Reidar started pushing troops through faster. The Dread-Bastion Juggernauts went next, followed by the Ghost-Strike Inquisitors and the Bone-Reaver Berserkers.
The teleportation circle cycled with a rhythm that Reidar could feel through the stone floor—hum, flash, reset, hum, flash, reset—and with each cycle, dozens of undead warriors vanished from the outpost and appeared in Kingsgate.
The basent on the other side was filling up, and the bodies of the Church guards had been shoved against the wall to make room. As soon as the first dozen thousand undead crossed, Reidar gave the order.
The undead poured out of the basent and into the streets of Kingsgate.
Reidar saw through his summons' eyes what was happening. The Night-Stalker Assassins split into teams and moved toward the Church safe houses. The Juggernauts and Berserkers headed for the warehouses where the infected food was stored. The Ghost-Strike Inquisitors took to the rooftops to locate targets from above. But there were many more summons that had to cross yet.
Reidar at so point sent batches of thousands of Vorathid Abyssal Horrors to the other side. Making them shrink their size made it possible for him to send more creatures than he previously did, which ant increasing the speed at which his summons reached Kingsgate.
The problem, though, was that hiding an army of this size was impossible. The mont the first undead soldiers stepped out of the basent and into the streets, people would see them. The Aegis Phalanx would detect them. And the Church—if they had anyone watching the streets, which they surely had—would know sothing was happening.
Reidar looked around the basent one more ti, noting the crates stacked against the far wall. He walked over and opened one. Inside, sealed in the sa packaging he had seen at the outpost, were dried rations embedded with the translucent eggs of the parasitic creatures.
The distribution was not started yet, but it was closer than Reidar's comfort level with potential mass poisoning—which, admittedly, was a very specific kind of discomfort that didn't co with a support group.
He closed the crate and turned away.
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