###
Time halted as the two entered a staring contest. Two equally sized beings, one ladened with flesh and armor; the other, a collage of skulls and bones.
His triumph over the generals meant nothing here; Grog’mar’s strength far eclipsed theirs.
Should he go for the offensive? Or play it safe?
Grog’mar’s figure shifted an inch forward, then vanished. A pulse of air blasted his Domain Lord’s skull as the chieftain’s blade cleaved the air in half. Frail barely saw what happened; his domain lord reacted just in time with a swift parry.
Fast… and…
The swing pushed his domain lord back. Two opposing forces battled for dominance.
Can’t win. Frail concluded. Nothing he’d encountered possessed more strength than the chieftain. He needed something to even the odds.
[Magic blade]
His domain lord’s blade burned with eldritch powers, empowering its strength. The scales tipped back toward the center.
He hasn’t gone all out yet.
“A buff... I see.” Grog’mar’s breath wafted through the gaps in his helmet, growling as he put his entire weight into his blade. The air around the chieftain pulsed not with magical energy; it wreathed from Grog’mar’s sheer strength alone as if his rage bent the wind to his will. “My first nightmare invasion… You’ve done well, better than I had. But…”
Step.
The chieftain pushed one step forward.
His domain lord retreated one step.
“But not enough, Entity.” Grog’mar taunted. He shoved his blade and pushed Frail back, curling his waist and rearing for a swing.
Charge.
Frail’s domain lord vanished. It reappeared behind the chieftain’s back, blue flames coating its skeletal figure.
“Predictable,” Grog’mar spoke, his back turned against Frail’s domain lord. He twisted the other way and met his domain lord’s eye sockets.
Clank.
A blade coated with azure flames washed Grog’mar’s body. Its stroke struck its target… but the swing itself felt off. He expected to slice through armor… but an object stood in its way.
The shield.
Grog’mar’s blade slid through the fluttering embers. It bashed his domain lord’s chest, launching it backward and shattering its eldritch barrier.
“That’s a good swing,” He heard the chieftain laugh. “More...” His figure shuddered before he vanished, a quake resonating when he stomped the floor and planted his feet. “Can you survive this?”
Unlike his weak swing prior, this next stroke carried the chieftain’s full weight. The air shifted around Grog’mar’s steel as it glided through the space between them—a stroke so smooth it felt as if it moved in slow motion.
But Grogmar’s blade was anything but slow.
An instant later… Frail heard steel and bones shattering.
Everyone heard it. The rending of bones, the sundering of armor. A simple horizontal swipe, unenchanted, unbuffed, cleaved through his domain lord’s blade and armor, tearing its right arm apart.
Grog’mar wasn’t just strong. He was experienced in ways Frail couldn’t make up.
[Your domain lord is under attack!]
[Construct health: 67%.]
[Eldritch blast]
A blast of eldritch energy ruptured the space between them. Frail hid behind the black wall of haze.
What can I do?
One-on-one, Frail stood no chance against him. Perhaps if he’d chosen the other domain lord, its abundance and focus on strength could have deterred Grog’mar’s assault. Even still… that wouldn’t bridge the gap in their on-the-fly decision-making and general battle sense. Frail could strategize, he could formulate plans and ideas of how to approach a battle, but he lacked true visceral battle experience.
And Grog’Mar seemed to be born from it.
The chieftain hadn’t found the need to use any skills. He beat him with pure strength alone.
And that was… more than enough.
Doom gnawed at his non-existent chest, a pressure suffocating his thoughts.
Grog’mar swung his shield sideways and dissolved the wall of smoke. Frail caught its grin as the chieftain blitzed the distance between them, stomping with his right foot and delivering a fatal thrust to the domain lord.
I… did well? No. Frail never had a chance to begin with. He won against Grog’mar’s generals… but that only applied when he fought in his domain.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
In a duel against their chieftain? Even less so.
Crack.
A thin layer of translucent shield cracked between his domain lord’s figure and Grog’mar’s blade. The same layer that had protected his lancer against many perils.
But he didn’t say yes. He couldn’t—and never planned to.
[Grave barrier]
Shards of glass scattered.
Grog’mar stepped back. “This…“
A spear sneaked its way into the back of his neck. Grogmar spun to avoid its sting, using his shield to swat away the intrusive intruder. Neither attack struck their target. Frail’s elite lancer kicked Grog’mar’s shield and landed a few steps away from him.
“Very well…” The chieftain pulled his sword. “I see where this is going,” Grog’mar’s voice seethed. “You shall face all of us as one, then…”
Grog’mar swung at the lancer with all his might—a retaliation induced by rage.
[Gravely evasion]
A cloud burst between them as the lancer avoided his swing.
Frail’s second investment. The real construct in his army that stood a chance against him.
[Grave thrust]
4x damage, aimed right at Grog’mar’s neck. Its spear slid past his bulwark, penetrating the spot between the cuirass and the helmet.
Contact.
Blood erupted from the stab.
Not finished.
[Shield slam]
His grave guard’s gargantuan block of a shield slammed the chieftain’s back. Trails of ashes scattered as Grog’mar recoiled from the impact. Layers of barriers shielded all of Frail’s constructs.
Grog’Mar leaped back and roared a cry so loud it shook the foundations of his domain. Was it from pain? Or was it from rage? Or both?
