"NO!" a loud shockwave ran through the tunnel. Magically, only the beasts were affected, as they staggered and blood leaked from their ears. Sting opened his eyes, surprised he was still alive. Vreil too. Snaker hadn't closed them.

In fact, all their injuries had been healed!

A glowing figure suddenly appeared in their midst. With his hat missing yet again and his strange wand threatening to blind anybody who looked straight at it, Ashter looked worse than they had ever seen him. He was bloodied all over, his right leg missing from the thigh down.

"NO!" he growled in agony as he saw Alexander's head separated from his body.

Back in his prime, Ashter had been a dashing young man. But despite the numerous women throwing themselves at him, after some point in time, he only had one true love. An elf princess that had once saved his life, the one then hailed as the most beautiful woman in the entire Land of the Six Kingdoms. Her name was Malira, and she later grew to be a righteous queen loved by her people.

The problem was that Malira had a husband, the now late king. Despite that, she and Ashter eloped for a long period of time. They couldn't resist. The product of their love was her first son, Prince Alexander.

But they couldn't marry. Ashter was a human and his life was already devoted elsewhere, as was Malira's. They stopped seeing each other, only Ashter regularly visiting for a friendly chat. When Alexander had been conceived, Ashter, through magical means, had given his body elven characteristics, resulting in the boy being born an elf. Malira never told her husband who the real father was. Nobody knew, in fact, besides the two of them. Not even Alexander.

Alexander had grown up as a prince, and Malira had made Ashter swear he would only tell Alexander the truth after her death. Due to his circumstances, Ashter aged much, much slower than her.

Ashter had spent years secretly looking after his son. He loved him very much. Even when he was far away, he would often exhaust his magical powers by sending his senses over to watch over his only son's daily life. He dreamt of one day reuniting with him as his father, although he didn't wish for Malira to die. He still loved her too.

Even now, in his fight against the unfathomable Shepherd, as Ashter felt his son's life in danger, he didn’t hesitate to let the Shepherd bite through his leg in order to secure enough time to teleport to Alexander's side.

Alas, he was too late. He immediately unleashed an attack the moment he arrived, and yet, when he looked down, he saw his beloved son's head roll to his feet.

"NO!" he growled in agony and a ring of blue flames was unleashed around him, incinerating all of the beasts. The humans and elves weren't hurt.

The Shepherd appeared one second later, snarling in rage at his slain beasts.

Blinded by grief, Ashter unleashed a spear made of black flames at him and, without waiting to see the result of the attack, threw a punch. The Shepherd snorted and crossed his arms, forcefully defending against the black spear. He wasn't prepared for the next attack though, and he was forced to take three steps back.

Ashter continued to unleash a barrage of attacks, slowly but steadily forcing the Shepherd backward yet not truly hurting him.

"Enough!" the Shepherd growled and a shockwave was unleashed at Ashter, as well as Vreil, Sting, and Snaker, who happened to be behind him. Ashter summoned a shield of light to defend all of them but coughed up blood immediately afterward and fell to his knee. He had reached his limit.

The humanoid monster smirked, revealing a set of terrifying teeth. "You will all die here," he said in a deep voice, approaching Ashter. The wizard’s eyes alternated between hatred and sorrow and he tried to prop his body up, but failed and dropped back down.

A long time ago, this would have been nothing. But the years, although kind to him, had taken a heavy toll. He was far, far too old to be fighting, and the powers he kept in reserve had been spent against the memory wolves.

With the Shepherd in front and a dead-end behind them, they were all doomed.

Prime Minister Snaker wasn't a competent fighter to begin with, but Sting and Vreil were cursing their weakness. All they had been capable of so far was running, and even that barely, as Ashter had been forced to save them twice. Even now, as Ashter lay bloodied in front of them with their enemy towering over him, all they could do was stare helplessly.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The attacks before had not had much of an effect on the tunnels, but both Vreil and Sting could tell that was because both fighters had been trying to limit the aftereffects, lest the tunnels collapse. Had they not, every single attack unleashed had the power to demolish the entire Underground. This was not a battle they could take part in.

As Sting was shedding bloody tears of anger, Vreil thought back to his training with the Joke. Perhaps there was something he could do, after all. No matter how strong, the Shepherd was still part of the big flow of magic. If he could affect him... Vreil focused as hard as he could, utilizing all of the magic power inside him. After his experience with the Joke, the magic power he could store in his body had almost doubled. He had also come to know that the magic power in his body was not the maximum amount he could use, but the maximum amount he could use as a trigger to spring the magic of the world around him into action.

