The massive door within the cliff yawed wide, frantic voices from beyond sounding through the tumble of falling rocks.
“Prepare a perimeter!” a man yelled from within the dark tunnel. “We must hold this position for his lordship.”
Darian turned to the others and nodded at them. The time to fight had come.
They’d discussed prior to coming through the portals what everyone’s role would be, and Darian grinned as he saw each of them prepare accordingly.
Lucia and the two dryad scouts fanned out wide, their bow strings pulled back. She was the weakest and lowest level of the party, but her arrows had powerful enchantments. She was to target mages or other distant foes to keep the pressure off the others. And while she did that, Darian and Yazliar would take up the center. They were both fast and strong fighters, capable of taking out foes in quick succession. But to keep from getting overwhelmed, Jorg would stay by Darian’s side. With his holy magic, he could clear out swarms of lesser undead with ease. And with his enchanted shield and Darian buffing his defense, the paladin could serve as a proper tank.
Alistair was to hang back near Lucia and keep her protected with his skeleton summons. If they needed help, or came across a large group of foes, he would unleash his undead hordes and buff them with necromantic magic. He also had his unique skill, which allowed him to summon a Bone Golem. Beyond that, his dark magic could heal Jorg and Darian, making the necromancer serve as a healer and support.
Finally, Almeda would follow behind Darian and the frontline fighters. She had powerful buffing spells, and her offensive magic was significantly stronger than anything the others could muster. But she had extreme limits on the number of casts per day on her offensive spells, which meant she needed to save them. If strong opponents showed themselves, Almeda could bind them with summoned roots or other dangers. But if none appeared, she was to keep applying buffs to the fighters while healing Yazliar when necessary.
With everyone in position, Darian took to the center of the field, his sword at the ready. Jorg took a spot on Darian’s left, while the hulking orc with his massive sword stood on his right. Then, when the first few skeletons stumbled out into the night, they launched their attack.
A tall man wearing the black robes of a necromancer stood further in the tunnel, two armored and shielded dwarves by his side. His eyes went wide as he saw them charging for his minions, but he didn’t have time to give orders.
Or a warning.
Yazliar’s sword slammed into a skeleton’s shoulder and its body exploded into splinters. The undead warrior beside it raised its shield, but Darian’s sword slashed just above it, severing the monster’s head at the neck. And then Jorg came barreling through, his mace bashing two of the undead aside, giving Darian room to advance.
He ducked as a bolt of flame shot from the necromancer’s hand. But keeping his momentum, he spun around a bone knight and drove his sword down in a blinding arc. The dwarf warrior’s shield blocked the strike just in time, but the force of the blow nearly forced him onto his knees.
Out of my way.
Darian gripped the top rim of the shield and pulled, tearing the man off his feet. With an outstretched leg, he tripped the warrior. As he sprawled out on the ground, the bone knight beside him fell against the tunnel’s wall, its chest caved in my Yazliar’s gargantuan sword.
“To me!” the necromancer called, dark magic swirling from his fingers. If Darian didn’t stop him, he was likely to summon reinforcements.
An arrow whistled through the air, the barbed tip thunking into the necromancer’s chest. He stumbled back, gasping, his face twisted in shock. But the expression didn’t last long.
Darian activated [Dash Strike] and burst forward. The necromancer’s head tumbled to the ground a moment later.
Three death knights loomed ahead, taking up the rear of the necromancer’s detachment. Several zombies and skeletons stood before them, the death knights’ aura buffing them.
Orbs of light formed beneath them, the spheres pulsing once before they erupted in a burst of holy energy. Several of the lesser undead were reduced to ash instantly, with many more falling to a mighty swing from Yazliar’s sword.
Darian glanced behind him. Both of the dwarf warriors were dead, and the undead remaining were being mopped up by Almeda, Lucia not far behind her. But with his back clear, he could focus all his attention on what was in front of him.
With Jorg roaring beside him, the two crashed into a death knight with sword and mace. The blows were blocked by a thick shield of darkened metal, but their combined strength forced the monster back.
There was a time when even a bone knight, the lesser of the two undead knight variants, was too much for him to handle. But even if he’d been alone, the undead before him would still be nothing but a speedbump.
It tumbled back after another set of strikes, and as Jorg moved to finish it, Darian deflected a slash from his right. The death knight roared, its blazing eyes burning brighter. Dark crystals formed around its head, the needles threatening to skewer Darian from above. But he activated [Blood Shield] on the pools of crimson at his back, and the disk of magically hardened blood hovered above his head.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
As the death knight drove its sword down, the crystals shot with it. But Darian’s shield blocked two from striking him, and the rest thudded harmlessly onto the tunnel floor. He deflected the sword wide and slashed up and into a gap in the monster’s armor. A human opponent would have been finished from such a strike, but the beast persisted. It howled, a wave of dark energy spilling from its body. Darian could hear zombies circling behind him, but then the familiar sound of Jorg’s mace crushing skulls reached his ears.
