With quaint laughter, the mad magus floated through the air with the speed of flight. His scythe was poised to strike, ready to slice both the warden and Alicia in two.

But the warden was quick, dodging the attack with a nimbleness that belied his terror. "You stay with me!" he shouted to Alicia, "Don't you dare leave my side!"

“Like I have anywhere else to go!” replied Alicia, panicked. “Ye ken, it will be easier to defeat that necromancer if only I have Orb in my hand!”

“Don’t even try, miss!”

Strange magic painted in mud and blood. Curious souls as fragile bones and carrion arose in a disgusting manner. Alicia could guess. Who else could perform such a conjuration if not a practitioner of Necromancy from the Continent of Demons, and the psychopath in front of her was a necromancer tempting fate!

The necromancer did not intend to wait another lifetime. He swooped down again, his scythe flashing as it cut through the air. The warden was beginning to feel overwhelmed, surrounded by the throng of bloodthirsty corpses that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He hated to admit it, but he was responsible for the safety of Alicia, a sixteen-year-old prisoner who was helpless in the face of this dark magic.

After a series of frantic dodging and retaliation, the warden's vision was hazy with pain. He was covered in his own blood, wounds from the necromancer's scythe evident on his chest, legs, and hands.

Alicia tried to scream for help, but who would want to hear the screams of the magic blasphemer? The other wizards were too busy saving their own noses. Fortunately, Kirillios and the agents of Rome had decided to intervene, unleashing a barrage of magic against the unwanted visitor. The warden was saved by a Roman agent with powerful healing magic.

"Hey, man! Mind if we join in?" Kirillios said, drawing his magic circles.

With that, the agents charged forward, and the scene was set for a magical showdown between the necromancer and the sorcerers.

Alicia saw the opportunity in the adversity, slipping between them, and finding one of the agents who sealed Orb earlier. With a burst of speed, she rushed forward, trying to lay her hands on the powerful magic source.

The far-nimble agent managed to dodge and threw her back.

But Alicia did not have to snatch it from him straight away. All she needed was a touch of her fingertip.

Orb instantly detonated its pure Arcane seal. The surge of energy that appeared sent the Roman agent flying as if blue flames were coming out of his pity arse!

Kirillios turned to find his subordinate tumbling a few metres away, while Alicia had regained possession of the Orb.

“Nixas! Seriously, man!” Kirillios grumbled.

He almost had his neck severed if he hadn't looked back in time. He clicked his tongue in frustration. They were too busy trying to defeat the necromancer to capture Alicia, and she was becoming more of a thorn in their side with each passing moment. "That Crimsonmane kid is really annoying," Kirillios muttered to himself.

“Orb! Bless the Divine!” Alicia happily hugged her favourite ball with puffy eyes. “Oh, Orb. I didn’t hold you for a day, but it felt like a century! I thought I would lose you forever!”

Orb also replied to Alicia’s greeting with a melodious hum. Alicia then got ready with her stance and shouted, “Awright, Orb! Let’s prove that our relationship is indeed different from the others, shall we?”

“I wouldn’t even try to interfere if I were you,” Kirillios said to Alicia.

But akin to common teenagers in their common phase, Alicia paid him no heed. The duo sparkled, stealing the highlight of the wizarding crowd in the dome. With a flourish of her hand and the rhythm of her dance, she drew power from Orb, unleashing an enormous blue wave of energy towards the necromancer.

But the mad magus was quick to dodge, drawn towards the bookworm wielding Divine Grace. With a broad smile—so broad the edge of his grin was almost level with the corners of his eyes—the corpse conjurer called out to her, laughing in a way that sent shivers down the spines of all within earshot.

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"Heroic, heroic, heroic little maiden, aren't you?" the necromancer taunted. He sounded his disturbing laugh again. "Keep coming at me, I dare you. Soon, you'll be just another addition to my collection of corpse slaves."

The necromancer slithered through the sky, slowly but surely reaching for the Crimsonmane girl. The plasma shots were fired but they swerved towards him like lethargic paper planes. Frustration boiled within her, but she but this was not the time to let negative emotions cloud her efforts. Alicia stilled her shot; she was now prey on the open plain. The necromancer lunged forward, scythe staff in hand, and Alicia barely had time to react. She rolled away clumsily, not quite as graceful as the heroes from her favorite flicker, but her fingers danced as she \sent a blast of pure Arcane plasma into the mage's ribs. It was a shot that could not be missed at such close range, unless the mage had reflexes beyond the gods, a speed that defied the laws of space and time.

The necromancer hurled at high speed into the jury’s section, destroying everything in his wake—the seats, the walls, the mound of bones, and the decaying flesh of his works.