Utilizing all of it, he tried to make the Shepherd explode. Not all of him, he had no delusions about being able to do that. Instead, he focused on the creature’s brain.

He encountered resistance, like trying to push through a wall. Gritting his teeth, Vreil focused even harder, until his head was throbbing with pain; unexpectedly, the wall popped open.

Suddenly, the Shepherd stumbled and his right eye exploded, and then his remaining eye looked hatefully at Vreil, who had almost fainted from exhaustion. Ashter looked on in surprise; although the Shepherd had been caught unprepared and had no time to defend, striking a blow like that was impressive.

"I've changed my mind. You're first," the Shepherd growled and appeared in front of Vreil, sending his hand to penetrate the young man's chest. For the third time in the last few minutes, Vreil closed his eyes, thinking he was dead.

The impact never came. All Vreil felt was some drops of a hot liquid landing on his face. He opened his eyes and froze. His eyes widened and his breath caught on his throat. Ashter was standing over him, facing him, with the Shepherd's arm sticking out of his chest.

"Ashter..." he mumbled.

Ashter smiled sadly as trails of blood leaked from his mouth. "I have nothing left, Vreil. Live on," he said. Then he collapsed.

Vreil's eyes were still widened in surprise. He couldn't believe how his mentor, his teacher, had sacrificed himself to save him. He had led him to the revolution, he had taught him so many things, he had saved his life more times than he could count, and now he saved his life one last time, in exchange for his own. Vreil hadn't noticed, but during their time together he had become really close with the old man... He had come to view him as something like a father, he had depended on him to replace the images of his dead family... And now he died too. No... Ashter...

He thought back to all the times Ashter had taught him things... how he never shortened his words when speaking... how he smiled happily and nodded in approval when Vreil got something right... how he cared for him and got him in the revolution... how he fought the wolves for him...

He didn't want Ashter to die. He didn't, he didn't! He refused! His thoughts blurred as he lost control of himself in his despair.

"AAAAAHHHH," Vreil screamed as he lost consciousness.

A strong light appeared, coming from his chest. The Shepherd barely managed to scream before a fiery light enveloped him. Strangely, the humans and the elf only felt a gentle warmth from that light, healing some of their wounds, while everything around them was set on flames. Some water that was dripping from the ceiling evaporated instantly. An angry scream sounded from where the Shepherd had been standing. Then another flash, even brighter than the previous one, was unleashed from Vreil’s chest, so bright they all closed their eyes.

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Ashter's death did not go unnoticed in the world.

Somewhere in the Dark Area, a lumberjack was swinging his axe on a log. Stopping mid-swing, he looked in the direction of Laterna. "So you finally left us, my friend..." he sighed sadly, but only the wind could hear him. "Rest well. I'll see you on the other side." He then continued to quietly chop wood.

Far north in the Land of the Six Kingdoms, there was a tall, red, spiral tower. A huge metal ball was on its top, seemingly balancing perfectly on the roof's sharp tip. In a study room near the top of the tower, a lone magician abruptly raised his head from the old book he was studying. "This disturbance..." he mumbled. He closed his eyes in concentration, only to reopen them a moment later. "Ashter," he whispered in revelation. He then continued studying, a faint smile on his face.

Inside the crater of the volcano that was Mount Death, a scaled azure head raised itself from a lake of molten rocks. Its loud and deep voice reverberated throughout the crater as it spoke to itself. "Good riddance, sacrilegious insect..."

Directly below it, in the cave complex under the mountain, two forms too large to be human shuddered as they awoke from their slumber. "So the wizard is finally dead..." the first said.

"He did well, for a mortal," the second replied condescendingly, only to be met with a dissatisfied grunt from the first form.

"Don't forget we are mortals too, brother..."

"As its priests and guardians, our souls are forever bound to an immortal god, brother," the second form replied. A rare gap in the clouds above allowed a ray of light to shine through a hole in the roof and illuminate a statue on the wall. At first glance, it appeared to be of an old man, dressed in ceremonial robes and sitting on a throne of rocks. A second glance would reveal that the statue's lips were moving. "Does that not make us immortal?"