The group stood amidst the eerie silence of the chamber, battered but alive, their hearts pounding from the fight. Their eyes locked on Maxis, standing calmly by the altar, as if he hadn’t just watched them struggle for their lives. His cold, expressionless face only stirred the anger simmering within them.

Godric clenched his fists, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring. Each step toward the figure fed his rage, boiling inside him like molten metal.

“Damn that necromancer,” he growled under his breath to the others. “For all we know, he summoned that thing. Who’s to say this entire ambush wasn’t his doing?”

The group exchanged knowing glances. Solena and Erazon’s eyes darkened, and without words, they shared his suspicion.

“We need answers from him,” Godric muttered. “One way or another.”

They moved as one toward the altar, every footstep resonating in the hollow, cavernous chamber. Godric’s massive hammer swung at his side, the rage building with each step.

Solena voiced their shared unease. “What kind of ritual is this?” she whispered, glancing at the altar’s sinister, blood-etched runes. “If this is a trap...”

“If it is, we don’t have any more potions,” Erazon murmured grimly. “Even the one I drank hasn’t done much. I still feel drained.”

Solena nodded, exhaustion seeping into her voice. “And my strength hasn’t fully returned either.”

Godric gave them a solemn nod. “Whatever we’ve got left, it’ll have to do. And… I’m sorry I dragged you into this. We weren’t ready.”

"You don’t have to apologize; we’re in this together. We’re friends, remember?” Solena’s voice softened, her warm smile lingering on her lips as she looked at Godric.

Godric’s grim expression lightened, just for a fleeting second, and he returned the smile. But as they neared the necromancer, his gaze darkened again—like clouds smothering a brief flash of sunlight. The weight of frustration, anger, and betrayal settled back over him, and his muscles tensed.

His mind replayed the battle—the blood, the exhaustion, the narrow scrape with death—and the way Maxis had simply stood there, watching it all unfold like a dispassionate observer. Rage simmered, bubbling to the surface with each step, his grip tightening on the hammer at his side. “It had to be him.” he thought “Why else would he just sit there and smirk?”

By the time they reached their guide, the soft expression on his face twisted into a scowl, and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

With a final, deliberate step, his patience snapped.

Godric surged forward, seizing the necromancer’s dark cloak in both hands and slamming Maxis against the altar. His muscles rumbled with fury as he hoisted the man from the ground like he weighed nothing.

"You filthy snake!” he snarled, his teeth clenched. “If you had anything to do with summoning that creature—if you lured us into this—"

Maxis’s cold, amused expression didn’t change. Before Godric could finish, the necromancer flicked his wrist with eerie nonchalance.

With a dry, rattling clatter, two demon skeletons materialized from the shadows beside him, their jagged bones glowing faintly with an unholy red light. The necromancer’s lips curled into a thin, mocking smile.

“You’re far too predictable,” Maxis murmured, brushing imaginary dust from his cloak. His calm demeanor only fanned the flames of Godric’s rage.

The warriors grip tightened. “You—”

Before he could act, pain shot through his body like a bolt of electricity. His muscles twisted in on themselves, convulsing violently. The hammer slipped from his grasp with a deafening clang, and the world tilted sideways as he collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.

Godric’s body jerked uncontrollably on the cold stone floor, his limbs spasming as if a storm raged within him. His face twisted with pain, and gasps for air turned shallow and desperate.

"Godric!" Erazon dropped to his knees beside him, his hands trembling as he tried to steady his friend’s writhing head. “Hold on, brother, hold on!”

Solena knelt on the other side, panic etched into every line of her face. “What’s happening to him?” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of fear.

Maxis watched the entire scene with cold detachment, standing perfectly still.

“What did you do to him!?” Solena whirled on Maxis, her eyes blazing. "This is torture!"

The necromancer gave her a sneer. "I didn’t do this, girl," he said, his tone laced with disdain. "This is his own doing. Even a novice could see it—he’s pushed himself too far, burned through his power like a fool. The lightning is breaking him from the inside."

“You heartless—!” Solena began, but Erazon grabbed her arm, holding her back. They could only watch as Godric's convulsions worsened, his muscles twisting and seizing beyond his control.

Maxis sighed, as if annoyed by the inconvenience. Tracing a glowing red symbol in the air with his fingertip, the necromancer let the rune hover for a moment before pressing it into Godric’s chest.

The rune pulsed—a dull red glow that spread through Godric’s body like a wave, calming the violent spasms. The smith’s muscles slackened, and the convulsions slowly ceased.

