Into the Pandemonium

by StarKnight2.0

Part 2 of "Somewhere Far Beyond." Things are beginning to heat up. Follow Gareth and Kane as they dodge enemies and assume new roles. Ainz follows the path of the Overlord while battling a mysterious rival who wants nothing more than to see Nazarick burn. Meanwhile, secrets are unearthed and ancient powers are awakened, threatening both the players and the New World.

13. The Killing Moon

(AN: Hey, we're back and with a new, very long chapter. Big thanks to Lucius Walker for all his help! Please, enjoy!)

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Ch.13: The Killing Moon

(The Throne Room, Imperial Palace, Arwintar)

For what felt like an eternity, the world had stood still. Evileye remained transfixed by the crimson gaze of her uncle, the infamous Manfred Morgenstern. The throne room and all within it seemed to have vanished as Evileye found herself momentarily lost in a memory. Far away and long ago, Evileye remembered walking barefoot through a lush garden. A pale moon and twinkling stars gazing down at her from on high, the air was cool and still.

The vampire remembered worrying about being caught out late. She knew that she should've been in bed instead of adventuring in the palace gardens in her nightgown.

She remembered how she felt an ominous chill run down her spine as something inhuman stalked her. Turning around, the last thing she saw before seeing crimson were those glaring red eyes that she would later learn belonged to the one that turned her. It'd be quite a while before she awoke from that red dream, but by then, her family and her country were long gone, slaughtered by her own hand.

Evileye gripped her silver daggers tightly as rage began to boil within her. The only thing keeping her frozen in place was the icy dread that spread through her body, tempering her fury.

After an eternity of silence, Manfred turned his gaze and ventured into the throne room, analyzing his new surroundings.

Emperor Jircniv stiffened and paled as Manfred passed before the throne. Fluder Paradyne's eyes bulged out of his skull. The Imperial Court Wizard kept a wary eye on the vampire as he inched towards the young monarch, careful to not draw their gaze or get too close. Sonya curtsied. Lucian appeared at her side and bowed to the new arrival.

Manfred paused before his two subordinates and bid them to lift their heads.

Lucian straightened up and Sonya stood. The Vampire Lord caressed the Countess's cheek.

"My dear Countess," Manfred said, his voice like silk. "I have sorely missed your company."

"Oh stop," Sonya giggled. "It has only been a few weeks."

"A moment away from you feels like an eternity."

"If you ask me," Evileye growled, "it hasn't been nearly long enough. In fact, it'd be better if you had never returned."

Sonya's cheerful expression quickly morphed into one of anger and annoyance.

Manfred glanced over his shoulder and slowly turned to the vampiric Adventurer, eyebrows arched.

"You wound me, Keno," the Vampire Lord placed a hand over his heart. "I know that we haven't had the best relationship, but I would've thought you'd be glad to see me."

"Glad?" Evileye spat. "Why would I be glad to see you? You destroyed my home! My family!"

"And you destroyed mine," Manfred retorted, calmly.

Evileye frowned, studying the Vampire Lord's expression. She could remember Manfred's fury over her "betrayal" of the Vampire Lords and their Night Court. It was like gazing down a storm or the fury of an adult dragon. She would never forget his face, the rage he unleashed during his battle against the Thirteen Heroes and their allies. The vampiric Adventurer expected some of that fury, but she saw none of that. The Vampire Lord before her now was as calm as a summer breeze.

Manfred placed his hands behind his back. "What had happened to Inveria, to your family, was regretful. It was not my intention to kill, but rather to bless them – to heal them."

"Heal?" Evileye sneered. "Is that what you call it? Destroying an entire kingdom and turning its people into undead?"

A small smile appeared on Manfred's lips. "I know how it sounds but believe me, it was for a greater purpose."

"And what purpose is that?" Gareth questioned, from the far side of the throne room.

Manfred tilted his head, his expression turned pensive. "At first I had believed that it was in the name of power. I had hoped to gain an entire nation of thralls in one fell swoop while my old ally, Cure Elim Los Malvar, could experiment with a new spell. However, after that night and after suffering defeat at the hands of the Thirteen Heroes, my…perspective had changed."

He glanced at Evileye and smiled. "I really should thank you, dear niece. Had I not been driven out, forced to sail well beyond the edge of the map, I would not have had my eyes opened."

Evileye eyed the Vampire Lord suspiciously.

What was he talking about? Healing? Eyes opened? Something wasn't right.

The vampiric Adventurer then remembered Ludwig's warning.

"He's changed…you know. He's…not himself."

Manfred's gaze drifted, passing to each of the fighters in the throne room, before returning to Evileye.

"For so long, I had lived like a debauched mortal king," Manfred said, his voice low and full of regret. "Believing myself strong and wielding power like a child. But that's all I was…a child. I lived each day, carefree and oblivious to the truth."

"The…truth?" Evileye said slowly.

"That this world isn't ours," Manfred said solemnly. "This world belongs to the gods, and they will return and lay claim to it."

Silence filled the throne room. Evileye was unsure of what to make of the Vampire Lord's words.

"T-The g-gods?" Emperor Jircniv spoke. Manfred looked at the emperor, who jumped a little.

Manfred smiled. "Yes. The gods, and I don't mean those so-called Six Great Gods or the Four Great Gods or even that pathetic rabble of idols that the Council State clings to. They are pretenders…false gods."

Reaching into the folds of his cloak, Manfred withdrew a small, tattered book. The book was thin and bound in cracked leather. It looked as though it had taken a serious beating.

"In the cold and dark of the Winter Isles, I had stumbled upon this. The journal of Vorkam Soldavan."

"The Dark Apostle?!" Fluder Paradyne gasped. "The first Son of Darkness?"

"The same. Legends say he wrote extensively of his time walking with the gods, speaking with them and recording their wisdom and deeds. Specifically…hers."

Manfred's voice turned gentle, filled with reverence and love. Evileye felt unnerved by his change in demeanor. She noticed Sonya's expression. A mixture of discomfort and what appeared to be jealousy.

Manfred held the book close to his heart. "He was there that day. The day the dragons supposedly triumphed over the Eight Greed Kings. Everyone said they were gone, that they were vanquished but Vorkam knew. They never found her body, and some say that her comrades swore revenge. While in their service, Vorkam had heard whispers of a plan, a great and terrible reckoning that would ravage the world and punish the betrayers and their dragon masters."

"Fairy tales," Evileye snorted.

Manfred was unfazed. "Vorkam knew, as did the other faithful. Nothing can stop the Eight. Not the Goblin King, not the Fae, not the Elvish Archdruids, let alone the mighty Dragon Lords. Not even the great God of Death, Surshana, and his mighty Death Scythe could withstand them."

"They killed a death god?" Gareth said, sounding both perturbed and impressed.

Manfred's smile widened into a toothy grin. "She did. The Queen of Darkness herself." He shivered with delight.

Evileye scowled behind her mask. "Is there a point to this babbling?"

Manfred glanced at Evileye and spread his arms wide, as if he were inviting her to embrace him.

"I have come to fulfill a holy prophecy! All this suffering, all this violence, are merely stepping stones paving the way for a rebirth."

With a snap of his fingers, more figures began to emerge from the portal.

One after the other, a series of undead humans marched into the throne room. The undead were of various levels and qualities. Some were ancient Zombies of fallen warriors, clad in dirty and rusted armor. Others were fresh-looking corpses of peasant farmers carrying farm tools and axes. Skeletons carried spears and swords, with one even carrying a tattered banner featuring a crowned skull. Among the procession of the undead, Evileye spied some Adventurers. Or what was left of them. Most of them were men but there were a few young looking women, clad in fine looking armor that were scuffed and dented. Dangling from their throats were their Adventurer License Plates, ranging from the lowest Copper to–

Mithril and Orichalcum, Evileye realized in horror.

"So that's what happened to Giantsbane," the vampiric Adventurer heard the Emperor remarked grimly. "...and the others."

"These souls bravely resisted to the end," Manfred glanced at Jircniv and then to the undead Adventurers. "Much like you lot. And, much like you all will, they have become part of something far greater than you can ever imagine."

"And what are they a part of, exactly?" Gareth asked, eyeing the undead.

"A new world," Lucian answered solemnly, his eyes turning to Gareth and the rabble of armed men. "A world ruled by the just, by the wise, and by the powerful. A world free of hunger, poverty, sin and cruelty. No longer will the world be in the hands of petty tyrants, but in the hands of the gods!"

"...What?"

Just then, the Royal Guard that had been standing near Gareth stepped forward. Removing his helmet, it revealed a hard face with dark eyes that neither the emperor or Evileye recognized.

"Lucian, what are you talking about?" the man demanded, dropping his helmet carelessly.

"Rider…" Lucian gave a light glare at the man that, in another lifetime, he would've called his father.

"We had a plan, it was going perfectly. But why are you doing this? We could've gotten out of here and lived like kings!"

"Yes, the plan was working perfectly except you weren't supposed to be here for another few minutes…and with fewer friends."

"You didn't answer my question."

Lucian sighed, annoyed. "While the prospect of simply making off with a massive fortune in gold and valuables appears attractive, I have found a higher purpose. For too long we have toiled away, feeding upon human misery, always looking over our shoulders and squabbling over territory with the rest of those maggots in Eight Fingers. It's just so…hollow."

Rider's expression softened a little. "I know."

"In our line of work, if it isn't the law that kills you, it'll be your so-called comrades or your next job. I…I want something more, I want to do something that matters. Eight Fingers is a dead end and is only concerned with feasting on the corpse that is Re-Estize. But with Lord Manfred, we can build a perfect new world! Why settle for stealing from kings when we can become kings?!"

"But tell me," Rider spoke slowly. His expression was a mixture of hurt and anger. "How exactly will these people enjoy this perfect new world? They'll all be undead!"

Lucian rolled his eyes. "They won't all be undead. The undead are the vanguard, the laborers who will build the new world. You shall share in that honor. Be glad, for your efforts shall bring about paradise. Generations yet born will sing of your sacrifice and service."

"After everything we've been through," Rider said in disbelief. "You're just going to offer up our lives for a dead goddess?"

"She isn't dead," Lucian said sharply. "The Queen of Darkness lives! She's still out there, waiting, biding her time. She is watching us, judging our efforts. In time, she will emerge and will lead us to paradise."

Rider gazed at Lucian as if he had sprouted a second head. Disappointment and outrage mixed on the man's hard face.

"It's not too late," Lucian told Rider, gently. "You can still be a part of this. You can still join us willingly and serve the Queen of Darkness. You need not be a laborer. There will need to be leaders, generals and officers. You can be more than just a mercenary and a thief."

Silence filled the throne room for what felt like an eternity.

Rider shot Lucian a murderous look and roared: "Like Hell!" He crouched and began to invoke a series of [Martial Arts] abilities.

"[Ability Boost]! [Dull Pain]! [Flow Acceleration]!" His body glowed and flashed with mystic light.

Manfred waved at the undead and several skeletons moved to attack.

Before they got too close, the large man took off like a shot. In a single strike, Rider cut through the skeletons. Manfred cocked an eyebrow and raised his hand again. This time a pair of large Zombies lurched forward. Despite his size and the visible fatigue, Evileye was impressed by the large man's speed. He ducked under the first Zombie's strike and relieved it of its arm and head. The second Zombie was on him, bringing down a fearsome battle axe. Rider managed to bring up his sword in time to block it. However, the strike halted his momentum and the Zombie shoved him backward. The large man huffed, sweat dribbling down his face.

Then the bard stepped forward. Strumming his lute, he began playing a melody. The melody seemingly served no purpose… until Rider suddenly found himself feeling invigorated. What little injuries he sustained quickly began to heal, his fatigue melting away into strength, his fear transforming into courage.

Evileye's eyes widened behind her mask. It was subtle, but she could see that this ragged warrior had gotten his second wind. More than that, even. But how? Did the effects of the dome wear off?

The axe wielding zombie staggered forward, swinging his weapon in an attempt to take the man's head. But the praetorian, reinvigorated, easily dodged and deprived the zombie of his head.

Manfred's eyebrows rose as the armored man raced onward, becoming a streak of bronze and crimson. The bard's melody grew faster and sharper, and so did the guard's attacks. In a matter of moments, Rider burst through the wall of undead and charged toward Lucian.

Lucian's eyes bulged as the man began to close the gap between them.

"Time to pay for your treachery, Lucian!" Rider bellowed. "[Fatal Edge]!" the mercenary brought his sword down on Lucian in an attempt to cleave him in two.

For a brief moment, Evileye expected the attack to land. However, in a blur of black, Manfred had intervened. He caught Rider's blade with one hand. The armored mercenary snarled and fought to bring the sword down, but could barely move an inch.

"Bastard!" Rider snarled and tried kicking Manfred, but the mercenary's kick had no effect.

"Very good," Manfred hummed, impressed. "You will make a fine undead. Perhaps you can join as my personal guard."

*SLASH!*

The mercenary leapt back in time to avoid a deadly swipe from the Vampire Lord's claws, abandoning his weapon. But he wasn't fast enough. Four scratches suddenly appeared on his chest through torn fabric and metal, leaving the man breathing shakingly as he struggled to stay on his feet.

"While your strength is not anywhere near the Realm of Heroes, your valor easily surpasses such a meager metric." Manfred told the man, flexing his long fingers. Evileye saw that his claws were extended, dripping ruby-red blood.

The vampiric Adventurer felt a chill run down her spine. She barely saw his attack, so either the mercenary got really lucky, or the Vampire Lord wasn't interested in killing him.

"Now then," the Vampire Lord turned toward the beleaguered humans across from him and his undead servants. "Would someone care to explain how this had happened? While I have seen such spectacular displays of bravery and strength in desperate moments like these, this attack has a certain…magical flavor to it."

"It's the bard!" Lucian finally realized. "His magic was boosting Rider's strength. But how?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the bard said smugly, before he held out his hand towards Rider.

"[Restoration]!" Without warning, there was a bright glow of green light that filled the room. All eyes returned to the bard and Rider, only to find that the mercenary's wounds had completely disappeared. What's more was that after waiting a few seconds, the wound did not reopen by itself.

"Impossible," Manfred gaped. "Such magic is beyond a mere mortal's potential. And even if they were to mimic a fraction of a god's power, the orb should've–"

"Enough of this!" Daire snarled impatiently, dropping Lakyus and began to stomp towards Gareth.

The bard brandished his lute and raised a hand, threatening to strum the instrument. "Back off! I'm armed and not afraid to use it!"

Daire hesitated, unsure how to proceed. He was strong and durable, but neither he nor anyone else present were certain just what the bard was capable of.

Manfred eyed the bard with a mixture of interest and worry. "Such an unusual development."

"I suppose you won't consider surrendering or leaving in peace?" Gareth tried.

The Vampire Lord shook his head.

"Thought not."

Lucian glared at Gareth before an idea formed in his mind.

"My lord," Lucian said, rushing to Manfred's side. "Allow me to deal with him. Allow me to accept the Goddess's gift and use it to strike down this…nuisance."

Manfred glanced at him. The vampire seemed to ponder the young man's words for a moment before grinning.

"Of course."

The Vampire Lord lifted a bloodstained hand and gestured to the pair of ghouls flanking the Cauldron of the Damned.

The ghouls shuffled forward and seized hold of Rider before he could rise from the floor. The mercenary struggled and kicked but the ghouls held tight. Two more undead joined them and hoisted Rider up off the ground and set him on his knees.

