Alex’s feet stopped, his gaze sweeping the area before him. The terrain was twisted and split apart, deep chasms emanating cursed mist like smoke. Huge ballistae, spiked barricades, and trebuchets lay broken and scattered across the twisted land. Skeletons littered the area, some clad in armor, others in simple clothes. These were the remnants of a war that ended one hundred years ago—a war between the Harpers and the Druids of the Emerald Grove against the forces of General Ketheric Thorm.

Not far ahead, Alex spotted three lights. One was a silvery cold glow, likely from a moon lantern—the same device that held Dolly Thrice. The other two were crimson, likely from torches.

Alex shifted his appearance, becoming Kansif, the half-orc he had impaled at the meeting point. His body was riddled with cuts, his clothes no more than rags. Slowly, he approached the lights. As he came closer, he saw three drows dressed in ceremonial clothes, adepts of the Absolute, guarding a stone bridge. They wore intricately designed black and silver robes with detailed patterns. Their red eyes locked onto him, weapons drawn as soon as he revealed himself, limping out from the shadows. Alex noticed a decapitated githyanki lying to the side of the bridge.

“Halt!” one of them shouted.

Alex adopted a frightened expression, ensuring he looked as convincing as possible. “I need to report immediately to the general. An army of githyanki is about to swarm the area.”

The adepts exchanged glances and nodded.

“Follow me, and don’t make a sound,” the adept holding the moon lantern said.

Alex moved slowly and started to walk behind him. They stopped in the middle of the bridge before a curtain of darkness. The adept recited a small prayer before stepping through it, and Alex followed. For the first time in a while, Alex felt cold, as if plunged into a bath full of ice. He tried to shift his insides to get rid of the sensation, but the cold never left. The darkness was so thick he struggled to see a few meters ahead.

At the end of the bridge, they stopped before a trading hall.

“Don’t look into their eyes and don’t stray from the path,” the adept warned.

Alex nodded, anxious, his eyes glued to the adept’s legs. As they passed through the trading hall, he heard a metallic sound like a bag full of coins.

“Quiet,” the adept whispered.

Luckily, they passed through the hall unharmed. At a crossroads, they took a left and stopped before another bridge with a curtain of darkness. The adept walked ahead, followed by Alex. As soon as they passed the curtain, the cold lessened, and he could finally see more than a few meters ahead. Two light poles to the left and right of the bridge illuminated the area with a silvery light.

Alex’s gaze traced the massive figure of a stone tower reaching for the sky. He didn’t linger as he felt the scorching gaze of the adept. At the entrance of the tower, more moon lanterns illuminated the area, with ghouls patrolling under their light.

Their walk was stopped by two adepts guarding the stone stairs leading to the tower’s entrance.

“He needs to report to the chosen of the Absolute, General Ketheric Thorm,” the adept who led him here said.

The adepts moved aside, allowing them to step inside. The entrance led to a somber open hall. Everything was covered in dust, the stone floor cracked and covered with planks where the holes were deeper. Dead gray roots grew from the exposed dirt. The walls and roof were littered with spider webs. To the left, a corrupted tree reached for the roof. The only light came from candles. Absolute cultists walked around in small groups, whispering to each other—different races, ages, and genders.

“The Absolute calls us to Her design. Your family will answer—eventually,” a group said.

“Of many hearts, one soul. Of many minds, one purpose,” someone prayed in a corner.

They walked ahead and stopped before another pair of guards protecting an iron door with the symbol of the Absolute on it. The adept whispered something, and the guards moved away. He pushed the metal door open, revealing a throne room. Up ahead, sitting lazily in a sinister stone throne, was General Ketheric Thorm. He had straight gray hair kept shoulder-length and tucked behind his pointed ears. His countenance was severe, his face wrinkled by both glare and age, and he had a thick, full beard connecting to his hair. He wore a simple circlet with a skull and an extravagant, well-crafted suit of armor. A dark purple gem rested on his chest, protected by an ornate gold cage.

He wasn’t alone. Adepts sat to his left and right, watching with disdain. Three goblins and a drow woman fiercely argued with the general. Alex recognized her—Minthara, one of the Absolute leaders of the cultist army he destroyed back at the Emerald Grove.

“I will not be slandered! General, you saw my reports—you know it’s not my fault,” Minthara argued.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“The facts suggest otherwise. You were ordered to retrieve the artifact—you failed to do so,” a half-orc woman to the general’s right responded. She was Z’rell, a high-ranking member of the Cult of the Absolute and a trusted advisor to the general.

“If I had been given drow warriors instead of goblin trash—” Minthara shouted.

“Oi, what!? You scrag!” a goblin retorted, not pleased by her comment.

“Enough!” Z’rell said. A wave of mental energy washed over them, filling the room and reaching even Alex and the adept. Alex faked pain, knowing the others must have it worse due to their tadpoles making them more sensitive.

The wave ceased, and Z’rell’s voice dripped with poison. “Let me understand this—you claim General Thorm gave you the wrong soldiers?”

“Yes—no!” Minthara quickly shut her mouth, realizing her mistake.

Ketheric Thorm’s gaze fell on Minthara. “You blame the Absolute’s Chosen for your failure?” Z’rell asked.

“Of course it is not the General’s fault,” Minthara responded.