With an electricity empowered thrust, Darian drove his sword upward with blinding speed. The tip pierced the knight’s head and burst out the other side of its helmet. Freeing it with a twist, Darian turned to face the final death knight, but Yazliar had already finished it.
----------------------------------------
Enemies Defeated
[Necromancer Lv. 15]
[Death Knight Lv. 16]
[Skeleton Warrior Lv. 4]
Class XP Gained: 86
Progress to Class Level 12 (733/850)
----------------------------------------
Silence and the sweet smell of blood settled within the tunnel.
“Is anyone injured?” Darian asked.
“As if weaklings like this could harm me,” Yazliar said, grunting as he hefted his sword onto his shoulder.
“Arm’s a bit sore, but I’m fine.” Jorg looked down at the bodies. “Whatever’s going on up there must have the Lich Cult frightened. They are already preparing an escape route. But they’ve always been slippery cowards.”
Alistair approached, pausing as he reached the necromancer’s body. “The survival of the cult’s leaders is all that matters to them anymore. Once, they were a haven for outcasts and the less fortunate. But now they’ve aligned themselves with the enemies of humanity.” His eyes glistened. “Some of these men I once called brother, but they’ve made their choices.” He stepped past them. “And these are the consequences.”
“The scouts will remain to guard the exit,” Lucia said, pulling her enchanted arrow from the necromancer’s chest.
“Then we will press on.” Darian followed Alistair down the tunnel, the others falling in behind him.
***
Zander and Azlar circled each other, battle raging all around them. The forces of the Lich Cult had organized into proper battle lines, and their sheer numbers were forcing Zander’s men onto the backfoot. But Zander couldn’t worry about them. Not with such a powerful foe standing before him.
“My lord had his suspicions, but this confirms it,” Zander said, keeping a careful eye on Azlar’s crooked blade. “The demons really have become desperate.”
Azlar hissed, his black tattoos writhing like tendrils across his face. “Desperate? But it is you and your kind who have hidden in the shadows. You scurry like rats, but your extermination has finally come, coward.
Zander lowered his stance. “Coward? As I recall, it was you who fled the battlefield that day. You and your spineless father.”
In the battle between Argus’ alliance and the demon God, Azlar had been there. He fought at his father’s side as a companion. But when the battle started to turn in Argus and his allies’ favor, the young demon prince fled the field. He was weaker than Zander then, but new power surged from the demon. This would be a tricky battle.
Azlar’s face twitched. “We were outnumbered. It was a withdrawal, nothing more.”
“A rout is a rout, no matter how you spin it. And you cowards fled after only one of your number tasted Argus’ blade.”
The demon snarled. It had been Azlar’s sister who died by the Sun God’s hand, and Zander knew that despite their depravity, the demon God’s family was closely knit.
“My sister died bravely,” Azlar inched forward.
“Did she? Then why did her father and brother run away with such cowardice?”
Azlar was a mage who excelled at medium to long distance engagements. And though he wasn’t entirely incompetent up close, that was where Zander specialized. If he could get him to rush in, the fight would be his.
The demon prepared to charge forward, rage painting his face, but then he backed away, his eyes growing stern. “Your words are meaningless, filth.” He took flight, his leathery wings taking him upwards and out of Zander’s reach. “And think of my sister as you burn.”
Bright amber light swallowed the sky, and a rain of molten metal shards fell, skewering both Zander’s men and the Lich Cult’s army. And as man and beast died, Zander jumped through the air, his fists blazing with energy.
***
The tunnel slowly rose as they walked, the wide walls pressing in tighter. Eventually only two of them could walk side by side, and so Darian marched alongside the necromancer. He studied the man as they went, noting the cold look in his eyes. It seemed the joking, starving man he’d found in that cell had been replaced with someone else. Someone who knew dirty work lay ahead of them.
The dim light of candles pierced the gloom. Alistair’s glowing, crystal tipped staff had been their guide, but now they could all see the opening that lay ahead.
“Get ready,” Darian said. “I hear voices.”
They paused, letting Jorg shuffle up to Darian’s side. And together, they inched forward.
“Let me through!” came a desperate voice.
With his stomach rumbling, Darian raised a hand, the party stalling behind him. I recognize that voice. His fangs emerged, hunger coursing through his veins.
“Either let me through, or I cut my way out!”
Darian charged through the open doorway, the others rushing up behind him. And as he burst into the hall, he saw him, standing there with eyes widened in horror.
“Oliver,” Darian growled.
The man took a back step, glanced at the dwarves guarding the tunnel, and then ran.
But Darian wouldn’t let him escape this time.