A Bored Lich - Chapter 348

“You’re not the only one who has muscles,” Zolgon said. His life essence flared as he swung the giant into Doevm, knocking them both to the ground with a painful slap.

“Sorry!” Frey said again.

The king’s hellfire descended upon them. They both winced but Frey’s aura burned hotter. The spell faded and they were untouched. The giant chuckled. “This is so cool.”

Zolgon sighed. His outstretched hand dropped to his greatsword’s handle. “Guess I’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.”

“Two minutes left.” More than half of the complex enchantment had crumbled away. Alternating designs changed in infrequent intervals and blackened.

Doevm frowned and opened his mouth: “Kneel.”

Zolgon’s knees buckled but he halted an inch from the ground. He sent a glare towards Doevm as lightning illuminated his inhumane features. “A King does not kneel.”

“Let’s try this again.” Doevm said through gritted teeth. He charged in with Frey close behind.

Doevm’s quick stabs slid off black aura while Frey’s heavy blows slipped inches away from Zolgon’s vitals. Doevm had Frey and Zolgon had the open sky. The sudden storm raged as the battle’s end neared. Alas, Arcane, physical, and fate-bending abilities met at a deadlock only broken by the booming voice of Zolgon’s captain.

“The mages are retreating!” The captain of the southern forces announced.

“I thought they were committed to a last stand?” Doevm asked Frey. He ducked under a greatsword.

“They…were…afraid,” Frey said in between swings. “They saw your Undead and thought a second enemy had appeared. I couldn’t convince them otherwise before I left.” Doevm cursed.

Zolgon took to the air and laughed: “Even under threat of death, humans will stubbornly adhere to their dogmatic beliefs. The War Monks aren’t even in this kingdom anymore and your mages still believe dark magic is heretical! You see, Lich, this is what happens when you try to be a human. You fall victim to their lies.”

“One minute left.” The defensive enchantment crumbled away by the second. The shamans’ chants reached a fervent pitch.

“Thank you for the information,” Zolgon remarked with an over the shoulder glance. “And soon,” he continued, turning back to his opponents. “I will have my prize.”

A collective warcry resounded. The southern army reinforced the northern section and tore through Doevm’s Undead horde. Stone quaked as the Guriant fell. The Bulber waddled back holding its shrunken belly. The Banshee had long since vanished within the dark sky.

Blood stained the bottom of Draken’s stone cloak. His hooded expression stared down at the fallen Head Mage. ‘It’s too far away,’ Doevm thought. The very thought of casting a spell intensified his throbbing headache.

“This is going to take forever, even if we can beat him,” Frey complained.

“We don’t have to beat him. We just have to stop him,” Doevm said as a large shadow darted across the battlefield. The Weeper’s shadow limbs wrapped around his and Frey’s legs.

“Uh, Doevm,” Frey said. “What is thiiii-” he trailed off as the Undead pulled them both around Zolgon with a speed that made their eyes water.

“Frey, your power doesn’t just absorb energy but also abilities and knowledge,” Doevm explained during the brief ride, which reached a screeching halt at the seal’s border. Doevm winced as his connection with the Weeper faded but he smiled. Frey’s aura touched the seal and in his eyes flashed the enchantment’s complete design. “I understand,” he said.

Zolgon flew down and pulled his greatsword out of the Weeper’s still form. “That’s far enough,” he said. The king shifted his weight off his backfoot and charged at the giant. The last reserves of his mana condensed into a single magic circle. The geometric patterns along his tail lit up like an artifact.

“I call upon the Ancient rite; Zolgon be mine name.” Zolgon recited incantation as he fought. His sword’s golden highlights ran down his hand and dipped into his tail’s scar tissue like a heavy rain reviving a dried riverbed. “I compel my domain, give me strength: Hellspawn Legacy.” Down came his greatsword. Frey blocked but he found himself falling through a deep hole which opened within the white stone.

Doevm blinked and the king was in front of him, sword reeled back. He couldn’t raise his spear in time. “Hesitate.” Black aura spun off Zolgon’s forearm. The right stopped but the left kept moving. Doevm clenched.

Hands went numb. His feet slid out from under him. The Mess Hall flipped around again and again. Dull and sharp pains alike tore the skin off his knees and elbows. He scrambled to his feet in a daze. Mental links severed by the second as more Undead fell. ‘This physical enhancement is his trump card? He had this from the start.’ Three Zolgons stood in front of him. Patterns of golden highlights reflected the bloody moonlight.

“Hesitate,” Doevm coughed. He sensed that with each command, the effect weakened.

Small, black threads of Zolgon’s aura wrapped around his limbs and pushed his blade. Doevm brought both arms across his chest and gritted his teeth. Life essence acted as his only armor.

When Doevm regained consciousness he found himself flying into the night sky. He winced and clutched at his side, where several ribs poked out. He called upon his life essence to heal. Nothing happened. ‘That block used up all of my strength?’ His stomach sank. His rise succumbed to gravity. A demonic blur rose up to intercept Doevm’s fall. “Hesitate!”

Zolgon grabbed onto Doevm and laughed. “That trick won’t work anymore.” To prove his point he flicked an exposed rib. Doevm cried out in pain and his laughter intensified. “Welcome to humanity. Welcome to weakness!” He folded his wings and let them drop. As the wind rushed by, he whispered into Doevm’s ear. He held Doevm’s body so it would absorb the full impact.

Blinking through tears Doevm saw a rapidly approaching battlefield – absent of mages and full of motionless Undead. ‘They’re all gone.’

A flash from below broke signaled the enchantment’s destruction. The shamans collapsed, and soldiers hurried to take them from the battle. The little compartment within Maximus Draken’s statute slid open, causing a small cloud of dust. Within it, a single map with a red ribbon around its middle.

“You are weak when you’re alone, Lich!” Zolgon announced. He clamped a hand around Doevm’s throat. “That’s what you get for trusting humans. Not even a god can save you now.”

Doevm flailed. It was useless. His eyes slowly rolled into a welcoming darkness, free of pain and suffering.

The bloody moonlight twisted as an ethereal figure floated towards them. Her long, jet-black hair billowed behind her petite figure. The wind blew through her simple white dress. Her jaw dropped into a black abyss.

“Haven’t you heard?” Doevm wheezed. “A Lich is never alone.”

He covered his ears. The Banshee let out a scream point blank into Zolgon’s ears. The king’s eyes rolled back. His grip went lax. The Banshee caught Doevm and let the king continue to fall.

‘You have absorbed a lot of energy, Frey…’ Doevm thought, spotting a shining beacon through the hole in the Mess Hall’s floor. ‘Including a portion of the seal.’

He looked on, struggling to stay conscious, as Zolgon was caught by his underlings and flown to the Mess Hall’s ground.

‘They’re all nice and clumped together.’

A complex design matching Draken’s centuries old enchantment spread along the entire Mess Hall’s floor.

‘Welcome to the world of magic,’ he thought as the demon army vanished.