Without shields, the Frostsworn and their armor took a beating, and Mikal had to work overtime to keep his teammates alive. The four warriors fought tirelessly against the swarm of Howlers that emerged from the shimmering purple rift. Dunar twirled his axe and sword like a tornado of steel and death. He knocked aside a spear thrust with his sword and planted his battleaxe in the Howler’s head. Dunar stabbed another through the throat as a mace thudded painfully against his back armor. The Leader turned, deflected the second attack, and sliced the demon’s arm off.

“Helga, stay close!” Dunar barked.

To his right, the warrior maiden was in a raging battle trance. She swung her Dane axe in wide arcs that left a trail of carnage in its wake. Howlers stabbed and slashed at her but could not stop her momentum as Helga swung her axe and sliced the demons to pieces.

“Helga!” Dunar roared.

“Oh, ya,” Helga responded.

She was getting out of range of Mikal’s healing magic and risked exposing the Rune caster to more attacks. The reason the Proven survived this long against the incredible odds was that they worked together. Dunar covered the left, Rolfe held the center, and Helga protected the right. Mikal stood behind them and provided healing support. But the Healer still needed to fight the occasional Howlers that slipped past his teammates, and it was not a problem for Mikal. The dark-haired Frostsworn weaved spear and Rune magic with flowing ease. The Healer stabbed an attacker and stepped back to seamlessly shape Glyphs that Summoned the Life aspect that reinvigorated his teammates. Mikal switched to the Water aspect and launched ice spears that trimmed the number of charging Howlers before they engaged his teammates. Ziplocke was perched on his shoulder and launched darts of Fire. The Goblin laughed with glee.

“This is so much fun!” Ziplocke cried.

Front and center was Rolfe. The massive blonde warrior armed with a Helldrake spear was an absolute terror on the field of battle. Rolfe delivered powerful spear thrusts in rapid succession that attacked different angles. The Protector stabbed one Howler through the face, twirled the spearhead to move around the defenses of another, and struck a second Howler through its knee. Before a third could land a blow on the tall Frostsworn, Rolfe’s spear whipped back to deflect the attack and countered with a devastating thrust through the Howler’s chest.

“Why won’t you die!” The masked cult leader cried.

He was slumped over with his chest heaving from the exertion of Summoning rifts. The purple tears, in reality, shimmered and faded from view. The man’s eyes were wild behind the pale mask.

“He is going mad! The Rift aspect was too much for him!” Ziplocke cheered.

The cult leader sliced one more tear in reality and rasped, “I will end this now.” He reached his arm into the shimmering rift and screamed in agony.

Ziplocke’s laughter died. “Uh oh,” he stated.

“What do you mean by that?” Mikal snapped.

“This is not good,” the Goblin replied.

“We need more information,” Dunar growled.

“Should we attack?” Rolfe asked.

“Ya, I will do this. For Glory!” Helga cried.

“No, wait!” Zipolocke shrieked.

“Helga!” Dunar shouted, but he was ignored.

The warrior maiden charged across the circular chamber as the masked cult leader retracted his arm from the rift. The skin on his limb was flayed off, and his muscles, sinews, and bone were visible. In his hand, he pulled forth a dark purple-bladed sword with a single demonic eye at its crossguard. Helga swung her axe to deliver a powerful blow. Lightning-fast, the cult leader swung the sword to intercept the attack. The purple blade had a glowing sheen along its edge, and it sliced through Helga’s axe as if it were made of paper.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

With wide eyes, the warrior maiden bemoaned, “My axe!”

“Helga!” Dunar cried.

The cult leader slashed out with his sword, and Helga ducked the attack. She used the long handle of her axe like a cudgel and shattered the man’s mask. It revealed the emotionless face of a corpse, and the hard blow had little effect as the deadly blade came back around for another attack. Helga stumbled and barely dodged as the tip of the sinister blade sliced through her armor and flesh as if it were made out of butter. Helga did not scream as her blood flowed freely from the grievous wound across her chest. She fell to the ground and desperately scrambled to get away. The cult leader shambled awkwardly after Helga and swung the blade with terrifying speed. Helga raised her arms as the blade came crashing down, but it never struck. The cult leader was slammed back as Rolfe impaled him through the heart with his spear. The cult leader’s eyes were glazed over as his head wobbled to the side. A deep laughter emanated from the sword. Helga rose to her feet and dragged Rolfe back with her.

