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Chapter 9 - Skullblaster

For what seemed like an eternity, the large wooden door of the castle creaked and groaned as it opened - putting even his most vocal zombie to shame. Blightreign waited patiently, taking a moment to gall at the overdone decor engraved on the stone pillars and brickwork of the castle. Sure, skulls are synonymous with death and the undead, but this many, really?

When the door finally made peace at its apex, the death knight and his followers entered the main hall of the castle. For all that it was hyped up to be, the castle itself was a hollow shell of his expectations - almost literally. The main hall comprised the majority of the structure, a smooth pathway leading up to a throne at the opposite end. Behind the throne a large window almost thirty feet in height allowed the occupier to look out upon the world from this vantage point.

Along the side walls of the grey-blue interior, several statues of armoured knights stood at various points, with skulls for heads. Their shields had skull designs, as did their pommels, and the base upon which they stood. Blightreign was getting pretty sick of seeing skulls. A smaller doorway off to the west side gave promise to possibly some kind of sleeping quarters or passageway to more useful rooms, no doubt still covered in skulls.

Perhaps most importantly, however, on the throne sat a woman in a long flowing black dress. In one hand comprised of long slender fingers, she held a skull. The necromancer turned her eyes towards the death knight, a cold light reflecting as a smile drew across thin lips.

“Ah, if it isn’t my wayward hero, [redacted]”

“I prefer Blightreign now,” he grimaced, unsure whether he was cringing at the new name or the buzz of pain from trying to understand the name that sounded like blurred fuzz in his brain.

“Interesting; how about Blightskull instead? Or Skullreign - ooh that is good. Anyway, we have time to workshop that still.” She stood from her throne, the held skull vanishing in a puff of purple smoke, and folded her thin arms across her chest.

A brief cough came from behind the death knight to remind him of his purpose here.

“Oh, I’m not sure what you think this is, but it’s not that,” he gestured his hands awkwardly.

“Come now, the greatest necromancer this side of the grave, and the world’s most prolific badass G- Blightreign. What could really stop us from conquering the world?” Mistress Death started slowly walking towards the death knight.

Blightreign chewed his tongue. Taking over the world sounded perfect; imagine every living being instead being an undead thrall that worshipped and followed him. That sounded like what he always wanted, in some ways. He wanted it, but… did he really need the necromancer?

“And you brought me some pets; how cute. But no evilstone?” Her pout came with a tilted head as she gazed at the uncomfortable squad of chaos-dwarves.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“No,” the death knight shook the thoughts from his head. “We need to discuss trade agreements and how you treat those below you.”

“Hmph,” Mistress Death stopped about fifteen feet from him. “You are not here to talk; we both know what you are. [redacted], you are here to kill me, whether you know it or not.”

Blightreign blinked, a slight acrid taste filling his mouth. Of course he was; he had known it all along even if he denied it to himself. It was like it was part of a script and inevitability. Even as a death knight, he had been unable to kill any innocent, to feast on the flesh of the living; he had fought against the evil nature will all of his previous being.

“I am not foolish enough to think it would be any different,” the necromancer continued. “Grace Death may be a tryhard, but she isn’t stupid,” she tapped her foot on the floor, sparks of purple dancing from the stone surface.

A warm feeling spread through the death knight’s body as he withdrew Impureheart. It was an odd feeling given his current undead state, and he shook it off to ready his blade. “Then I suppose you will be prepared to die.” The chaos-dwarves raised and loaded their flintlocks, and pointed at the coy woman.

The giant bear roared as Blightreign took a step forward, slamming a paw into the midst of the rifle squad, sending them sprawling across the floor as the wolves pounced upon the prone figures.

Blightreign shot a furious glare back at the necromancer, a flicker of crimson energy powering up his magical sword.

“What? You thought they were under your control? That the power came from you? Laughable,” she smirked, dark orbs of purple light filling her eyes.

“I can’t… resist… please forgive us, my lord,” the failing vocal cords of the paladin came from behind as the man struck the floor of the castle. Dust and fragments of split masonry flew into the air as the very castle cracked beneath them, a dome of unholy energy emanating from the fallen Earnest, as the movements of all the undead surrounding him slowed.

Blightreign launched himself at the necromancer whilst the horde behind him were waylaid, slashing downwards with Impureheart, the crimson energy crackling through the air. A purple shield apparated in front of the strike, blocking it with a flare of arcane energy.

“Aw, attacking a poor unarmed woman,” Mistress Death smirked, “What would your friend <[REDACTED]> think?”

The death knight stumbled backwards clutching at his head, a pulse of energy surrounding him like a shockwave, blowing dust and foul air away from the skirmish. The undead bear, confused, stumbled over one of the dwarves and slammed into the wall - a long crack snaking its way up the structure.

Blightreign recovered as the necromancer began to generate a spell in one hand, purple energy balling up like a miniature storm, casting long shadows across her face. He rolled and dodged the beam of necromantic energy as it was cast out, drawing a blackened beam across the shattered floor. His uppercut was barely blocked as a second beam was cast, blasting through his arm.

Despite the damage, he feigned a third swing at the backstepping woman, his arm too weak to levy a serious assault. It was enough to distract the necromancer, too confident to assume she could go toe to toe with such a proficient melee fighter. As the weak slash was blocked, his free hand grabbed her by the neck.

In turn, she grabbed back at him, her hands burning in purple flame, singeing through his dead flesh. Dust sprinkled down from the ceiling as the sprawling melee behind them continued to send a spiderweb of cracks and splits throughout the hollow building.

“Why’d you make such a terrible castle?” Blightreign growled as he forced all his strength through to his hand against the pain shooting through his torso.

“It… looks like a skull from the other side,” Mistress Death choked out between slim gasps of air.

As the rubble started to collapse around them, the neck of the necromancer snapped back, and the castle lurched and shifted from the precipice of the cliff peak.

Gravity took the reins, and the death knight fell from Grace.