As the lich raised his staff, a dreadful, ephemeral spirit arose. It wore a burial gown made of the most beautiful pure white silk. Yet what was enshrouded within was something ugly and vile—a woman who had seen better days, her body now rotting and her skin peeling away. As she was summoned, she shrieked, emitting lethal amounts of death mana toward the band of paladins. Yet together, the men stood strong; their wills of iron and faith in the light kept them from succumbing to the deadly shriek, and they moved forward slowly, their shields raised.

The lich, intending to draw the battle out, extended his hand and casted Tenebrous Dark Mana out, engulfing the room in eternal darkness. The paladins, now blinded by the dark spell, could only raise their shield higher to protect them from any unforeseen attack.

Yet the lich did nothing. It seemed as though time grew still as the tension within rose, anxiety creeping behind the necks of these devout. The hero shouted, "Men, gather around me." Blind but not deaf, the paladins did as instructed and started walking into the lich's maw. The hero then shouted again, "That is not me! Do not approach that voice!" The hero then raised his sword, shimmering and glowing a radiant light.

Illuminating the surrounding cave, one of the four paladins died. It was the one who approached the voice; he died instantly, his flesh convulsing as it rotted and stank of death. The light too illuminated a spirit, a short yet staunch bard. As the men rushed to engage the spirit, the light was fading as the darkness that engulfed the room started to eat away at it. Attacking the bard, the spirit seemed vulnerable to their silver swords, as even its intangible body was cut.

The spirit let out a boisterous laugh as it died again, perhaps for the last time, and dissipated. The paladins defeating the vile bard looked to their right only to see the lich running towards smog. The hero then shouted,

"After him, we cannot allow him to escape!"

The lich then taunted the faithful knights,

"You cannot hope to possibly defeat me; you have only killed one of my spirits; do you not think I would have a hundred more? Or perhaps the churches do not teach their acolytes as well; considering how foolish your actions have been, you might as well be worshipping the god of retards."

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The infuriated Hero charged after the lich,

"Blasphemy! "

Chasing the dreaded lich through the narrow passes of the cave, the knights slowly fell to exhaustion, suffocation, or to the pitfalls the cave possessed. After a wild goose chase, only the hero was left running after the ancient evil. Furious, the hero exclaimed,

"Coward!"

The lich didn't respond as it seemed they had reached a dead end. The room they had found themselves in was engulfed in a ravenous inferno as a lone tree battled for survival against the smoldering fire. The lich spoke to the hero,

"Say these markings on the wall. Do you recognize them? "

The hero, ignoring the lich's inquiry, slashed at the lich's cloak. Barely dodging the slash, the lich looked up at the hero and taunted him yet again,

"Have you no respect for fashionable garments such as the ones I am wearing? Well, your lack of taste should explain your lack of a mate."

Enraged by the lich's baseless accusation he rushed to the lich's side and slashed and cut. The lich dodging and weaving started to weave a spell into existence as both darkness and death mana started to accumulate in his hand he stuck his hand out to be hit by the silver sword. Only for it to immediately rust and shatter all the light within it snuffed out.

But even without a sword, the hero was a formidable foe as he could still break bone with his bare hands. So even without the sword, the lich was still cautious of the hero. But as he fought and punched to no avail the paladin was slowly getting weaker his lungs filled with ash and smoke his muscles strained the fight but his mind was still sharp as his faith anchored him. Knowing he didn't have much time he rushed towards the lich brandishing his first and launched a flurry of blows missing but after a barrage of pure punching an opening appeared not missing the opportunity the hero called all his power into his fist which glowed with sparkling radiance and struck the lich.

After a flashbang of pure light enough to severely damage if not kill the dreadful undead dissipated his fist was clutched within the lich's hand which was now adorned with an earthen gauntlet. The hero exhausted from the battle and dying from the lack of air died spitting out silent curses as he died.

The lich exhausted from battle sat down next to the hero's corpse and started fiddling with the golden ring on his finger it was the one he had taken from the stone hand while the paladins were battling the blind lizard. He inspected the enchantment

"Simple, Primitive yet very powerful. This wasn't here last time I checked; something had overhauled the dwarven fortress and dug a tunnel to an ancient cave system with a burning tree inside it? A dungeon? No, it's impossible; a juvenile dungeon could never host such beasts. Then perhaps an Ancient or Eldrich one? Perhaps not a dungeon but a Mole Lord? I'll have to delve deeper to know for sure"