The flock of living corpses went still on the ground at once, even though the magi’s fresh flesh had pleased their tongues. The living could assume that the dead disconnected from their battery—or rather, their power source died, stuck in a cranny of the wall in a ridiculous pose.

Puffs of dust adorned the room after the blast, and Alicia struggled to catch her breath. Despite being swept up in the chaos, it appeared that she had managed to neutralize the mad mage.

At least, that’s what she thought.

"Hold on, don't get too excited yet," Kirillios warned in a sober tone, ruining the moment for Alicia who was on the verge of a smile. She turned to face the same direction as the other magi in the room and saw the necromancer, pinned hard against the drab wall.

The Necromancer fell to the ground like a toppled building, only to suddenly spring back to life. He chuckled, the sound growing increasingly manic.

“Your might. So intense!" he said, brushing off the dust. "You've severed my connection to my minions. Not bad, not bad. If I were just an average magicless, I might have fallen into a coma."

He grabbed his staff, the scythe retracting back into the skull's mouth. He took a papyrus scroll from his pocket and unroll it, revealing an ancient inscription written in dried blood, positioned above the black skull. How magic, the writings then faded into a black liquid, running down the underside of the parchment. As if knowing what to do, the skull opened its jaws, swallowing all the blood ink until the old papyrus was nothing but a brownish blank sheet.

After the head skeleton was full of the delicious nectar liquid, the necromancer uttered to Alicia, “Well, miss, let me show you how to properly harness the power of Khaos!”

A shimmering pattern illuminated the skull as the necromancer raised his staff and cast a spell:

"