His gasping breaths filled the now-silent chamber as he lay still, trembling but alive.

Maxis glanced down at him with something between boredom and contempt. "Rise, imbecile. We have need of you.”

Godric coughed, every breath painful as he tried to gather his strength.

“Is he going to be alright?” Solena’s voice cracked with worry, still glaring at the unholy figure.

“If he lives, it’s by his own stubbornness.” Maxis gave a dismissive shrug. “I’ve done my part. If he chooses to squander his life again, it’s no concern of mine.”

Erazon helped him sit up, supporting his weight as the warrior struggled to catch his breath. “Take it slow. You can’t keep—”

“I’m fine.” Godric waved him off, though his hands still trembled from the aftershocks. The fury in his eyes hadn’t dimmed—it burned beneath the surface, crackling like embers waiting to ignite. “No more games, necromancer. We’re getting through that door. And this time, you’re staying with us.”

“Relax, brute,” the dark figure muttered, brushing himself off as if the ordeal had inconvenienced him. “I’ve kept my word—I’ve led you here, as you asked. This is knowledge you wanted. If you couldn’t handle the trials on the way, then you don’t belong inside the Kingdom of Shadow.”

Erazon’s fists clenched at the figure’s arrogance. “We nearly died!” he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration.

“And if you can’t handle that,” He sneered, “then you won’t last a second inside this great citadel. I simply lead the dead to their graves—it’s what I do.”

Solena’s frustration boiled over. “What kind of person are you? You call this helping?”

Maxis gave a cold, humorless chuckle. “Help? I’ve shown you mercy. Had you failed back there, I would have left you. You’re lucky to still be breathing. Now stop whining.”

Godric groaned, using his hammer to help himself stand. “Enough,” he muttered, swaying slightly as the last of the tremors subsided. His eyes fixed on the altar. "Let’s get through this door and finish what we came here for."

Maxis gave a slow, mocking nod. “The altar requires blood. Simple enough, if you’re brave.”

Erazon narrowed his eyes. “Then you’re joining us. Solena has bled enough for this place—she’s still healing.”

Solena shot him a bashful glance, unsure if she should respond.

Maxis arched a brow, as though amused by the defiance. “Pain is irrelevant to me. I fear neither sacrifice nor suffering.” He produced a small, wicked-looking dagger, the blade inscribed with ancient runes.

With a swift slice, Maxis cut across his palm, letting his blood drip onto the altar. The runic inscriptions glowed red, pulsing with power.

Godric stepped forward, gritting his teeth as he slashed his own hand. Blood dripped in slow, deliberate drops, soaking into the ancient stone. Erazon followed, grimly slicing his palm, his blood joining the others.

As the altar drank from their offerings, the glowing symbols spread across the stone like creeping veins. The massive door groaned as ancient mechanisms ground to life. Slowly, the door began to roll open, revealing the darkness beyond.

With the door open, the group moved forward. Their wounds didn’t heal—the blood continued to trickle slowly from their palms, leaving faint trails across the stone floor as they advanced.

They entered a massive chamber, its vastness swallowed by shadow. No torches lit the way. The only sound was their own hesitant footsteps, echoing eerily in the emptiness. The only light from Solena’s conjured flame within her palm.

Then, a chill settled over them—a malevolent presence, lurking just beyond the edge of their perception.

“Something’s here,” She whispered, her voice barely audible.

A yellow haze crept through the cracks in the floor, swirling lazily like poisoned mist. The air grew heavier, suffused with dread.

And then—Maxis vanished.

The sound of dark laughter erupted from the mist, surrounding them like a suffocating shroud. Eyes—sickly yellow and filled with malice—began to appear from the shadows, one by one.

Erazon summoned a small orb of light, illuminating the gate.

The ancient archway loomed before them, its surface etched with intricate runes that shimmered with ominous power. Mist oozed from the gate, and in the shadows surrounding it, sickly yellow eyes stared back at them in growing number.

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Erazon’s breath hitched. “Not again...”

From the mist emerged dozens of shadow men—massive faceless beings with shifting forms. Their ranks were soon joined by demon skeletons, their glowing bones dripping with black mist. The gate pulsed ominously, drawing the mist inward and outward like a sinister heartbeat.

Maxis’s voice cut through the darkness, colder and more malevolent than ever.

“I am no mere Neromancer.” His tone dripped with mockery. “I am Nyxis. You fools were led here—survived, but weakened. And now the Mistwalker cannot save you. My children appreciate the offering.”

