The following day, the Call of Heroes was in full effect, and Nuri'fon pulsed with energy as adventurers, warriors, and mages flooded the streets. Once a city marred by war, it had been nearly restored to its former glory, though some scars of the past remained. Nuri'fon was built along the coast, with winding streets that led to its heart, the grand palace, an imposing structure that loomed over the city, now occupied by the Lords of Necromancy. Though the palace’s white stone and gold-trimmed towers gleamed in the sunlight, its new occupants cast a long shadow over the people. Even with the city’s revival, citizens and visitors alike were careful not to venture too close to the palace, constantly wary of the powerful enemies who resided there.
Surrounding the palace was the central plaza, once the bustling hub of Nuri'fon. Now, it was quieter, with fewer people daring to linger near the seat of the Lords. Yet, the rest of the city thrived with activity. The streets radiated out from the palace in concentric circles, flanked by elegant buildings with carved stone facades and tall, arched windows. Many of the structures had been repaired or rebuilt after the devastation, combining the grandeur of the old world with modern craftsmanship. New homes, shops, and gathering places replaced the ruins of war, though the people's caution remained palpable.
Despite the careful distance they kept from the palace, life in the outer circles of the city was vibrant. Merchants set up stalls in the market, brightly colored awnings shading the cobbled streets where vendors sold enchanted trinkets, fresh produce, and magical relics. Adventurers haggled for supplies, preparing for the dangers that lay ahead. The hum of voices and the clang of blacksmiths working at their forges filled the air, giving the city a lively yet tense atmosphere.
Nuri'fon's natural beauty had also been revived, thanks in part to the druids, who helped regrow the grasslands and trees that had once flourished between the buildings. The landscape had become a blend of nature and civilization; towering ancient trees provided shade, their roots snaking between newly laid streets, and streams that had long dried up now flowed fresh and clear through the city’s outskirts. Flowers bloomed, and animals roamed freely, creating a sense of peace that starkly contrasted with the tension surrounding the palace.
The city’s harbor, not far from the main square, bustled with activity. Merchant vessels and warships alike docked at the port, their sails catching the early morning breeze. Sailors and adventurers exchanged information while ships prepared to set sail for unknown destinations, drawn to the Call of Heroes. From the harbor, the sea shimmered, its waves crashing gently against the shore, a reminder of the natural forces that shaped the land.
The restoration of Nuri'fon had been a collective effort, but the underlying tension remained. Even though the buildings were restored and the streets filled with life, everyone knew the city was far from safe. The Lords of Necromancy still held their grip on the palace, casting an ominous presence over the people. Their influence was felt throughout the city, their dark magic seemingly woven into the fabric of Nuri'fon’s rebirth.
The plaza surrounding the palace had become an invisible boundary. Adventurers and citizens alike avoided getting too close. Despite the city’s beauty, restored buildings, and rejuvenated nature, the looming threat of the Lords kept the people on edge. Still, there was hope in the air. Nuri'fon had been rebuilt, the old and new mingling in a fragile balance, and the Call of Heroes had drawn the brave and bold from every corner of the kingdom. Even under the shadow of the lords of necromancy, life found a way to flourish.
Zavet, Runner, Alley, and the rest of Krimlond moved with purpose, gathering their weapons and magical items and preparing for the impending assault on the Lords of Necromancy. The entire city of Nuri'fon seemed to pulse with the anticipation of battle as the various baronies, each representing their lands, readied their forces for the final confrontation. All eyes were now on the palace, which stood in the city's heart, gleaming in the sun but cloaked in a dark aura. It was their next target, the seat of the enemy’s power.
“We're meeting Merlot in the courtyard of the palace,” Lina said, her voice firm as they headed toward the gates of their keep. She wore her armor with a practiced ease, her long cloak fluttering behind her. “He’s gathering the leaders of the other baronies there.”
As they made their way through the gates, Zavet slowed, a concerned expression crossing his face. He glanced back at Lina. “I’ve been thinking,” he started. “I believe the keeps will get attacked while we hit the palace. The Lords aren’t foolish; they’ll take advantage of us being away and likely to loot and sabotage.”
Lina stopped abruptly, the weight of his words sinking in. She turned sharply to face him, her eyes narrowing as she processed his warning. “You think they’ll hit us here? Try to take what we leave behind?”
Zavet nodded. “It makes sense. We’ll all be focused on the palace, leaving our strongholds vulnerable. They could send a force to ransack the keeps, steal our resources, and cripple our support while we’re distracted. You should have everything important moved out now and double your guards.”
