Chương 108: Chapter 107

Big Mistake, Buddy Caxir roared his satisfaction as he watched the rodent fall from the sky. He truly had ascended to new heights; not even his old masters would have been capable of unleashing such destructive power. His mood soured somewhat when he saw the man swoop in and catch his falling companion, but he shrugged the concern aside. It mattered not. The rodent was likely dead. Caxir had pumped the spell with so much power that he had barely been able to hold it together.

Even if, by some miracle, the rodent had survived, he would be well and truly cowed. He was certain the pair would trouble him no further. He took one last glance at the pair. The man was kneeling beside the rodent's prone body, no doubt lamenting the fact that they had ever dared to oppose a sorcerer as mighty as Caxir. Caxir let out a grating, rasping laugh before turning and disappearing back into the pyramid.

* When I stormed into the pyramid, I might have slightly underestimated how difficult it'd be to find someone in such a big structure. The thing was fucking massive and would've put the Great Pyramid of Giza to shame. I scratched my head as I looked around. Considering the outside was so elaborate – what with its black stone so polished that it had a glass-like quality – the inside was surprisingly spartan. The 'entrance' I'd chosen led into a vast chamber.

Its walls were plain and smooth, and the room was empty save for the torches lining them. A thought pierced my anger-clouded mind. Who the fuck lit all of the torches? Even in this chamber, there were at least fifty of the things. And that was just one room out of presumably hundreds. Then there were all the corridors. I tried to imagine the necromancer, Caxir, hobbling around and lighting each one individually. Based on our brief encounter, I felt like I'd gotten a pretty good read on the guy.

I could easily have imagined him muttering under his breath as he worked, talking to himself and saying shit like, ' Caxir, you're the best at lighting torches. Nobody does it better than you. You should be made president of Torchville. Look at the flames on that bad boy – that was all you, baby'. As much as I wished that was the case, the more likely answer boiled down to one word: magic. There was probably some switch somewhere that activated some arcane voodoo and lit them all in one go.

It was a shame Rel wasn't with me. He'd have probably known how it worked. Rel. The anger resurfaced, and all thoughts of torches were… extinguished. Right. If I were a megalomaniac necromancer hellbent on killing every living thing in the world and then bringing them back as mindless undead, where would I be? Somewhere near the top. I left the pyramid through the Pete-sized hole I'd created. A quick glance at Rel told me he was fine. Better than fine, actually. He was already back on his feet.

He met my eyes, his widening slightly. Then he doubled over and began coughing. I took a step towards him, but he held up a paw and gestured back towards the pyramid. I had to admire him. Most people, after such a close brush with death, would've wanted to call it a day and abandon the quest. Rel, however, was all business, sending me into the pyramid to get the job done. What a brave little guy. I nodded at him, then activated Flight and rose into the air, studying the pyramid intently.

Caxir wouldn't be too close to the top. I imagined the rooms up there would be pretty small, and someone as self-important as him would want a huge chamber to work in. Hmm. I reckoned… there. I shot forward and crashed through the wall, sending great chunks of stone tumbling down the side of the pyramid. Bingo. I found myself in a suitably large chamber that looked as if it served as Caxir's arcane workshop. Huge, intricately detailed ritual circles covered the floor.

Tables lined one wall, cluttered with everything an evil wizard could possibly want: scrolls, crystals and gemstones, etching tools, plants, herbs, and powders. Stacks of books were dotted about the place. They were weighty tomes – ancient-looking things with faded covers and fancy golden detailing.

One glance was enough to know that they contained either incredibly dull and detailed accounts of historical events, or – and I thought this one was far more likely – fucked-up, forbidden arcane knowledge that'd get you expelled from Hogwarts before you even reached chapter two. Despite being a huge douche, it was impossible to deny that Caxir seemed to know what he was doing. The complexity of the runes covering the floor easily rivalled some of the stuff I'd seen on GEC equipment.