Manfred reached into his cloak and withdrew two items. The first was a crude looking dagger with a sharp black blade, the handle was made of bone. The second item was a small wooden box.

Realizing what he was about to do, Gareth stepped forward, but Manfred and his legion of the undead minions blocked the way. Orien and Daire flanked the bard, threatening to seize or attack him if he so much as flinched.

Manfred offered Lucian the dagger and opened the box.

"As it says in the sacred text," the Vampire Lord told Lucian, "bonds with loved ones are encouraged, but it is paramount that all must be sacrificed for the greater good, even a loved one, should the need arise."

Lucian nodded, his face was solemn. He accepted the dagger and reached into the box. He withdrew something small and seed-like, before turning to Rider. The large mercenary struggled against the undead holding him, but it was futile.

The young man approached his former comrade. Rider looked up at Lucian, tears welled up in his eyes.

"Please…" Rider whispered.

"Nothing shall impede the path of progress," Lucian told his former friend coldly.

"Stop!" Gareth screamed as he slammed his fingers through his lute's strings.

A golden pulse of energy erupted from the instrument, blasting away the enemies from Gareth's circumference. The low undead were vaporized instantly, but Manfred merely shielded his face with his arms as he was pushed back a few inches.

The undead holding Rider in place crumbled to dust, momentarily freeing him. However, Lucian was still faster.

*SCHLINK!*

Rider's eyes bulged as he felt the cold touch of steel penetrate his heart.

"Goodbye…Father," Lucian murmured as he closed his eyes. He reached up and inserted the small, seed-like item into his own mouth and swallowed.

A brief moment of nothing passed before the young man began to cough. The coughing intensified as dark smoke poured out of his mouth. A second later, dark smoke exploded out of the young man, enveloping Lucian in a cloud of pure darkness.

The darkness swirled around Lucian like a storm, dark blue energy crackled and flared. Gradually, the darkness dissipated, revealing Lucian. Except…

"Well done!" Manfred cried cheerfully, applauding. "Well done! You've done it! The Goddess has accepted your offerings and found it pleasing. You are now…reborn!"

Evileye and the others watched in a mixture of shock and horror as the new Lucian turned to face them. If Evileye were to describe him, the good vampire would say that the new Lucian looked like a demon straight out of a fairy tale.

The young man was a foot taller and had marble-white skin. Despite his sickly appearance, Lucian appeared to have gained some muscle. Atop his head were a pair of curved black horns that reached backward over a head of jet black hair, his eyes now black with irises of molten gold. Lucian looked at his hands. His hands were larger and now clawed. A long, whip-like tail swished behind him as a pair of large bat-like wings unfurled.

Lucian inspected his new body. For a moment, he appeared to be as stunned as the others. Soon that stunned silence turned into absolute glee. His lips spread into a wide, fanged grin.

"Yes!" Lucian howled, ecstatically. "At last!"

"W-What just happened?" Lakyus sputtered in bewilderment.

"He's become a demon," Gareth answered grimly.

"A-A demon?" Gagaran exclaimed, looking at the bard. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. That seed…it transforms those who swallow it into a demon."

"What kind of item can do that?"

"A dangerous one."

As the humans in the room processed what had just occurred, Evileye took stock of the situation. It had been a long time since she fought a demon. The last major demonic threat she faced was when she joined the Thirteen Heroes, during the Demon Gods' rampage. That immense horde of monstrosities had all manner of nightmarish creatures. But as far as she can remember, Evileye had never heard of a demon who could turn humans into one of them, let alone an item. Was this something of their doing? Or was this truly the power of the Queen of Darkness?

"So…" Manfred asked, eyeing the new Lucian expectantly. "How do you feel?"

"Stronger," Lucien said, flexing his clawed hands. He shed his cloak, revealing that his silk shirt had become too small. Tearing the shirt away, the demon revealed a torso of flawless marble flesh. "My scars…they're gone!"

"By the Night Lord…" Sonya breathed, shocked.

"If you think that's shocking…" a new voice spoke.

All eyes turned and landed on a lanky hooded figure entering the throne room through the side door near the throne. The figure was dressed in a dark cloak and had his face covered. He was carrying a bundle of cloth under one arm.

"...then this will truly startle you," the hooded man said, his voice a low growl.

"Ah, Bron!" Lucian turned to the new arrival. "I trust that your search has turned up something?"

"Indeed. I believe this 'something' is exactly the thing you have been searching for."

The hooded man began to unravel the bundle of cloth. The air in the room slowly grew warmer and warmer. Evileye began to feel uneasy as the last of the cloth pulled away, revealing what the man was carrying. Sticking out of the cloth bundle was the dark grip of a sword. On the pommel was a snarling silver wolf with amethyst eyes. The wolf's gem eyes shone and seemed to glow in the light.

'No…they ARE glowing!' Evileye realized.

Lucian and Manfred both stiffened while Daire and Orien gazed in awe at the sword.

"Is…is that?" Manfred stammered in disbelief.

The hooded man bowed his head and offered the sword to Manfred. The Vampire Lord hesitated for a moment, before taking the sword from the hooded newcomer.

Evileye could sense a malevolent energy emanating from the sword. At first it was faint but, once Manfred's hands touched the grip and scabbard, it slowly grew stronger. The sword was sheathed in a dark purple lacquered scabbard. At a glance, Evileye thought it was a katana but the guard and the grip were different.

As Manfred slowly drew the sword from its scabbard, the vampiric Adventurer saw the blade was straight like a longsword, though it curved more toward the end. Although the design was obviously different, Evileye could see similarities to that type of weapon. What caught her keen eye was an image etched in the blade near the hilt. The image was of a ferocious wolf, encircling an orb and was poised to devour it. No, not an orb, a world.

The Vampire Lord gazed at the sword in his hand with awe. Turning it in his hand, the blade caught the light of the grand chandelier illuminating the throne room and the light of the dome outside the tall windows.

"So the legends are true," Daire said in surprise. "It really does exist."

"Dawnbreaker," Orien said solemnly. "It is even more beautiful than the legends describe it."

"Wait, that's Dawnbreaker?!" Lakyus paled. "The actual sword of the Queen of Darkness? Oh gods…" The young cleric made a sign to ward off evil and began muttering a prayer.

"I can't believe it," Gagaran breathed in horror. "There's no way!"

"Dragonsbane, Godslayer, the Woe of Nations," Tina fidgeted, her hands tightening around the grips of her Vampire dagger and Kunai.

"A true instrument of death," Tia murmured as sweat formed on her brow.

"With names like that…" Gareth said, eyeing the sword as well.

"The way this night's going," Baziwood huffed, "I half-expect that there are at least a dozen more surprises just waiting to screw us over before dawn."

While all the humans in the room appeared to be terrified or in disbelief, Evileye noticed a hint of recognition in the bard's expression. That look appeared long before the vampires confirmed the blade's identity. It looked as though he had seen an old enemy once again in a very long time. Evileye frowned. She'll have to worry about that later. Right now, this night was getting worse and worse by the second. First a human transformed into a demon and now her old enemy was wielding a sword of pure evil, destructive power.

"At long last," Manfred breathed as he drank in the sight of the sword. He looked as though he were on the verge of tears. "I have found you. I…I had begun to lose hope, but I could sense you. I knew you existed. I knew that you still existed. And now, with you at my side, we shall reshape this world."

"My love?" Sonya spoke, looking at Manfred with worry.

Manfred placed his other hand on the sword's grip. Both hands fit snugly, as if it were made just for him. The air around the blade itself shimmered for a moment before it became enveloped in fiery, violet energy.

Lucian jumped in surprise and Manfred gazed into the purple flames intently, before whirling around and swinging the sword horizontally with both hands. Jircniv, Fluder, and Sonya all dove to the floor as a mighty wave of violet energy erupted from the sword. The energy wave burned through the throne and the wall and the windows behind it, leaving a gaping hole in the architecture. The energy wave continued through the air and collided with the dome outside, a short distance away. The dome held firm as the energy wave burned against the barrier and crumbled into a few scattered purple flames and sparks, before fading into nothing.

Jircniv and Fluder remained on the floor, only reluctantly looking up and around once they were sure that Manfred was done. Sonya, meanwhile, was immediately on her feet. Her eyes burned scarlet as she bared her fangs.

"What in the Nine Hells was that?!" she snarled.

"A sampling of the sword's power…and mine," Manfred said calmly.

"You could've killed me."

"I wouldn't have killed you. Which was why I aimed a little higher."

Sonya looked and saw that the energy wave had struck well above her and the others, seeing how the human girl, Maggie, and the ghouls who still held her captive, were still in one piece.

Sonya's eyes narrowed and she glared at the Vampire Lord, who gave her an apologetic look.

"Forgive me. I was…caught up in the moment. That's all."

The Countess dipped her head, seemingly acknowledging his apology, though she still glared daggers at the one she called beloved.

"Truly this is an auspicious night!" Manfred said, grinning. He sheathed Dawnbreaker, its purple flames extinguished as the blade returned to its rest. He turned to the human defenders and clapped his hands together. "Now then, shall we begin?"

Before anyone could react, Lucian marched over to the Cauldron of the Damned. Using the black bladed dagger and slashed the palm of his hand. He clenched his hand into a fist, causing dark blood to drip into the cauldron. A hissing sound emerged from the dark depths of the cauldron before it belched out a plume of black smoke. In a matter of seconds, the hissing became a soft bubbling liquid sound, accompanied by a steady stream of gray smoke and steam. With a snap of his fingers, some nearby ghouls rushed over to Rider's corpse and began removing his armor. Once stripped of his damaged equipment, Lucian scooped Rider up from the ground and approached the smoking cauldron.

Fluder's eyes widened and croaked. "NO! Stop! Y-You can't!"

Lucian stopped and looked at the elderly Court Wizard contemptuously. "Why?"

"W-What that cauldron does is an abomination! It-It's an offense to the gods!"

Lucian smirked. "Maybe to your false idols, but to my gods, this is a high honor. In days of old, mortal soldiers who died valiantly in the service of the Eight were given a chance to live again and to continue to serve. One such mortal servant was reborn as a mighty lich."

The demonic young man looked at Rider's lifeless body and then to the Cauldron of the Damned. "What I am doing is honoring a father and a dear friend. Instead of letting his body molder and rot in a grave, he is being given a chance to serve the gods and receive penance for his sinful life."

Before Fluder or anyone else could voice their protest, Lucian placed Rider's corpse in the cauldron. The corpse was swallowed up by smoke and bubbling dark liquid. The cauldron boiled and hissed, gray smoke slowly turned a putrid purple. A few moments later, a large skeletal hand emerged from the depths of the cauldron. Another skeletal hand emerged, followed by a head. The smoke thickened, enshrouding the emerging figure. Slowly, emerging from the cauldron and smoke was a large, hulking skeleton clad in black spiky armor. Beneath its horned helmet was a rotted, eyeless face. Malevolent red light blazed to life in its eyeless sockets. The skeleton took a step forward and, in a puff of smoke, the newly created undead became equipped. In its left hand was a huge tower shield that could protect three-fourths of its body, in its right was a large rippled sword that could easily skewer several grown men in one thrust.

"Hate to say that I'm right," Baziwood grumbled, assuming a defensive stance.

"What in the Nine Hells is that?" Leinas exclaimed, brandishing her spear at the creature.

"A Death Knight," Gareth answered bluntly.

"The first of many!" Manfred declared to the humans and to Evileye. "Tonight, you and all other mortals who still live will have the chance to join us. Either willingly, as servants and subjects, or as soldiers and laborers in the new world!"

While Evileye and the other humans were worrying about their next move and how they're going to escape Manfred and his army of undead, Gareth was wondering something else.

At the moment, he was wondering if Arche had completed her objective already.

---

(East Wing, Imperial Palace, Arwintar)

Elsewhere, in the Imperial Palace, Arche was hoping that she wasn't too late. Of course she had faith in Gareth's abilities of keeping Lucian and his friends busy in the throne room. It's just that after stumbling upon her first undead, Arche realized that things were possibly worse than she first imagined.

Fortunately, that undead was a skeleton and was easily dispatched. Unfortunately, as she ventured deeper into the East Wing of the Imperial Palace, the undead became more numerous and more dangerous.

Armed with only an old shortsword she procured from a display case, Arche carved her way forward. After dispatching a squad of skeletons and a Zombie, Arche found herself lost. Standing at a junction that went in four directions, the young mage paused to catch her breath and consider her options. At first, Arche was sure that Lucian had it. She remembered giving him the orb after all. But, after standing outside the throne room and Gareth used some sort of spell to detect items nearby, she realized that he didn't have it. The young mage wracked her brain as to where it could've gone, until she remembered there was a brief moment where Lucian spoke to one of his men, separate from Arche. It was then she remembered the details of the plan.

After using the orb, Lucian was to hand the orb off to one of the other key figures in Lucian's plot, a swordsman named Firzid Imremro. The young mage didn't really interact with any of the others brought together by Lucian. She was told the general points of the plan and was told to focus on her role within it. In addition to her training with the Dominion Orb, Arche's mind was clouded by worries for her family and friends and what would happen to them should she fail.

From what she could remember, after Arche had activated the orb, the plan was to give the orb to Firzid for safekeeping. After sweeping up any stray party guests, servants and guards, Firzid and his men would guard the orb and ensure their exit through the East Wing and East Gate were secure. This way, the orb would be out of reach of the Emperor and anyone among the captives foolish enough to try something. Though, after having been betrayed, Arche assumed it was also to keep the orb away from Arche. In case she had any doubts. She had to admit, it was a clever plan. Lucian and his friends would escape with the loot and she'd be left to pay the price. However, after she saw the skeletons, Arche realized that she wasn't the only one being betrayed. There was something bigger at play, something very powerful and dangerous.

After a few moments of standing in the junction, Arche remembered that time was short and that she had to get the Dominion Orb now! But which way…?

Miraculously, there was a loud crash that sounded in the distance to her right. Arche took off running. As she got closer, there was another crash, followed by a cacophony of voices and other sounds. Rounding a corner, Arche came face to face with a wall of rotting bodies. The bodies were standing close together, dressed in a variety of clothing. The only thing they had in common was that they were all armed.

"Get back!" a man cried as there was a loud crack, followed by a thud.

"Shit! There's no end to them!" another man bellowed as there was a loud, wet *CRUNCH!*

Arche considered doubling back, but as she turned around, she saw that the path was blocked by a squad of skeletons, led by a tall gray-skinned man in dirty old armor. At first, the young mage assumed that the creature was another Zombie. However, the longer she looked, the more she realized that this undead was different. Unlike the Zombies, whose eyes glowed with dark magic, this undead creature's eyes were milk white and looked more like an old forgotten corpse that had just risen from the grave.

The creature's eyes were unfocused, but Arche could sense that he was looking directly at her.

The creature's thin pale lips spread into a smile, revealing crooked, rotten teeth, as he drew a rusty old sword.

"Now…what do we have here?" the undead wheezed, tilting his head. He sniffed the air. "Smells like…fresh meat." The creature's smile widened. "You'll do nicely."

Arche silently cursed, wishing that she had her staff and magic. She raised her sword and hoped that one afternoon of sword training with Hekkeran would be enough.