A figure stepped from the mist, tall and sinister. Wild Wizard, his scythe gleaming in the dim light, stood before them.

And beside him, trapped in a cursed trance, was Elizza.

Wild-Wizard’s skeletal grin widened. “She’s mine now—my healer for all eternity. This is your grave. Hand over the artifact, Mistwalker, or I’ll make your precious friends suffer.”

Nyxis appeared beside him, the illusion of Maxis fully discarded. “There’s no hope for you. You’re all too pathetic.”

Solena’s jaw tightened. “Don’t give it to them. I’d rather die than live as a curse.”

Godric raised his hammer, his voice resolute. “I don’t fear death. I welcome it.”

“Elizza!” Godric’s voice was raw, a desperate plea that echoed across the dark chamber. “Come with us! We’ll get you out of this place!”

She stood motionless, her once-bright blue eyes clouded with a dull, vacant stare, like a marionette awaiting orders. His heart sank as her blank stare met his—no recognition, no emotion. She was gone.

“Elii!” Godric roared again, the anguish in his voice cutting through the mist.

A slow, mocking laugh echoed through the chamber—sharp, cruel, and triumphant. Wild Wizard took a step forward, his malevolent scythe shimmering in the dim light.

“Elii,” the wizard whispered, a wicked grin curling his lips. “Kill your brother.”

Without hesitation, a blinding bolt of white-hot magic erupted from Elizza’s hands, more powerful than anything she had ever cast. It seared through the mist, crackling with violent energy. Godric raised his hammer just in time, the force of the blast slamming into him like a battering ram. His feet slid backward across the stone, his arms straining against the impact.

The hammer vibrated in his grip as it absorbed the brunt of her magic, but the weight of his heartbreak was heavier than the spell. Each second she attacked him, chipping away at his soul. She’s in there somewhere, he thought desperately. This can’t be the end.

“Elii...” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his weapon tighter. “I swear, I’ll make you pay for this!” he snarled, shifting his focus to the undead wizard.

Rage ignited within him, and with a guttural roar, Godric charged. His hammer crackled with lightning, streaking through the air as he swung with all his might.

But before the blow could land, Nyxis raised a hand, his smirk deepening. Shadowy tendrils shot from his fingertips, wrapping around Godric mid-air.

“You’re mine,” Nyxis whispered, his voice oily with malice.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent Godric hurtling into the ground. The impact shattered the stone beneath him, the cracks spreading outward like jagged lightning bolts. Godric gasped, struggling for breath as the shadow men rushed in, their clawed hands reaching toward him with sinister intent.

Wild Wizard advanced on Solena, his scythe glowing like a crescent moon soaked in blood.

Erazon threw himself in front of her, summoning his shield with desperate precision. His chant faltered, but the shield hummed with power, shimmering between them like sunlight trapped in glass.

The wizard’s scythe came down with brutal force, shattering the meager barrier into a thousand glittering fragments. Erazon was flung backward, slamming into the wall with a bone-jarring crash. “Not…again!” he gasped.

Solena let loose a desperate fireball, the flames roaring toward the wizard in a searing arc. But he walked through it without pause, the fire licking harmlessly along his cloak. He smiled, cruel and patient, savoring the fear in her eyes.

“You’ll make a beautiful undead servant,” he whispered, raising his scythe for the finishing blow.

Before the blade could fall, a sudden burst of purple light erupted from Solena’s pocket.

A tiny figure shot into the air—Lumi, the pixie, glowing with a brilliant violet hue that pulsed like an overloaded star. Her eyes were wide with manic glee as she screamed at the top of her tiny lungs:

“DEATHHHHH!”

Everyone froze—even Wild paused, tilting his head in confusion. “Is that—” he started, watching the pixie wrestle with a vial nearly half her size.

From the ground, Erazon blinked, stunned, as Lumi gripped the bottle of lightning. She twisted the top with all her strength, her wings buzzing frantically.

“Got it!” she cackled, lifting the uncorked vial high above her head. Maniacal laughter echoed from her tiny frame, bouncing around the chamber.

The wizard’s eyes widened. “That can’t be—”

With a triumphant shout, Lumi thrust the vial open.

The chamber held its breath for a heartbeat.

Then, the storm exploded.

Lightning arced wildly, tearing across the chamber in blinding streaks, ricocheting off the walls and shooting toward the gate. The air buzzed with volatile energy, and the floor cracked open beneath them, shaking the temple to its foundations. Pillars of lightning sprung up like giant beams of an ethereal forest.

