Everything was ready.
After hearing from his agents that the garrison of Mordheim had already set out for Altdorf, Mannfred von Carstein revealed a cold, triumphant smile.
As the last and most powerful Vampire Count of the von Carstein bloodline, Mannfred naturally coveted the wyrdstone in Mordheim. He intended to claim these stones and, using their power, resurrect the greatest necromancer in history—the creator of all undead—Nagash. With Nagash's power, he could turn this world into a realm ruled entirely by death and the dead.
At first, Mannfred's goal had been the Crown of Sorcery, for it was an artifact created by Nagash, containing fragments of his very consciousness. Yet after great effort to reach the ruins of Todheim, where he summoned his undead host to battle the Chaos Warriors stationed there, the Crown was nowhere to be found.
Hmph… I could even hear Nagash's roar from the depths of the abyss then. With no choice, Mannfred had changed his plan and set his sights on Mordheim's wyrdstone.
He had not attacked immediately, instead staying hidden. Mannfred knew that Mordheim was teeming with intrigue at this moment. He planned to wait for the city's other factions to slaughter each other before stepping in to claim the spoils.
Mannfred was aware of the Imperial army's arrival—it was public knowledge, after all—but what he did not expect was for the Imperial forces to swiftly defeat the Chaos cultists and Skaven, emerging as the final victors.
Originally, he had planned to wait until the garrison withdrew before ordering his undead to assault the Rock Monastery. But unexpected news came from his informants in the army: the Emperor himself had ordered that all wyrdstone be transported to Altdorf immediately.
Upon hearing this, Mannfred was overjoyed. In the city, storming the temples and monasteries would still be a risk. But in the open field, things would be entirely different—he could lay an ambush with his undead host, wipe them out in one strike, and seize the wyrdstone!
Now he lay in wait on the road from Mordheim to Altdorf, ready for the army to pass. The plan was perfect—once they entered his trap, he would strike at once. The enemy would be completely unaware of the threat at their flank, panic would ensue, and they would be crushed.
The advantage is mine! This one's in the bag!
At that moment, Mannfred spotted a column of troops moving slowly along the road ahead. His eyes gleamed red.
"Imperials… you've strayed too far from your homeland. Allow me, Mannfred von Carstein, the rightful ruler of the Empire, to—what in the abyss is THAT?!"
Just as he prepared to awaken his buried undead and encircle the Imperial force, Mannfred's gaze caught on a massive, strange, and terrifying shadow at the head of the column.
At the very front marched a towering, jet-black, bipedal monstrosity that seemed to be made of steel. On its back rode a tall warrior clad in black plate armor, wielding a warhammer. White skulls and blood-red crosses adorned the armor—emblems both striking and chilling.
What Chaos Champion is this?
For a moment, Mannfred wondered if he had mistaken his target—could this be a Chaos host that had penetrated deep into Imperial territory?
But no—on closer inspection, the soldiers behind it bore Imperial banners, and among them were several wagons laden with wyrdstone.
"...…"
Mannfred couldn't make sense of it. Had someone else attacked the Imperial army before him? It didn't seem so—his scouts had reported nothing of the sort.
No matter.
Casting aside his doubts, Mannfred resolved to claim the wyrdstone regardless.
"Then… let us begin!"
Raising both arms high, he gave the signal. Beneath the soil, the dormant undead stirred to life.
"Crack!"
The ground split open, withered hands bursting forth. Skeletons and zombies clawed their way up, surrounding the Imperial column.
"Enemy attack!!"
The sudden assault startled the soldiers. Shouting, they quickly raised spears and shields to block the undead advance.
Enemy attack?
Duanmu Huai, astride the Metallic Mystery Dragon, spotted the undead as well. Frowning, he halted his mount and scanned the field. On a hill not far away stood a bald man wearing an expression that practically screamed I'm the boss here.
"Olgis, Lorena, Melody—guard the wagons! Don't let them take the wyrdstone! Fiya, try dying fewer times!"
His orders were sharp, especially toward the unstable killer doll—effective against living foes, but with no advantage against undead. When he saw her preparing to charge the horde, Duanmu stopped her. Undead aren't afraid of instant kills, and without that, her offense and defense won't cut it here.
"Understood, Sir Knight!" Lorena gripped her holy tome and called back. Olgis simply nodded, raising her hands—thin, invisible threads formed a solid barrier in the air.
Melody reached back and drew a shotgun—an upgrade she'd obtained from Kukulu for close combat.
Not the best for undead… but better than nothing.
"What about you, Master?" Olgis asked as she sliced through undead with her threads. Duanmu's eyes locked on the bald figure. He turned the Metallic Mystery Dragon toward him.
"I'm going for the head!"
With that, Duanmu charged straight into the undead ranks toward Mannfred.
Hmph… nothing special.
Mannfred smirked coldly as the enemy came for him. Raising his hand, he sent the undead swarming to overwhelm the black steel beast.
Yet the outcome defied his expectations. The horde's weapons—spears, blades—couldn't leave so much as a scratch. The dragon's charge, however, smashed through them like a flood, shattering everything in its path.
And it didn't stop there.
From the saddle, Duanmu raised his warhammer high. In the next instant, a blazing holy white flame erupted from him, sweeping across the field. Undead burned to ash where it touched them.
[Soulflame]!!
Even Mannfred, standing at a distance, shielded his eyes from the holy light. He now realized who he faced—and it filled him with surprise.
A Paladin of Sigmar?!
Dressed like a Chaos Champion? How does Sigmar even recognize you?!
Still, this confirmed that the rider was the army's commander. If Mannfred could slay him, the rest would crumble.
Raising his staff, Mannfred summoned a host of banshees—restless spirits of the dead, shrieking with despair as they flew toward the Paladin. Their piercing cries could shake the courage of any living being.
But as they neared Duanmu, they screamed even louder—in terror. In moments, they fled and dissolved into nothing.
What in the—?!
Mannfred was baffled. Undead should know no fear, and the Paladin hadn't even used a holy spell—so why had his banshees scattered?
No time to dwell on it. Duanmu had already crossed half the field, closing fast.
No choice!
Frowning, Mannfred whistled sharply.
From the clouded sky, a monstrous creature swooped down—massive wings spread wide, maw open in a roar—as it dove toward Duanmu.
It was Mannfred's trump card: the Terrorgheist.