Lina’s eyes flicked to Hoat, who had overheard the conversation. She didn’t waste a second. “Everyone! Back inside! We’re securing the keep!” she barked. “Take all valuables, weapons, and critical supplies out of here. Hide them deep in the woods or the nearby caves, somewhere they won’t be found easily. And double the guard. Zavet’s right. We can’t leave the keep exposed while we’re away.”
The urgency of her command set the Krimlond forces into action. Hoat led a small group back into the keep, their armored boots clanking as they hurried through the halls, gathering gold, enchanted artifacts, and important documents. They packed everything into sturdy, magically warded chests, preparing them for transport.
Gauge, already sensing the shift in plans, began creating more constructs to patrol the perimeter of the keep. He conjured animated stone golems and spectral warriors, binding them with powerful wards to ensure the keep was well-defended even in their absence. These constructs would act as sentries, their glowing eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of intruders.
“I’ll keep these stationed around the walls,” Gauge said, his hands glowing as he finished summoning the last of his guardians. “Anyone who tries to break in, they’ll have a nasty surprise waiting for them.”
Lina wasn’t taking any chances. She quickly drafted a message to the other barons, scribbling the warning on enchanted parchment. The paper glowed faintly as she spoke a word of power, sending the message instantly to the leaders of the other baronies. “We suspect the keeps will be attacked as we invade the palace,” the message read. “Take preventive measures. Secure your valuables and reinforce your defenses.”
As the group moved out again, the air's tension was palpable. Zavet could feel the weight of the coming battle pressing on them. The palace loomed in the distance, but now, there was an added layer of worry behind them—the possibility that their home, their base of operations, could be under siege.
“Good call, Zavet,” Lina said, her voice softer as they regrouped outside. “We can’t afford to lose everything we’ve built. Not now.”
Hoat, now geared up and ready for battle, clapped Zavet on the shoulder. “Smart thinking, kid. You’ve grown into quite the strategist.”
Zavet only nodded, his mind already turning toward the palace and the lords waiting for them there.
The group pushed through the streets, the palace looming ominously ahead. Zavet, Runner, and Alley led the charge, their weapons flashing as they cut through wave after wave of undead. The air was thick with the stench of rot, and the clash of steel echoed as they carved a path toward the courtyard.
When they reached the palace gates, the courtyard crawled with the dead. Zavet's movements were swift as his shadow armor materialized around him. With it, he darted between shadows, instantly striking down enemies. Runner and Alley fought alongside him, each blow from their weapons thinning the horde.
Just as they neared the courtyard’s center, Merlot arrived, his face as grim as the battle. He gave a quick nod to Lina. "Good call. We buried everything of value before heading out."
Before Lina could mention Zavet's insight, Runner’s sharp eyes caught something. "Movement in the windows!" he shouted.
Suddenly, undead poured from the palace like a tide of death. Skeletons, wights, and shambling corpses crashed through the windows, dropping into the courtyard with terrifying speed. The assault hit hard, the undead swarming them from all directions. The air filled with the clash of steel, the crackle of magic, and the groans of the dead.
It was relentless. Zavet, now fully clad in his shadow armor, moved like a ghost on the battlefield, phasing from one shadow to the next. In quick bursts, he struck down the enemies that swarmed his comrades, using his ability to teleport within the shadows around him to devastating effect. His dagger sliced through rotting flesh, and the armor gave him an edge, making him nearly untouchable for brief moments.
Despite their skill, the numbers were overwhelming. The undead pushed back, nearly breaking the line. It was only thanks to the healers working in tandem with the front line that they managed to hold. Spells of healing and protection filled the air, restoring wounds as fast as they were inflicted. Zavet’s focus sharpened as the battle raged on, his eyes locked on the palace’s darkened windows.
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Finally, with a concerted effort, the group forced their way through the undead horde and broke into the palace entrance. As the last of the enemies fell, Merlot activated the ancient wards etched into the walls, sealing the doors behind them. The wards blazed to life, preventing any more undead from entering unless granted permission by the royal family. For the first time in what felt like hours, the onslaught stopped.
“Let’s take a moment,” Merlot commanded, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. "Make sure everyone is healed, and refresh your shields."
As the group stormed through the palace, they fought wave after wave of undead, each more relentless than the last. Zavet, Runner, and Alley took the brunt of the assault, their weapons a blur as they carved through the seemingly endless horde. Blood splattered across their armor, and the metallic stench of death filled the air. They were bruised and battered but alive when they reached the courtyard.
Merlot walked over to Lina, his expression grim. “That advice about the valuables was good. We buried everything we could.”
Before Lina could tell him it had been Zavet’s idea, Runner interrupted. “There’s movement in the windows,” he muttered, squinting as shadowy figures moved across the windows on the second floor.
