“Flare Burst,” Artivan said, pointing at the Sovereign One.

The lich erupted in bright luminous fire. Its laughter continued, even as skin peeled off in burnt strips. Artivan’s attack quickly faded.

“I have Ironclad Stance activated,” Artivan said, nearly shouting to be heard over the laughter. “If I have to activate Rampart, I won’t be able to move. Do not let that mist touch you.” Artivan rolled his shoulders and readjusted his stance. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Gray, shining mist followed the lich’s every movement. The minor lich from before had thrown similar mist as a spell, but the Sovereign One had it drifting off its whole body. It moved incredibly fast, darting straight from the air into Artivan.

Its skeletal hand smashed into his shield, throwing gray mist out to the sides. Artivan slid backward, pushing Owin back a few steps. He pulled back, creating a bit of room, then bashed the lich’s hand aside with his shield, leaving him open.

The Sovereign One moved way faster than anyone Owin had seen. Even as Artivan was in the middle of a swing with his winged sword, the lich thrust its other hand forward. Skin and sinew peeled right off from the quick burst as it drove its hand right onto Artivan’s breastplate.

The Winged Sword of the Swift Behemoth caught the Sovereign One’s other arm and easily chopped through the bone, severing the limb. It was an incredibly quick exchange that pushed Artivan back again, shattering the stones under his feet as he staggered. His increased weight with Ironclad Stance made each movement a little clumsy, but he stayed on his feet.

“Rampart!” A brown flash covered Artivan as a whole blast of gray mist covered his body.

Owin dove to the side, avoiding the spell. A chill washed over him as another pulse of energy left the lich’s body. Owin hopped right to his feet, looking for any sign that Artivan was safe.

“Go! Now!” Artivan shouted from within the spell.

Owin ran forward, swinging the Thunderstrike Maul with all his strength. The head of the hammer glowed, partially charged, as it collided with the lich’s legs. A skeletal leg flew back, cracking into the wall on the opposite side.

It had disconnected so easily. The lich, still spreading mist on Artivan with its one arm, turned its gaze down to Owin.

“Pest,” it said, its voice like a quiet breeze.

“Back!” Artivan shouted.

Owin dropped the hammer and leapt backward with all his strength. The lich swung too late, stopping its spell to swipe at Owin. It only cut through open air.

It hadn’t even cared to lose its leg. The lich was fast enough to dodge. But it didn’t walk. Why would it even need legs?

The lich’s bright violet eyes were clear through the dust and wisps of gray mist as the last of the spell dissipated. Owin hurried back behind Artivan, drawing Naxile’s knife.

Artivan hadn’t moved at all. Even the slightest readjustment of his shield was a slow, labored movement. The old knight was practically just a wall at the moment.

“What do I do?”

“Strike in openings. I’ll keep its attention.” His rampart and ironclad stance ended, letting Artivan move freely. He stomped his foot and flashed yellow. The lich wheezed as its violet eyes locked onto Artivan’s.

The knight stepped forward and stabbed with the winged sword. The lich didn’t attempt to dodge, letting the sword stab through its empty ribs. Owin dashed to the side as the lich grabbed Artivan’s hand that held the sword. It cackled, letting the skulls echo its laughter as it forced the blade farther through.

Owin pivoted and leapt. He crashed into the lich and drove the iron knife into the side of its skull. It easily pierced the bone, and did nothing else. The lich completely ignored Owin.

The Sovereign One used its remaining foot to press into Artivan’s chest as it tried to leverage the winged sword from his grip.

This time, Artivan laughed.

The lich quickly gave up trying to disarm him and flew backward, letting the sword easily slip between its ribs. The violet halo bobbed above its head as the lich came to a stop near the ceiling, floating over its sarcophagus.

Owin wasn’t sure if it had forgotten he was still there, or if it was just ignoring him. He held on tightly to the knife like it was a handle. His feet found the lich’s pelvis to use so he wasn’t dangling quite as much. They were only maybe fifteen feet up, but that was farther than Owin wanted to fall.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” Artivan said.

Owin knew that. It wasn’t part of his plan either. It didn’t appear any regular weapons would do damage to the Sovereign One. He needed something magical. The Bolt wand hadn’t had a chance to recharge after the last lich fight, and using it without charges would take away more health than it used to, now that he had more.

What else did he have that was magical?

Owin pulled the wand from his belt, keeping his other hand tightly wrapped around the knife handle. He swung up and jabbed the wand into the lich’s eye, casting Bolt twice.

Twenty health vanished immediately on each cast, sending a wave of burning pain up his arm. Luckily, it also caused pain to the Sovereign One as a horrible, deafening scream erupted from its skull.

The lich grabbed Owin’s face with its skeletal hand. Before he could let go, gray mist filled his entire vision. Coldness spread through his whole body. He barely felt the fall before he crashed into the sarcophagus below.