Shadow men howled in agony as the lightning ripped through them, sending them shrieking back toward the gate. Their bodies twisted and contorted before disintegrating into mist, consumed by the storm’s unrelenting fury.

The skeletons convulsed, their bones glowing with the storm’s rage. One by one, they shattered into dust, scattered by the chaotic winds ripping through the chamber.

Wild Wizard howled in frustration, struggling as he summoned a black shield against the onslaught. Sparks crackled along his scythe, the blade vibrating under the pressure of the storm.

Lightning struck Elizza, forcing a scream from her lips as the curse within her wriggled and writhed, momentarily disrupted. For a brief moment, Godric saw her eyes flicker—recognition, hope, pain—before the storm swallowed her again.

“Elii!” Godric shouted, standing once more, but the storm’s relentless fury drowned out his words. Lightning whipped across his path, forcing him to stumble back, helpless.

With another ear-splitting crack, a bolt struck Wild. He staggered, his scythe nearly slipping from his grasp.

“Master, to me!” Nyxis roared.

Nyxis grabbed Elizza by the waist, pulling her close. As the undead wizard stumbled toward them, the trio vanished into swirling mist, narrowly escaping the storm’s final surge.

The massive storm condensed suddenly, spiraling inward like a whirlpool of raw energy. With a thunderous crash, it coalesced into a single, blinding bolt of lightning that struck the center of the chamber.

When the light faded, he emerged.

Rhadon, the Lightning God, stood in the aftermath—a figure sculpted from the very essence of the maelstrom. Arcs of electricity coiled around his body like serpents, crawling along his shifting form. His features flickered, always on the verge of changing—a face too fluid and wild to settle. His limbs sparked, and light pulsed beneath his translucent skin, like veins carrying storms instead of blood. His eyes were twin whirlpools of energy, crackling with unrestrained arrogance.

Rhadon didn’t walk so much as glide, his form trailing faint static in his wake, leaving glowing footprints on the cracked stone floor. Each movement sent tendrils of lightning snaking through the chamber, arcing along the walls and dancing along shattered pillars. He carried himself like a monarch inspecting his subjects—distant, disinterested, and supremely confident. His presence was both terrifying and mesmerizing, like a storm hanging just above the horizon, full of untold destruction waiting to be unleashed.

His voice rumbled through the chamber like distant thunder, rich with arrogance.

"Ahhh... finally free."

The words slithered from his lips, lazy and dripping with disdain, as if the world owed him something for his long imprisonment. His golden eyes flicked over the group, assessing them with contempt. Then his gaze fell on Lumi, who was still hovering in the air, purple energy sparking from her tiny wings.

"Thanks for popping that bottle, little one," he sneered. A streak of lightning flicked from his fingertips toward her, playful yet dangerous, making her yelp and dart back into Solena’s pocket. "A century trapped in that cursed jar… Far too long for a god."

Rhadon turned toward the shimmering portal of the gate, energy crackling at his fingertips. “It seems I’ve gifted you a moment of respite. But if you want to keep breathing, I suggest you destroy that gate before it opens fully.”

Erazon staggered to his feet, his voice urgent. “Can you help us destroy it?”

Rhadon scoffed, his laugh booming like thunder, as if the very idea amused him. "Help? Mortals…” He chuckled, shaking his head. "I have statues to rebuild. Cities to reclaim. It’s been a long time since anyone sang my praises. I need to… recharge."

Godric stumbled forward, his body still weak, but the desperation in his voice cut sharper than any blade. “Please, Rhadon… We need your power. My sister—she’s trapped, cursed—if we don’t stop them, I’ll never get her back. We’re not strong enough.”

Rhadon’s flickering gaze landed on Godric, and a wicked grin curled across his lips. "Ahhh, now I see. You've been leeching from me this whole time." His grin widened as sparks danced along Godric’s hammer. "That little trinket of yours—it’s been siphoning my power since the moment you touched it. Riding on my strength like a parasite."

Godric's heart skipped a beat, a pit forming in his stomach. "The runes... I thought they were mine—I thought it was my magic."

Rhadon threw his head back, laughing, the sound rolling like thunder through the chamber. "Oh, how adorable! No, mortal—you are nothing without me. But if you want to keep using that power… it’ll cost you."

Godric’s fists clenched, his pulse roaring in his ears. This was the moment. He could feel it—his chance to save Elizza, to fight back against Wild and Nyxis—but the cost hovered before him like a blade at his throat.

