Evan’s eyes fluttered open, and he found himself lying on the cool, damp ground. The memories of the encounter with the goddess Seraphina and the glimpse of Lily’s safety lingered in his mind. He pushed himself up. The feeling of a body that wasn’t right, lacking the muscle he had worked hard to build over a life of adventuring, was throwing him off.
A ghost-like form materialized before him as he stood, smoke swirling into the shape of the dragon’s eyes he had slain. The ghost-like spirit glared at him, fury burning, the resentment evident even in the dragon’s current state.
“Human scum,” the dragon’s spirit hissed, its voice a chilling echo of death. “You used an underhanded trick to kill me. You disgraced my death and your honour. For this injustice, I will not accept your victory. I will never accept that you defeated me. I will make you suffer until you beg for death. I, Ardentrex, the King of Dragons, am bound to you. I will not be a mere passenger, and I will fight for control of your physical body until your death, human. May you suffer long and slowly.”
Evan felt a sudden surge as the dragon’s spirit attempted to merge with his own. The struggle for control had begun, a battle fought in the depths of Evan’s consciousness. Visions of flames and roars filled his mind as he grappled with the powerful entity seeking dominance. Sweat dripped down Evan’s forehead as he fought against the dragon’s influence. His muscles strained, and he could almost feel the heat of the dragon’s breath against his skin. The struggle seemed eternal, an unrelenting clash of wills.
“Surrender human. You lack the strength of mind to hold out.”
Evan roared at the dragon’s spirit, summoning his determination, his will to see Lily again. The will to live driving his effort forward. The struggle tumbled into a memory of his childhood. Kids ran around swinging wooden swords at each other. Evan was locked in a fight with a shadowy figure the same height. They pushed the wooden swords back and forth, neither gaining in the battle of wills.
Boom. Evan staggered as he found himself in a different place. Dragons flew overhead as the cries of battle surrounded him. A war he had never seen play out in front of him. The ground was torn up. Craters marked the ground as people were dying everywhere he looked. A dragon landed hard, claws raking the ground as it blasted a breath of fire directly at him.
Evan stumbles as he finds himself back in front of the dragon’s spirit. “Foolish human.” said the dragon vehemently. “Surrender now, and I will not destroy everything you hold dear.”
“I will never let you win, dragon!” replied Evan as he pushed harder. He could feel his will slowly pushing the dragon’s will back. Evan pushed a powerful surge of his willpower into the dragon’s spirit, pushing the dragon’s spirit back. With a final, echoing roar, the spirit stopped. The dragon’s voice slowly faded away. “I will have my victory, human…..”
Evan gasped for breath, the residual warmth of the dragon’s spirit slowly fading away. Leaning against a tree, he looked around, realizing he was no longer in the peaceful glade of the goddess. The air here tasted different—charged with tension and the scent of pine.
Attempting to stand, Evan stumbled, unfamiliar with the body he now found himself in. He glanced down, noting the fine torn clothes and the lack of weapons. The only thing he had in his hands was an old, cracked scroll.
“Shit.” Said Evan. “I’m…. I’m in Kairos’s body…. This… this was the scroll he used..”
“…. something over here. Sounded like voices.” Came a voice in the wind.
“Spread out, approach with caution.” Said a different voice. “If this is Kairos, be careful. He is capable of using magic. Remember, we don’t need him alive.”
Evan shook his head. The struggle with the dragon’s spirit had drained him more than it should have. “This body is far too weak.” The urgency from the voices around him gave Evan the push to get him to his feet. Clutching the old scroll tightly, he slowly staggered away from the voices, his movements unsteady as he grappled with the unfamiliarity of the body he now inhabited—Kairos’s body.
“Would it have killed the bastard to have worked out… " Said Evan as he struggled to breathe.
As Evan started running, he engaged in a chaotic dance with the terrain. Thorny branches clawed at him. Uneven ground threatened to send him sprawling more than once. The voices grew louder behind him, and Evan pushed himself to move faster, driven by a survival instinct that echoed in his core.
As he ran, fragments of Kairos’s memories flitted through Evan’s mind. He caught glimpses of a life he had not lived—familiar faces, a life of indulgence, and a resentment that weighed heavily on Kairos’s shoulders—struggling to make sense of what he was seeing and remembering. Evan tripped over a rock and fell down a slight drop in the forest floor. The blending of Evan’s consciousness with Kairos’s memories created a disorienting kaleidoscope of experiences.
“ugh… This guy was the worst.” Groaned Evan as he struggled to clear away the mess of memories. Evan looked down at his hand and slowly realized the old scroll he clutched might be the answer to why Kairos had used the dammed thing. Unfurling it as he ran, the ancient parchment was a mess of cryptic symbols and an incantation that seemed to resonate with something deep inside him.
Just as Evan thought he was getting some small clue as to what the scroll was for, the air around him shimmered briefly as a spell shot overhead. The voices of the soldiers grew closer, their frustration evident as they began to throw more spells at Evan as they spotted him. The mass of spells increased in number. Many were hitting trees around him, leaving black scorch marks and small fires everywhere.