The creature attacked. He moved with the speed and grace of a living human warrior. Arche managed to duck in time and leap out of the way of the undead's follow up attack. The creature whirled around and pursued her. Arche was astonished by his speed. Prior to this, the skeletons were hardly any trouble and the Zombies, though stronger, were not nearly as fast as this being. What was he? A vampire? No. This creature was fast, but not nearly as fast as a vampire is purported to be. She vaguely recalled a lesson during her time at the Imperial Magic Academy regarding undead. Weaker undead were slower, clumsier, and their physical state was more corpse-like. Stronger undead were stronger, faster, and, excluding higher tier Liches, looked more…lifelike. If Arche had to guess, then this undead had to be an upper mid-tier undead.

Judging from his milky eyes and his ability to speak, Arche's best guess would be that she was facing a Wight.

Arche parried the creature's slash and jumped back, narrowly avoiding a slash from the creature's clawed hand. The creature's free hand was a twisted claw with black talon-like nails, which confirmed the young mage's theory. Although she now knew what this undead was, Arche didn't feel more confident of her chances. If anything, she felt like her chances had decreased some.

Wights were nowhere near the threat level of a Vampire or an Elder Lich, but they were still very dangerous. In addition to their speed, they were as conscious and aware as any living human, which made fighting them difficult. On top of that, a wound dealt by a Wight's teeth or claw was poisonous. Seeing as Arche was lacking in her usual equipment, her magic, and a Cleric gifted in healing magic, this battle wasn't going to be easy.

Arche dodged another sword swing and another claw strike.

"Come here…pretty, pretty…" the Wight wheezed, beckoning with his claw hand. "I won't bite…much."

He swung with his sword, Arche brought up her sword and blocked it, but was knocked off balance. She was sent tumbling to the floor.

"MINE!" the Wight rasped as he pounced onto his prey.

*SCHLK!*

Arche shut her eyes as she could already feel the teeth and nails digging into her flesh. When she didn't feel the pain of tissue tearing, she opened her eyes and saw that the Wight was impaled by a large blade. The Wight's milky eyes bulged. His hands groped at the blade sticking out of its chest as he was hoisted off the ground effortlessly by a large, stone faced man.

"Are you alright?" Nazami Enec, one of the Four Imperial Knights, asked, his gentle, yet booming voice cutting through the chaos echoing through the hall.

Arche gazed up at her rescuer in amazement. She had never seen one of the Four Imperial Knights up close, and had thought that Lucian had them all accounted for. Yet, here he was, this giant of a man, in full plate armor, wielding his sword and carrying a large tower shield on his back.

Eventually, the young mage managed to nod in response to the knight's question. He smiled, before violently flinging the Wight off of his massive sword, sending it flying towards the wall, where it became a large splatter of rotting flesh and shattered bone.

The giant of a man reached down and helped Arche to her feet, before turning to face the wall of undead before them. Although the sound of battle still raged beyond the horde of undead, their numbers didn't seem to be affected in the least.

"What should we do?" Arche asked the large Imperial Knight.

Nazami looked at the young mage and gave her an assuring smile. "Leave this rabble to me."

Arche raised an eyebrow and questioned how he could overcome this horde of undead without magic but said nothing. Nazami sheathed his blade and unslung his large gray tower shield from his back. He held the shield in front of him, eyed the mass of undead before him and took off like a charging bull.

The young mage's heart leapt. Although the undead before them were not as threatening as the Wight or as a Vampire, lower undead were dangerous in large numbers. If their numbers were large enough, they could overwhelm even seasoned and powerful warriors. And yet, this armored giant charged onward. Moments before Nazami made contact with the undead, one of the creatures turned towards the sound of the Imperial Knight's heavy footfalls. Too late, as Nazami crashed through the undead and kept going. Arche expected the knight's momentum to slow as the press of bodies grew more intense. Surprisingly, Nazami seemed to be gaining speed.

"For the Emperor!" Nazami roared as he plowed through the undead horde.

Not wanting to be left behind or allow the undead to exploit any of the knight's openings, Arche charged after Nazami. The young mage couldn't help but be amazed as bodies were either crushed under the knight's boots or sent flying into walls and other undead. In a matter of moments, Nazami and Arche had reached the other side of the horde. Nazami concluded his charge by slamming several undead into a wall, reducing them to a dark, slimy smear.

Once they were free of the press of rotting bodies, Arche saw that the undead were funneling into a tall narrow doorway. After clearing the undead that were wedged into the doorway, the two entered a grand and spacious gallery. The long chamber was lined with splendid paintings, tapestries and sculptures. Above them was a glass ceiling that allowed eerie blue light to bathe the chamber in an ominous glow. Scattered around were corpses. Most of the fallen were defeated undead, dismembered and headless. Among them, however, appeared to be men in armor and cloaks.

'Lucian's men,' Arche realized. At the far end of the gallery were several men clumped together in a makeshift formation, fending off undead of varying levels. Among the undead attackers, Arche recognized a hooded figure with exposed arms: Idren Mersk was his name. As she recalled, Idren was tasked with clearing one of the other wings and was supposed to join Firzid's men. Looks like things didn't go too well for the monk or his men either.

The beleaguered defenders appeared to be on their last legs. Pieces of armor had been discarded or lost, several wounded men were lying behind their more fit comrades. Those still standing were struggling against a mixture of Zombies and Ghouls.

"Damn it, Idren!" one of the men shouted; a tall man in Royal Guard armor. His long hair was wild and his face drenched in sweat. "Don't do this! We were almost free!"

The hooded monk said nothing as he crouched, assuming a fighting stance of some sort.

"Can't…stop…" the monk croaked. "Compelled…kill…me…"

The monk's body glowed purple as he coughed out an incantation.

"[Way of the Long Death: Hour of Reaping]!"

The Monk leapt into the air and delivered a devastating spinning kick. The swordsman managed to raise his sword in time. The monk's attack was halted in mid air but the swordsman, strength depleted, was sent flying sideways and crashing into a nearby marble statue.

"Firzid!" one of the swordsman's comrades cried.

One of the other defenders moved to help but was cut off by a pair of zombies.

Slowly, Firzid picked himself up off the ground, leaning against his sword for support. He glared at the undead monk who slowly turned toward the swordsman.

"Give me the orb!" Arche shouted before she could stop herself. The group paused and looked at the newcomers. Even the rest of the undead paused and turned toward the source of the new sound.

Firzid looked at Arche and blinked in surprise.

"Shit, how the fuck did you get out?"

"Get out?" Nazami raised an eyebrow, and Arche had to swallow down the feelings of dread and guilt as she stepped forward.

"Give me the orb, and I can put an end to all of this! Please! You don't have to die like this today. You can still do the right thing!"

Firzid scowled at Arche and then to Nazami. He didn't seem convinced.
"Please!" Arche pleaded.

"Why?" Firzid growled. "So that we can be cut down by the Emperor and his so-called justice?"

"So that you can live! Without the orb, you can have a fighting chance!"

"So can he," Firzid nodded at Nazami.

Arche let out a frustrated growl as a section of the undead began to converge on her and Nazami. Nazami shifted his enormous shield to his left and drew his large blade with his right. The undead began to surge toward them. Nazami cleaved down two with his sword and sent another two flying with a swipe from his shield. Arche dodged a zombie and beheaded a skeleton with her shortsword.

"Does it matter?" Arche growled at Firzid, feeling anger and frustration rising within her. "As it stands, the Imperial Palace is being overrun with undead, and you look ready to collapse."

"Lucian–"

"Lucian doesn't give a damn! He has betrayed you, just as he betrayed me!"

Nazami gave her a curious look as he knocked away a charging Zombie, but said nothing.

Firzid's face read doubt, so Arche carried on. "Think about it! For all his talk about sticking to the plan, why hasn't he shown up already? He should've been here by now and we should've been making our escape! And why is that? Maybe because it's not about whatever it is he's promised you! Right now, he's in the throne room, laughing it up as you get slaughtered."

Firzid's eyes narrowed but he didn't appear to question her logic. Judging from his expression, Arche could see that the swordsman was already harboring doubts about Lucian.

"Enough…" Idren wheezed as he stalked toward Firzid.

"Give me the orb and we will all survive the night!" Arche said. "Otherwise, you will let Lucian win and turn us all into undead slaves!"

Firzid's brows knitted together as he considered Arche's words. Idren charged at the weary swordsman.

"Owen!" Firzid bellowed at his besieged comrades. "The orb!"

One of the men, guarding the wounded towards the rear of the defensive formation, nodded and knelt. After a few moments, he lifted up a familiar glass orb. The man lobbed the orb high.

Idren leapt into the air, his feet glowing dark purple. He flipped through the air, like a pinwheel, forming a burning wheel of death.

"[Way of the Long Death: Death Wheel]!"

The orb arched high and plummeted toward Earth. Arche hurried, ducking past attacking Skeletons and Zombies, hurtled towards the orb.

Nazami moved to intercept Idren.

Arche dived, arms outstretched. The orb fell and fell.

Firzid closed his eyes, too tired to keep fighting and waited for death to claim him.

*Clang!*

Firzid opened his eyes and saw Nazami the Imperial Knight standing over him, shield raised and blocking Idren's attack with seeming ease.

The swordsman was confused. An attack like that should've damaged the shield, or at the very least bring the knight to his knees. Firzid looked and saw, to his relief, the reason why such a devastating attack had little effect. The young mage had caught the orb and held it in a tight embrace. The orb was glowing as it did when the girl had used it earlier that evening. The ominous blue glow of the dome outside began to fade.

Idren leapt away from Nazami and, for a moment, looked startled.

Arche stood and, after allowing herself a brief moment of relief and joy to wash over her, pointed at a nearby undead.

"[Acid Arrow]!"

The undead was struck by a glob of acid, which quickly melted through its head and torso.

For a brief moment, the gallery fell silent as the acid devoured the undead. What was left crumbled into a puddle of half-melted goo.

Arche grinned and looked at Nazami. The Imperial Knight rose to full height and brought his tower shield down with a loud bang. His armor glowed and his stony face adopted a confident grin.

"Prepare to feel the Emperor's Justice," Nazami announced as he drew his sword and took aim at Idren. "And the wrath of Nazami the Unassailable!"

---

(Elsewhere in Arwintar)

Amid the chaos and shadows that have swallowed the Imperial Capital, two shapes raced across rooftops and leapt from building to building. To the human eye, they were hard to notice, even if one were actively looking for them. To the untrained observer, they would've appeared to be a trick of the light, two among countless other human-like shapes moving through the smoke and darkness. However, to the keen eyed, one would discover that these two shapes were in fact beings of flesh and blood. The first figure was a tall, dark haired man with a deathly pale complexion and ruby red eyes. The second was a woman with short blond hair and silver eyes.

The two were by no means friends or even acquaintances. One would best describe them as allies of circumstance, considering that the blonde woman was a paladin of the Four Great Gods and the other a Vampire, the antithesis of everything she stood for. Despite their differences, the two were on a mission. The paladin and the vampire had been making their way across the burning capital via the city's rooftops in order to reach the palace of the Lord Mayor at top speed. The streets were still a chaotic mess. Rubble, corpses, wagons, and various other things choked the streets. In addition to the debris and destruction, there were still those howling and violent creatures that were once the citizens of the Empire. Of course, the vampire and the paladin were skillful enough to deal with them but the overall objective of their mission was to cure them, not kill them. Which was why they had come to the Lord Mayor's Palace.

Claire the paladin landed on the palace's roof with a graceful roll. She looked around and, to her chagrin, saw Kane the vampire land close by with ease.

He grinned at her. "If I didn't know any better, I could've sworn that you were trying to lose me back there."

The paladin sniffed. "Of course not. Perhaps a pitiful undead like you just can't keep up."

"Ouch," the vampire chuckled, before turning and looking out at the empty square and ruined capital laid out before him.

For a brief moment, the two stood on the roof in total silence. A gust of wind washed over the paladin, carrying a grim mixture of scents, including ash, smoke, and blood. After a few moments, Claire noticed the vampire lift a hand to his ear and murmur something under his breath. It sounded like he said "in position" or something.

'Great,' the paladin thought bitterly. 'He's mad.'

As the vampire continued to face away from here, muttering under his breath, Claire pondered what she did to deserve this. Mere hours ago, she was on a holy mission from High Priestess Kelart Custodio herself. They were sent to Baharuth to safeguard the secrets of the Temple of the Four and rouse the indolent young Emperor into action against this unseen enemy who had assaulted their hidden monastery. In the meantime, they were to, hopefully, forge an alliance between the Temple of the Four and Baharuth against the encroachment of the ever crafty Slane Theocracy.

It all seemed to have gone their way. The Emperor was listening to them and the paladins had even located and apprehended a powerful undead. But now? Now she was helping the undead.

Claire wrapped her white cloak around her as she gazed out at the Imperial Capital. Night had deepened and the darkness had only deepened further, thanks to numerous columns of smoke scattered throughout the city, smothering the moon and stars above. Thanks to her enhanced hearing, Claire could still hear sounds of battle. The clang of metal upon metal, screams of pain from wounded citizens and mad howls from humans turned into monsters.

"Hell of a sight," Kane said.

Claire turned and saw the vampire leaning against a nearby statue of a knight, gazing out at the chaos. His deathly pale countenance faintly glowed in the light of distant fires.

The paladin's hand became a tight fist. Although it disgusted her, working with an undead, a problem like this was not something she trained for. She was a warrior, an instrument in the hands of the gods against a myriad of evils. Her answer to evil was the blade and holy magic, even if that evil had taken hold of innocent imperial citizens and royal subjects. Long ago, even Claire had qualms but such qualms had long since been purged from her after years of training and experiments. If Theresa had the final say and not that sentimental fool who presided over the Temple of the Four Great Gods in Baharuth, the paladins would cut a bloody and direct swath to the palace and purge the city of the perpetrator.

However…

Claire's eyes flicked over to the ominous blue dome glowing in the distance. The mysterious dome had engulfed the entirety of the Imperial Palace and a huge swath of the Royal Quarter. She didn't need to be a master mage to know that the dome was a barrier and that a barrier of that size was no small feat. Whoever or whatever had created it would have to be very powerful. The paladin knew of a few who could've potentially created such a barrier but none were very likely. While the paladins could reach the dome, Claire had no ideas on how to breach it.

"Kinda beautiful," the undead said, softly. "In a grim way. Reminds me of a painting I saw once, long ago."

The sickly pale woman fought very hard to suppress her instincts. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to cut down the filthy undead, but she didn't. She couldn't. At the moment, she was ordered to assist this…thing. Apparently, the undead and his… What was Damien? A thrall? No. Conspirator, that's it. Kane's conspirator had a solution to save the Imperial Capital. With no other choice, Claire had to see this through to the end. Perhaps, if they did save Arwintar, when no one was looking, Claire could–

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" the undead, Kane, asked very close to her ear.

Claire jumped, reaching for the broadsword at her back.

The undead held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!"

"What?" Claire growled.

"You kinda spaced out there. Just wanted to make sure you were…okay."

Claire scowled at him. "I'm fine! Just keep your distance, abomination!"

"Abomination? Now that's not nice." Kane feigned being wounded.

"So?"

"If we're going to work together, I think we should be nicer to one another and not call each other such rude names."

"I care not what your name is," Claire sniffed. "You are what you are, an abomination, unworthy of respect and unworthy of life."

"Takes one to know one, I suppose," Kane snorted.

Claire's silvery eyes flashed dangerously. "What?"

The vampire looked the paladin up and down, analyzing every inch of her. "There's more to you than meets the eye, that is plain to see. The eyes are a dead giveaway, but I can see it in the way you move, the way you smell. Let me guess, you have been…enhanced. Have you?"

Claire stiffened and did everything she could to not react, though the vampire seemed to notice her discomfort.

