Joran and Jashed stared at Kenji, who produced two long blades. The trio watched each other for a tense moment before erupting into action. Jashed twisted in the air, wind whipping around him as they launched attacks at one another. The lord was a blur of motion as Jashed and Joran tore through the air, claps of sound and vibrating Ethra amplifying each strike. Jashed landed like a meteor, sending shockwaves through the ground, shattering it with pulsing vibrations.
Rocks tore from the earth around the lord, and Kenji snarled as he slammed his blades into the ground. Large, skeletal Ethra-formed hands took shape, each bearing blades that tore into the rocks. Jashed was already moving, his speed at the peak of what an adept could attain, his body a blur as he closed in on Kenji. The lord’s eyes tracked his movements, and his blades came down, wreathed in an aura of Ethra and undeath. Jashed countered, his gauntlets burning with Ethra as he slammed into Kenji, smashing the adept of Clan Verdan into the ground.
Joran was there, giving the lord no space to recover. His fists crashed into Kenji’s shoulders, vibrating Ethra amplifying the impact with enough force to rip through an adept’s defenses. The lord of undeath weathered the blows, his skin already healing as he swung his blade at Joran, who, slightly out of position, was breathing heavily.
Jashed rose, jade Ethra crystallizing around his body in a rapid Ethra-burning imbuement technique. With a roar, he launched a punch at Kenji, hurling the lord backward. The armor cracked as Kenji groaned, pushing himself to his feet.
“The Gauntlet and the Blind Tiger of Clan Verdan,” he said. “Your reputation within this cesspit of a continent precedes you.” Kenji smirked. “But you must see the signs. Change is coming, and the forces of undeath will cleanse this continent—"
Joran snorted, and Jashed chuckled.
“Something funny?” Kenji asked.
“Oh, not really,” Jashed replied. “Just when you said you’d cleanse the continent.”
“You went up against mages and tree-huggers, and all you got for it was your regent beaten like a misbehaving child,” Joran added, voice laced with disdain. “And you think you could take on a continent of warriors and cultivators steeped in blood and war?” As he spoke, Joran’s body began to vibrate, a misty aura emanating from him.
“This ends here, right now, in this rift,” he said.
Kenji burned with power, a green haze of aura wafting from his body while his skin took on a mottled green and black. Black tears streaked down his face as he shot forward. Joran stamped his foot, cracks radiating around him as he activated Dominion, unleashing vibrating attacks within his sphere of influence. Kenji waded through it, aura coating his hands as he clashed with Jashed, whose attacks struck with force enough to snuff out a peak adept. Kenji’s leg came down hard, shattering Jashed’s shoulder as he screamed in pain. Joran was there in an instant, a blade drawn from his void ring, vibrating Ethra imbued, which he drove into Kenji’s shoulder, triggering it.
The blade shattered within Kenji’s body, sending shards of vibrating Ethra into his flesh. Roaring with rage, Kenji grabbed Joran and slammed him into the ground. A bone spear formed in Kenji’s hand, but Jashed kicked him in the face, disrupting the attack. Joran, struggling against the lord’s grip, twisted, wrapping his legs around Kenji’s shoulder, another blade in his hand aimed for the lord’s neck.
Kenji’s other hand intercepted the blade, shattering it against his aura-infused palm. His fist slammed into Joran, who grunted in pain as bones cracked under the impact. Jashed wrapped an arm around Kenji’s neck, gauntleted hands sprouting sharp claws that dug into the lord’s skin. Kenji roared again, a loud whine rising from his waist. Joran’s eyes widened as he rolled away, barely avoiding a blast of sharpened Ethra.
Rolling to his feet, Joran quickly drank a healing elixir. He sensed that Rhyn and his team had made it to the base of the mountain, having dealt with the ghouls and wraiths. He turned to Jashed and froze, horrified. Blood poured from Jashed’s mouth, and he clutched his stomach, desperately trying to hold in his spilling innards.
Kenji groaned and produced a murky elixir, but Jashed, still fighting, pointed at him and snapped his fingers. The elixir exploded in Kenji’s face, precious liquid spilling uselessly onto the ground. Rage filled Kenji’s eyes as Joran attacked again, burning his remaining Ethra, launching a tiger’s roar and resonance at the lord. Kenji twisted and dodged, becoming a blur as he matched Joran’s speed. Joran’s ribs cracked under a kick that sent him rolling, coughing blood before he landed in a heap. He looked up to see Kenji gripping Jashed by the throat, the adept’s eyes wide as he choked.