Doesn’t matter. He’s going to kill me, angry or not.
Frail resumed with a ray of destruction, courtesy of his watcher, compounded with a series of Eldritch blasts from the domain lord and the wights. Their combined power launched the chieftain far, far backward, his body slightly blackened, his armor less pristine and more… weathered than before.
Whatever Frail did… it worked. But the goblins did not take Frail’s transgressions too well.
“WHERE IS YOUR HONOR, ENTITY?” Hak’thar’s cry was thick with disdain. The goblins roared and bolted toward Frail’s domain.
This isn’t a game. It had always been about survival. Every choice he made, every risk he took… all of it was in the name of survival. Frail did not miss the irony; for a being that subsisted from death… he clung to life more than most.
Hak’Thar raised his staff. A thin mist began exuding from its skull.
This skill… I need to stop it.
But Frail’s entire construct lineup must remain inside. He needed every ounce of resources just to weather the storm that was the chieftain.
“ENTITY!”
Arthur… His voice bellowed on the other side, far beyond the confines of his entrance.
“I’m here!”
Thunderous footsteps breached the walls of fallen trees.
Frail’s third investment. The humans.
They made it. Just in time.
### Some time ago ###
The giant’s carcass dug a solid crater into the soil when it fell.
“We-we did it…” Arthur gasped and slumped on the floor, resting on his arms. Through their united strength and venom, they whittled the giant down. A battle that leveled most of the forest… And their home.
Haven had been reduced to rubbles.
We’ll rebuild. It’s not a big deal. The beacon stood. As long as it did-
Nudge.
The scarred venom approached him.
“W-what?” Arthur stood up and stabilized his legs. “Entity?”
The lizard nudged its head westward.
There… that’s the entity’s home. Arthur couldn’t help but notice the urgency from its hasty gestures. Something’s awry.
He said it before. If the entity fell… so would they.
“EVERYONE!” He shouted. “WE MUST LEAVE. RIGHT AWAY!”
###
The risen scarred venom leaped past the marching goblin army and outpaced everything else before it landed with all its weight on the generals.
Buy me time.
Frail pursued their chieftain. He’s not dead yet.
Five wights healed all the damage his domain lord had taken. Its hacked-off limb regenerated, and alongside it, the burning blade it once held. All his elites entered the fray. More magical blasts and arrows were launched toward the chieftain.
Can’t be careless.
“We shall fight the ones outside, entity! Hak’Thar must be stopped.” Grimright led the rest of the draugrs to wall the other goblins.
The chieftain let them all through. His glare was glued to Frail’s domain lord.
Good. Now… This is the best-case scenario.
Frail’s entire army against a single chieftain. Who’d win?
Grog’mar did not speak.
What is-
The temperature surrounding him rose. The burnt smell of steel grew thick, akin to the tangy scent of a shorted circuit. Flames erupted through the gaps in his armor. Cinders of Grog’mar’s fury… Or, more precisely, the activation of one of his skills.
Grog’mar yanked his shield up, then slammed the floor with it. Frail could not describe the sheer decibels Grog’mar produced, but he’d be deaf if he possessed real ears. The air left the space near the chieftain for a brief second, then rushed forth with potent kinetic force.
His warrior constructs, his elite lancer, his elite guard… All experienced the desecration born from Grog’mar’s rending. One swipe; three warrior constructs, dead. Gravely evasion and the guard’s natural bulk prevented their immediate demise.
Cinders burned from the chieftain’s eyes. His figure shimmered, pulsing with rage as his feet pushed him onward, arriving before the line of skeleton guards before his domain lord. Their collective shields shattered upon the touch of Grog’mar’s blade, their skulls torn from their ribcages from the next swing.
Trails of flames followed the chieftain’s blade. Two swipes slashed away a portion of his guard constructs. If those struck his domain lord directly…
No. Not so easy.
His watcher’s beam struck Grog’mar’s head. The full concentrated blast deterred his advance, melting his helmet as the chieftain stumbled sideways.
That was one of his most powerful attacks… and all it did was push him one step back.
His lancer and guard denied him further progress. A barrage of acidic arrows fell on him.
The acid eroded parts of Grog’mar’s armor… however… did it actually matter?
When he regained balance, the same shimmer surrounded his body once more. Despite the evident fury… Frail still sensed control behind the chieftain’s actions. His glare, though unshifting, still captured all the information an eye could gather—he noted the locations of Frail’s constructs, taking extra care to not stare at the watcher directly.
What a monster.
He led his next charge with his shield, vaporizing all the incoming projectiles, shrugging his watcher’s minor blasts and his lich’s magic.
Grog’mar’s target: Frail’s domain lord.
His watcher needed a few more seconds for its primary attack’s cooldown to end. None of his constructs, not even the lancer, should ever step anywhere close to him.
Frail needed distraction.
From the back…
Frail’s assassins converged behind the chieftain. Their daggers clawed into his back, piercing every burning hole they could find. None of their attacks did anything. At least, not on the surface. Frail counted the attributes; unless Grog’mar had a ridiculous amount of resilience, their stabs should still do something.
Even if it just annoyed him, that would be enough.
The chieftain’s figure vanished again. An instant later, his shield tore through the barrier his Grave guard had just set up.
Frail saw his domain lord tumbling into the walls from the impact.
[Your domain lord is under attack!]
[Construct health: 64%.]