The necromancer himself sat at the back of the room, perched on a large, high-backed chair that more or less resembled a throne. He leaned forwards, his eyes blazing with fanatical intensity as he gesticulated emphatically in my direction. He wasn't alone. Kneeling on the floor before him were five skeletal warriors, but they were nothing like the scrubs we'd encountered outside. Those had all been 'naked', with no weapons beyond the bones of their own hands. These guys were in another league altogether.

They were big – especially the monstrous fucker in the middle – and decked out in some seriously impressive armour and carrying equally impressive weapons. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Caxir leapt to his feet, looking so angry that I was surprised he wasn't frothing at the mouth. He jabbed his staff at me.

"You!" Even though I was still feeling more than a little murderous, I couldn't help but chuckle at the slight crack in his voice. In a different life, the guy would have been bullied at school and ended up as some evil genius scientist building a death ray in his mother's basement. Apparently, he did not appreciate me laughing at him.

"Are you stupid? Dense? Braindead? You must be, because anybody possessing even an iota of intelligence would've fled the moment they saw what I did to your rodent companion." He took a deep breath and sat back down.

"Never mind… your foolishness serves me well on this occasion. I can watch my Death Knights in action as they break you." As if that was their cue, the five warriors rose to their feet and turned to regard me. The big one in the centre wore a combination of silver plate and chainmail that looked as if it had been freshly polished. Its surface was covered in runes that glowed with the same sickly green light as his eyes. He reached over his shoulder and drew the warhammer from his back.

The thing was enormous, putting Avatar's Judgment to shame. I quickly ran my eyes over the others. Huh. Caxir must have been a fan of MMOs because the guy had put together a pretty decent little dungeon group. The beefy skeleton was the bruiser – the melee guy whose job was to swing an absurdly large weapon and fuck shit up. Then there was the tank in a full suit of plate armour. A shield was strapped to one forearm, while his other hand rested on the pommel of the sword sheathed at his side.

The rogue wore leather armour and clutched two menacing-looking daggers. The blades were jagged and coated in a thick black liquid that glistened in the torchlight. Then there was the archer, also wearing leather armour. He unslung the bow from his back and reached over his shoulder to draw an arrow from the quiver strapped there. And finally, a caster of some sort. He wore flowing black robes and carried a staff.

It was made from a dark red wood, the head of it shaped like an animal's paw, complete with four sharp claws. I smiled at them. It was time to get this party started. * Caxir felt his confidence falter slightly when the man smiled. It was not the smile of someone who was entirely sane, and the three pale scars running across his face lent it an almost feral quality. Either he was incredibly confident or outrageously stupid… Caxir shook his head, banishing such unworthy thoughts.

No mere mortal could stand against his Death Knights. Not only had each of them been the greatest warrior of their generation, they were also equipped with armour and weapons that he himself had imbued with potent arcane enhancements.

"Elidyr, would you like to go first? Do not make it too quick, though... We will bring him into our ranks eventually, but I think it is important that he first learns a little humility. Go ahead and show him what happens to those who dare interfere with the work of the great Caxir." Elidyr raised his warhammer, gripping the haft with both hands.

"As you wish, Master." With that, he blazed forwards, becoming something resembling an enormous silver and green blur. He brought his warhammer around in a wide, sweeping blow. It slammed into the man's side with a satisfying, meaty thud. The force of it swept him off his feet and sent him hurtling across the chamber. He crashed into the wall, disappearing in a cloud of dust and rubble. Caxir rose to his feet slowly. After staring at the dust cloud for a moment, he broke into something resembling a little jig.

He pushed past the other skeletal warriors, coming to a stop beside Elidyr. He grinned up at the giant and clapped his armoured arm.

"Yes. Yes. Yes!" he half-roared, half-giggled.