“One step closer, and I snap his neck,” Kenji warned, spitting black blood onto the ground.
Explosions echoed from the top of the mountain as Kenji sneered. “I told you, you were only delaying the inevitable. Nothing will stop the march of undeath.”
Joran met Jashed’s gaze, understanding the situation. The lord of undeath raised Jashed, but the adept went slack, his gaze growing cold as he looked at Joran one last time.
“Tell him I died well,” Jashed choked out.
A feeling Joran couldn’t name rose in him as he watched Jashed grip the lord’s hand tighter, igniting his aura into a blazing bonfire. Kenji tried to throw him off, but Joran seized the chance, slamming into Kenji and pinning him between the force of Jashed’s blazing Ethra and his own resonance vibrations.
Joran hated that it had come to this, that they wouldn’t get the chance to settle their fight as warriors. But he found a sliver of comfort knowing that, despite everything, Jashed was doing what was right.
“Come to undeath!” Kenji shouted. “We can make you better, immortal!”
Joran’s fist crashed into Kenji’s jaw, dislocating it as Jashed clung to the lord, taking a deep breath. Joran tore across the landscape in the opposite direction just as a loud explosion echoed behind him.
*********************************************************
As the revenant lord Kenji struggled, his immense power threatening to engulf and destroy him, Jashed knew there was only one way to stop him. With a heavy heart and desperate resolve, he made a fateful decision. Drawing upon the deepest reserves of his Ethra, he condensed it into a single, volatile orb—a last, defiant beacon against the lord of undeath.
The air crackled with raw energy as Jashed unleashed his full power, his body a vessel for the cataclysmic energy within. With a final, anguished cry, he released the orb in a blinding explosion of light and Ethra. The shockwave tore through the battlefield, consuming everything in its path. In his last moment, thoughts of Thalas crossed his mind, an unspoken apology lingering on his lips as the world faded to white.
****************************
As the dust settled and the echoes of the explosion faded into silence, desolation reigned in Jashed's wake. His sacrifice had bought precious moments of reprieve for Joran and the others, but the cost was too heavy for his clan to bear. Joran walked to the blast site, staring at the drifting ash and dust, then hopped down into the crater, feeling a swirl of conflicted emotions.
This would stir a storm back at Jade Peak. He chewed his lip, contemplating his next move when his eyes widened. He cursed quietly, staring at the single void ring he’d found—only Jashed’s. Realization dawned. Void rings were nearly indestructible, even common ones, but he doubted the lord of undeath used a common void ring. He picked up Jashed’s rare ring, slapping the dust away, yet found no trace of the revenants. He leapt out of the crater and sprinted toward the mountain; his heart gripped by a growing fear. Kenji was still alive.
A loud crash nearby pulled his attention. Elyria and Thalas leaped apart, both bleeding from cuts as Rhyn and the others materialized from the base of the mountain, eyeing them warily.
“Stop this madness, Thalas,” Shiro said.
A burst of jade Ethra, shaped into spears, shot toward Shiro, who narrowly dodged, losing a hand in the process, his eyes wide. Thalas scanned the faces around him, locking onto Joran.
“Where’s my father?” he demanded.
“He’d be disappointed his sacrifice was in vain,” Joran replied evenly.
Thalas’s eyes widened, and his aura flared as rage twisted his features. His shoulder trembled with barely contained fury.
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“Elyria,” Joran called, “he’s up there?”
Elyria nodded; her gaze fixed on Thalas.
“Then I’ll leave him to you. The rest of you—find Lord Alaric. Something very bad is about to happen in this rift,” Joran ordered.
Rhyn and the others darted away, retracing their path as Thalas sent a projected gauntlet flying after them. Elyria swung her blade, and the silver orbs floating behind her shot forward, transforming into blades that sliced through the gauntlet. Thalas, breathing heavily, turned his burning Ethra and aura upon her, crystal armor from the Clan Verdan imbuement technique materializing around him.
“Don’t hold back,” Joran advised, “he certainly won’t,” then he shot toward the mountain.
Elyria let the liquid metal cover her head and body, her blade elongating as silver aura wrapped around it.
“You will not have a good death,” Thalas promised.
Elyria nodded, unfazed. “What cultivator ever does?” she replied, swinging her blade as Thalas lunged at her.
*****************************
Tunde’s blows came at lightning speed, defying belief as Thalas scrambled to deflect them. His Ethra Sight had evolved somehow, allowing him to predict Thalas’s movements just a second in advance. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the difference between life and death. Coalescing Ethra in his fists, he slammed down with raw force, blasting Thalas backward.