Evan’s mind raced. He needed a plan, an escape. He ducked behind a large tree as he desperately looked around, hoping for anything to let him escape. He pushed off the tree just as a lightning bolt hit where he had just been. Not looking where he was running, Evan tripped over another large root, tumbling down the slope of a gully. Pushing up, Evan began sprinting along the bottom of the gully as spells sent the dirt around him flying.
Quickly Running around a large gnarly tree, he stumbled upon a dark entrance to a dungeon. He looked at the signpost planted at the entrance as he struggled to breathe. The writing on the signpost marked the dungeon as the ‘Dungeon of the Dead’.
Evan raked his brain for any memory of the name, but nothing came up. HE looked back at where he had just come from to see the men chasing him, making their way down the gully. Evan shook his head as he sighed. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess.”
With the soldiers closing in, he made the only logical decision and darted inside the entrance. The dungeon’s darkness swallowed Evan. The walls gave off a soft, warm light as he found himself in a large, open corridor. Not stopping to read the other signposts littered around the entrance, Evan pushed further in, desperately hoping to gain any distance from the Soldiers.
Each step on the dungeon’s floor echoed down the corridor. If any monsters were nearby, they had surely heard him coming, his heart still pounding from the relentless pursuit as he breathed deeply. The air within the dungeon was thick with an otherworldly chill, and the echoes of his footsteps continued reverberating through the dimly lit corridor. The occasional flickering torches cast shadows that danced, playing tricks on the mind about what was around him.
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As Evan ventured further inside, the passageways branched out like a labyrinth. The oppressive silence was broken only by his loud footsteps and the distant moans and clattering of bones that seemed to come from everywhere. Strange symbols adorned the walls, their meaning lost on Evan as he focused on navigating his way forward.
A horde of skeletal figures emerged from the shadows before him, their bones clinking and rattling with each step they took. Evan’s eyes widened as a legion of undead surrounded him. They moved with eerie coordination, their empty eye sockets fixed on him as they reached, arms outstretched, trying to grab him.
Without thinking, instinct took over, and Evan shifted into a defensive stance. Without weapons, he knew he would rely on his agility and bare hands, though how much agility he still had in the weak body he was now in was questionable.
The first skeleton lunged at him, its bony fingers reaching for Evan’s throat. Evan avoided the attack with a swift dodge and delivered a powerful kick, sending the skeleton crashing into its companions. “Oh Goddess, that hurt,” said Evan, the pain from the kick shooting up his leg.
The dance with the undead continued, Evan, evading their strikes with less than graceful movements. He ducked, weaved, and spun, using the confined space to his advantage. His fists became a bloody blur as he struck with precision, shattering bones with each well-placed blow. His hands were fast becoming cut and swollen with each minute that went past.
Yet, the Skeleton’s numbers were overwhelming, and Evan knew he couldn’t rely on evasion alone. As the skeletons closed in again, he spotted a rusty sword clutched in the grip of one of the undead.
Evan dodged a skeletal swing and lunged toward the weapon. Evan wrestled with the skeleton, using his weight to throw the thing around as he pried the sword from the skeleton’s grasp, leaving the undead creature crumbling into a pile of bones at his feet.
Evan laughed as he held his prize in front of him. “You are all in for it now,” he said, pointing the tip of the sword at the remaining skeletons surrounding him.
Gripping the sword tightly, he swung it with newfound determination, creating a makeshift barrier against the relentless undead assault.
“He can’t be far ahead. I heard the sounds of fighting.” Came a voice somewhere behind him.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” said Evan
Evan’s movements became a survival dance, the sword an extension of his will. He dodged the swinging arms as he landed blows that sent bone fragments scattering. The echoes of combat mingled with the haunting moans of the skeletons, creating a symphony of battle within the dungeon’s cold confines.
“There he is, boys.” Came the voice Evan had been hearing. The owner was a well-built man with long hair and a beard. A long coat that almost dragged on the ground as he rested his sword on his shoulder. “Looks like the dungeon will do the hard work for us. Hahahaha.”
Evan couldn’t spare more than a glace as his endurance was tested as he pressed forward. Working to put the skeleton left between him and the soldiers. With a last jump backwards, Evan was out of the group of the many Skeletons that were still left. Nodding at the soldiers, Evan turned and ran down the corridor. Turning left and right, the voices shouting behind him began to fade.
Evan glimpsed a descending staircase ahead as he cut down the few skeletons, wandering independently. With a final swing of his badly chipped weapon, he cleared a path and sprinted toward the stairs. The skeletons, defeated but not destroyed, lay motionless in his wake as he descended to the next level of the Dungeon of the Dead.
Evan gripped the sword’s handle tightly as he exited the staircase doorway onto the second level. His breathing was still wild and difficult. He couldn’t understand how anyone could be this unfit.
