Small Fry Mark I

A dark, teeming mass of kuo-toa formed a chaotic swarm, surging into the gloomy oceanic trench. These foolish, goggle-eyed kuo-toa soon met with magical barrages from the merfolk forces—Magic Missiles, frost blasts, Chain Lightning, and more—scattering them in complete disarray. Though ambushed, the kuo-toa possessed remarkably high resistance to magical assault. Spells that would have blasted a sahuagin to bits merely wounded the kuo-toa, failing to kill them outright. What was worse, once attacked, the kuo-toa panicked, letting loose bizarre screeches from their bulbous fish heads. Beyond being painfully ear-splitting, the noise disrupted the merfolk's concentration, slowing the casting speed of quite a few spellcasters. The kuo-toa had no discipline or tactics to speak of, but they fielded a massive number of bloodline sorcerers. Eldritch Blasts bestowed by their mad goddess detonated in relentless bursts, each accompanied by wild magic surges—which meant completely random effects. One blast might polymorph a merfolk into a critter, another might freeze its target solid, or it might accidentally grant the target a healing effect or various buffs... and any of these could just as easily trigger on the kuo-toa themselves. Kuo-toa were foolish, but above all, they were creatures of chaos. The Kuo-toa Goddess was born of their chaos, and in turn, she bestowed yet more chaos upon them. In that simulated battle just now, the elves commanding the merfolk tribes had been on the verge of victory when an absurd, wide-area charm effect erupted out of nowhere. Swarms of locathah defected on the spot, turning around and slaughtering the merfolk instead. Though the kuo-toa suffered grievous casualties, these half-wits somehow stumbled into victory. The win was utterly baffling, and the defeat was just as incomprehensible. After the battle, the merfolk High Priestess warned the elves before her, "So never face the kuo-toa head-on. You will never know how you ended up losing." Up to this point in the military exercises, the three kingdoms—Ryan, the Silvermoon High Court, and the Unholy Hymn—had taken turns taking the field, and without exception, every single one had been soundly defeated. Across twenty-eight consecutive battles, the merfolk High Priestess had scored a flawless victory streak, teaching them time and time again what the cruelty of the sea truly meant. This thoroughly humbled the once-arrogant generals. Warfare in the deep ocean was far from simple. They had known conditions underwater would differ vastly from dry land, but none of them had anticipated the disparity would be so extreme—it virtually upended every rule of command they knew from the surface. After several practical drills, they had gained valuable insights, and their comprehension of naval combat had deepened considerably. Just as they were eagerly itching to continue the exercises, Anbaixiu turned to the merfolk High Priestess and said, "Thank you for your hard work, Your Eminence. That is about enough for today's exercises. Please take your rest. If you are inclined, you can also explore this Synesthesia Dreamscape—it can conjure every pleasure and comfort of the waking world." The High Priestess had meant to say she wasn't that tired, but remembering how poorly she had slept for days on end, and seeing how truly miraculous this dreamscape was, she decided to experience it thoroughly. Opportunities like this might not come again, after all. The High Priestess withdrew with her subordinates, but Anbaixiu did not dismiss the generals. Instead, he smiled cheerfully at them. "My friends, now let us proceed to the second phase of our exercise." Everyone exchanged puzzled glances. The lich had no naval experience either; with their merfolk consultant gone, what could he possibly do? Sensing their thoughts, Anbaixiu said candidly, "I know what you are thinking. Rest assured, I have no intention of an amateur micromanaging the experts. Every detail of the previous battles has been recorded, and I will continue running simulations based on those exact conditions. However, the units under your command will be different." With a wave of Anbaixiu's hand, a teardrop-shaped torpedo the size of a finger appeared before them. "What is this?" Elven King Aldarian asked in confusion. He seemed to detect the dark aura of the undead from the object. Anbaixiu replied, "Just a little skeleton in a slightly unusual form." Aldarian sneered. "Since when are your skeletons forged from metal?" Anbaixiu retorted without hesitation, "Are you the lich or am I? Do you understand skeletons better than I do?" Aldarian shut his mouth at once. What a blunder—bickering with this lich was the height of folly. Anbaixiu demonstrated how the torpedo moved. Its jet-propelled locomotion was astonishingly fast, giving everyone quite a shock. "This is an aberrant skeleton designed for ranged strikes. Because it's cheap to produce and shaped somewhat like a fish, I call it the Small Fry Mark I. It's an expendable munition—you can treat it just like an arrow." Anbaixiu conjured an illusory sahuagin and launched a Small Fry Mark I straight into it. The immense kinetic impact pierced clean through the sahuagin's body. Upon impact, the nose of the Small Fry Mark I cracked slightly, allowing the 'seawater undead' sealed within to seep out and flood into the wound. The sahuagin, which