Suddenly, the windows shattered as a fresh wave of undead spilled from the palace, pouring down the walls and rushing toward them. The group braced themselves, barely able to keep the flood of bodies at bay. The healers worked desperately to keep everyone standing, casting healing spells as the fighters hacked their way forward.
Zavet’s armor flared to life, forming a protective shell around him as his dagger sliced through the undead, darting in and out of the fight. Runner was just as fierce; his two-handed sword cut down anything in his path. The Synergy between them was visually apparent. They would spin and stay near each other's back, darting in and out. If the enemy were not there, it would look like two dancers who had been partners and learned the dance together.
They pushed through the onslaught and finally breached the palace, blood trailing behind them as they entered the entrance hall. Merlot activated the palace's wards. The air shimmered, and an invisible barrier formed around the building, sealing them in and preventing anyone from entering unless permitted by the royal family.
“Take a break,” Merlot ordered, his voice strained. “Heal up, recast your shields. ”
Zavet, breathing hard, pulled Lina aside. “We need to take the east wing,” he said quietly. “ I can smell the magic they are using. It's strong; it must be a necromantic ritual.”
Lina’s eyes widened, fear flashing across her face. “A ritual?”
Zavet nodded. “ I don't know what else it could be. “
Merlot overheard their conversation, his face darkening. He turned to the group. “We don’t have time. Zavet, lead the way.”
The group followed Zavet into the east wing. But as they moved deeper into the palace, they were ambushed. Zombies attacked from both directions, forcing them into a defensive position. The druids from Erenlond acted quickly, casting a wall of thick vines and thorns behind them to hold off the undead. The zombies struggled, tearing themselves apart as they pushed through the barrier, only to be met with arrows from the archers waiting on the other side.
Ahead of them, the Lord of Zombies, Zamza, loomed like a grim sentinel before the towering door leading into the ballroom. His sunken eyes glowed with malice, and the air around him thickened with the stench of decay. Six hulking undead stood at his sides, grotesque and bloated, their distended bellies leaking foul green ooze. The creatures' mottled skin stretched taut over their swollen forms, and their gaping mouths hissed as they swayed like monsters barely contained.
Ulrich, grim-faced and resolute, stepped forward. “Leave these wretches to me and my knights,” he commanded, his voice cold with experience. “They explode when killed. Unless you're immune to poison, stay back.”
Ulrich and his knights charged forward with a battle cry, meeting the hulking undead head-on. The clash was brutal; every strike the knights landed tore open the grotesque creatures, causing their bloated bodies to gush blood, fat, and sickly green ooze. The hallway quickly transformed into a treacherous arena, slick with foul fluids, and the knights had to tread carefully as they hacked through the grotesque horde. Slippery blood pooled beneath their feet while the toxic bile threatened to overwhelm their senses. They were pinned from both sides, undead pressing from the front and the threat of an ambush from behind.
Meanwhile, Zavet and the others wasted no time. With a sharp nod to Runner, the two surged forward like twin forces of nature, aiming directly for Zamza. Their movements were a deadly blur, perfectly synchronized. Zavet’s dagger struck hard and fast, each blow aimed at weak points in Zamza’s defenses. Runner switched his two-handed sword for dual short swords and swung his swords in sweeping arcs, keeping Zamza on the defensive.
Zamza snarled, his muscles tensing as he fought back. He used the blood-soaked floor to his advantage, sliding across the slick surface with magically enhanced agility. His long claws flashed through the air, aiming for any opening he could find. In a vicious counterattack, he managed to slice deep into Lina’s leg, sending her tumbling to the ground with a sharp cry of pain. Blood seeped from the wound, and Lina gritted her teeth as she struggled to summon her healing magic. But the power of the moons had grown weak, and her magic flickered and waned, leaving her vulnerable.
As Zamza pressed his advantage, Hoat charged with a fierce roar, his spear gleaming in the dim light. With a powerful thrust, he drove the weapon deep into Zamza’s side, forcing the undead lord to stumble back. Blood and rot spilled from the wound, but Zamza’s resolve only seemed to harden.
Suddenly, a bright flash cut through the darkness as Merlot stepped forward, his dragon sword igniting in a blaze of brilliant flames. The fire roared to life, casting long shadows on the bloodied walls. With one mighty swing, Merlot brought the blazing sword down on Zamza, the flames consuming the zombie lord instantly. Zamza let out a horrid screech, his body writhing in agony as the fire burned through his flesh. Within moments, his form disintegrated into an ash cloud, the flames reducing him to nothing.
