Germaine was one of the most powerful people around. He was the general responsible for keeping the frozen wall against the tide of concept beasts for decades. He participated in fending off the human and demon champions in the battle of the great maw. He was then given a position to retire in the grand mausoleum and granted a phylactery by ‘the Crimson wings of the empire, Wyattezvahan’, which was personally made by ‘the Lich of the dark creeping frost, Den’nishash Gahlor’ who was the emperor of his kin. Germaine was a legend in the military besting waves of foes many times his size.

His other fellow guardsmen were of the same sort, each being well accomplished and phylactery-having immortals in their own right. Jamith, the one scarfing the lizard, was a space mage that is still one of the most brilliant spellcrafters from the academy. Fereion, who used to be an orphan mercenary from the 8th ring, who could carve craters with a slice of his sword. Last was Wannesh, the falling star. He could literally make his bow bigger than a building and shoot it eradicating waves of aberrant beasts.

But these people, Den’nishash Gahlor and Wyattezvahan, were legends a hundred years even before he was born. It was fabled that they came from the age of chaos, when heroes and otherworlders were summoned into the this dimension leading to multiple planets appearing in the sky and fusing to create bridges caging multiple celestial bodies and making their orbits askew. The lich emperor, praise be his frost, managed to encase their land in earth and ice that expands to this very day, ensuring the survival of their kind. It was literally keeping the aberrant beasts from consuming them all of them.

Which is why he chose to be a necrolancer, a lancer due to pressure from his parents and a necromancer due to his hero worship of the same lich emperor.

“I’m telling ya Wan we should probably wake up fer, you never know if that cute apprentice girl would come over and see him acting like a layabout.”

“Hah! That’d be hilarious. But nah let him be, he still hasn’t died yet for the phylactery to take an effect so you should let him enjoy it while it can. Ah Goddess I remember when I first got a phylactery, it was pretty fucking awful. I remember the first week made my hangovers look like a bitch.”

Jamith spoke while simultaneously wolfing down the lizard tail. “Well at least the ones they gave us are high quality. I still remember my former schoolmate was getting people to join this pyramid scheme with these trash phylacteries painted in shineshell. So I says to him, ‘You so full of crap pussface’. You know whad’ he did? He tried to use it. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. It took weeks to get him out of it. Hah! We still laugh about it to this day. I mean he’s a professor now, so atleast he knows the type of people he works wid’. “

Fortunately some of them haven’t died yet to use the phylactery, the stories of extreme depression wasn’t exactly enticing tho. Nevertheless many jumped at the chance for eternal life. Some were even rumored to get their senses back, albeit requiring more extreme stimuli.

“Heh. But like seriously tho we should probably wake up fer. And would it kill ya to put a shirt on at least jam?” Germaine side-eyed the glutton.

“Never!” Jamith pulled out a second lizard after licking the first one clean.

A screeching sound of metal and what feels like a thousand screaming souls could be heard. Fereion woke up from the shrill scream of metal and stone. While the other three froze in place. The random workers that tidied the place suddenly stopped in place. Some were frozen in place, while others quickly abandoned their post and ran far away from the location.

The being that produced the sound was a tall shadowy being that exuded the aura of being in the pinnacle of magecraft. It had an eerie halo of frost that seemed to bring a coldness that permeated even their armor, which was actually pretty difficult to do mind you. It didn’t move but froze in a standing motion towering above them as if to say the very physics we were subjected to was a mere suggestion.

This ominous figure was unmistakably the lich emperor. He felt the resonating hum of their weapons to the one who crafted the very artifacts they wielded. He was rumored to reside in the four mile long black spire, Necra Mazoul, that represented the seat of power for his kind.

Germaine was a pretty calm and collected guy, that was until he was standing right in front of his hero. One of the beings that every ratkin child wanted to be. He was torn between pissing his pants and fangirling, so instead he did neither by standing as still as he could manage. His other guardsmen were quickly getting in position. Jamith was squeezing into his armor, Wannesh was spooked and dropped his bow, and Fereion was quickly straightening his hair, rattled as he was.

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Damn it you guys!

A voice that could only be described as ancient spoke, sounding like multiple overlapping whispers forming a cohesive message was heard in the unnatural silence.

“A fine evening guardsmen of the crypt, I require entry to it’s inner sanctums. Might thee guide me on this task?”

