Mick had a great sense of foreboding as he placed all three of the cornerstones together in a triangle. The final battle to save the realm of runescape would soon begin and if they fell in battle…there would be nobody left to save them. They had already enlisted all the help that they could. Despite not wanting to involve other adventurers word had spread and now there was a group of at least fifteen other adventurers all wearing rune armour and wielding an assortment of runite weapons. Would these adventurers be able to make it out of the situation? He felt largely responsible for their fate and hoped that they would all come out of the battle safe.
"Begin the summoning," said Mick, turning to Glenn. Glenn solemnly nodded and walked over to the three cornerstones. He touched all three of them and brought all of them together and watched in fascination as they suddenly shot a beam of red energy into the ground that blasted through the earth and reached into the very core of the earth, causing everyone to take a step back in caution.
The beam began to grow wider and wider until it was several metres in circumference. The beam lasted for a few more moments before suddenly disappearing, but the evidence was still there: a large gaping hole in the middle of the ground. Mick began to step towards it but Glenn held him back.
A knight in black spiked armour and holding a wicked-looking two-handed sword suddenly jumped out of the ground, two greater demons flanking him on both sides. Mick suddenly unsheathed his scimitar and took a step forward. This was the time that he had been waiting for – now was the time. He stopped and thought for a moment. Something seemed out of place. He sheathed his scimitar and took a step back. Zamarok wouldn't have appear to such a large group of people who wanted to kill him flanked only by two greater demons.
"You are fools," laughed Zamarok, signalling behind his back. The white knights and adventurers unsheathed their weapons and took a step back, falling into a defensive position to defend themselves from the new threat. In the instant that Zamarok had signalled they had been surrounded by legions of black knights and numerous demons.
It all made sense to Mick now. Zamarok had not worried about trying to stop them from summoning them because he knew that while they were preparing to summon him he had the itme to muster his forces for an all-out assault to crush any resistance that might make try and stop him from his world domination. He unsheathed his scimitar and stepped forward to face Zamarok. Glenn and Richard flanked him on both sides – heading to engage the two greater demons that were protecting Zamarok. They couldn't expect any help frolm any of their allies – the adventurers and white knights were all occupied fighting the black knights and the other demons that had appeared.
Zamorak attacked first – lashing out with his massive two-handed sword. Mick raised his shield and rolled aside, watching in fascination as the blade tore up the earth where it struck, sending a wave of dirt shooting forward. Mick followed the wave of dirt and watched as it cut through a line of white knights, knocking them off their feet and putting them at the mercy of their enemies. But while he had been following the wave of dirt his attention had been drawn away from the battle
Mick turned to face Zamorak, knowing that the distraction had cost him. He turned around just in time to see the blade heading directly for his head. Mick nimbly ducked underneath the blow and suddenly shoulder-charged forward, barrelling right into Zamorak and sending him reeling back. Mick pushed his advantage, leaping after the staggering god of evil and swinging his scimitar viciously – aiming directly at the evil being's heart.
Zamorak brought his blade up in time to block the blow and a smirk crept across his face as they entered a contest of wills as their blades locked. He could feel the fierce energy pulsing behind his opponent – yes this was an adventurer full of spirit. There was nothing more Zamorak enjoyed than destroying the hope of spirited-adventurers. In the fullness of their youth they believed that they could conquer anything after they had finished a few rag-tag missions.
He had broken the spirit of many different adventurers but he could feel something about this one – yes the favour of Saradomin was truly upon him: something that was becoming increasingly rarer these days. Most adventurers now spent their time seeking glory for themselves, forgetting about the needs of other and instead turning on each other in the wilderness – a place which he alone controlled.
Mick felt a white-hot rage enter him as he saw Zamorak smirk. Here they were in a battle and the evil god still had time to smirk which told Mick something: he was not fighting hard enough. He decided tat their blades had remained locked for long enough. He suddenly took a step forward, leaning towards Zamorak with all his weight, breaking the lock and forcing him back several metres.