Elyria moved with a fierce grace, wielding her affinity blades—silver arcs that attacked from all angles, cutting into Thalas with precision. Despite his best efforts, Thalas struggled to keep his ground. Explosions sounded behind them as the death knight finished off the rift guardian, the creature already corroded by undeath’s touch.
Elyria clashed with Thalas again. “Stop that creature!” she yelled, throwing herself and Thalas off the mountain with brutal force. Tunde ran to the edge, watching them rise to their feet with minimal injuries, then turned back toward the death knight. The knight raised its blade to deliver a fatal strike to the guardian, but Tunde acted quickly, hurling Shadowfang at the knight. The blade struck with an explosive force, pushing the knight back.
The rift guardian, screaming in defiance as its body disintegrated, wrapped its remaining tentacles around the death knight, igniting in red and orange flames like a miniature sun. The knight shrieked as the flames consumed its armor, burning within its necrotic shell. As Tunde watched, the guardian turned its gaze toward him, a flicker of gratefulness in its eyes before it detonated, spraying necrotic flesh and gore in all directions. Black blood splattered everywhere, the stench overwhelming.
Tunde gagged, dry-heaving as he stretched out a hand, and Shadowfang’s familiar warmth returned to his grip. A roar of rage broke his focus, and he looked up to see a badly burned lord of undeath glaring at him, one half of his body a charred skeleton, yet somehow still alive. Rage blazed in Kenji’s eyes as he looked down at the remains of the death knight and guardian.
“You again!” he rasped, barely containing his fury. “Accursed herald!”
The lord clenched his fist, and Tunde felt the revenant’s black aura grip him, squeezing, attempting to crush him. He resisted, but his own aura strained, sizzling against the force of undeath. Breathing was agony; he couldn’t even move as the lord staggered closer. Desperately, he searched for a way out, beginning to summon his relic when suddenly a blur of motion struck Kenji, knocking him aside and releasing the grip.
Gasping, Tunde scrambled to his feet, his Ethra Sight blazing as he cycled energy through his limbs. He saw Joran on the mountain, swallowing the rift crystal into his void ring as the lord rose again, his skeletal form unsteady.
“For a lord of undeath, you look worse than usual—and that’s saying a lot,” Joran quipped.
The lord laughed, spitting blood and bits of flesh as he steadied himself. “What do you think you’ve accomplished here?” he sneered.
“We successfully took down both Clan Acacia and the undeath cult,” Tunde replied calmly. “Quite a lot, I’d say.”
“Ah, I see what’s going on,” Kenji said, eyes narrowing. “You two… you’re Heralds’ adepts. Does Clan Verdan know?”
“What?” Joran shot back. “Are you out of your mind? We’re nothing like those warmongers!”
Tunde’s Ethra Sight drew his attention to a strange activity within Kenji’s core; a murky green and black energy was flowing into his heart, which glowed ominously.
“He’s doing something,” Tunde warned.
Kenji tilted his head, amused. “Interesting. You can see it?”
“What?” Joran asked warily, Ethra sparking to life in his fists.
“All his Ethra is channeling to his heart,” Tunde said, his voice urgent.
Joran grabbed Tunde, and they dashed toward the mountain’s edge as a barrier suddenly sealed it, trapping them. Behind them, the lord cackled madly.
“He’s going to blow himself up!” Joran snarled.
They launched attacks, but Kenji swatted them away, his Ethra and aura flaring like a bonfire, building in intensity. Tunde drew his relic and stabbed it into the barrier, puncturing it just as Kenji laughed.
“I was right!” the lord crowed, plunging his hand into his chest and tearing out his own necrotic heart.
The heartbeat echoed across the battlefield, and Tunde’s Ark Screen flashed with messages:
[An Undeath Heart has been activated!]
[Heart of Undeath is reaching peak strength!]
[Destroy the Heart of Undeath and receive favor from your sub-continental cult!]
Tunde ignored the notifications, snarling. To get close to that heart would mean certain destruction. He felt Joran’s hand on his as they tore through the barrier together, leaping from the mountain and tumbling to the ground below. They landed, rolling to a stop, breaths heaving as they looked up, dread tightening in their chests as they watched the power building within Kenji above.
*************************
Lord Alaric tore his way through the rift, feeling the build-up of undeath power, it tainted the air for miles, his mind a jumbled mess. Jashed was dead, Thalas had betrayed the clan, and the forces of clan Verdan could all possibly be dead by the time he arrived. He had instructed the disciples to stay with the adepts who had insisted on coming with him, but he had declined firmly, if what Rhyn said was true, then the clan was in a precarious position right now.