A regal voice dripping like honey. A powerful aura of control washed over them. It was as if he rode on a screaming chariot of bent metal that brought discomfort to the ones unworthy of his presence

Oh my gosh he spoke. He spoke to me! He never thought he’d actually meet him face to face. The closest time he met one of his heroes was when the crimson wing bailed a young hooligan impersonating the lich emperor back when he was still a guardsman.

Wannesh was the first to speak by bowing in an angle so low his two big ears and snout almost touched the floor.

“Grand lich emperor, master of the endless frost, apostle of the death goddess, we greet you. We are at your disposal my emperor.”

Damn he was really laying it on thick. He noticed that all the other three were bowing lower, with their tails held up high. He quickly moved in the same position. Jamith noticing this, bowed even lower than him.

Damn you Jamith!

“Raise thyne heads guardsmen, I merely seek to visit the tomb’s inner chambers. I hope you might be willing to assist me this evening gentlemen.”

Fereion spoke. “Of course! We wouldn’t dare impede you sir-”

Germaine hit him with his elbow.

Fereion corrected himself. “Your majesty I-I mean.”

“Wonderful myne guards. Now let us not tarry. I ask you to lead me to the deepest levels, the tomb of the three.”

“Yes your majesty” All four of us said in unison with a salute.

Jamith quickly made preparations by linking up to all the residing dungeon cores in the mausoleum.

Although it wasn’t a secret that the mausoleum was a dungeon with a whole dimension residing in it, it wasn’t the whole truth. It was a ‘tower’, a term that describes the congregation of multiple dungeon cores that layers into each other. It takes a whole academy’s worth of spatial mages to even pierce the domain of the cores. Fortunately, Jamith was attuned with the place being allowed in at any time allowing them to traverse the deepest levels of the mausoleum.

Apparently after the great crimson wings of the empire and the lich emperor coaxed multiple cores into making this place, other cores outside the frozen rings started doing the same thing. Multiple towers appeared bridging dimensions and spatial rifts made from the age of chaos.

Large hair-thin planes in space materialized, seamlessly laying the the path in front of them in a long winding non-euclidean path. The lich emperor moved with the unearthly sound of groaning metal. It was a bit shrill and off-putting, but since he didn’t seem to mind the sound, the others quickly chose to ignore it.

They passed through sphinx lords in deserts tomb levels, the wightmare court, and ‘the investors’. Honestly Germaine was glad that they were accompanying the most powerful mage in all of history along with being custodians of the place, else they’d be erased from memory or made into sentient information. After a few minutes that was far too long and unpleasant for everyone else’s liking, the emperor and the guards reached the most guarded place in the mausoleum tower, the tomb of the terrible three terrors. A lot of ‘T’s’, I know. The ones who terrified the other opposing empires of the land.

The gate was a circular grey pearl door with green etchings and pulsing voids around it. It was resistant to all forms of damage except for one, oneiromancy. It’s one of the rarest magics out there and one of the hardest to master. It is the only thing weak to it, because what else can interact with a nonexistant object than an equally nonexistant object. Yes, the door was made of dreams.

It was rare, luckily wannesh and fereion were those one in a million beings. They told me it was hard to use even the most basic spells since the mind has limits as well as the soul. And only people who actually pursue and reach enlightenment can use it.

Jamith and Wannesh took out a key each and inserted it in the etchings.

The gate twisted and warped until opened a dim and wide interior that seemed to be filled with endless darkness.

The emperor clapped two times and the area brightened with a light that seemed to have no source. The place had no shadow making it look as if every angle was a flat surface. That is except for the towering shadowy figure of the lich.

“I thank you myne guards. Many thanks to you. I ask that you leave me. I just… need to greet some old friends.”

All four of us bowed.

“It shall be as you will it my emperor.”

The shadowy man giggled with the mirth of a grandparent proud of their grandchildren.

“Stand now myne guards, enough of that nonsense. I am merely a mage and nothing more. Run along now.”

The voice was warm and kind.

After saying their salutes, they left the emperor alone in the chamber.

Now that Germaine calmed down, he got a huge grin plastered in his face. The other three fared no better, giggling onto themselves like children meeting someone famous.

The guys at the bar are never gonna believe this hehe.