Ḁ̴̧̫̲̘͎̠͂̎͌̈̂̇͆́̐̒̒̐̂̀́͂͆͆͝v̸̟͈̜̮̩͖̣̬͎̥̮̬̠͇͇̲͖̻̭͕̩͎͈̗̭̇̋̈́̀́͑̎̃͑͆̏̏̈́̈͜͝ì̷̢̧̢̛͙̹̗̹̣̝͕̠̯̟̞̩̫̮̤̘͎̙̪̙̻̦̼̾̆̾͛̈́̓̀ḍ̸̡̡͉͕̦̯̟̺̞̪͛̇ ̶̨̧̢̢̛̠̣̠̣̬͖͚̲̤͚͇̙͚͈͈̟͖̈̎̂̈́̀́͆̈́͋̈́̇̑̾̏̔͗̅́̎̉̓͛̏͜ņ̵̢̮̥̪̬̰̹̮̲̥̻͔̝͈̤̻̬̣̗̆̿̓͜͜͜͜ä̶̢̯̬͍͖̪̠̜̳̦̣̳̭̞̥̥̲̥̠͇͓̣̼̗͚̺́͋̔̍̇͊̈́͒̀̂̆̇͐̀́̎͑͒͘̚̚͝͝͝ͅx̷̢̰̃̋͛͗͆͋̍̚̕į̶̨̛͓̝̦͓̞̻̜̺̟̜̙̹͚͎̘̩̙̗̠̙͂̌̇́͆̍͋̋̿̕͝ͅͅŕ̶̮̘̲̣̙̥̩͔̩̲̆̕ͅȍ̵̯͍̯̜͓̩̔̍͊͑̐̄͆̑ž̴̡̢͍̣̖̼̰̩̠̺͔͍̟̜̬̗͉̜̜̟̫̻̓̏͊̑́͂͑ͅơ̵͖̭̮̮̱̗͖̠̙̭͉͚͖̫̠̦̥̈̀̀̅̅̽̎͛̈͊̿͆͆̆͜͠r̴͈̫̥̻͚͍͚̜̦̓̍͆̀̂̓̄͛̓̈̀͐̈́͐͆̒͐̔̀̚͘͝t̸̡̤̩͉͇̝̯̩̦͚̠̣̭͈̞͚͙̗̥̮͙̺̄͜ḫ̸̛͈͓͓̘̰̼͎̆͛̊̐͒̅̓̂͗̆͂̌̉̃͛́̈́̈́͘̕͝͝͝ͅ ̵̡̛̟̰̘̱͈̋̋̌̌̎̄͊͊̄̓͂̈̒͐͘͘͝ͅm̸̧̧̜̯̹̭̳͙͙̖̙̱̭͉͙̺̩̪̤̳͉͙̭̅ͅę̸̧͔͍̱̹͍̤͇̗̟̭̗̿͗̃̄͌̋͋͗̔̉̈̀̋̎̄̚̕͜͝͠e̷̪̜͓̻̖̓̈́̕ę̸̢͍̭̝͓͎͇̯̤͎͉̥͎͓̱͈̻̫̫͉̈́̊̎̽̔̿ͅn̷̨̙̲͔͎͕̝̜͓̱̭̗̖̞͇̰̟̄̄̄̆̓̉͛̚ͅͅţ̶̛̘̦̩̼͖̪̜̘̪͍͚̿͋̿̆̑̀͂̋͑̊̚̚ę̷̡̡̨̛̛͚͍̬̫̺̠͉͓̻̘̯̈́̃̅̅͆͋̽̊̋̋́̎̈́̓͋̃̅̃͂̈̕͘̕͜͝k̴͕̭̫̟̥̓͒̾̈͆̈̓̀̔̉͆̂́͐̄̒̽̚̕̕͠p̴̧̢̡̧̨̛͙̫̮̼̘͔̬͇̱̯͔̰͖̰̭͖̭͇̩̗͂̔͋̈̄̀̽͂̈̌̓̂̃͗͆͋͝i̸̧̨͔̺̻̝͓̮͙̯̯̖͕̒̎̐́̆̅̉̄̏̎̈́̒̈́̆́̑͗̌͒̚͝͠͝͠k̴̢̛̛̖̗̦̳̬̳͓͍͍͓̹̮͎̮̓̐̿̓̆̍̔̐̉̉̇͌̃̇́̚ͅͅa̵̧̛̛̳͇͍͈̩̻̺̠̙̟̮̬͇͆́́̈̉̋̌̐̇̐̔̓͘n̸̨̡̥͖̲̟̩̻͔͈̩̮̩̰̠̞̏͐̈̇̉̔̈̈́̌̀̚͘͜͠͠͠g̶̛̟͛̇̿͛́͐̿̄͌͝ų̵̱̘̗̟̲̮̲̩̹͔͔͋̈́͂̒̐́̃́͐̽͆̂͊̽͊̓͘̕͜z̵̰̊́͂̔͑͒̈̋̈́̾̚̚͝â̷̡̧̪̞̯̲̘̜̙͇̜̜̜̹̙̲͈̟̜̻͍̹̳͇̲̳̜͗̔̓́̈̃̆͛̈́̆̅͋́̎͋̇́̊̏͊̈̕̕͝͝r̷̢͈̠̝̣̳̰̟͌̍̔͂͋͋̾͂͊̇̀̓̒͆̇̐̍͂͆͆̑̃̚͘͝ͅȁ̷̞̬̲̖̞̖͚̅̂̇̍̂͆́͋̆̿̄̌̎̏̈̈́̅̓͘̚͝͝͝͝i̶͉͔͖͍͎̼̹̭͆́̔͐̎̈́͐̾̌ͅţ̵̨̧̛̥̝̩͔͖̝̫̗̻̱̜͔̣̘͔̮̐̈̏̽͋̑̅̃͜h̷͇͔̒̓̌̏̍͌̂̎͊͊͐͑́͑͊̒̆͐͗̐̚̚̕͠͝b̷̰̒̑̃̿̿́̔̃͗͌̊̈́͌̈́͒̋͛̈́͑̉̉̚͝͠e̶̛̙̙͙͚̦͓͕̎̈̿̒̽̊͗̓͛̌̓̌́͘͝͝͝ę̵̢̢̛̺̱͎͖̩̞̹̘̙̝̪͓̲̲͖͕̥͒͆͌̑͗̎̇̀̍̑̒̀̕̕͘͜ś̷̹̯̩͚͖̄̿͛̀́̇͊̂̓̅̓̋͌̂̾̿̂̏̽̀̓z̷̬͙͙̤͇͚̱̪͇͙̮̆̓́̈̎̂̆̽͑̀̀̄ẕ̸̧̧̢̮̺̙̥͚͉̺̜̘̠̦̞̗̰̹͈̥͚̳͉͕͖͈̋̄̃̈́͛̅͊̂͒̂̀͆͐̈̅̄͐̅͂̏͒̅̚͝z̴͓̦͍̝̗̜͇͉͋̈́̋̒̌̊̋̈́́̈́̈́̌̊͒͋̔̒̾͛̓̈̋̈́̎͒͝

"

No, no one knew what on the bloody Hades he said. Not just indecipherable, the incantation bore a haunting feel to it. A shrill voice that grew in volume and tempo with an echoing, maddening quality that made the hearts of all who heard it feel as if they would burst from fear and anxiety. Whatever that was, they agreed the chant blared a tormented cry from Hades. Utter heinous, ridiculous, disturbing.

A huge magic circle of mud and blood surfaced on the earth. A geyser of merlot fluid spewed from the circle.

Rising from the pool of blood, a face of a tormented creature appeared, its length matching the size of the enchanted ring. The stench of rot and decay filled the hall as the face, torn apart by maggots, revealed itself in all its grotesque glory. []