“Flare Burst,” Artivan shouted

The knight’s heavy steps quickly approached. His vision was gray mist, and his body felt numb, like he couldn’t move even an inch. The Sovereign One laughed again, no longer screaming in pain.

Owin felt Artivan’s hand pull on his shirt, yanking him from the sarcophagus. Spells crashed into the knight’s armor. Skeletal fingers scraped along his shield. Owin hit the stone floor as they clashed again.

Owin wasn’t sure what was worse, having a lich control his body, or to lose his vision and movement. He felt like a sack of flour, unable to do anything while Artivan fought. He didn’t even feel pain. It was only the unusual coldness that swept through his body in waves.

His red health bar was low, and dropping lower. But from what? Nothing hurt. As far as he could tell, he was lying on the floor while Artivan fought the Sovereign One.

If creatures like this were common on the fifth floor, Owin wasn’t sure he wanted to keep climbing. Not that he had much of a choice. Artivan had said the fifth floor was where he would find enemies that matched his level. This one was already level 30 and Owin didn’t stand a chance. How was he going to survive through that floor and then climb again to find even stronger mobs and bosses?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Artivan’s steps circled Owin. His armored boots crashed loudly against the stone floor. They shoved Owin aside a few times. It was difficult to tell if it was intentional or not. Maybe Artivan had to dodge and just accidentally kicked Owin.

How could they defeat the Sovereign One? Taking out its eye had caused pain, but Owin doubted taking out both eyes would stop it. The lich was willing to lose limbs to gain an advantage. As an undead, it could have a way to heal those types of injuries fine. Artivan had said to take heads from undead, but did liches follow the same rules?

With only gray mist in his vision, Owin was able to easily visualize the lich and the fight from before he was incapacitated. The lich was falling apart even before the fight had started. It was only partially awakened, according to the announcement.

What caused it to awaken?

Something warm splashed onto Owin’s face. His health bar shot up, but didn’t quite top off.

“Hold on,” Artivan shouted. A glass bottle hit the ground near Owin’s face, shattering loudly. His vision hadn’t returned, but he wasn’t dying anymore. For now. He still felt cold and couldn’t move.

Owin continued looking at the lich. The main difference between the minor lich from the ruins and the one Artivan fought now was the halo. There was an identical halo depicted on the stained glass window of the castle, and a shining halo on the door above.

Was it that simple?

Owin tried telling Artivan, but his mouth didn’t move. No sounds came out.

Something clattered on the ground by Owin’s face. A hand grabbed his own face, firm fingers squeezing his cheeks.

“This is going to hurt,” Artivan said.

What felt like an electrical shock shook Owin’s whole body. His muscles tensed and spasmed as the gray mist rapidly faded. The cold sensation was immediately a distant memory as pain seared Owin’s face.

Artivan was hunched over him with his bare hand over Owin’s face. The lich dove in for another attack, which Artivan seemed to have expected. He pulled his hand free, grabbed his sword, and turned, throwing his shield in between himself and the enemy.

The lich crashed into him, throwing Artivan onto his back.

Owin flipped off his back onto all fours. He pushed off with his feet, breaking the stones with his powerful jump. He landed right on the lich’s back, grabbing Naxile’s knife with one hand and the halo with the other.

The violet halo burned straight through Owin’s skin as he gritted his teeth and ripped it free of the lich’s head. As soon as it was in his control, the knife easily sliced through the skull, causing Owin to tumble right off the back of the lich. He smashed into the stone floor again, looking back up at the ceiling.

The lich screamed and spun to face Owin. Before it could dive, Artivan stabbed the winged sword straight through its skull. The Sovereign One went limp and hung from Artivan’s weapon like a doll.

Owin dropped the halo. Smoke rose from his hand. The crypt now smelled like cooked meat. Or it might have just been Owin that smelled like it. He sniffed his burnt hand.

“Oh.”

Artivan stood over Owin, looking down with his visor raised. He looked tired.

“Hi,” Owin said.

Artivan laughed. “How did you know to go for the halo?”

“I had some time to think about it.”

Artivan grunted. He looked around the room, then crouched and pulled Owin to his feet. “We’ll have to find a mirror for you.”

“A what?”

He pointed to his face. “It shows what you look like.”

Owin ran his hands over his face. Entire sections of his skin were bumpy like he had something stuck under his skin. “What happened?”

“Your skin peeled away. The health potion and Healing Touch fixed it, but they don’t stop scars from forming.” Artivan put his gauntlet back on and tightened the straps. “Does it hurt?”

Owin shook his head. He fixed the knives and wand on his belt and checked everything else. It all appeared to be fine. His health wasn’t all the way up, but it wasn’t low enough to need another potion.

The bright violet halo still glowed on the ground. Artivan stood on the other side of it with his hands on his hips. His index flashed in front of his eyes.