"You are more glorious, more powerful, than I could ever have hoped for. With the five of you at my side, we will be unstoppable! In fact, that was such an incredible display that I'll forgive you for ending it so quickly. I had wanted him to suffer first…" Caxir shrugged, his grin widening.

"But I suppose it makes little difference. Go and retrieve his–""Not bad." Caxir winced, and then, more than a little hesitantly, turned to face the one who'd spoken. Impossible… The man was back on his feet, twisting from side to side. The only evidence of Elidyr's attack was a small grimace as he prodded the spot where the warhammer had connected. Well, that and the dust coating his clothing. Caxir blinked. Even that was vanishing at an incredible rate.

"You pack one hell of a punch, big guy." A pair of leather bracers appeared in his hands, suggesting the man possessed some magic of his own. He pulled them over his forearms before tightening the straps. Caxir had never considered that someone equipping armour could be so… terrifying. Despite the fact the man was standing face to face with five Death Knights and a master necromancer, he did not rush. His movements were relaxed, almost casual. Who was he? What was he?

"You know," the man said, almost conversationally, as he worked, "on any other day, I'd have drawn this fight out and milked it for everything it was worth. I'd have pranced around attempting to dodge your warriors' attacks for a while, then I'd have let them beat the ever-loving shit out of me. Once I got bored, I'd have taken them apart in increasingly bizarre and creative ways just to see if I could squeeze out another point in strength."

He wiggled his arms experimentally to make sure the bracers were properly adjusted and wouldn't interfere with his movement. Satisfied, he looked up. His eyes were cold and hard as they drifted over each of the skeletal warriors before finally settling on Caxir. He winked… and then started to grow. His entire body expanded, but he did not just grow taller. He became broader, more powerful. Within moments, he towered over even Elidyr. Caxir took an involuntary step back. What manner of magic was this?

Even his clothes had grown to accommodate his new monstrous proportions!

"But you see, Caxir, you creepy, ill-adjusted prick, you really fucked up when you hurt my friend." The man continued his speech as casually as though transforming into a giant were a regular occurrence.

"Sure, he's an arrogant little shit with questionable–""Enough!" roared Caxir. He shoved Elidyr forward a step.

"What are you waiting for? Kill him!" Elidyr launched forwards again, bringing his warhammer around in the same sweeping arc, intending to repeat his earlier success. The weapon slammed into the man's side once more. It produced the same meaty thud. Except this time, rather than sending him hurtling into the wall, it merely knocked him a step to the side. Elidyr was not deterred. He drew back his weapon and unleashed a whirlwind of blows so fast they were barely perceptible to Caxir.

The man dodged or deflected every single one. He twisted, leaned back, batted the warhammer aside. This demented dance continued for several seconds, but to Caxir it felt like a lifetime. When the man gave a small nod, almost as if to himself, Caxir felt his growing dread intensify. Elidyr brought his warhammer down in a mighty overhead strike, the runes etched into the metal flaring. The man caught it, the stone beneath his feet crumpling beneath the force of the impact.

He shoved the weapon aside and lunged at his opponent. Two enormous hands closed around Elidyr's head, and the skeletal warrior was lifted clean off the ground. He thrashed wildly, dangling in the air. He tried to swing his warhammer, but he was too close. He let the weapon fall and unloaded a flurry of desperate punches, his armoured fists blurring as they pummelled the man's torso. Caxir knew what was about to happen.

He wanted to close his eyes – to deny reality – but was gripped by a sort of fatalistic curiosity that would not allow him to look away. The man tightened his grip, and Elidyr's skull gave way beneath the inexorable force. It popped. The disturbing sound of splintering bone reverberated through the chamber as fragments of skull, both large and small, rained down. In that moment, Caxir knew that if his body had still been capable of such a thing, his bladder would've emptied itself.

Letting Elidyr's unlifeless form drop to the floor with a clang of metal, the man paused briefly to brush the bone fragments from his clothing. He gave himself one last little shake, then shrugged and looked up.

"So... who's next?"