As dusk settled over the keep, the atmosphere grew tense as everyone set about their tasks—reinforcing the crumbling walls, gathering the meager supplies left, and bracing themselves for the inevitable onslaught of the undead. Zavet and Talich, now somewhat integrated into the group, were busy helping with the defenses when, without warning, a powerful surge of magic ripped through the air. It targeted the two of them, recognizing the necromantic energy that lingered within them from their previous battles. Instantly, they were yanked off their feet and hurled through the air, crashing through the keep’s walls and landing hard outside.

The force of the spell had been overwhelming, as though the very essence of the magic had identified them as greater undead—creatures to be expelled from the sacred grounds of the keep. As they struggled to their feet, dazed and disoriented, the realization of what had happened slowly dawned on them.

Inside the keep, the reaction was immediate and volatile. Flynn, a seasoned druid known for his strict adherence to tradition and an intense hatred for anything related to necromancy, was the first to respond. His voice dripped with venom as he glared at the spot where Zavet and Talich had been moments before. "They were greater undead? Spies. I bet that’s why the undead are here—they told the lords of necromancy."

His words hung in the air, heavy and accusatory, sparking a wave of uncertainty and fear among the gathered soldiers. Murmurs of suspicion spread quickly, the atmosphere growing more hostile by the second. Runner, who had been standing nearby, felt a surge of anger at Flynn’s accusation. He stepped forward, his voice rising above the din.

"No!" Runner’s voice was firm, filled with conviction. "I was with them when we killed four greater undead and saved Teric!"

His words would have carried weight if Teric had been present. Unfortunately, Teric had gone straight to his private quarters with Scarlet upon returning, and Flynn hadn’t seen him yet. This gave Flynn the perfect opening to continue his assault.

"Teric is not here," Flynn spat, his eyes narrowing as he turned his glare on Runner. "And, of course, you’d defend them—you’ve been with them from the start. Maybe you’re part of the reason we’re in this mess."

Runner bristled at the accusation, but before he could respond, Gauge, one of the more level-headed ones, stepped in, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"Hold on, Flynn," Gauge said, his voice calm and measured. "We were told to go get them. We knew what they were from the beginning. They’re not with these undead."

But Flynn was beyond reason. His eyes blazed with righteous fury as he turned on Gauge. "I knew you were once a necromancer," Flynn hissed, his voice laced with contempt. "I thought you had redeemed yourself. But here you are, defending necromancers, just like I always suspected."

Gauge’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, Lina, who had been watching the exchange with growing concern, stepped forward to try and restore order. Her voice was authoritative, cutting through the rising chaos.

"Flynn, stop," Lina commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Yes, we knew about them, and they’ve helped us."

Flynn, however, was not easily swayed. His paranoia had taken root, and he refused to let go. "How exactly did they help, Lina?" he demanded, his voice rising in intensity. "Think back—what have they really done?" His words were laced with deceit; his lies intended to sow further discord.

He pointed around the room, his gaze intense as he searched for signs of doubt among the others. "No Teric? But they supposedly rescued him. Then where is he? Where is Scarlet, for that matter?" His voice was sharp, and his questions were barbed with suspicion.

Before the situation could spiral further out of control, a sudden, sharp crack echoed through the hall. Hoat had come up behind Flynn and, with a swift motion, delivered a decisive blow to the back of Flynn’s head. Flynn crumpled to the ground, unconscious, the tension in the room breaking as everyone stared in shock.

Hoat stood over Flynn’s prone form, his expression grim. "We don’t need that right now," he said, his voice low but firm. "Tie him up and lock him in his quarters until we can deal with him properly."

They hesitated for a moment, but then, recognizing the wisdom in Hoat’s actions, they moved to follow his orders. As Flynn was carried away, the atmosphere in the keep shifted, the immediate crisis averted, but the underlying tension still simmering just below the surface.

Lina turned to the others, her gaze serious. "We need to focus on the task at hand. Zavet and Talich are out there, and they need our support. We can’t afford to let paranoia tear us apart from within. “

Zavet and Talich staggered to their feet, disoriented from the force that had hurled them out of the keep. The world around them spun for a moment before the cold, oppressive air of the undead-infested city brought them back to their senses. The horde of undead, led by the formidable Lord of Necromancy, Kyln, known as the Lord of Ghouls, surged through the streets like a relentless tide. Kyln, a towering figure clad in tattered robes, his skeletal frame draped with decaying flesh, radiated an aura of dark power. His hollow eyes glowed with an eerie green light, and his gaunt face twisted into a malevolent grin as he commanded his army of ghouls, who snarled and clawed at the air, eager to feast on the living.

The streets were crawling with ghouls, their emaciated bodies twisted into grotesque shapes. Their skin hung loosely from their bones, and their eyes glowed with a feral hunger. They moved with unnatural speed, driven by the will of their master, Kyln. The horde was a macabre parade of death, with ghouls in various stages of decay shambling alongside reanimated corpses, their eyes empty of any life but filled with the dark magic that sustained them.