Merlot lowered his sword, the fire fading from the blade. He turned to the others, his expression weary. “I can only do that one more time,” he said with a heavy voice.
The victory was short-lived. The knights immediately kicked down the door to the ballroom, revealing the ritual within. Yvonne hung suspended in midair, her body covered in blood as Iscariot carved symbols into her skin. Vlad, Edmund, and Krunk stood at the edges of the circle, their eyes glowing red with greater undead power.
Merlot uttered a guttural cry and charged toward his daughter, blinded by fury. But before he could reach her, Behir, the Lord of Banshees, materialized in his path. With an ear-splitting shriek, she unleashed her Death Wail, the scream so powerful it shredded Merlot’s skin and muscle, leaving his bones exposed. His body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Zavet and Runner reacted immediately, rushing to engage Behir. Lina and Hoat provided support from the back, casting protective spell shields to block her devastating scream. Behir, sensing the danger, tried to push past Zavet and Runner to get to Lina, but they held her back. Runner’s two-handed sword flashed as he struck high, while Zavet attacked low with flawless coordination.
Behir faltered, her movements becoming erratic as the combined assault overwhelmed her. With a strike from Runner, her form slowly disappeared from view.
She reappeared behind the knights and let loose another death Wail, killing all but one knight. Ulrich stood tall; his armor protected him from the screeching banshee. The knight turned and attacked her. She tried her death wail again with the same result. “The armor is backed with soundproofing material.”He smiled through his helmet's visor.
She grew angry and went after Lina. She was ready for death wail. As Behir appeared beside her, the magic shield protected her from the banshee's wail. The shield was only suitable for one use. Lina immediately pressed the advantage and started to assault Behir. She slashed and stabbed at her. The banshee was resilient, and she got away with minimal damage.
Zavet approached Merlot’s fallen body, his expression carefully guarded. He cast a spell of necromantic animation with a steady hand, restoring Merlot as a fully sentient undead. Lina, Runner, and Hoat stared, disbelief and horror flickering across their faces as Merlot’s body began to mend. Muscles knitted together, skin restored itself, and his eyes glowed with a vivid green light—a sign of necromancy’s temporary hold.
“He’s still himself,” Zavet assured in a quiet, firm voice. “This spell isn’t permanent. It only infuses him with necromantic energy for an hour—enough to end this.”
Now standing tall and fierce, Merlot took in his surroundings with renewed vigor. His dragon-forged sword reignited, casting a fiery glow over his pale skin. Without a word, he charged toward the ritual circle, weapon raised. The blade met the magical barrier, searing through it as his strength fueled the final act. The air crackled, sparks flew, and the circle trembled before exploding in a blast of raw magic. When the dust settled, Merlot had vanished, his sword lying on the ground, the only remnant of his sacrifice.
But there was no time to mourn. Vlad, Edmund, Krunk, and Behir closed in. Zavet was locked in combat with Iscariot while Lina, Runner, and Hoat faced the others.
Runner moved like a whirlwind, his greatsword arcing with precision as he engaged Krunk. In a fierce upward swing, he cleaved Krunk’s head clean off—but even decapitated, Krunk’s body fought on, swinging wildly and forcing Runner back. Krunk’s body was relentless, driven by its undead resilience, and each of its strikes landed with unnatural strength.
On the other side of the battlefield, Hoat squared off with Vlad. Their swords clashed in blinding flashes, ringing through the hall. Though both men were known for their relaxed attitudes outside combat, they fought with raw intensity now. Hoat lunged forward with controlled strikes, fighting for his friends' survival, while Vlad, voice-controlled, met his every move with ruthless precision, his flaming sword illuminating the malice in his eyes. Their swords locked, sparks flew, and they pushed each other back, neither yielding.
Lina darted in and out of the chaos, weaving spells as fast as she spoke the incantations. A healing spell struck Edmund, burning through his undead flesh like fire. He snarled, twisting and sidestepping her attacks, his defense slowing her progress, but Lina was relentless. With twin silver blades flashing, she attacked, her strikes precise. Her swords cut through undead flesh, leaving sizzling, blackened wounds. Though Edmund fought with strategy, using every dodge and parry to buy time for Behir’s reappearance, Lina pressed forward. Finally, her swords met their mark, and Edmund staggered, his tactical edge waning as he faltered under her assault.
Locked in combat with Krunk, Runner slowly maneuvered the flailing corpse closer to Lina. Just as Behir reappeared, her spectral form coalescing, Runner took his chance. In a swift, deadly motion, he drove his sword into Behir’s throat, silencing her scream before it could manifest. Her form faded, taking his sword with her in a ghostly retreat, leaving him momentarily unarmed.