might otherwise have thrashed about vigorously despite the puncture wound, soon wriggled in agony under the necrotic poison's corrosion before perishing completely within seconds. None of them could yet judge the true potency of this weapon—slaying a single sahuagin was hardly an impressive feat—but when Anbaixiu waved his hand and summoned tens of thousands of Small Fry Mark Is, the color drained from every face. Only then did they recall two key words from what Anbaixiu had just said: "skeleton" and "cheap." For a lich, satisfying both conditions meant one thing: easy mass production. In other words, a weapon capable of killing a sahuagin in a single strike was something Anbaixiu could stockpile like ordinary arrows. Ange Watson couldn't help asking, "Does this weapon require no manual operation at all? No specialized training to launch it?" Anbaixiu nodded. "Correct, completely automated. Furthermore, the Small Fry Mark I is undead at its core; it locks onto targets by tracking the scent of life, so it generally isn't affected by lighting or most environmental conditions. With just a general command pointing out their direction, they will automatically pursue targets along their path. "As for accuracy, it's a bit poor. Speed takes priority, which leaves its turning radius somewhat lacking, so the homing capability is merely better than nothing. But in sufficient numbers, its lethality is rather formidable." Anbaixiu proudly introduced the weapon, only to notice that the faces of Alan and his brothers had turned grim. For the same chilling realization had struck all three of them: these Small Fry Mark Is wouldn't be restricted to undersea warfare, would they? Alan in particular had experienced Anbaixiu's jetpack firsthand; this was clearly built on the exact same principle. If Anbaixiu mass-produced these undead and deployed them across the mainland, Ryan's cities would be in grave peril. How did he have the nerve to call something so deadly "small fry"? Anbaixiu made no effort to expose their thoughts; on the contrary, he wanted them to think along those lines. Combined with his glorious feat of repelling Ryan's seven legends, the Ryanites needed to understand who they could never afford to provoke. "All right, don't just stand there dazed. I have several other types of undead units waiting for you to test out. Who wants to try the Small Fry Mark I in combat first?" At Anbaixiu's call, the three tieflings promptly raised their hands. They relished Anbaixiu's strength more than anyone. Hadn't they seen the sickly look on those Ryanites' faces? To the tieflings, this was nothing short of wonderful. Never one to shy away from drama, Anbaixiu had Alan and his brothers set up a defensive line, while the tieflings took control of the Small Fry Mark Is to launch an assault. Whether the three brothers were rattled and unable to focus, or the Small Fry Mark I was simply overwhelming, the battle turned into a one-sided slaughter. The deployed merfolk and locathah had no answer against these finger-sized mini-weapons. Anbaixiu had craftily coated the exterior of the Small Fry Mark I to match the murky seawater, making it virtually impossible to distinguish with the naked eye when gliding at low speeds. Only when the Small Fry Mark I charged would its jet trail become visible, but by then, it was already too late. Most of the defending merfolk warriors and locathah only realized what was happening after being struck. This automated homing weapon was absurdly effective: it required almost no micromanagement, needing only a broad command to execute a kill. Against an indefensible weapon, the merfolk line shattered on contact. Occasionally, a merfolk managed to unleash a wide-area spell that destroyed a cluster of the torpedoes, but it made little difference. When these aberrant skeletons were destroyed, the toxic seawater undead within leaked out; the dark magic didn't dissipate quickly upon death, poisoning the surrounding water just the same. And since merfolk and locathah relied on seawater to breathe, they were inevitably poisoned and killed. Watching the Ryanites suffer a crushing defeat, the three tieflings burst into mocking laughter, darkening the expressions of Alan and his brothers even further. But Anbaixiu quickly spoke up, "Now, swap sides—attackers become defenders, defenders become attackers. Hurry and get ready. Everyone has to take a turn. This is only the first type of undead unit, so you had best make good use of your time." Under Anbaixiu's orders, the generals of the three kingdoms gathered their focus, their expressions far graver than before. For one grim thought had crossed everyone's mind: earlier, the naval warfare had felt largely irrelevant to them, because aquatic races lost most of their combat strength on land, and many couldn't even stand their ground on dry terrain. But now that Anbaixiu had unveiled these undead units, they all knew full well that the lich could deploy such weapons on land at any moment. They had to take this chance to learn as much as possible; otherwise, if they ever faced these "Small Fry Mark Is" in reality, they would be waiting for death. Reinvigorated with urgency, everyone poured their complete attention into the tactical exercise. Anbaixiu was thoroughly satisfied with their diligence. This way, by the time the actual war began, they would be seasoned commanders.