Talich, sensing the urgency of their situation, leaped onto a nearby rooftop, his movements fluid and silent. He turned to Zavet, who quickly followed, eyes scanning the streets below. The ghouls paid them no mind, their rotting noses unable to distinguish the scent of the living from that of the undead. For now, they were safe, but both knew this reprieve wouldn’t last.

"We need a plan," Talich whispered, his voice tense but controlled. He knelt on the roof's edge, watching the horde below with a strategist's eye. "Kyln is leading this horde, and he's brought an army of ghouls with him. They're swarming the city, and they're not just going to batter down the walls—they'll tear the keep apart if we don’t do something."

Zavet, still catching his breath, nodded. "We can't just sit here. If we’re out here, maybe it’s for the best. We can take down the liches—those that could break the wards. Without them, the sanctuary might hold."

Talich’s eyes narrowed as he calculated their chances. "It may be for the best that we're out here, away from the prying eyes of the kingdom. We can do what needs to be done without worrying about what others might think."

He paused, then continued, "The ghouls are Kyln's strength. If we can disrupt them, weaken his control, and take out the liches that could break the sanctuary, we might just stand a chance. But we need to be smart about this. Kyln will be expecting resistance, and he’s not one to underestimate."

Talich gave a grim nod, his gaze fixed on the distant form of Kyln. "We have to be quick and precise. No mistakes. We’re going to need every bit of our skill to pull this off."

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Zavet’s eyes narrowed as he pointed toward a group of skeletal figures draped in dark, tattered robes. Their eye sockets burned with an eerie green light, and the air around them crackled with malevolent energy. “I smell necromancy on them—strong and vile,” he whispered to Talich. “They’re up to something, likely preparing a spell.”

Talich followed Zavet’s gaze, his expression darkening. “Good work. You take care of those liches; I’ll handle the ghouls.”

Zavet leaped down from their perch with a curt nod, landing silently among the twisted, narrow streets. The air was thick with decay and necromantic magic stench, but Zavet moved purposefully, his bone armor clinking softly against the stone. He knew exactly what to look for: the liches, the necromancers who served the Lord of Ghouls. They would be cloaked in robes, their skeletal hands weaving spells of death and destruction.

He spotted one of the liches, its bony fingers tracing arcane symbols in the air. The lich was too focused on its incantation to notice Zavet approaching, which was a fatal mistake. Zavet paused only long enough to ensure that Talich had engaged the ghouls, their snarls, and the sickening crunch of bone meeting metal echoing through the night. Then, with a swift motion, Zavet unsheathed his dagger and lunged.

The lich barely had time to register the attack. Zavet’s dagger sliced through the lich’s gem-encrusted diadem., severing the magic that held its undead form together. The creature released a hollow, echoing scream as it crumbled into a pile of bones and dust. Zavet quickly looted the remains, retrieving an ancient, enchanted tome that pulsed with dark power.

Without wasting a second, Zavet moved on to the next target. The liches were powerful, but against someone like Zavet, who was healed by their necromantic magic and resistant to their most lethal spells, they were little more than glorified skeletons. He dispatched them one by one; each kill adding to the power of his bone armor, which seemed to grow darker and more foreboding with each fallen lich.

Meanwhile, Talich was cutting through the ghouls with brutal efficiency. His flail swung in wide arcs, each strike smashing through the twisted bodies of the undead. The ghouls, driven by a relentless hunger, were no match for Talich’s strength and skill. They fell in droves, their bodies shattering under the impact of the flail. But as Talich fought, he noticed a figure moving through the horde with purpose—Kyln, the Lord of Ghouls and one of Iscariot’s most trusted lieutenants.

Kyln’s presence was unmistakable. He towered over the lesser undead, his form hunched and twisted, his eyes glowing with a malevolent, deep crimson light. His body was a mass of rotting flesh and bone, yet it exuded a terrifying aura of power. He wielded no weapons, nor did he cast spells like the liches. Instead, his power lay in his claws and fangs, each dripping with his own poisonous blood—a blood so potent that it could kill a living being within seconds of exposure and turn them into a ghoul.

Talich knew he couldn’t let Kyln reach the keep. Gathering all his strength, he lunged at the Lord of Ghouls, his flail crashing down with the force of a battering ram. The blow connected, causing Kyln to stagger back, but the Lord of Ghouls was far from defeated. He straightened, a cruel smile stretching across his decayed face as he spoke in a voice that was both guttural and mocking.

“Lord Talich,” Kyln hissed, his words dripping with dark allure. “You are on the wrong side. Join us. Iscariot will grant you more power than you’ve ever dreamed of. Together, we can crush this kingdom—this thorn in our side that has persisted for far too long. Tonight, we have the power to erase it from existence.”