"Ah, I see. Well, it's none of my business but a word of caution: be careful of where you throw your stones."

The paladin's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I am keenly aware that I am an undead and that undead are unnatural. I have made peace with that. But you…you're different."

The vampire gaze went right to Claire's eyes, causing the paladin to avert her gaze.

"I may not know what happened to you or who had done it, but I know you're no longer human. You are something new, something…unnatural as some would say. It doesn't take a genius to know that a lady like you has had a lonely life after your transformation."

Claire said nothing and, while keeping her eyes low, kept the vampire in her peripheral. The paladin's face was an icy mask, but underneath she felt unsettled. She had heard of vampires being clairvoyant, even having powers to read their enemies thoughts. Is it possible that he is reading her mind? Claire shivered at the thought of that…creature seeing into her most private and secretive thoughts. Perhaps she should deal with Kane sooner rather than later.

"I'm sorry," Kane said suddenly.

Claire blinked and slowly turned her gaze toward the vampire, who was now looking out at the burning city.

"It's none of my business and, honestly, I don't care what you are. What's important is that you knock it off with the name calling and help me put a stop to this insanity, otherwise I'll be forced to zing you."

The paladin frowned. Was this some sort of test? Or was it possible that undead are more than just monstrosities hellbent on the destruction of the living. After a few silent moments passed, Claire grunted.

"Zing me?"

"Yeah. For example, I may be a vampire, but you look more undead than I do."

Claire scowled. "I do not."

"Do too. In fact, with all that white you're wearing and that pasty complexion, I'm thinking of calling you…the Corpse Bride!"

Claire felt her cheeks burn. "I do not look like a corpse."

"You seriously do!" Kane turned to the paladin, stretched out his arms and let out a shrill, ghastly moan like a phantom spirit from an old story in search of a lost love.

The paladin swatted his arms away, causing the vampire to chuckle.

"Do not call me a corpse or a corpse bride," Claire told Kane sternly. "If you were to address me, you should address me as Paladin Claire or Paladin or…or Claire."

Claire kept her gaze away from his eyes, but she could tell that Kane was staring right at her. After a few silent moments, she could see the vampire nod.

"Very well…Claire," Kane said, his ruby gaze drifted skyward. "...You ready? Because it's going to get very loud."

"Of course," the paladin sniffed, quickly glancing skyward. "Just do it."

Kane reached into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a round grey lump. The vampire turned the object once in his hand, revealing a hideous screaming face. He cocked back and hurled the item high in the air above the palace and the square. The orb shot high into the sky and, after a few moments, a deafening shriek filled the night. Claire immediately clapped her hands over her ears. She did her best to block out the piercing shriek but was failing. The sound not only stung her ears, but it also seemed to make her bones and teeth rattle.

The shriek continued for several, agonizingly long seconds. The sound reverberated across the capital and seemed to return to the mayoral palace like an ocean wave retreating back into the sea. Finally, the hideous grey lump came hurtling back to Earth. Kane caught the grey lump and stuffed it back into his pockets.

Claire's ears rang for a moment before quickly fading. The paladin was grateful for the healing abilities that her enhancements gave her. If she were an ordinary human being, she'd doubtless be dealing with ringing ears and a nasty headache for weeks.

Silence filled the void left in the wake of the deafening shriek for several seconds. After that, Claire could hear the distant rumble of movement and the enraged howls and bellows of monsters.

The paladin and the vampire watched as hordes of rabid humans came thundering toward the palace and the square from every direction.

"They look angry," Kane observed.

Claire nodded grimly and glanced at the sky once more.

In the ink-black mixture of clouds, darkness and smoke, the paladin's enhanced eyes could make out shapes moving at great speed. At first there were a few but then, as the shapes began to emerge from the smoke and clouds, she could see hundreds of bird-like creatures.

'No, not creatures,' Claire thought to herself. 'Golems.'

Although she wouldn't admit it to anyone, the paladin was impressed. Golems were costly to produce and often required a year minimum for a highly skilled wizard and a team of apprentices to produce at least one. And yet, here she was, watching as a swarm of hundreds of fearsome looking metallic birds emerge from the darkness. The metallic swarm dipped beneath the clouds but kept well above the city. Sweeping over the Imperial Capital like a wave, the metallic creations got to work. The birds streaked over the crowded square and the surrounding streets, unleashing a thick blue mist that washed over the screaming horde like a flood.

Claire felt a gust of wind flare up as the birds passed overhead, pulling the mist over the palace like a shroud. The mist was gentle and refreshing on her face. For a brief moment, her frustration and weariness receded a little bit. As Claire's weariness and frustration faded, so did the howling and screaming of the ravenous horde below. The paladin felt both relieved and disappointed. She was relieved that Damien was telling the truth and that the mist wasn't some sort of poison. Of course there could be some sort of hidden effect but, judging from her growing sense of ease and tranquility, the mist was as promised. A part of Claire was disappointed that Damien was telling the truth and that she was forced to continue working with this undead abomination. However, the paladin found herself glancing at Kane.

The vampire stood at the edge of the rooftop, wind causing his long raven locks to flow and his black cloak to billow, his flawless marble face gazed out at the chaos serenely. Beneath his cloak, the vampire was dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers and boots. For a fleeting moment, Claire could picture him as the hero of one of those trite romance novels that Sister Marene would read in secret, whenever the paladins had a moment free of training and missions. Claire had leafed through one a long time ago and found it nauseating and predictable. And yet…

The wind gusted around the two and, as the soothing mist began to flood and permeate the rest of the Imperial Capital, Kane glanced at Claire. The vampire smiled.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Kane gestured toward the edge of the roof and to the swirling blue mist below. "Ladies first."

Claire blinked and immediately caught her thoughts. She crumpled those thoughts up and cast them aside, frustration and annoyance flared up within her. A part of her feared that Kane could perceive those thoughts but a greater part of her was angry with her for letting such foolishness enter her mind. Fortunately, her frustration, her fear and every other unwelcome feeling was quickly subdued by the affects of the mist. The paladin was calm once more. She sighed and marched to the edge and leapt from the rooftop. The vampire followed suit.

Despite the soothing blue mist, Claire could sense those uninvited thoughts lingering on the fringes of her mind, waiting to come slinking back like an assassin waiting for her to let her guard down.

---

(Adventurer's Guildhall, Arwintar)

Berthold Haing was way out of his depth. Even if he had any forewarning and months to prepare, the Gold-class Adventurer felt that he would still be woefully lacking.

"This way!" a voice cried out. "Quickly!"

Glancing over his shoulder, the Adventurer watched as another Adventurer and a disheveled member of the City Watch hurriedly carried a large barrel toward the front door. Berthold and his comrade, Wilfert, stepped aside as the two men incorporated the barrel into the makeshift barricade that was blocking the front door and windows of the Adventurer's Guildhall.

Moments later, a trio of Adventurers appeared and added a large crate to the wall.

"Think that'll hold it?" Wilfert wondered aloud.

"It'd better," an Adventurer near them grumbled, "Because I sure as hell am not going to die tonight."

"Neither are we!" a large bearded Worker grunted, as his two comrades nodded in agreement.

"That's the spirit!" a gruff voice declared.

Berthold glanced and saw a mountain of a man emerging from the rooms behind the receptionist's desk. The man was one of the tallest in the room and was solidly built. A trio of claw marks ran across his face, from his left cheek to his right. The man still had a nose but looked as though it had taken a beating and was still recovering. His dark eyes scanned the crowded guildhall.

"Guildmaster!" one of the Adventurers said, relieved.

"A key point in every battle is resolve," the scarred man told the assembled Adventurers, Workers and Knights. He lifted his Greatsword with one hand and rested the blade against his shoulder. "Without resolve, then a battle is over as soon as it starts. Although the odds may seem bleak, if we hold together, we can win the day."

Berthold and the others nodded slowly, feeling a measure of hope and assurance. Although every man in the room had experience in combat and were trained to deal with all manner of monstrosities, none were prepared for what they were facing.

Mere hours ago, the Imperial Capital was alive and bustling with activity. Hours ago, Berthold was taking a much needed break and feasting with his friends here in the Guildhall. But then everything just…fell apart, very quickly. Red mist, panic, chaos, people turning into snarling wrathful beasts. The Adventurers who were present at the Guildhall did what they could to help the City Watch, but those creatures outnumbered them and were moving too quickly to properly coordinate a counter attack. With no other choice, the Adventurers, along with those closest to them, retreated to the Guildhall and barricaded themselves in.

"Now then," Guildmaster Berig said, scratching his cheek and eyeing the barricade and the front door behind it. "Any word from our scouting party?"

"Nothing yet, Guildmaster," an Adventurer to Berthold's right reported.

"What of those creatures? Haven't heard a peep out of them in a while."

"Also nothing," a Worker reported, glancing out onto the street through the front window via a small gap in the barricade.

"Strange," the Guildmaster rumbled. "Those things were desperate to get in and now? Now it's silent as a tomb out there."

"It's like they disappeared," the Worker said slowly.

"Do you think it had something to do with that horrible screaming sound?" another Worker asked.

Berthold fidgeted, remembering the screaming sound. It was like the shrill, dying scream of an animal. It was the worst thing he had ever heard in his life and would remember it for the rest of his life. Despite the horrific noise, if it was responsible for driving away the monsters outside, Berthold was glad. The defenders of the Guildhall needed a respite and time to collect themselves.

"Maybe. Whatever it was…" Guildmaster Berig said, returning to the receptionist's counter and reaching under it. He pulled out a dusty old wine bottle and uncorked it with his teeth. "...let's just hope it has something to do with our side, finally getting its act together and restoring order."

He took a sip from the bottle and nodded at a pair of Worker teams and an Adventurer team. "Your shift's over, head to the back and get some rest. Myself and Red Wing, as well as Captain Rischer and his men, will be on watch here. Shatter-Shield will guard the back, so no need to worry about that."

The men were hesitant at first but, upon hearing that the former Adventurer would be on watch as well, gladly retreated into the back rooms behind the receptionist's counter. A few moments later, two Adventurer Teams of four emerged, followed by a moustached man in the silver and blue of the City Watch and several other men in matching armor. Berthold knew of the Adventurer teams and had worked alongside them. They were dependable and strong, though they, along with the City Watch knights, looked worse for wear. It had been a long night on them, on all of them. Although they had fought monsters and were trained to kill, the warriors currently barricaded inside the Guild Hall had restrained themselves considerably. After all, these creatures were Imperial citizens. They were turned into these monsters, perhaps they could be returned to normal. Despite their best efforts though, some unfortunate and callous actions had to be taken in order to protect themselves from being overwhelmed and torn to pieces, as they had witnessed not too long ago to a few unfortunate souls.

The replacement teams took up positions at the barricade and settled in. Although Berthold was envious of the Workers whose watch had ended, he was glad that he wasn't alone and that Guildmaster Berig was with them. He glanced back and saw the large man leaning against the receptionist's counter, his greatsword now leaning against the counter beside him. The Guildmaster had a serious look on his face. He appeared to be pondering something, occasionally taking a sip from the wine bottle.

Berthold was impressed. Even after these last several years as an Adventurer, he still got the jitters from this dark night, and yet here was the Guildmaster, calm and seemingly unfazed by the dangers they have faced thus far. Guess that's why he's the Guildmaster of Baharuth, being a former Orichalcum-ranked Adventurer and all.

Time passed slowly. The world outside was an abyss. Earlier, the distant skyline had been painted orange and red from distant fires, but now they seem to have gone out. One Adventurer moved to light a candle, but was quickly discouraged by the Guildmaster. They didn't know what was out there, and a candle could draw unwanted attention. The risk was too great. Under the Guildhall was a spacious cellar, often used to store assorted food and drink to sell to Adventurers who happened to be lodging at the Hall or for special occasions. The cellar's occupants were now mostly frightened Imperial citizens and an assortment of wounded.

The Adventurer returned to her post, quietly tucking her flint and steel back into the pouch on her belt.

Berthold didn't like this, all this sitting around and waiting, not knowing what was going on outside the Guildhall. A part of him felt trapped, like a caged rat. For a brief moment, he imagined the walls seemed to have drawn closer together, that the interior of the Hall had shrunk. He tried to calm himself but couldn't help but envision something lurking in the shadows outside, just waiting for them to slip up. Just as he was at the height of his fear, Berthold felt something touch his shoulder. The Adventurer jumped, he reached for his sword but stopped when he realized that it was only Wilfert. The brown haired swordsman gave him a calm look. Berthold took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He repeated the process several times over. His racing heart slowed to a more manageable rhythm. Berthold nodded to his friend as a sign of thanks.

As Berthold regained his cool, an Adventurer, a Ranger from Red Wing, hissed.

"I see something."

The men around him sat up, becoming alert.

"The creatures?" Guildmaster Berig asked, setting aside the wine bottle.

The ranger squinted his eyes at the window. "No…No they're moving too slow. I-I think it's our scouting party. It is our scouting party!"

A sense of relief filled the room. Earlier, after the chaos outside seemed to have quieted down and the creatures had vanished, the Guildmaster had sent out a small party of Adventurers to investigate the surrounding areas and locate three things: supplies, stragglers and help. The supplies in the Guildhall, food, water, medicine, was very limited. None of them knew how long this crisis was going to go on for and, with more mouths to feed and a good number of wounded in the cellar, they needed more supplies sooner rather than later. The Adventurers were to also see if there were any citizens or fellow Adventurers in need of help. Lastly, they were to also locate and, if possible, make contact with the City Watch or the troops of the Capital's garrison. This way, the Adventurer's Guild could potentially get help and coordinate with Imperial authorities. The Adventurers had been gone longer than the Guildmaster had wanted and that made them worried. However, now that they've returned…

"Wait," the ranger said, giving everyone pause. The Adventurer muttered something and his eyes flashed green for a moment. He squinted out the window and his eyes widened, all color draining from his face. "O-Oh gods!"

"What?" the Guildmaster asked.

"They're…they're…"

"Injured?" asked Captain Rischer.

"Undead!" the ranger managed to croak.

A chilled silence filled the room and the Guildmaster picked up his greatsword and went to another gap in the barricade and peered out the window. Berthold's hand went to his sword as the Guildmaster's eyes widened.

"But how?" he breathed, shocked.

"There's more of them!" the ranger from Red Wing said frantically, drawing an arrow from his quiver and quickly nocking it.

"Hold fast!" the Guildmaster commanded, he retreated from the window and hurried to the backroom.

Berthold stole a glance out the window. It was pitch black outside, but having spent a good portion of the night in darkness, his eyes could make out movement outside. He could see two human shapes at the far end of the street, slowly moving toward them. A moment later he could see the two figures become four, then eight, then at least a dozen, and then more.

The Gold-ranked Adventurer's eyes widened as the shapes grew closer and closer, pairs of ghostly purple lights filling the night like eerie fireflies. In a matter of moments, the shapes were right outside the window.

*THUMP!THUMP!THUMP!*

Dozens, no, hundreds of fists pounded on the front door and windows. The sound grew louder, more frequent. Very quickly, the sounds spread, coming from all around them, indicating that the entire Guildhall was surrounded. Berthold drew his sword and gripped it tightly, his eyes darting about, praying that the walls and the barricade would hold. As the sounds began to intensify, they quickly receded into silence. For three heartbeats, it appeared as though the shapes outside had stopped. But before anyone could question what had just happened, a loud, mighty crash sounded as something solid collided with the front of the Guildhall. The assembled warriors jumped in surprise. The force of the crash caused the front door, the walls and the barricade to shake. It even shook loose some dust from the rafters.