They had come here to get more adepts and at least a lord or two, instead, they had lost more disciples and one of the strongest adepts of the clan with no lord, a terrible position going into the second phase of the beast surge. Alaric had sent a beacon to the clan, just in case something terrible was about to happen, they would prepare as much as they could against the inevitable.
Cut off from the empire at large, left to fend for themselves, he could only hope that Joran was alive, to lose one of the core adepts of the clan at this vital period would only make things worse. He landed with force where the adept and his student who Alaric noted with barely held surprise was also an adept, Elyria sitting next to a badly beaten Thalas who had passed out, her silvery eyes on him, also an adept.
It struck him at that moment that the outsiders had grown stronger while the core members of the clan suddenly found themselves declining in strength. Turning his gaze to the other problem, he realized the truth at that moment.
“Get out of the rift, now!” he ordered.
Grabbing Thalas’s passed out body, wincing at the injuries the former fifth-ranking disciple had inflicted on him, the lord tore towards the direction he had come from.
“Did we get the crystal?” he asked silently.
“no” came the grim reply from Joran as he nodded.
He didn’t believe the adept one bit.
********************************
Feeling his body about to give up, pure willpower held Kenji as he placed the heart on the pedestal. It gave a loud bit as a pulse of undeath Ethra shot out in all directions, pushing as far as the eyes could see, the ground grew large black veins that actively pulsed with Ethra, spilling its viscous black liquid on the ground, sanctifying it in the name of the regent of undeath himself.
Holding the stone pedestal, he removed a thin needle, wrapped with black linen that had green glowing inscriptions on them before placing it on it. The needle punctured the heart before black murky power shot skywards, turning the immediate area into oily black night, a rip sound coming from behind him. Smiling to himself as he slumped down to a sitting position, all strength drained from him, he managed to raise his hands in a supplicating manner, watching as a figure stepped through the rent, the spires of Necropolis in the far distance, winking at him.
The pale faced female with pale hair adorned in a green and white robe stopped in front of him, Kenji frowning a bit. The female was accompanied by two lords, their auras on display as they took up positions behind her, staring around and searching for dangers that weren’t there.
“Lord Kenji of the third finger,” she said, her voice soft.
“Highlord” he croaked in response.
Something was wrong, this wasn’t his Highlord, where was he?.
“The master is less than impressed, lord Kenji, your Highlord has been, ah, what’s the word?” she said with a smile, turning to the lords behind her.
“Permanently repurposed” the male at her left replied.
Bandages covered his entire body, his mouth as well, inscribed with tiny green glowing writings, only his red eyes showed on his entire body. Kenji’s eyes widened at that, staring at her with growing horror as she shook her head solemnly, putting her hand through her robes as she produced a heart that pulsed with Highlord Ethra, Kenji straining to grasp at it with his remaining strength.
“But he isn’t without mercy, we all serve undeath after all,” she said.
Bringing it close to him, she shoved it forcefully into his chest, Kenji gritting his teeth as pain lashed through him, grinning to himself. He would make her regret it, this insult afforded to him, he would assimilate with the heart and advance to Highlord of the third finger, the finger of necromancy. He would take his Highlord’s position and claw his way up, but first, he had to show this-
Badump.
The heartbeat in his chest with an unfamiliar tune, Kenji groaning as he turned his eyes to her, seeing her grin. She gripped his face forcefully, staring into his eyes as he felt his entire body begin to constrict, his flesh rapidly falling off his body as horror grew within him.
“Did you really think he would be satisfied with your actions here?” she said softly.
His bare bones began to warp as agony lanced through him, twisting and turning as pain flowed through every part of him.
“You will be given the cult’s mercy, to serve in another way,” she said as she stood up, cleaning her hands on a piece of cloth before tossing it away.
“Your name would be remembered Kenji, just not in the way you hoped it would be” she added.
Kenji felt his consciousness fading away, an animalistic urge to tear and feast on flesh in the name of the king came to him with an almost ecstatic urge. He fought it, he tried, even tried begging, but all that came from his mouth was a croak and a snarl as his mouth grew extra fangs and widened, his body elongating like candle wax as he grew larger. With the last vestige of his consciousness fighting a losing battle against the urge to his body, he took delight in the fact that he would at least somehow get to take revenge on the cultivators of clan Verdan.
He'd do it for his Highlord who had suffered a fate worse than death because of him.
He’d do it for his cult, for the regent, and for undeath.
He’d do it for the taste of warm delicious flesh.
He’d do it for the ghoul king.