“What’s the price?” Godric growled through gritted teeth.

Rhadon’s eyes gleamed with predatory delight. "Your life. Or pieces of it. Days off your lifespan—for every drop of my power you take."

Solena’s voice rang out, sharp with alarm. "Don’t do it, Godric! We can’t trust him!”

Erazon shook his head, stepping closer. "There has to be another way. We’ll figure something out, just—"

Godric silenced them both with a raised hand. The decision was already made. His heart pounded, doubt clawing at the edges of his mind, but Elizza’s face flashed before his eyes. She was out there—trapped, cursed, suffering—and if he hesitated now, he would lose her forever.

“I’ve already lost too much,” Godric whispered, his jaw tight. “If this pact is the only way to save her…” He turned to Erazon. "You've got two pacts yourself. This is my choice. Maybe… maybe this is how I save us all. Give me enough power to defeat Wild-Wizard."

A beat of silence passed. Then Rhadon’s grin stretched wide, lightning sparking in his teeth. "As you wish, an Excellent choice, mortal."

With a flick of his hand, Rhadon conjured a glowing quill and a floating scroll, the parchment shimmering with arcs of electricity. The fine print was written in a language that buzzed with energy, alive and unreadable.

Without a second thought, Godric seized the quill. He scrawled his name across the parchment in jagged strokes, ignoring the crackling runes flaring along its edges.

The moment the quill lifted, the scroll vanished in a flash of thunder, dissolving into the air with a sharp, final crack. Rhadon’s grin widened, the satisfaction in his expression unmistakable.

"Well then," Rhadon purred, placing his crackling hand on Godric's hammer.

The moment Rhadon’s hand touched the hammer, power surged through Godric's body. It wasn’t just strength—it was a cataclysm. Lightning shot through his veins, igniting every nerve, every muscle, with god-like energy. His body glowed with radiant power, his armor buzzing as it fused to his skin.

He felt invincible.

The world sharpened around him in dazzling clarity. The weight of exhaustion evaporated, replaced by raw, untapped potential. He could feel every particle in the air, sense the faintest vibrations in the stone beneath his feet. His limbs thrummed with untold power—power so vast it felt limitless, teetering just on the edge of control.

He flexed his fingers, crackling arcs of lightning dancing across his knuckles. His hammer shimmered, its runes glowing fiercely as it transformed in his hands, now more weapon than tool—a storm forged in steel and rage.

Godric exhaled, electricity trailing from his breath. This was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

As Rhadon withdrew, Godric called after him, the new power coursing through him making his voice boom with authority.

"How much time? What’s the price?"

Rhadon’s grin twisted into a cruel smirk, his voice smooth and condescending. “...ten."

Erazon’s face paled. “Ten years? You took ten years off his life?”

Rhadon’s laugh was sharp and gleeful. “Oh, you misunderstand, little mortal.” His voice crackled with malicious glee.

Behind them, Lumi floated near Solena’s pocket, her tiny face pale with disbelief. Tears, glittering like diamonds, welled up in her glowing eyes and fell silently to the ground. Her voice trembled as she whispered, each word a dagger.

"He… he took everything. Godric… you only have ten minutes left."

The weight of the revelation settled over the group like a suffocating shroud. Seconds ticked away, slipping through their fingers like grains of sand. The hope they had fought so hard to cling to crumbled, the future collapsing around them.

Rhadon gave them one final, mocking grin. “Enjoy what’s left of your pitiful life, mortal.”

With a deafening crack of thunder, he shot upward. His lightning form smashed through the ceiling, sending chunks of stone and debris raining down.

"Move!" Erazon shouted as the chamber began to collapse. Massive pillars cracked and splintered, rubble falling like meteors from above.

They dove out of the way as Rhadon continued his ascent, crashing through several more floors above. The ground shook violently with each level he shattered, until his thunderous presence faded into the sky beyond.

As the dust settled, the group lay sprawled across the rubble-strewn floor, their hearts heavy with the crushing weight of Godric’s sacrifice.

Erazon sat up, coughing as he stared at the cracked ceiling. "He’s gone," he muttered. "We’re on our own."

Godric stood slowly, his glowing form casting long shadows across the shattered chamber. Every movement buzzed with raw power, but the knowledge of his limited time gnawed at him.

Lumi drifted closer, still trembling. Her tiny voice quivered with heartbreak.

"Ten minutes… only ten minutes."

Godric looked at his companions, his jaw set. “I will make every second count.”