“Oh.”

Owin used Examine.

Halo of the Doomed Harbinger

Unique Master Magical Item

The Doomed Harbinger is a legend long forgotten, twisted by time. A king anointed by the gods, corrupted by the Abyss, and cast into the world to act as a warning— A curse that would never end.

Whoever wears the halo becomes the Doomed Harbinger, destined to become a lich who will haunt and kill for the rest of eternity.

Provides a boost to all attributes when worn.

The halo cannot be held or carried. It must be worn.

Note: Magical item does not vary by user

“There’s no way we’re wearing that,” Owin said. He held out his hand, letting Artivan see the horrible burn across his palm.

“Remember the window on the castle?”

Owin nodded and sighed. “You think the halo is the key to the secret?”

“Well . . . yes.” He crouched beside the glowing halo, grunting with effort. “I could see if my armor can manage.”

“It will burn through. I don’t think the description is trying to trick us.” The burn pulsed with pain as Owin looked down at the bright halo. If it was the key to the secret, they wouldn’t need to keep it long. But what did it mean to be destined? “Can heroes turn into liches?”

Artivan exhaled loudly. “I don’t know. I didn’t think so.” Artivan quickly snatched the halo and placed it over his head. He let go right away and waited, as if balancing something on his head. The glowing halo floated in place.

“What did you do?” Owin shouted.

“Whoa. That was more than a boost,” Artivan said, looking at his index. “And what’s this new ability?” He pointed at the closed door, which immediately opened. “Look at that. I think I know how to open the drawbridge.”

“But now you’re destined to die,” Owin said, finding himself still shouting.

Artivan shook his head. He waved Owin over and patted him on the head. “We’re all destined to die at some point, little goblin. This halo isn’t going to change any part of my life.” He looked back at the open door. “Actually, it’s going to let us see what’s in this damn castle that has been a mystery to me for years.”

Artivan waited by the door as Owin ran around the room, checking the skulls and the lich for any loot. He grabbed the hammer, checked his belt one more time, and retrieved the torch. The way back felt much quicker than the way down as Artivan led the way back up to the surface. With the constant glow of the halo, they hardly needed the torch in the dark hallway.

Sunlight was too bright, causing Owin to squint as he pushed through the bush and reemerged on the surface. He moved to the side, looking back at the hidden staircase. Even while knowing where it was, he couldn’t spot it. That made him feel a little better about falling down before.

The violet halo floated above Artivan’s helmet. He grinned as he looked across the moat at the same halo on the stained glass. “Does that look like me?”

“That person is wearing a pointed hat.”

Artivan chuckled. “You’re right.” He reached over and tapped Owin’s head. “We match with your hair and my halo.”

“I don’t like that you have it,” Owin said.

Artivan ignored the comment and set off back to the drawbridge. Owin followed, keeping an eye on the white forest beyond. Siora and Nikoletta were out there somewhere. After the last fight, maybe Siora and Placus would flee, but Owin knew deep down that Miklos and Nikoletta weren’t going to go anywhere without his head.

After finding the Thunderstrike Maul in the last secret, Owin was looking forward to what they would find in this one, but that glowing halo that hung just above Artivan made Owin’s stomach turn.

Birds continued singing in the forest as they followed the moat to the front of the castle. Artivan positioned himself in front of the drawbridge and activated whatever new ability he had gained from the halo.

The bridge immediately started lowering. At the same time, a metal gate lifted behind the bridge, allowing them access to the castle’s main hall. Artivan stood still until the wooden door hit the ground, pressing hard into the grass. He strode across confidently with his boots thunking on the wooden platform as it flexed slightly under his weight.

The door into the castle was wide and brightly lit. Firelight poured out, shining off Artivan’s metal armor. Owin had yet to move, still standing beside an old birch tree. Right in the center of the room, just beyond the gate, was a small tower made of bones. Skulls, ribs, and various limb bones had been arranged into some type of spire.

Artivan continued on, unbothered by the decoration. The violet halo bobbed above his head as he stepped through the threshold and immediately stopped. A massive, slimy white eye floated down from the ceiling, stopping right before the knight. Its pupil shrank as it focused on Artivan.

Great Forest Mob

Ocular Guard

Level 27

It floated closer, causing Artivan to take a step back.

“Owin, I might need a hand here,” Artivan said as he slowly reached for his sword.

“It’s just an eye. How dangerous can it be?”

The ocular’s black pupil sparkled like there was a light deep inside the eye. The pupil shuddered before widening to cover most of the blue iris. Artivan threw his shield in front of his face as a red beam erupted from the pupil. Owin jumped back as Artivan skidded to a stop at the end of the drawbridge. A plume of smoke lifted off his red hot shield.

The massive eye floated right in the gateway, staring at Owin with a twinkle deep inside.