Standing, Evan took in the new level—the same as above. Large groups of Skeletons moved around the wide earthen corridors. A few groups had a Knight skeleton among them. The knights appeared to be far stronger than the skeletons. The plate armour presented a formidable image. The breastplate, adorned with intricate engravings of ancient battles, clung to the knight’s bony frame. Shoulders adorned with pauldrons bore markings of ancient runes, while gauntleted hands terminated in razor-sharp claws. Articulated greaves encased the knight’s legs, marked by the scars of countless conflicts. The helm, crowned with a snarling visor, revealed empty eye sockets staring out with an undying determination.
On the one hand, the Knights wielded a towering square shield, its surface etched with the scars of battles long past, a formidable bulwark that seemed almost as tall as the warrior. The knight’s other hand gripped a great sword that gleamed with a deadly aura, its blade whispering the deaths of many.
“Well, they are going to be hard to kill. Hopefully, I can avoid them altogether,” said Evan as he thought about what to do. “I’m not sure I could even beat one with this body of flab. I know one thing. Once I’m out of here, I need to get in shape. Damn goddess Seraphina. She could have at least put me in the body of one of the guards or anyone else for that matter.”
Sighing, Evan slowly made his way through the corridors. He only fought the smaller groups of Skeletons if he had no other choice. After what felt like years to Evan but was more likely only a few hours, Evan finally saw the stairs to the next level. With one of the largest Knights standing in the way, Evan sighed again, knowing that he would be forced into this fight no matter what he did.
Creeping forward as quietly as he could, Evan’s heart pounded as he observed the knight skeleton from the shadows. Its bones clinked together with each heavy step, echoing through the earthen corridors of the Dungeon of the Dead. The knight’s hollow eye sockets gleamed, an eerie light emanating from within.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Evan muttered, tightening his grip on the rusty sword he had acquired. The weight of the blade felt unfamiliar in his hands, but he knew he had to face the knight if he wanted to progress further into the dungeon.
With a deep breath, Evan stepped out from the shadows, the flickering torchlight casting elongated shadows across the corridor. The knight turned to face him, its bony hand gripping the sword’s hilt at its side. The air seemed to crackle with tension as Evan and the knight locked eyes.
The knight wasted no time and charged toward Evan, its armoured footsteps resonating through the chamber. Evan braced himself, his muscles tense as he prepared to meet the oncoming assault. The clash of sword against sword echoed loudly, the sound reverberating through the dungeon.
Though honed through years of adventuring, Evan’s agility in his new body only just allowed him to sidestep the initial strike. The knight’s sword whistled through the air, missing Evan by barely an inch. Evan swung his rusty sword, aiming for the exposed joints of the knight’s armour.
The blade connected with a metallic clang, but the knight seemed unfazed. It retaliated with a swift counterattack, forcing Evan to parry desperately. The strength behind the knight’s strikes was formidable, each blow sending vibrations up Evan’s arm. He felt the strain in his muscles as he struggled to keep up.
The dance between Evan and the knight continued, the narrow corridor limiting their movements. Evan relied on his speed and agility as he felt his new body struggle with every movement, darting around the knight to find openings in its defences. The knight, however, moved relentlessly, its movements calculated and precise.
Evan noticed a pattern in the knight’s attacks as he dodged a mighty swing. The skeletal adversary favoured its right side, leaving its left flank vulnerable. Evan seized the opportunity, aiming a series of quick strikes at the knight’s exposed area. The rusty sword bit into the bone, causing the knight to recoil.
Cheering at the minor success, Evan pressed the advantage. He feigned a lunge to the right before swiftly changing direction and striking at the knight’s left side. The rusty sword scraped against the armour, creating sparks and illuminating the dim corridor.
The knight, growing frustrated by Evan’s tactics, unleashed a barrage of attacks. Evan danced as nimbly as possible between the strikes, but the relentless assault pushed him to the defensive. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he struggled to maintain his footing.
The next blow knocked Evan off balance, and he stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a fatal strike. The knight advanced, its sword raised for a finishing blow. Evan rolled to the side, adrenaline pumping into overdrive, barely dodging the attack.
Quickly regaining his footing, Evan knew he had to end the fight in the next few swings. He circled the knight, searching for an opening. The knight, undeterred, followed Evan’s every move. Evan lunged forward, aiming for the chink in the knight’s armour at its neck.
The rusty sword found its mark, and the knight’s skull tilted awkwardly. A haunting moan echoed through the corridor as the knight crumbled into a pile of bones. Evan stood, panting, the rusty sword still clutched in his hands.
The air in the dungeon seemed to be still as Evan struggled to catch his breath. He glanced around, half expecting more adversaries to emerge from the shadows. Evan sighed, satisfied that the immediate threat was gone. He took a moment to assess his surroundings.
Evan could see a faint glow behind him, slowly growing larger. Ahead with the knight now defeated, nothing stood protecting the staircase. “Well, no time like the present. Let’s see what the next floor has to offer,” said Evan as a bolt of green magic shot past his head. “Yes… Let us hope the other knights slow that group down even slightly.”