“Fools,” a raspy voice hissed out from the sword with the eye.

“The cult leader is dead. We face Azsith’s Eye,” Ziplocke explained.

“The what?” Mikal asked.

The Healer shaped glyphs with his fingers and Summoned water vapor in the air. He then closed his hands, and the vapor was Shaped into ice spears that were launched at the crooked swordsman. The cult leader’s body trembled and stumbled back upon the impacts but remained standing.

“The Wizard King Orisz defeated Azsith, the Demon Lord. Orisz took his eye and forged this sword. It is a Rift Blade that can cut through anything. You must be careful!” Ziplocke replied.

The sword laughed. Its deep voice echoed off the chamber’s walls.

“It mocks us!” Helga cried. She retrieved her two-handed mace.

“Spread out,” Dunar ordered and added, “Rolfe, use your reach to keep this creature back.”

The cult leader wobbled and sprang toward the Proven with incredible speed. The Frostsworn dove out of the deadly Rift blade’s reach. The sharp edge appeared to slice cracks into reality, leaving shimmering flashes of dark lightning in its wake.

“It is futile. It is helpless. Give into despair so that I may feast upon it!” The blade howled.

“How do we kill this?” Dunar asked.

“Attacking the body is not working,” Rolfe pointed out.

The cult leader had many grievous wounds from Rolfe’s spear and Mikal’s ice magic. But, the twisted swordsman continued to move as if they were unscathed. Dunar studied the man’s erratic movements and nodded with understanding.

“I know what must be done,” the Leader said and charged.

“He is mad!” Ziplocke cried.

Dunar hurled his battle ax, and it soared through the air blade over the shaft. It embedded itself between the cult leader’s blank eyes. The vile swordsman spun off balance as Dunar gripped his sword in two hands and rapidly closed the distance. Through erratic movements that no human body could make, the cult leader lashed the demonic blade outwards with blindingly fast speed. Dunar chopped with his blade. Ziplocke cackled with glee as the Goblin anticipated the look of shock on the Leader’s face. Mikal, Rolfe, and Helga held their breaths, and it was hard for them to watch. Time seemed to have slowed down, though in reality, it all happened in a blink of an eye. Dunar aimed his attack toward the wrist and severed the limb before the Rift blade could come around. The chopped-off arm flew toward Dunar and landed a glancing blow on the Leader’s forearm. A normal sword would have bounced off, but the Rift blade sliced Dunar’s arm off at the elbow. Without the Eye of Azsith, the cult leader’s corpse collapsed to the ground.

“Dunar!” Mikal shouted and ran to his friend’s aid.

“I’m okay,” Dunar grimaced as he gripped his bleeding arm.

“Fool! You lost a limb!” Ziplocke shrieked and added, “And that was amazing! You defeated a Demon Lord! Granted, it was just his eye, but that is incredible!”

“Rolfe, hold him,” Mikal ordered as he picked up Dunar’s severed arm. The Healer turned toward Helga, “hold this steady,” he told her.

The Warrior maiden nodded and held Dunar’s armor in place by his elbow.

“This is going to be painful,” Mikal said.

“I can handle pain,” Dunar replied.

“You can reattach his arm?!” Ziplocke cried.

“In theory,” Mikal responded as he closed his eyes to focus.

The Healer shaped glyphs and Summoned flesh to form around the wound. At first, Dunar gritted his teeth, but then he began to howl with pain. Rolfe’s strong arms restrained him.

“It’s working!” Helga observed.

The Summoned flesh and bone held the limb in place. Mikal continued to Shape more glyphs as he Shaped and Controlled the Life aspect. The Healer’s brows furrowed as he poured all of his Will into the spell. Mikal’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he fainted. Dunar had also passed out from the pain.

Rolfe and Helga looked at each other and turned toward the Goblin. “What do we do now?” they asked.

“How am I supposed to know!” Ziplocke cried.