"W-What in the Nine Hells was that?" stammered one of the Adventurers, backing away from the barricade.

"I don't know," Captain Rischer said, sweat beading up on his brow. "But we got to hold on…"

There was another crash which rattled the Guildhall and the barricade, followed by another…and another. Several more crashes caused the barricade to wilt, the windows to burst and for cracks to appear in the stone and mortar. Berthold, Wilfert and the others did what they could to hold the barricade in place, but the force of the vicious barrage was enough to knock several of the defenders back. As the barrage continued, the warriors began to fall back, putting some distance between the barricade and themselves, feeling that it was going to give way soon.

"W-What do we do?" one of the Adventurers asked aloud, panic rising in his voice.

"Hold fast!" Captain Rischer grunted, gritting his teeth and fighting every instinct screaming at him to run. "We can't let them through!"

"Hold fast?" another Adventurer said in bewilderment "We don't know what's out there! We should pull back and–"

"Not going to work," Guildmaster Berig grunted, emerging from the back rooms, greatsword in hand. "The Guildhall is completely surrounded by undead."

"We can fight some measly undead!" the Adventurer said, but was silenced with a glare from the Guildmaster.

"Maybe, but I have a feeling whatever's out there…" he nodded toward the front door. "Is something unusual and may very well be beyond your capabilities."

The Adventurer paled.

"Besides," Guildmaster Berig said, stepping forth and putting himself between the frightened defenders and the rattling barricade "We can't run now, not when it's getting interesting and not when there are people depending on us."

The assembled knights, Adventurers and Workers shifted nervously, but none moved to flee. Guildmaster Berig was right. If they ran, the people in the cellar would be slaughtered like lambs. The former Orichalcum-ranked Adventurer smiled at his comrades.

"Let me handle the big one, you lot can take care of the rest. Got it?"

"Yes, Guildmaster!" the Adventurers replied in unison, feeling a swell of courage.

Captain Rischer muttered something but he nodded, as did his knights. The Workers were still weighing their options but, after a few moments, gave a shout of ascent. They were in.

Guildmaster Berig smiled and turned to face their foes as a final crash caused the front door, a good chunk of the front wall and the barricade to crash inward. The mages among the defenders quickly threw up defensive spells, causing the debris to collide with the barriers and fall harmlessly to the ground. As the cloud of dust and debris settled, Burthold and the others watched as a large undead lumbered inside. Burthold felt his heart stop for a moment. The creature was big, bigger than the Guildmaster by a good few feet, and very muscular. He had never seen an undead so large. Its skin looked like a patchwork quilt, covered in stitches and patches of skin of varying shades of rot.

The Guildmaster looked the monster up and down and brandished his greatsword. The blade was almost as tall as he was and looked more like a hunk of sharpened iron than a sword. Despite its crude craftsmanship, Burthold knew that the sword was a weapon of pure destruction. Few ever survived it, and those that did often prayed for death.

As the Guildmaster and the other defenders readied themselves for battle they watched, in surprise, as the lumbering undead stepped aside, revealing a figure in a dark hooded cloak. The figure stepped forth, entering the Adventurer's Guild Hall with an arrogant swagger.

"Guildmaster Berig," the hooded figure spoke. The figure's voice was male, high and snide. It reminded Burthold of a few arrogant wealthy merchants who hired him and his Adventurer party, Screaming Whip, in the past.

"Yeah, and who are you?" the former Adventurer grunted.

"Nevermind my name," the hooded man sneered. "It wouldn't matter anyway, for you see, I have come to recruit you into the army of Lord Manfred Morgenstern!"

"Like Hell!" Captain Rischer snarled. "We serve Emperor Jircniv and him alone!"

"Well…he does," Guildmaster Berig muttered, jerking a thumb toward the City Watch captain.

"Your consent is not needed, mortal," the mysterious figure said, his voice dripping with glee. "You will all become servants of Lord Manfred, be it by your choice or with you screaming and kicking to oblivion!"

The figure raised a hand and the large undead dipped its head. The creature took one step– before a loud *BANG!* sounded and it's head exploded in an instant. Blood, bone, and brain matter splattered all over the hooded figure, some splashing onto Berig's boots.

The world stood still for a long moment before there were a series of loud additional explosions, followed by a blinding flash of white light. In a matter of moments, the horde of humanoid shapes outside were either reduced to ashes or crumpled heaps of limbs.

"Who dares-?" the figure snarled, turning quickly, but came face to face with something shiny and metal. The strange metal object was held by a pale figure with long raven hair. The newcomer sported a wide, toothy grin.

"Smile and wait for the flash!" the newcomer told the hooded stranger loudly.

"What the-?" the remainder of the hooded man's words died in his mouth as there was a loud *BANG!* and a brilliant flash.

Burthold and the others blinked and rubbed their eyes. The Gold-ranked Adventurer was seeing stars but, after a few moments, his eyes readjusted to the darkness. What he saw was unbelievable.

The hooded figure was gone. Where he stood, all that remained was his robes and, from what he could see, some smoldering ashes. The raven haired newcomer twirled his strange, smoking metallic device in his hand and turned to face the weary defenders of the Guild Hall.

"Sorry about that," the raven haired stranger said casually. "But I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"O-Of course" Guildmaster Berig said, uncertain of what had just happened or what was currently happening.

"W-Who are you?" Captain Rischer asked, bewildered by what he had witnessed.

"Kane of the Good Companions" the raven haired man nodded at the captain and then the Guildmaster. "You probably heard of me - er, - us."

"Yes…I have," Berig said, eyeing the man carefully. "Why are you here?"

"Just here to help and looking for help, funny enough."

"Help?"

The raven haired man nodded "Yep. You see, my friends and I were on our way to storm the palace and we were hoping to recruit some Adventurers. We'll need every man we can get. But from what I can see, you guys may benefit from a night off."

"Friends?" Captain Rischer said, slowly.

Kane smiled and waved at the stunned defenders. "Come meet them. I promise, they're a lot nicer than those undead and their creepy vampire babysitter."

Burthold blinked in surprise. Vampire? The hooded man was a vampire? He had heard stories of how dangerous they were and was uncertain if they would've been able to succeed against him. A part of him felt relief for Kane's arrival.

After some hesitation, Berig, followed by Captain Rischer and the others, followed Kane outside. Outside the Guild Hall, the empty street was now illuminated and filled with an unusual sight.

"What in the name of the gods?!"

They expected to see an army of wizards and clerics outside. Instead, what faced them was an army of mechanical golems with strange weaponry they held no knowledge of.

"[Statement: We are here to help. Do not resist.]" the golems said in unison, their voices not quite matching their intimidating appearance.

"W-Wh-What are these t-things?" Captain Rischer asked, clearly unnerved.

"Clockwork Sentinels," Kane answered blithely. "A friend's creation. You can talk business with him afterwards if you want. Just don't provoke them, and they'll continue to protect you in my absence."

"Absence?" Burthold blurted out.

"As I've said earlier, my friend and I-" he nodded to a sickly blonde woman in a snowy white cloak, who was lurking among the Sentinels, analyzing the weary defenders with her silver eyes, "-are storming the palace. That strange dome is down. If you feel up to it and want to be a hero for tonight, meet us there and help us kick some ass. If you're not up to it, I understand. It's been a long night. Just stay here, rest up and you'll receive medical assistance once the others have rallied the rest of the City Watch and the military."

The weary defenders stared at Kane with a mixture of confusion and awe. After an awkward silence, Kane coughed and nodded.

"Once we save the day, we'll sound the all clear. Until then…have a nice night. Ciao."

And then he was gone in a blink, as was the woman in white, leaving them with an army of those…things lingering around.

A moment passed, and Burthold felt the strength in his legs give out as he sank to his knees. In the brilliant illumination emanating from the Sentinels, he could see the actual number of undead and realized that Kane and his friends had arrived right on time and had obviously spared them a gruesome fate.

"...I need a drink," Guildmaster Berig finally said, voicing what was on the mind of everyone present.

---

(Throne Room, Imperial Palace, Arwintar)

Lucian felt rage unlike anything he had ever felt before. Years of careful planning and hard work were beginning to unravel before his very eyes. Of course he's faced his share of failures and setbacks over the years – who hasn't? Each one of them were infuriating to be sure, but he was able to rationalize them as being lessons, stepping stones paving the way toward his ultimate goal: revenge. This was how he was able to bridle his emotions and regain focus. But now, there was nothing to rationalize, nothing to help ease his anger or get him to focus. His life's work was going up in flames and he needed something to blame or, better yet, to kill.

It began with the dome.

Lord Manfred had the undead bring more captives to the throne room, a mixture of men and women recruited by Lucian who didn't have the good sense to flee or die already. They were lined up and, one by one, were terminated by Lucian's dagger and their bodies fed to the Cauldron of the Damned. Foul purple smoke filled the air as a variety of high class undead emerged: Death Knights, Ghouls, Wights, even a Boneclaw and a Ghast. Of course, the feeble mortals protested. Screaming, weeping, mewling and begging for mercy, for a chance to escape or an attempt to bribe Lucian. Fools. Their pitiful attempts to prolong their meaningless mortal lives fell on deaf ears. But it is to be expected. After all, they were merely the fodder for Manfred's glorious designs, plucked from the worst of human society.

Of course Evileye and her pitiful band of comrades protested, including that wretched bard. Fortunately, Daire and Orien kept them at bay and Lord Manfred used a Portal Stone to send the bard to another, more secure location. The annoying little minstrel will get his, in due time. For now, Lucian had to focus on the next phase of the plan.

Eventually, as the line of sacrifices gradually shrank, Lucian spied Sir and Madame Furt. The two disgraced nobles huddled closely together, trying to comfort each other as they were shoved toward the pale demon by a Ghoul in rusted armor. Forced to his knees, Sir Furt looked up at Lucian with a mixture of terror and bewilderment. For a moment, the man's jaw hung open in shock before he managed to find his voice.

"L-Lucian?" the man sputtered, his blue eyes wide as dinner plates. "W-What has happened to you?"

The pale demon paused.

He was surprised that the vain, foolish noble was perhaps the only one of these weeping sacrifices to have truly recognized him. A smile tugged at his lips. Of all people, those men who had served him, envied him and possibly would've betrayed him met their end, oblivious to the identity of their executioner. Yet, it was this man who had failed to recognize that he was no longer a noble, had recognized him. It made him want to laugh and, strangely, to cry.

"A miracle, my friend," Lucian told Sir Furt gently, placing a hand on the kneeling man's shoulder. He placed his dagger's black blade to the man's throat. "A miracle is what happened to me. I am now walking the path of the gods now."

"Was this truly your aim?" Sir Furt asked, strangely calm. "To betray us and to side with this…" he glanced at Manfred, who was carefully inspecting Dawnbreaker in his hands. "...creature?"

Lucian nodded. "It brings me no great joy or pleasure, if it's any consolation."

Sir Furt looked unconvinced. "And what of my daughter?"

"As agreed, she is safely locked away in the dungeons."

"How do I know that you will keep your word?"

"You don't, but consider this: have I truly gone back on everything I have promised you?"

Sir Furt blinked and considered the demon's words. He glanced at Jircniv, who sat on his partially destroyed throne behind Lucian, looking visibly pale and nervous. The young man gave Lucian and Sir Furt a hard glare but remained silent and immobile. He was a prisoner in his own palace. The disgraced noble smiled.

"I…I suppose not, save for my predicament." Sir Furt gestured to himself, kneeling.

"Indeed. While this is an exception, do know that I intend to keep my word regarding Arche. I will not harm her. She will benefit from Lord Manfred's benevolence. It is as my father once said, 'without honor, a man's word means nothing.'"

Sir Furt nodded slowly, his smile slowly turning into a frown.

Lucian held the dagger to the disgraced noble's throat. He wanted to end this conversation and move on. Time was of the essence and Manfred's glorious future awaited. Yet, Lucian hesitated for a moment. But why? Was it sentiment? Sir Furt was a friend of Lucian's father, though they weren't very close. Was it regret? No. It can't be, but it would explain this strange feeling in his chest. While he was now a demon, it would seem that not even demons were beyond all feelings.

"When you are gone," Lucian told Sir Furt, holding the dagger tightly in his fist. "I will ensure that the names of the Furt Family shall live on forever, that future generations will know of you and the sacrifice you have made."

Sir Furt said nothing. He closed his eyes and waited.

It was then that Lucian's hardwork and the dream of a utopian future began to unravel. The pale blue light of the dome that bathed the throne room flickered and faded. All at once, Lucian could feel a gust of wind, could smell the scent of ash and death and could hear the distant cries of humans scattered around the capital. Lucian lowered his dagger and looked. His eyes widened.

The dome was gone. How? Why? The Orb of Dominion should've held on for far longer. Was it destroyed? No, it would take a high level magic caster or an Adventurer of Orichalcum-rank or above. A thought occurred to him. Was it possible that one of those men he recruited had something to do with this? There was a stubborn hold out but he was certain that they would be dead by now, Sonya assured him. Did she betray him? Or did Jircniv have an ace tucked away somewhere, just waiting to strike. A torrent of questions swirled in his head, but no answer came, for as his rage began to build, he was sent flying by a sudden burst of blinding, burning light.

The world spun and tumbled as he crashed through Jircniv's ruined throne, which the frightened Emperor managed to vacate in time, and through the ruined wall behind it. He tumbled through the air and fell for what felt like an eternity, before colliding with solid stone and dirt. Dust rained on Lucian laid there and processed what had just happened. For the most part, the pale demon was fine. High above him, he could see the throne room high above him, near the top of one of the immense domed structures that comprised the palace. It was a long fall but the only injury he sustained was a moderately sore back. However, as he sat up, Lucian felt a sharp sting and a harsh burning sensation in his chest. He looked down and saw a large, circular wound. The pale, marble like flesh was now a bloody red, sizzling and smoking. The pale demon stared at the wound for a moment. He reached up and touched it. He winced. It stung but, after a few additional moments, the wound gradually healed and was gone.

The demon sat up and looked around. It appeared he had landed in one of the palace's many gardens and that the stone path running through it had broken his fall. Above him, the demon could hear shouts and the sounds of battle. He could see a rainbow assortment of flashes and bursts of light. Of course. With the dome down, the Adventurers, the Court Wizard and the Imperial Knights would have their magic and their magically enhanced items again. They'll be harder to subdue, but they shall fall nonetheless.

Lucian dusted himself off and flexed, causing his large, leathery wings to flap and spread. First he'll fly up there and repay Lady Lakyus for her attack, then he'll finish off the other sacrifices and then he'll-

The pale demon's thoughts were interrupted by music. At least, he believed it to be music. It was loud, harsh, metallic, almost discordant, yet Lucian recognized notes. His eyes were drawn to a bright point high in the sky, far above the palace and the city. The demon focused and, with his enhanced sight, could see a figure floating among the darkness, strumming on an instrument of some kind. It looked like a lute, but the neck was longer and the body of the instrument was a glossy, black and white thing shaped like an arrowhead. Surrounding this figure were ghostly men with long, billowing hair and headbands. One played a similar looking instrument to the first, while another was pounding away on what appeared to be drums. A radiant golden light emanated from the figure in the middle of the ghosts. It took a moment but Lucian began to recognize this glowing figure: It was Gareth Silvertongue.