Zamorak was pleased to find that things were going exactly the way that he had planned. His opponent Mick may have thought that he had an advantage but he had did not fully contemplate the power of the being that he was going up against. Zamorak charged again, this time charging his blade with a red glowing energy that pulsated around the blade like an aura.
Mick was surprised by the sudden burst of energy on Zamorak's blade – but then he looked at his own sword and remembered the blessing that King Roald had bestowed upon his sword. Confident, he met Zamorak's charge with his own and as the two blades met in mid-air shockwaves burst forth – sending any nearby creatures – good or evil flying into the air. Zamorak and Mick themselves were unharmed by he shockwaves – much to Mick's astonishment. Both of them seemed fine until a few moments later they boss dropped to their knees, dropping their weapons.
"You are….indeed…a worthy opponent," gasped Zamorak as he fell to his knees. "I under-estimated you. But be assured…I will not be making that mistake again."
"It will be your last one," replied Mick, breathing heavily. The blast from the two weapons clashing had drained him of all his energy. It was as though the attack had drained the life force of both him and Zamorak and had refined it into a pulse blast that was then emitted. His arms and legs felt limp – as though he was paralysed. Fortunately for him it seemed to be the same for Zamorak as well.
Mick summoned as much energy as he could and stretched out his had towards his scimitar. Now that hey were in a vulnerable position he would be able to deliver a killing blow. Zamorak would have a much harder time considering his two-handed sword was much larger and heavier. He felt a tinge of excitement as his fingers touched the handle of his scimitar. Only a bit further and he would have his scimitar in his hand.
As his fingers curled around the handle of the scimitar he felt a blast of fiery energy hit him in the chest. The blast was conducted by the rune armour and spread throughout his entire body – filling his entire being with searing pain. He tightened his grip on his scimitar but was pushed onto his back from the force of the blow. The fiery energy continued to flow into him for a few moments. Just when he could feel himself beginning to black-out from the pain he felt the energy flow stop.
Mick groaned and tried to look around to see what was happening. When he tried to get up he felt his entire body twinge with pain. The fiery energy had left its mark – he could feel that his flesh was charred underneath his armour. It would be a wonder if was even able to fight again. As these thoughts ran trough his head he saw a figure looming above him. In his half-conscious state he could barely make out the words that they were saying but the red glow of the sword gave away who it was – Zamorak.
"You forgot about my magic," sneered Zamorak, gloating above his charred victim. "I will let you make one last request before I kill you." Mick groaned and reached into his pouch for the potion that the Duke of Lumbridge had given him. He removed the cap and poured a few drops of the precious liquid into his mouth. He wasn't sure if the potion would reverse the effects of the magic or whether they would just protect him from any further attacks.
After tasting a few drops Mick decided to drink the rest of the potion – skulling down the rest of the liquid. With the vial empty he tossed it aside – ignoring the sound of it smashing against a knight's armour. He could feel his flesh beginning to knit itself back together and the burns were beginning to disappear. He flexed his fingers and was surprised to find that he had his normal dexterity back. He sill had his rune scimitar in his grip.
"Prepare to die," gloated Zamorak, raising his two-handed sword for the death blow. Grinning, he brought his massive sword down in a killing blow. Mick rolled to the side and jumped up, running behind Zamorak and holding his scimitar to his throat.
"Call off your minions….now," demanded Mick, pressing his scimitar firmly against Zammorak's throat. "Or I will kill you here and now."
"You may be able to kill me," sneered Zamorak. "But even if my physical body dies my minions will continue to fight onwards to avenge the death of their master." Mick growled and sliced Zamorak's throat, letting go of him as he fell to the ground clutching his neck.
"You have made…..a terrible mistake," coughed Zamorak as he fell to the ground. "You should have heeded…the warnings." Mick watched grimly as Zamorak breathed his last breath and died. The evil god was dead at last. Mick breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a cloud of red mist burst forth from the body and dissipate into the air.
All heads on the battlefield suddenly turned to face Mick - staring in shock as he stood over the dead body of Zamorak. For a few moments everyone was too stunned to move but then the fighting resumed – even fiercer and wilder than before.