“Whose, then?” Z’rell demanded louder.

“Take her below,” Ketheric Thorm ordered, lazily lifting his left arm.

“No, please, mercy!” Minthara pleaded as adepts dragged her struggling figure through a smaller door to the right.

“What the hell is down there to make a drow plead like that ?” Alex thought.

“As for them, kill them quickly,” Ketheric ordered, pointing to the goblins.

“You creaking old bag of shit!” one goblin shouted, grabbing an adept’s halberd and throwing it at Ketheric, hitting him in the chest and pinning him to the throne. The rest laughed, their smiles faltering as the general opened his eyes. He pulled the halberd from his chest, splattering the ground with dark blood.

They watched in horror as the general stood and walked to the goblins. “I’m so sorry, my lord. She’s an unbeliever—outside my control,” Z’rell said.

Ketheric dropped the halberd at the goblin’s feet. “Try again,” he commanded.

The goblin struck his neck, almost severing his head. Ketheric placed his head back, the flesh mending. He crushed the goblin with his fists.

“This is how others must feel when they see me fight,” Alex thought.

“Dispose of the rest as you see fit,” Ketheric ordered, sitting back on his throne.

“Yes, my lord. Send them below,” Z’rell commanded.

Ketheric’s gaze landed on Alex, who knelt before him. Z’rell opened her mouth to speak but stopped as blood dripped from her lips. She looked down at the obsidian spike impaling her chest. Everyone in the room was impaled, except the half-orc kneeling on the floor. The spikes receded except the ones blocking the doors, the dead bodies falling to the ground

Alex stood, shifting into his armored form. He phased next to Ketheric, his arms becoming claws. With a swift movement, he decapitated the general. Alex grabbed the head and crushed it under his foot, spraying the area with blood and gray matter. He lifted his foot from the hole he made his eyes watching as the general body grew a new head. The general opened his eyes and a great shield and warhammer appered in his hands.

The whole tower shook under Alex’s feet.

"Let's see if you can regenerate from ash," Alex snarled as flaming scimitars materialized in his hands. He dashed toward General Ketheric Thorm, ready to cleave him in two. But the general parried with his shield. Alex flipped over him, landing behind his unprotected back. With a swift strike, he decapitated the general, then plunged one of his scimitars into the headless corpse, igniting it from within. A firebolt blasted the severed head into ash.

The general's body glowed with a necrotic aura. Alex dashed away just in time as the entire room was engulfed in dark necrotic energy. Candle flames snuffed out, wooden furniture turned to ash, and stone began to crack. The adepts bodies quickly rotted away becoming ash. In the center of the room, Ketheric Thorm re-emerged as an armored skeleton wreathed in bright green flames. His warhammer now looked like it was made of bones, and his shield bore a skull burning with the same necrotic fire.

Alex felt his biomass rotting away, but he channeled his power, and the light between his plates turned golden. A radiant aura enveloped him, halting the decay. A golden great sword appeared in his hand, its blade ablaze with holy fire.

Ketheric charged first, shield raised like a battering ram. Alex prepared to dodge but something was grabbing his legs . He looked down as ethereal skeletal hands were grasping his feet. Before he could react, Ketheric's shield hit him like a freight train, slamming him into a stone wall and embedding him within it.

"Not bad," Alex muttered, prying himself free. He summoned his strength and lunged at Ketheric, the golden greatsword slicing through the air. Ketheric blocked with his shield, but Alex's holy fire seared through the necrotic energy, forcing the general back.

Ketheric retaliated, swinging his bone warhammer with unholy force. Alex parried, their weapons clashing in a shower of sparks . Light against darkness energy. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the room. Alex pressed his advantage, his strikes swift and unrelenting. He spun, slashing through Ketheric’s defenses, and delivered a powerful blow to the general’s ribcage. Holy fire consumed the bone, causing Ketheric to howl in rage and pain. The skeletal warrior retaliated with a desperate flurry of attacks, but Alex's golden aura protected him.

Channeling the divine power within him, Alex raised his great sword high. "This ends now," he declared. "Solar Wrath ! " Alex shouted with all his might as he brought the blade down . The room exploded in golden light as he cleaved through Ketheric's shield , shattering it into pieces. The golden fire erupted from the great sword, engulfing Ketheric in a purifying blaze.

Ketheric's screams echoed through the chamber as the holy fire consumed him, reducing his necrotic form to ashes. The green flames flickered and died, leaving only a pile of smoldering bones.

A wicked laugher started to sound all around the room . The ashes were engulfed by a silvery light and reformed in to general Thorn in to his half elf form .

The ground shock again and from the stone floor emerged a huge purple tentacle with barbed suckers . The room was flooded with mental energy . So much even Alex defense started to falter . Alex body started to ripple as he brought his hand forward unleashing a torrent of dark tendrils that cleaved in to the tentacle. Cutting it in two . The cut half felt to the floor wriggling while the other part dived down to the ground cheesing its mental attack. He phase next to tentacle and consumed it regaining his lost biomass. Alex arms shifted in to hammer fist and brought them down of Ketheric turning him in to paste . He could remain here fight him all day but it would be just a waste of time if he could regenerate from ash . But the same could not be said for the thing was lurking under the tower.

He turned around and jumped in the hole made by the tentacle .