But how? Manfred had sent him off to a distant and remote place with the Portal Stone, a place meant to contain any prisoner of interest. There was no way someone like him could've escaped and returned to Arwintar so quickly, unless…

As Lucian puzzled over how Gareth returned, his thoughts were drowned out by the music. The sound, the speed, it began to increase and fill his head like a bad dream. As the song progressed, it grew louder, more powerful and more…exhilarating. The pounding drums and the screaming of the lute-like instrument filled Lucian with an usual feeling, a feeling that made him feel like he could fight the whole world single handedly.

However, as the song grew louder and the light grew brighter, the demon's eyes and ears stung, his head began to ache. In a matter of seconds, his stomach churned and the world swayed. The light began to beat down on him like rays from the sun over a scorching desert. Waves of energy burst from above, washing harmlessly over the landscape below, save for Lucian, which caused his body to grow exceedingly warm. The thick black clouds that blotted out the moon and stars began to retreat from this new sun. Lucian felt his strength begin to ebb away, his legs growing wobbly and his arms heavy. His body began to burn, his skin hissed and sizzled, thin streams of steam and smoke rose off his bubbling flesh. He tried to shield himself with his leathery wings but holes began to slowly burn into them, allowing the light to shine on uninterrupted.

As his world filled with light and pain, Lucian feared he was going to die. His strength began to fail as he sank to the ground. He fought to stand back up, to move, to escape. But the force of the light and music kept him pinned to the ground, his flesh continued to burn.

But then the pain abruptly stopped.

Blinking, the world gradually came back into focus. The light was still there, only it wasn't as intense. In fact, Lucian realized that he was kneeling in some shade. Looking up, he noticed a barrier of some sort hovering above him. He focused on it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing but failed to see anything. If he were to describe it, he would've said that he was standing underneath a perfectly round piece of…darkness. It was as if someone took the darkest night to ever be experienced by man and fashioned it into an umbrella or parasol.

"That's better!" a cheerful voice declared.

Lucian looked around and saw a man standing a short way up the ruined path. The man was dressed in a hooded cloak. Despite the cloak, the pale demon could clearly see the man's features in the radiant light from above. The man was handsome, had reddish-brown hair and sparkling brown eyes that held a certain cunning to them. The man smiled.

"Looks like I found you just in time. Quite a stroke of luck for me that the barrier failed when it did and that cleric girl knocked you clear out of the throne room. Saved me the trouble of having to devise a way of separating you from that ghastly Manfred fellow."

Lucian managed to push himself up off the ground and gave the man a cold look.

"Who…are you?" Lucian growled, his voice was raspy, his throat was still in the process of healing. "What do you want?"

"I am a friend," the man replied coolly, "with a once in a lifetime offer."

Lucian scowled at him but said nothing as the strange man began to talk.

…

Despite his many long years living in this world, Manfred was pleasantly surprised to find that there were still things that were able to catch him off guard.

First was the dome vanishing, followed by Evileye's cleric friend sending Lucian flying out the window with that Fourth Tier holy spell. Impressive, though it's unsurprising, given that she is an Adamantite-class Adventurer.

Once Lucian was sent flying, chaos erupted in the throne room. The wrinkled old wizard, Fluder, cast healing magic on the weary Imperial Knights and the members of Blue Rose, save for Evileye. Revitalized, the warriors renewed their struggle with zeal. They carved a path of destruction through the lower level undead and managed to rescue the remaining human captives, urging them to flee to the exit.

Manfred watched with interest, cradling Dawnbreaker in his arms. The large human woman with the war pick was a stubborn one without any magical assistance. But now, with the mystical effects of her items and magical support of her friends, she was a force of destruction. The skeletons and other lower level undead fell like wheat to a harvester's scythe. Even Daire was beginning to struggle against her but, thankfully, the higher level undead were holding out. The Death Knights, the Wights, and the others formed a barrier between him and the humans. However, Manfred felt that it would soon be unnecessary. In the corner of his eye, he spied the young emperor, the object of Lucian's wrath and hatred, had scurried over to the old wizard and shrieked a command. The wizard compiled without a word of complaint, as spells from both Evileye, Lakyus and even one of the Imperial Knights were flying freely and frantically all around. A stray spell would just as soon strike them as it would hit an undead foe. In a flash of light, the two were gone.

'They got away,' a silky female voice sulked in his mind.

"Hm," Manfred grunted in confirmation, trying his best to focus on the battle before him. "No matter. We will find them again soon enough."

'Promise?'

Manfred smiled. "I promise."

"My love?" Sonya spoke, confused.

"Hm?" He looked at the Countess.

"What do we do?"

Manfred considered his situation and then his options. A part of him wanted to withdraw to a more secure area. It made the most sense. It would help him get his thoughts in order and allow him to organize a proper response. Another part of him, however, demanded that he take action. To draw Dawnbreaker and show these feeble creatures why even the Dragon Lords feared this sword.

The Vampire Lord found his hands caressing the sheathed sword, gently gliding toward the hilt. The amethyst eyes of the wolf head pommel gleamed, seeming to wink at him mischievously. Manfred paused. He needed to focus, to take control of this situation before it got out of hand.

'Use me,' the soft soothing voice whispered in Manfred's mind, her every word sent shivers down his spine. 'Draw me, use my power.'

Manfred shook his head. Not here, not right now. The blade was powerful, perhaps too powerful to use here and now. He still had servants and thralls fighting. While it felt hypocritical to be worried about servants and thralls now, having sacrificed no small number of either in the past, Manfred was not keen on wasting more time and effort making up the gains he had earned tonight.

Orien appeared at the Vampire Lord's side. "My lord, I suggest that we withdraw. While Daire and Myself are able to hold Blue Rose and the Imperial Knights, I fear that we may not hold on for long."

"Why?" Manfred asked, confused and frustrated.

"It would appear that we may soon be overrun," Sonya observed, peering out of a nearby window.

Manfred scowled and went to the window. Peering out, he could see figures converging on the palace from several different directions. Hurtling at an accelerated pace were hordes of humanoid figures. Most of them were metallic figures, golems of some sort. Mixed in among them were a hodgepodge of Baharuth knights, Adventurers and Workers. There were even a few peasants, armed with pitchforks, clubs and an assortment of weaponry. What caught his attention were those leading them. At the head of these approaching forces were women in silvery armor and white cloaks.

'Paladins,' Manfred deduced. Judging from the information that he had extracted from the Grandmaster Knight at the monastery, these would be the peculiar fruit of his years of secret experimentation. At least those that had survived. From what the vampire could recall, they were a strange mixture of magic and alchemy, artificially enhancing select individuals who already showed serious promise in combat and holy magic. While Manfred had no fear of these paladins or the rabble they led, those metal golems they marched with were an unknown variable. He had encountered metal golems in the past, but nothing like these. These…things looked more sophisticated, agile and were likely even more dangerous than the golems he had faced in the past.

The longer the Vampire Lord considered this new development, the less he liked their chances of survival. It was highly probable that the acolytes he sent out to retrieve worthy sacrifices for the Cauldron were eliminated, as well as the undead placed under their command. On top of an Adamantite-class Adventurer group, Manfred's people faced two of the Empire's strongest knights, along with five paladins. To make matters even worse, Manfred could hear music. Looking upward, he noticed what looked like Gareth Silvertongue, surrounded by ghostly figures. This group hovered high above, playing strange music which seemed to fill the night. Manfred winced. The loud pounding of the drums and shriek of metallic notes stung his ears and made his bones vibrate. The blond bard began to glow like the sun, enveloped in radiant holy light that made Manfred's eyes water. As the light grew stronger and the music grew louder, Manfred could see the approaching horde begin to be affected by this new development. The ragged knights, Adventurers and Workers each began to glow, their wounds and weariness slowly faded away. Their weapons began to glow gold, as did the golems. Turning his attention back to the battle in the throne room, Manfred was startled to see the human warriors being affected as well. Wounds and weariness melted away, their weapons took on a golden hue and their damaged armor and clothing was being restored by this holy light. Energized and heartened by this new energy, the human defenders fought on. Although the undead still outnumbered them, the human defenders fought on and reaped a higher tally than before.

"Shall I sound a retreat, my lord?" Orien asked, fear and uncertainty filling his voice.

Manfred frowned but said nothing.

The voice spoke again, louder but no less sweet and alluring.

'Draw me. Use me. Allow these pathetic insects to witness to my eternal majesty!'

"My love?" Sonya spoke again, trying to be heard over the din of battle, the bard's deafening music and the whispers of the Queen of Darkness, but her voice was fading in and out. "Manfred, my love…What are your orders? Say something…Manfred!"

Orien spoke too but his voice was slowly drowned out over the sound of the battle, the bard's music and the cacophony of hundreds, no, thousands, of marching footsteps.

Manfred clenched his jaw, his slender fingers slithered up the sword and wrapped themselves around the grip. His blood began to boil. In addition to the squall of noise around him and outside the palace, his head began to fill with voices and sounds of battles long since passed. The Vampire Lord knew he had to calm down, to focus. This little battle was nothing more than a setback. Just a minor one. Yet, he just couldn't see a way out. The tide was quickly beginning to turn against him. He had voices in his ear, yelling and demanding a million things at once, demands regarding things already past and things happening presently. Suddenly, thankfully, the world went silent. It was like being on fire and suddenly being plunged into cold, icy water. Although the battle raged on, everything was enveloped in blissful silence.

'Better?' the Queen's voice asked Manfred.

Manfred nodded, sighing with relief.

'I know your fears,' her voice said, soothingly. 'I know what it is to feel as you do. Trapped. Surrounded on all sides by enemies, with no one to help you, only to question and doubt you.'

"Yes…" the Vampire Lord said softly. He recalled the words written in the journal of the Dark Apostle. The Queen of Darkness stood alone, surrounded on all sides by enemies and traitors. Those meager few who remained by her side questioned her and demanded that she save them. Manfred couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of his situation.

'But you are not alone,' the voice whispered. 'I am here, and I will not abandon you. I will not doubt you, not when victory is still near at hand.'

Manfred glanced at the sword in his hands. Although the blade was sheathed, the Vampire Lord could feel its power thrumming within. His hand tightened on the grip.

'You know what you must do,' the Queen of Darkness purred. 'My king.'

The Vampire Lord nodded slowly as he drew Dawnbreaker from its sheath.

'Feed me and I shall feed you. Kill for me and I shall kill for you. Together, we shall cut down all who stand in our way, be they human, dragon, or even the gods themselves. Together, we shall make this world ours.'

"My lord?" Orien spoke, as he and Sonya watched as Manfred drew Dawnbreaker.

The blade shimmered and glowed in the light of the new sun outside. Manfred gazed into the shining blade, entranced.

"My lord?" Orien tried again.

Nothing.

"My love?" Sonya tried, growing concerned. "Manfred?"

Without warning, the Vampire Lord's whirled around, his eyes burning with mystical energy and rage. Before either vampire could react, Manfred drove Dawnbreaker directly into Orien's heart. The slim vampire went stiff, his eyes bulged.

Sonya's jaw dropped and before she or anyone else could process what had just happened, Manfred twisted the sword. The blade shimmered and began to glow purple. Orien's body began to convulse. Black veins appeared on his face, before running down his throat. The vampire's mouth opened and shut wordlessly as dark violet energy began to flow into the sword.

As violet energy flowed into the sword, Orien's appearance changed. His inhuman beauty slowly withered into that of a wrinkly old man before growing even older. His silky white hair began to fall out of his head, his crimson eyes lost their color and became cloudy, glassy orbs. Eventually, the lithe, handsome vampire crumbled into dust.

Sonya's mouth hung open in horror. For a brief moment, the world seemed to grow still. The human warriors paused for a moment and gazed in awe at Manfred, standing over what was once his subordinate. Even the undead seemed to freeze momentarily.

"W-What in the name of the Night Lord are you doing?!" Sonya shrieked, but immediately went deathly still as Manfred turned his sword to the Countess.

"My blade thirsts," Manfred said, his voice a low growl. Dark purple energy enveloped the Vampire Lord before fading, revealing that he was wearing pieces of armor. A shiny black breastplate, a spiky black gauntlet and matching black pauldrons. The vampire gazed at the Countess with burning crimson eyes. "My blade thirsts…and it must feed."

Manfred's eyes left Sonya, as did the now glowing sword, before slowly resettling on Evileye.

A twisted smile formed on Manfred's face. "You…" he jabbed the burning sword at the masked Adventurer. "You shall do nicely."

The Vampire Lord raised Dawnbreaker and brought it down. The blade sliced through the air, cutting open a dark void in the air before him. The void was narrow, like a thin cut in the skin of reality, before widening and lengthening. The void took the form of a large portal, large enough to swallow the throne room's occupants, including the large Death Knights. A moment passed in silence before a figure emerged, followed by another and another. In mere seconds, more undead began to pour forth from the newly created [Gate].

"Now then, my dear niece," Manfred said, his eyes beginning to glow purple. "Are you ready to face judgement?"

---

(The Gate of the King, Royal Quarter, Arwintar)

Claire tapped her foot impatiently. Marene and Damien were late. It was expected of Marene, but they were on a strict deadline. She glanced around the corner of the building she was leaning against. A short distance ahead was the East Gate that led into the Royal Quarter, otherwise known as the Gate of the King. In ages past, the East Gate was the only gate in and out of the ancient fortress that was once home to the kings of Baharuth. Now, the gate was currently contested ground as a force of mortal men and Clockwork Sentinels clashed with the horde of undead pouring through said gate.

Looking up, Claire could see the orb of radiant light shining down on the Imperial Capital. Strange music filled the night which made the paladin feel energized and stronger than before. Hard to believe that Kane's brother was responsible for such a thing. A holy spell to boost the strengths of one's comrades is not unheard of but a spell that worked this potently, to this scale and duration was very unusual. The paladin would have to look into it later.

As the sounds of music and battle continued, the last of Claire's patience had faded. She was ready to storm the palace herself. Fortunately, Marene and Damien finally arrived.

"We're sorry!" Marene apologized. The bespectacled paladin grimaced upon noticing Claire's withering glare. "We had to make a couple of stops."

Damien stumbled into the alleyway, puffing and gasping for breath. The Artificer leaned against a nearby wall to steady himself.

"Sorry…I don't…run fast," Damien wheezed. He coughed and looked around the alley. "Where's Kane?"

"Right here," the vampire growled.

Marene yelped in surprise and spun around. At the far end of the alley was a pocket of deep shadows. Something moved in the shadows before emerging. Standing before them was a figure clad in black. Beneath a billowing black cloak and hood, the figure wore black scaled armor, black gauntlets and greaves. The figure's face was covered by a shiny silver mask. The mask portrayed a man's face, a handsome melancholic face with a single ruby tear running down its cheek.

"Black Vigil Armor, right?" Damien guessed.

The masked vampire nodded. "Yeah. Sorry to startle you, just needed a quick change before battle."

"Been a while since I've seen that old thing."

"It's the only thing that covers me from head to toe. All this holy light was making my skin feel itchy."

When they arrived at the alley, Kane ducked into the shadows and avoided the holy light radiating from above. Claire assumed it was to avoid the light, since the light and music appeared to have an adverse effect on the undead. She didn't realize that he was changing attire. The paladin studied the vampire's attire. Kane's new garb was…interesting. It certainly looked grim and intimidating. However, one could also describe the vampire's armor as old and worn. The cloak was torn and frayed, seeming to float and glide with Kane's movement, like an obsidian cloud. Upon closer inspection, Clair noticed the sorry state of the vampire's armor. The black fishscale mail was scuffed and coated in rust. His greaves and gauntlets were scarred by cuts, scrapes and dents. In all, the vampire's attire looked like it belonged on a corpse buried several hundred years ago.

