of death. With each step, the ground reverberated with the rhythmic clatter of bones, a macabre symphony heralding their approach.

Together, they advanced with unwavering determination, cutting through the ranks of the goblins with ruthless efficiency. Atlas' strategic prowess guided their movements, directing them to exploit weaknesses in the enemy lines and maximize the impact of their assault. With every swing of their weapons and every strike of their magic, they carved a path of destruction through the chaos, turning the tide of battle in favour of the Cathayan merchants.

For now.

As the clash between the undead and the goblin spider riders intensified, chaos reigned upon the battlefield. The eerie glow of arcane energy danced amidst the swirling dust kicked up by the frenzied combat, casting long, ominous shadows across the rocky terrain.

Atlas, his sword shattered in previous battles, relied on his mastery of magic and his razor-sharp claws to engage the enemy. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed dark tendrils of energy that snaked through the air, ensnaring goblin riders and their mounts alike, pulling them off their spiders with bone-crushing force. Yet for every foe he dispatched, two more seemed to take their place, their relentless assault testing the limits of his undead horde.

The goblin spider riders, mounted atop their agile steeds, darted in and out of the fray with lethal precision. Their poisoned arrows found their marks amidst the ranks of the skeletons, piercing through ancient bones and felling warriors with alarming efficiency. Despite their brittle frames, the skeletons fought valiantly, their weapons clashing against the crude weapons of the goblins in a cacophony of steel and bone.

With each passing moment, the battle grew more intense, the air thick with the stench of blood and decay. The ground trembled beneath the weight of the charging spiders, their monstrous forms crashing into the skeletal ranks, crushing bones beneath their massive bulk. Yet still, the undead held their ground, their unwavering resolve fuelled by the dark magic coursing through their spectral forms.

Atlas, his eyes blazing with unearthly fury, wove intricate spells with practised precision, unleashing torrents of arcane fire that engulfed the goblin ranks in searing flames. But even as the goblins fell, it seemed to matter little to the overall battle.

Amidst the chaos of battle, Atlas fought with grim determination, his claws tearing through flesh and bone with deadly efficiency. Yet as he started to create a healthy pile of corpses to discourage their kin, Atlas felt a new enemy. One with potent magic.

The outcome of the battle hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of victory or defeat. If Atlas couldn't defeat this new foe before it overruns the Cathay merchants, he would lose his prize; if not his life.

As the colossal spider loomed over the battlefield, its eight hairy legs moving with unnatural grace, Atlas felt a chill run down his spine. The collection of mages mounted on its back emanated an aura of dark power, their eyes ablaze with the raw energy of Waaagh! Magic.

With a flick of his wrist, the leader of the Greenskin shamans unleashed a crackling bolt of green lightning that seared through the air, striking one of Atlas' skeletal warriors and reducing it to a pile of smouldering bones. The other mages followed suit, their spells raining down upon the undead horde with devastating force.

Atlas knew that he needed to act quickly if he was to stand any chance against such formidable adversaries. Drawing upon the depths of his arcane knowledge, he conjured a shield of shimmering energy to deflect the onslaught of magical attacks. But even as he did so, he could feel the relentless pressure of the enemy's assault bearing down upon him.

With a roar of defiance, Atlas charged towards the spider and its riders, his claws gleaming with malevolent intent. The ground trembled beneath his feet as he closed the distance, his undead minions following close behind. But as he neared his target, he was met with a wall of Waaagh! Magic, the sheer force of which threatened to overwhelm him.

Undeterred, Atlas pressed on, his determination unyielding in the face of adversity. With a mighty leap, he soared through the air, his claws slashing through the thick hide of the spider's abdomen with uncanny precision. The creature let out a deafening screech of pain, its riders thrown into disarray as they struggled to maintain their balance.

The lead shaman's eyes seemed to glow brighter. Atlas had made him mad – mad enough to be even more dangerous.