Talich did not reply. He let Kyln’s words wash over him, knowing that they were meant to distract, to tempt. But Talich was not swayed. He had seen the devastation the necromancers had wrought and had fought against the darkness they sought to spread. His resolve was unshakable. He launched another attack, striking again and again, driving Kyln back with each blow. But he knew his attacks were not enough to kill the Lord of Ghouls outright. Kyln was too powerful, his body too resilient. Still, Talich’s relentless assault served its purpose: to keep Kyln occupied, to buy time for Zavet.

As Talich continued his assault, Zavet had already dealt with the last of the liches. The connection between the ritual they were casting weakened with each lich’s death, and now, with the final lich vanquished, the spell began to falter. The once-cohesive horde grew angry, seeing their only way to break into the keep taken from them.

Sensing his moment, Zavet leaped from the shadows, his bone armor fully charged with the necromantic power of the slain liches. He landed on Kyln with the force of a thunderbolt, his daggers driving deep into the Lord of Ghouls’ flesh. The armor, pulsating with necromantic energy, acted like a conduit, channeling all the dark power Zavet had absorbed into each strike. The impact was devastating. Each blow weakened Kyln’s hold over the remaining ghouls, the undead creatures collapsing into heaps of bones as Zavet’s assault continued.

Kyln roared in fury, his claws slashing at Zavet, but none of his attacks found purchase. Zavet was immune to the corrupting influence of Kyln’s blood, and his bone armor protected him from the necromantic energy that would have destroyed a lesser being. Zavet’s attacks were precise, methodical, and unrelenting. He struck repeatedly, each blow driving Kyln closer to the brink of destruction.

Finally, with a final, powerful strike, Zavet drove his dagger deep into Kyln’s chest. The Lord of Ghouls released a final, inhuman scream as his body began to disintegrate, turning to dust under the onslaught. The remaining ghouls, now leaderless, collapsed to the ground, their bodies crumbling into nothing as Kyln’s dark influence faded.

Talich stepped back, breathing heavily as he watched Kyln’s remains scatter in the wind. He turned to Zavet, a rare smile of approval on his face. “Zavet, that was incredible. I don’t think anyone has ever managed to take down a Lord of Necromancy like that before.”

Zavet, still catching his breath, nodded in acknowledgment. “Yup. I can make the dagger stronger now. Instead of making the armor. So I did both.”

The two warriors stood over their enemy's remains, the night's silence settling around them as the last echoes of battle faded away. They had struck a decisive blow against one of the kingdom’s greatest enemies, but they knew the war was far from over. For now, though, they had earned a moment of respite, a brief victory in the ongoing struggle against the forces of Iscariot.

As Zavet and Talich stood over the crumbling remains of Kyln, the Lord of Ghouls, a dark, swirling mass of necromantic energy began to rise from the dust. It coiled like a living shadow, writhing and pulsating with a sinister life. The energy, thick with the essence of death and decay, seemed to cling to the air, vibrating with the remnants of Kyln’s formidable power.

Zavet, still clad in the bone armor gifted by his enchanted dagger, felt a pull deep within the weapon's core. The dagger began to glow with an eerie, pale light as if responding to some unspoken command. As the swirling necromantic energy was drawn toward the weapon, the glow intensified, growing stronger and more focused.

The dark mass moved as though it had its own will, streaming toward the dagger in twisting, serpentine tendrils. As the energy made contact with the blade, the glow around the dagger flared, brightening momentarily before the dark energy was fully absorbed. The shadows that had once defined the mass now seemed to sink into the dagger, disappearing entirely as the blade drank in the power.

Zavet could feel the change immediately. The dagger, already a potent weapon, pulsed with newfound strength, its surface shimmering with a dark sheen that hadn’t been there before. The bone armor encasing Zavet responded in kind, growing denser and more resilient as the necromantic energy fused with the dagger and subsequently with the armor it generated.

The power was not fleeting but permanent, an indelible mark left by the death of Kyln, the Lord of Ghouls. Zavet could sense the subtle shift in the weapon’s essence, a deepening of its inherent power as if it had fed on the very soul of the necromancer. This newfound strength would make the dagger more lethal and imbue the armor with additional protection against the undead they continued to face.

Talich, watching the transformation with a knowing gaze, nodded in approval. "The dagger has absorbed part of Kyln’s essence," he remarked, his voice steady despite the gravity of what had just occurred. "Its power is growing, becoming more attuned to the dark arts we fight against."

Zavet flexed his hand around the dagger's hilt, feeling the thrum of necromantic energy coursing through it. "It’s stronger now," he said quietly, almost to himself, looking down at the slightly darker blade. "This will help us in the battles to come."

Talich clapped a hand on Zavet’s shoulder, a shared sense of victory grounding them after the intense battle. "You’ve earned it," Talich said, his voice a mix of pride and exhaustion. "Let's go tell Lina that we handled the Lord of Necromancy."

With the weight of their triumph settling on their shoulders, the two headed back toward the keep. As they approached, their heads held high, the aura of their success seemed to radiate from them. The guards at the entrance, who had been tense and vigilant, relaxed slightly upon seeing the duo, their eyes widening in respect.