Despite the sorry appearance, Claire felt uneasy about the armor. Something about it made her wary of the vampire.

Kane looked at the Artificer.

"You're not going in dressed like that, are you?"

"Of course not," Damien said, grinning.

"Good, cause it might get hairy."

"How?"

"It seems like this Manfred guy has Olivia's sword."

Damien's eyebrows shot up. "Oh….well, shit."

"Who? What?" Marene asked, confused.

"This sword, I believe you know it as Dawnbreaker."

Claire's heart skipped a beat and Marene's eyes widened in horror.

"What!?" the bespectacled paladin exclaimed.

"You're lying," Claire growled. "That wretched blade was lost to history!"

"Believe it, girlfriend," Kane said, his masked face turning to Claire. "Gareth told me."

"If that's the case, then we need to move fast and carefully." Damien said, reaching into his Inventory and pulled out a large bronze warhammer. The hammer was a head taller than Damien and inscribed with all manner of symbols and runes.

"Why rush?" the vampire said with a shrug. "Your plan is working like a dream. We got Manfred surrounded and pinned down. Any minute now, those Sentinels are gonna punch through those gates and those undead schlubs. I'll be generous and let those paladins get first crack at him. Obviously, they'll get their noses broken but hey, they might actually do my job for me. In the end, I think we can take it easy from here on-"

*BOOM!*

The ground beneath the quartet shook for a moment. Claire and the others emerged from the alley. In the distance ahead of them, they saw columns of smoke rising from the Imperial Palace. A moment later, there was a burst of violet energy that ripped a hole through a ceiling and punched through a tower. Soon several other bursts of energy tore through roofs and walls of the palace, followed by more smoke.

'That power…' Claire thought, her eyes narrowed. If Kane was correct, then Manfred was armed with one of the most dangerous weapons humankind has ever encountered. She wasn't sure if she could handle this. In fact, she wasn't sure if all the paladins currently in the capital could hope to subdue Manfred. Legends say that the blade could feast on the life force of others, granting its wielder unfathomable power. She glanced at Kane, who seemed to be watching the destruction in the distance. Surely he possibly didn't think he could go toe-to-toe with a Vampire Lord armed with the Queen of Darkness's own sword.

But nothing of Kane betrayed any sense of fear or hesitation. He remained still as a summer's evening.

Damien lifted his hammer and brought the bottom of its staff down on the ground.

*CRACK!*

Blinding white light enveloped the Artificer for a moment. When the light faded, Claire saw that Damien was now encased in armor. The armor made the Artificer much taller and looked like a knight's suit of armor, albeit bulkier. His head was covered by a helmet which had a visor that covered his face with a fearsome metal face. With a single gauntlet hand, Damien lifted his hammer and shouldered it.

"Looks like this could be dangerous," Damien said, his voice now a deep, metallic growl.

"Man, I'm the one that's dangerous," Kane snorted.

"Soooo, the usual bet?"

Kane shrugged. "Why not."

"Bet?" Marene asked, curious.

"First to kill the boss or to land the last blow owes the other a drink."

"O-Oh…" the bespectacled paladin gave the two odd looks.

Claire cocked an eyebrow. These two were either stupid, suicidal or mad and, from how long she knew Kane, she was still unsure.

The paladin drew her broadsword. "I'll take that bet."

Marene gave Claire a funny look. but could only produce her mace and adjusted her spectacles.

With weapons drawn, the four warriors charged the Gate of the King.

---

(The Imperial Palace, Arwintar)

Evileye sank into the marble bench. Despite everything within her screaming at her to not stop, the vampiric Adventurer needed a moment to catch her breath. Looking around, Evileye discovered that she was in one of the palace's numerous gardens. All around her was tranquil and still. The clouds and smoke above were gone now, allowing the moon to paint the garden in a soft pale light. Nearby she could hear the soft gurgle of water spilling into a pond. A welcome change to the strange, deafening music that filled the night moments earlier. She spied a stony pathway winding its way through the greenery, occasionally passing an elegant marble statue. Shedding her mask, Evileye wiped the sweat and grime from her face. The air was cool and refreshing on her face. Her body ached and her lungs burned. A part of her was tempted to lay down and nap on this bench for a little while. But she couldn't do that. Not now. Manfred was still looking for her.

For what felt like forever, Evileye had been evading and attempting to kill her adoptive uncle. Despite her best efforts, no matter what injury she gave him, Manfred still lived. In fact, the Vampire Lord seemed to be growing stronger. The vampiric Adventurer thought of that sword he was wielding. Dawnbreaker. There were all manner of stories surrounding the blade, but nothing definitive. Until now. It would seem that the sword has made Manfred stronger, more resilient and more violent.

After killing Orien and unleashing a new horde of undead, Manfred attacked Evileye directly. He was fast and his blows were devastating but the Adventurer was able to keep up. At least for a while. Noticing his lack of progress, Manfred turned his blade on Daire as well. After the sword had feasted on the large vampire, there was an obvious increase in Manfred's speed and power. In fact, the Vampire Lord began using spells and attacks that surprised Evileye. She was barely able to keep up with them. The last one she avoided had wiped out a fair number of Manfred's own servants and ripped a massive hole in the roof of the palace. It was then that Evileye realized that she needed to deal with Manfred here and now.

She quickly told Lakyus and the others to retreat, to flee the palace and to deal with the other undead. Before they could protest, Evileye took off with her uncle hot on her heels.

Which brought her to this garden.

A few seconds have passed and already her wounds are beginning to heal. Some cuts and bruises had vanished, but there was a burn on her arm that remained. Although it looked better than before, her arm remained red, blistered and swollen. In fact, there were several other cuts and gashes that didn't seem to be healing as quickly as they should. Did it have something to do with Dawnbreaker?

There was rustling in some nearby bushes. Evileye spun and cast [Crystal Lance] at the bushes. A crystalline lance flew from her hand and tore through the bushes. There was a yelp, which caused Evileye to sit up. That clearly wasn't Manfred.

"Sorry!" a familiar voice cried out. "Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you!"

The vampire quickly placed her mask back on her face as Gareth the bard emerged from the bushes. The blond man had his hands held up in surrender, a meek smile on his handsome face.

"You," Evileye said, sounding surprised and mildly annoyed. "What are you doing here? How are you here? I saw Manfred send you away with that portal."

"He did, but, long story short, I found my way back." Gareth said cheerfully.

She exhaled. "You need to leave. It's not safe."

"I could say the same to you," Gareth said, lowering his hands. A concerned look formed on his face. "You're hurt."

Evileye drew her cloak around her, covering the burn on her arm and her other remaining wounds. "It's nothing that won't heal."

"Hold on, I think I have something that can help." The bard began rummaging through a pouch on his belt.

"Thank you, but a potion isn't going to help me. It'll only make it worse."

"Don't worry, I know that potions don't exactly sit right with vampires. Ah ha!"

Gareth pulled out a tiny object, a dark lump of matter no bigger than a marble, and offered it to Evileye.

"Eat this."

A foul stench filled her senses and caused her to recoil.

"What is that?" she gagged.

"A Necromancer's Pastille. To an ordinary human, it's poisonous. To an undead like you, it'll revitalize you, hasten your body's natural healing abilities and cure you of any nasty lingering effects."

Evileye scrutinized the pastille. If anything, the object looked like a lump of mud and clay and reeked of troll excrement.

"A-Are you sure?" Evileye asked, uncertain.

"Of course! It has everything a growing vampire needs: Black Moss, Bone Meal, Spirit Raisin, Shadow Pine Resin, Twilight Herb and much more. It'll fix you up in no time. Besides…" The bard gave her a funny look "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have gone for something more…well, more. I have a feeling that it'll take more than a little pastille or potion to bring you down."

The vampire stared at the pastille for a moment, hesitant, but feeling the pain of the burn and the urgency of her situation, accepted the pastille. She turned away from Gareth and lifted her mask partially. She held her breath and downed the pastille. The moment it touched her tongue Evileye gagged, but she fought through the horrid flavor and swallowed it. The vampire shivered and waited. A moment passed and, surprisingly, the pain in Evileye's arm was gone in an instant. She looked at her arm and saw that the burn had vanished. A moment later the cuts and gashes that refused to heal were gone and, most surprisingly, Evileye felt a flood of energy fill her. Like a raging flood, the energy filled her from her head to her toes, quickly burning away any fatigue and pain she had felt. A third moment had passed, and Evileye felt as she did before this whole night started: well rested and ready for anything.

Evileye jumped up and inspected herself. Although her clothing was still damaged, there wasn't a single wound on her. It was as if they had never existed.

"By the gods…" Evileye breathed in surprise.

"How do you feel?" Gareth asked, studying her carefully.

"Amazing! I-I have never felt like this before."

Gareth smiled, relief filled his face. "Good. Good. At least that works."

"Huh?"

"Oh it's just…Dawnbreaker is a very dangerous blade. Depending on the wielder, it can do more than boost power and destroy a palace. It has…other effects."

Evileye squinted at Gareth. "What other effects?"

Gareth hesitated for a moment. "It's…a long story for another time. Just know that you're back to full health."

The vampire regarded the bard with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. She wanted to ask more questions, but as she opened her mouth, a cold sensation swept over her. In the corner of her vision, she saw movement. There was a flash and Evileye reacted.

"[Crystal Wall]!" the vampire cried, conjuring up a tall, thick barrier of shimmering blue crystal. The wall arose just in time as something crashed against the wall. An explosion caused the wall to crack and burst into a shower of glittering dust.

Gareth drew his sword and Evileye drew her silver daggers.

Through the glittering dust and smoke, Manfred emerged. The Vampire Lord looked ghostly, almost ethereal. His face was gaunt and thin, his eyes shined with a purple light. Dawnbreaker was firmly in hand, the blade gleaming in the moonlight.

Evileye was surprised by her uncle's appearance. At the beginning of this tumultuous night, he looked vigorous and triumphant. Now, he looked drained, hollow and was driven by hate.

"I thought I'd find you here, dear little princess," the elder vampire's voice was low and rough. His violet eyes scanned the greenery that surrounded them. "It's funny. It all began that night, all those years ago, in a garden not too dissimilar as this. Truly, it must be fate."

"One would call it poetic," Gareth remarked. "Others would call it a cliché."

Manfred stared at Evileye. Whether or not he heard Gareth or cared, the Vampire Lord didn't show it. Instead, the elder vampire's glowing eyes burned into Evileye's mask.

"You're right," Evileye said, gripping her daggers tightly. "It is fate. It began in a garden like this and it will end in a garden. I will avenge my family, my kingdom and finally be rid of you!"

An eerie smile spread across Manfred's lips.

"Oh, you will never be rid of me. I am a part of you, always."

His violet eyes shifted to Gareth. "Just as much as she is a part of you."

Gareth blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Enough of this!" Evileye snarled before using the [Reverse Gravity] spell to launch herself at the Vampire Lord.

The vampiric Adventurer was a blur of speed. She brought up her daggers and swung furiously, hoping to cut his head free from his neck. Manfred brought up his blade and parried each of her swings without missing a beat. He swung at her with his clawed hand but Evileye disengaged the [Reverse Gravity] spell, causing her to drop down. When she made contact with the ground, Evileye slashed at Manfred's knees. The Vampire Lord jumped backward and Evileye pursued. Manfred waved a hand and dozens of roots and vines shot out of the ground and out of the surrounding greenery and entangled the Adventurer.

Evileye slashed and fought against the vines and roots, but for every one she cut, two more took their place. Manfred's hand glowed purple and the tendrils quickly multiplied, their speed increased. One root managed to grab hold of Evileye's left wrist. It wrapped around her wrist tightly, slowly crushing the bones in her wrist and forced her to drop her dagger. A vine wrapped around her other wrist, its thorns burrowing deep into her flesh like teeth and cutting the tendons. Before long, Evileye found her arms stretched out to her sides and her legs pinned together.

Gareth fared better than her. The tendrils lunged for the bard, who invoked the [Dispel] spell which caused the thrashing tendrils to freeze in mid-air and fall lifelessly to the ground. With the tendrils disabled, the bard attacked Manfred with his sword. Evileye tried to tell Gareth to run away and not fight Manfred, but it was too late.

The bard and the Vampire Lord clashed. Their blades rang as Manfred parried Gareth's swing. Dawnbreaker shimmered in the moonlight and Manfred retaliated with an attack of his own. Surprisingly, Gareth was able to fluidly block it and the follow up attack. Evileye watched in amazement as the two traded swordstrokes, parried the others attack and evaded a potentially fatal strike.

"Not bad…for a human," Manfred said, sounding both annoyed and impressed.

"Thank you," Gareth said, smiling, "and you're not so bad yourself. Maybe in a couple years, you might actually be able to beat me."

Manfred scowled, his eyes flashed violet and he began to fight more aggressively. His swings were faster, more focused and had more power behind them. Gareth's smile wavered as he matched the vampire's speed and blocked each attack, though Evileye could see that the bard was surprised by the change. Soon, Manfred drew back and wrapped both hands around Dawnbreaker's grip.

"[Pace of the Wind], [Haste], !" Manfred snarled as he charged. The Vampire Lord's body flashed red before he vanished in a blur and reappeared behind Gareth. The bard whirled around, his eyes widened in surprise. Manfred swung Dawnbreaker. Gareth dodged but the blade managed to cut the bard on the arm.

Gareth winced, but the cut didn't appear to be too life threatening. However, Evileye noticed Manfred looking pleased with himself. On the Vampire Lord's blade, there was a singular droplet, which gleamed for a moment before being absorbed into the metal. Dawnbreaker's blade shimmered and flashed dark red for a moment before returning to normal.

The Vampire Lord smiled and went on the offensive once more. He rushed Gareth and vanished in a blur. He reappeared behind the bard and scored another cut. Manfred moved again, this time appearing to Gareth's side and scored another cut. This process repeated a dozen times over as cuts began to appear all over Gareth. Some cuts were minor but others were deeper and more serious. While Manfred was one to draw out a battle and to make his foes suffer, Evileye sensed that this was different. It was as if the Vampire Lord was draining his opponent, taking him apart little by little until he was too weak to fight.

This rapid assault carried on for another few moments before Manfred finally reappeared behind Gareth. Dawnbreaker's blade ignited, becoming enveloped in violet flames. The Vampire Lord's eyes blazed with renewed energy.

With both hands on Dawnbreaker's grip, Manfred swung downard, attempting to cleave Gareth down the middle.

"[Marrowrend]!" Manfred roared.

Gareth managed to move his blade in time as Dawnbreaker collided with his sword. There was a loud clang and a ringing sound that filled the once tranquil garden. The force of the collision shook the ground and made the greenery around them sway and shake. Dawnbreaker was inches away from the top of Gareth's head. The bard held fast but the Vampire Lord muttered a spell and forced the sword downward. Dawnbreaker moved a little closer, the amethyst eyes of the silver wolf pommel glowed, as if it was eager to take a bite out of the slashed up bard.

"Ready to give up yet?" Gareth asked, pushing against the Vampire Lord's blade.

"Give up? I have only just begun," Manfred said, a crooked smile appeared on his face. "Of all the blood that my blade has tasted, yours is by far the most…delicious."

"Uh, thanks?" the bard said, clearly uncomfortable.

"You are different, that is clear enough. Once I kill, I shall open you up and spill your secrets out upon this grass."

"Ew."

With a powerful shove, Gareth forced Manfred back and was going to follow up with an attack, only for the Vampire Lord to reach into his cloak, withdraw an item, and cry out:

"[Glaskäfig]!"

There was a bright white flash and Gareth was gone. The garden fell silent. Manfred exhaled and lowered his sword.

"We'll continue this later," Manfred said, softly. "Your blood and your power will be an invigorating feast. But first I must deal with…"

The Vampire Lord turned, his attention fixed on Evileye.

"...you, dear niece" he said, approaching the captured Adventurer. "I'm afraid here is where we must part."

"W-What did you do to Gareth?" Evileye stared at Manfred in horror. "W-Where is he?"

The Vampire Lord held up the object he had pulled out of his cloak. In his hand was a crystal orb, roughly the size of an orange. Within the orb, Evileye could see what looked like a dreamy little scene: a cozy looking snowbound village. Clustered together were houses of brick and stone, soft orange lights flickering in their tiny windows. She could even see wisps of smoke rising from their little chimneys. Dotting the wintry landscape in and around the village were snow capped pine trees.

"A holy relic," Manfred answered, studying the orb. "It is said that the Queen of Darkness used this item to punish those who especially displeased her. It is designed to not only contain her foes, but also break the proudest spirits."

Manfred approached the incapacitated Adventurer, his eyes still fixed on the crystal orb. "A fitting punishment for one who showed such resilience and defiance. I was saving it for you but…" his gaze turned to Evileye. "I fear that your spirit may prove to be far more stubborn, which calls for the final punishment: Death."

The Vampire Lord continued toward Evileye. Although she struggled against the tendrils that held her in place, she didn't make any progress. The Vampire Lord gazed into his niece's eyes. Evileye saw years of hatred and sorrow within them.

"It is fate that has brought us together once again," Manfred told her, his voice soft. "I have given you everything, a family, purpose and you spat in my face. You betrayed me, you betrayed your own people."

"You took my family from me," Evileye hissed. "You turned me into a monster and used me as a tool to spread death and misery. It wasn't you who gave me purpose. I found that on my own."

"And what a glorious purpose!" the Vampire Lord sneered. "Serving these weak, stupid beasts like a common maidservant. What a waste of talent and power."

Evileye glared at him and said nothing. There was nothing she could say that would change his mind. Manfred wanted her dead, he had her trapped, and Gareth was gone. Evileye watched as her uncle moved to her side and raised Dawnbreaker. The tendrils moved her, forcing her into a kneeling position. Resigned to her fate, the masked vampire lowered her head, exposing her neck and closed her eyes. She could hear Manfred raise his blade higher and higher. The Adventurer's life flashed through her mind. Names and faces from various parts of her long life appeared in rapid succession. Lakyus, Gagaran, Tia, Tina, Rigrit, Princess Renner, the Black Knight, the Runesmith King, the Golden Knight. The memories flew by in a rapid stream before coming to a stop on a memory that Evileye hadn't thought of in a long time.

The memory was of Inveria, of when Evileye was known to the world as Keno Fasris Invern. She was sitting on an old soft rug in front of a roaring fire, listening to her mother read a story aloud. She remembered her younger brother and sister, the two of them had already fallen asleep.

The Vampiric Adventurer didn't know why she thought of that night, but it strangely made her feel more at ease. Evileye kept her eyes closed and allowed the memory to play out to the end. Noticing the late hour, her mother, her father and Natasha, Keno's handmaiden, carried the children to bed. Keno was the last to be tucked in. Despite her protests, the young princess was tired and was sinking into sleep. Her last recollection of that night was of a kiss on her forehead from her mother and the light of the moon filtering in through her window.

'I'm sorry, mother,' Evileye thought bitterly. 'I'm sorry father. I'm sorry everyone. I failed.'

Manfred brought Dawnbreaker down.

*CLANG!*

Manfred froze as Dawnbreaker failed to meet its target. Instead of sinking into the undead flesh of his traitorous niece, it was intercepted by a black, curved sword that roughly resembled a scimitar. Bandages hastily wrapped around the sword and its handle, it was also wrapped around the owner's gauntleted hand.

Evileye opened her eyes and looked up. The two vampires studied the newcomer. The owner of the black sword was clad in a ragged looking hooded cloak and rusted armor. The most intriguing thing about this interloper, to Manfred, was that their face was concealed by a mask. The mask was silver and fashioned into the face of a melancholic man, shedding a single ruby tear.

"Now now…" the masked figure tsked, his voice male and taunting. "didn't anyone ever tell you to pick on someone your own size?"

Snarling, Manfred withdrew Dawnbreaker and aimed for the newcomer's head, only for him to cut air as the masked man bent his neck to the right at an unnatural angle, a sickening *CRACK!* filling the air as his neck seemingly broke itself to dodge the deadly swing.

"Hoh…a fellow undead, then?" Manfred observed, scowling "No…those eyes…another vampire?"

"Why don't you stick around and find out?" the masked man taunted. With a violent jerk, his neck readjusted itself with another sickening sound, before disappearing in a flash of black. Manfred too disappeared into a blur of black, scarlet, and gold, and fierce clashes of blades filled the air.

Evileye looked on in stunned amazement. While Gareth, in his brief duel with Manfred, showed superb speed for a human, this masked stranger's speed was on a whole other level. Even by Vampire speeds, this newcomer would give even Evileye a run for her money.

Just who was this guy?

"Hey, Shorty!" a familiar voice called out.

Evileye craned her neck and saw, to her bewilderment, Gagaran and the rest of Blue Rose arrive. Accompanying them were Claire, the paladin who guarded the High Priest in their meeting with the emperor, and a newcomer. This stranger was encased in bronze colored armor, stood seven feet tall and was carrying a massive warhammer in their gauntleted hand. The group was covered in grime and blood, but looked ready for battle. As they arrived in the garden, a swarm of undead entered the garden from the opposite end. This swarm was composed of higher level undead, like Boneclaws, Ghouls and Wights. Gagaran, Lakyus, Tina, Claire and the armored giant engaged the undead without a second thought. Tia appeared by Evileye's side and quickly freed her from her binds.

"You're looking pretty beat up," Tia observed blithely.

"No kidding," Evileye murmured, inspecting her mangled wrists as they slowly healed themselves. Her left wrist was purple and bloated, the bones popped as they reassembled and returned to their proper place. Meanwhile, the flesh on her right wrist was shredded, with muscles and bone exposed. Evileye was eager to get back into the fight, to help her fellow Adventurers or help the masked newcomer against Manfred. However, she could do nothing but look on.

Even in the midst of a battle, with several dangerous undead still present, everyone paused to look at what went down in history as a legendary battle between two vampires. One was an ancient evil who wielded the legendary blade once used by the Queen of Darkness, and the other was an enigma; a dark entity playing the hero. What was he here for? Was he here to usurp the current Vampire Lord? Or was he truly here to help?

All those questions faded to the back of Evileye's mind as the two went at it. Snarling, laughing, roaring, taunting, flashes of silver and obsidian razed the air without pause before the two rivals suddenly stopped as they stood back to take a break.

Evileye's eyes widened under her mask. Manfred, for the first time in centuries, looked…out of breath. Panting, his arms were trembling as he kept an iron grip onto his treasured weapon. The newcomer shed his mask and hood, revealing a handsome pale face with laughing ruby eyes and long raven locks. He looked more excited than winded.

"Who…are you?" Manfred snarled, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Kane Silvertongue," the man replied cheerfully. He held up a hand, as if to preempt any cheers and applause. "I know, I know, I look even better without this old thing." He held up his mask, before it disappeared in a flash of silver.

'Silvertongue?' Evileye thought. 'Is he related to Gareth?'

"I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed. Is that really all you got?" Kane's eyes then moved towards his enemy's blade. "You're a lot weaker than I thought. I guess it's really that sword that gives you the upper–"

He stiffened, and Manfred's smirk returned to his face.

"Ooh, you recognize this weapon?" Manfred grinned, waving it tauntingly.

"Yeah…I do," Kane frowned, his eyes still on the sword – or, rather, its pommel. "I always did wonder whatever happened to my sword after that bitch took it."

Evileye's eyebrows shot up and she glanced at her adoptive uncle.

Manfred's triumphant smirk faded into one of confusion, then disbelief.

"What? Have you gone mad? This sword belonged to the Queen of Darkness herself! One of the Eight Greed Kings! The–"

"Olivia. Yeah, I know. And who do you think that skank stole it from?"

"Y-You're bluffing!" Manfred protested. There was no way that this nameless, rogue traitor knew more than he did! There's no way that such a powerful goddess of evil would've resorted to stealing to some upstart for her power! There's no way–

"-!" Manfred barely blocked a deadly blow that would've taken off his head.

*BANG!*

The Vampire Lord, however, didn't manage to block the close-range blast courtesy of a new weapon Kane had hidden under his cloak. Evileye focused on the weapon as it slowly emerged from the shadows within the cloak. It was a long black metallic thing with twin barrels. As it emerged further, Evileye noticed, etched into the length of the weapon, was a ferocious snarling silver hellhound. Manfred's eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Looking down, the Vampire Lord saw a large chunk of his side was blown clean off. Naturally, his flesh began to regenerate, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell.

"W-What manner of foul weaponry is this?" Manfred gritted his teeth. He staggered backward a few steps before regaining his footing.

"The future is now, old man. There's no need for the past to keep leeching off the present and the future," Kane hummed. "So, like the rest of ancient history, why don't you go fuck off and die?"

"You insolent–" Manfred's face warped into one of pain and fury, the air filling with the aura of rage.

"Killing intent, huh? Bet you mine's bigger."

And suddenly, the air grew thick, heavy with bloodlust. The assembled humans froze in place and eventually, one by one, sank to their knees. Even Claire the paladin leaned against her broadsword for support and was visibly fighting to remain on her feet. The only one who didn't seem affected in the least was the armored giant. He continued to crush and pulverise any undead remaining in the garden.

Evileye looked at Manfred and was startled to see the Vampire Lord shaken. His face read that of shock and horror. She noticed a slight tremor in his hand but he forced his hand to keep steady.

"Ooh, still standing," Kane teased, a mocking smile spread on his lips. "I gotta say, you got balls. Probably more than anyone I've run into so far."

"DON'T YOU DARE LOOK DOWN ON ME!" Manfred shrieked, his eyes flashing red and then purple. His face twisted into a mask of hatred and mania. He gripped Dawnbreaker with both hands and the blade ignited with purple flames. "YOU SHALL PAY FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!"

"Well c'mon then. Show me something already!"

Manfred's hands glowed and the shade of the flames enveloping Dawnbreaker deepened, turning a darker shade of purple before finally settling on a blood red.

"DIE YOU FILTHY UPSTART!" the Vampire Lord screamed as he charged at Kane. Manfred became a blur of red and black. Kane waited, his smile widening.

It all happened so quickly that Evileye wasn't sure what just happened. But, judging from the aftermath, she could make an educated guess.

In the blink of an eye and the roar of Kane's shiny new weapon, the new vampire was victorious.

Manfred stood merely a few inches from where Kane had stood, his arms raised as if to cleave the newcomer in two. However, the Vampire Lord's hands were gone and Dawnbreaker was lying in the grass several feet behind him. The blade's blood red flames flickered before it faded into nothing, the blade returning to its pristine silvery state. Kane was no longer where he stood. He was currently standing to Manfred's right, his black sword dripping with blood and his twin barreled weapon aimed at Manfred's temple.

The Vampire Lord remained stock still as blood gushed from his handless arms. His face was frozen in its frenzied, hateful state before melting away and being replaced by that of utter defeat.

"I…I'm sorry," Manfred whispered, gazing up at the moon. "I…I failed. I'm sorry…I'm sorry."

"Afraid so," Kane said, tilting his head. "You did better than most but, I'm afraid it's time for you to cash out."

The Vampire Lord's eyes closed and, strangely, a wistful smile appeared on his lips. "I see."

The world seemed to grow still for a long moment, as if everyone and everything was holding its breath. After a brief eternity, the elder vampire opened his eyes and looked at Kane. Evileye noticed an odd gleam in Manfred's eyes. His wistful smile slowly turned into sorrow.

"From where I'm standing, it would seem like I had a run of bad luck. But the truth of the matter is that I never really stood a chance. She was right. The game was rigged from the start."

*BANG!*

Manfred's head erupted in a squall of gore and flames. Blood, bone and other matter splattered all over the grass and nearby plants. The Vampire Lord's headless body sank to its knees before crumbling into dust. Evileye looked on in disbelief. Manfred Morgenstern, disciple of darkness, Vampire Lord and terror of the Continent was gone in a flash. Literally.

Kane lowered his weapon and looked down at the crumbled remains of his foe. Evileye couldn't accurately read his expression. However, for a brief moment, she could've sworn she saw a hint of surprise on the other vampire's face. A few moments passed. Kane remained stock still. Meanwhile, Claire, the other members of Blue Rose and the armored giant dispatched the last of the undead.

"That should be the last of them," Lakyus huffed, sweat cascading down her face.

"I need a drink," Gagaran complained, leaning against her war pick.

"I need a bath," Tina grumbled, wiping her blades on the grass.

Evileye slowly got to her feet. Her wrists had healed enough to where she could use her hands with only a dull pain to discomfort her. She approached Kane. The tall vampire was near Dawnbreaker, looking down on the cursed blade. The infamous blade laid on the grass, gleaming brightly in the light of the moon.

The masked Adventurer considered what she should say for a moment before she cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Kane Silvertongue," Evileye said in a professional tone.

"Hmm?" He blinked and looked at her. He smiled, "No problem, pipsqueak."

Evileye stiffened. "My name is Evileye."

"Right. Right."

"I have questions"

"And you will continue to have them," Kane knelt down and scooped up Dawnbreaker. He was careful to not touch the blade itself, keeping his hands on the grip and the pommel. He walked over to the bushes nearby and found the scabbard lying there. He sheathed the sword and, with a flourish, the legendary sword was gone in a puff of darkness.

Evileye wanted to complain, to demand that the vampire hand over the blade so it could be destroyed or, at the very least, locked away somewhere. But she was tired and she knew that she didn't have the strength to intimidate or force Kane. For now, she'll let the matter lie. Now, the masked vampire will have to come to grips with the fact that an awful chapter of her life is now over.

The armored giant approached them. The giant lifted a hand and raised the visor of its helmet, revealing the face of a concerned young man.

"Hey, uh, Miss Evileye?"

"Yes?"

"Have you seen Gareth anywhere?"

Kane's eyes widened and he turned to Evileye. Evileye turned her masked face toward the pile of ash and clothing that was once Manfred.

Kane rushed over and frantically dug through the pile. Beneath the clothes were an assortment of items but the vampire brushed them aside. Eventually, Kane discovered the crystal orb.

"Oh, phew!" Kane huffed, relieved. He brushed dust off of the orb and inspected its curious interior. "Oh thank God!" He looked at Evileye. "Can you imagine what would've happened if I came all this way and killed the big bad and lost or destroyed this thing? HA HA!"

Evileye said nothing. She sighed deeply and was grateful that she was alive and that everything seemed to be fine. For now, at least.

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End of Chapter

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(AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! See you next time!)

(References)

(chapter title): song by Echo & the Bunnymen

Kane's sword: Craven Edge from Vox Machina

Damien's armor: Warhammer 40k Space Marine Power Armor

Gareth's song: Sword of Damocles by Judas Priest

Manfred's final words: Benny from Fallout New Vegas