The figure wasted no time. With a burst of golden energy, he surged forward, a blur of motion as he closed the distance between himself and the nearest death knight.
The knight, encased in jagged black armor that seemed to absorb light, raised its massive two-handed sword, the cursed blade humming with dark energy. The figure anticipated the downward swing and sidestepped with ease, his movements fluid and precise.
As the blade smashed into the ground, sending a shockwave of dark energy rippling outward, the figure leapt onto the sword itself. Using it as a springboard, he launched himself upward, flipping over the death knight's head.
While airborne, he twisted his body, bringing one of his daggers down in a blazing arc, aiming for the knight's neck.
The blade connected with the death knight's armor, but instead of cleaving through, it screeched against the enchanted metal, sparks flying. The knight's head jerked back from the impact, but it showed no signs of pain or hesitation. It pivoted smoothly, its crimson eyes locking onto the figure as it swung the enormous blade horizontally in retaliation.
The figure ducked, the edge of the sword whistling over his head. He countered with a quick series of dagger strikes aimed at the knight's joints, targeting the gaps in its armor. Each strike glowed with holy energy, searing through the dark magic binding the undead.
The death knight staggered, its left leg faltering as its knee joint was severed.
"Not so tough now, are you?" the figure growled, his voice filled with adrenaline.
But before he could finish off the death knight, one of the massive undead charged from behind. Spiked hammer raised high.
The figure barely had time to react as the hammer came crashing down with earth-shattering force. He darted sideways, the weapon slamming into the ground where he had just stood, creating a crater and sending debris flying in every direction.
The figure rolled to his feet, golden energy bursting from his body as he launched himself at the giant. Using his speed to his advantage, he darted between the creature's massive legs, slashing at its Achilles tendons with precise, holy-infused strikes.
The undead let out a guttural roar, its movements slowing as its legs buckled slightly.
Seizing the opportunity, the figure scaled the giant's back with agility that defied logic. His daggers flashed as he climbed, carving glowing trails into the creature's decaying flesh.
Reaching the creature's neck, the figure plunged both daggers deep into its spine, releasing a burst of holy energy that coursed through the undead's body.
The giant let out one final roar before collapsing to the ground with a thunderous crash, its form disintegrating into ash.
Before the figure could catch his breath, the wraiths descended.
The air grew icy as the ghostly figures hovered above him, their translucent forms flickering with green and black energy. One of them raised its clawed hand, and a sphere of necrotic energy formed, crackling with power before it shot toward the figure.
He dashed to the side, the sphere exploding on impact with the ground, leaving a smoldering crater in its wake. Another wraith conjured a spear of ice, hurling it with deadly precision. The figure spun, deflecting the projectile with his dagger, the icy shards scattering harmlessly around him.
The wraiths began to circle, their movements erratic and hypnotic as they launched a coordinated assault. Streams of fire, ice, and necrotic energy rained down, forcing the figure to weave and dodge with every ounce of speed he possessed.
One of the wraiths darted forward, its clawed hand glowing with dark magic as it aimed for his chest.
He met the attack head-on, his dagger clashing with the wraith's claw in a burst of light and shadow. The wraith hissed, recoiling slightly, but the figure pressed the advantage, slashing through its incorporeal form. The wraith screamed, its body flickering wildly before dissipating into a mist of green energy.
Another wraith took its place, summoning a whirlwind of fire that roared toward him. The figure leapt upward, vaulting over the flames with a grace that seemed almost impossible. Mid-air, he hurled one of his daggers, the blade piercing the wraith's hood.
A flash of holy light erupted from the weapon, tearing the wraith apart in an instant.
The remaining death knight had been biding its time, observing the battle with chilling patience. As the figure landed, the knight charged, its massive sword arcing through the air with devastating force.
The figure barely managed to block the blow with his remaining dagger, the impact sending him skidding backward.
The death knight loomed larger than life, its movements now terrifyingly precise, as though it had been carefully studying the figure's every strike, every feint. Each swing of its massive sword forced the figure further back, its unrelenting aggression pushing him to his limit.
The golden light of his daggers dimmed with every failed attempt to turn the tide.
The figure gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow as he ducked under a sweeping blow that nearly took his head off.
He lunged forward, aiming a holy-infused strike at the knight's exposed side, but the death knight twisted unnaturally, blocking the attack with its gauntlet. The sound of clashing metal reverberated through the battlefield.
"What the hell?" the figure growled, his frustration mounting.
It wasn't just the death knight, it was all of them. The undead around him, once sluggish and predictable, moved in eerie harmony, their attacks synchronized, their defenses airtight. He parried a blow from one of the hovering wraiths only to have another undead slam into him from behind, knocking him off balance.
The death knight seized the opportunity, its blade slicing downward in a calculated strike. The figure barely dodged, but the blade grazed his side, drawing blood. Pain shot through him, and he stumbled, his breathing ragged.
"Damn it!" he hissed,
The figure rallied, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. He ducked low, rolling beneath the knight's swing and slashing at its exposed leg. The strike connected, but instead of faltering, the knight adapted, its movements fluid and precise.
It raised its sword in a single, devastating arc, catching the figure off guard.
The blade struck true, slicing through the figure's arm. A sickening crack echoed through the clearing as the severed limb hit the ground, the dagger still clutched in its lifeless fingers. The figure staggered back, clutching his bleeding stump, his vision swimming.
Before he could react, a wraith hurled a searing ball of necrotic energy at his chest.
The blast hit him squarely, tearing a hole through his stomach. He collapsed to his knees, coughing up blood, his golden aura flickering like a dying flame.
The death knight raised its sword for the finishing blow, but Aiden's voice cut through the air, cold and commanding. "Stop."
The undead froze in unison, their movements halting as though someone had pressed pause on a macabre play. Aiden strode forward, his shadowed figure illuminated by the faint glow of the ring on his finger. His expression was a mix of anger and curiosity as he crouched before the broken figure.
"Tell me," Aiden said, his voice low and deadly. "Who is behind you?"
The figure raised his bloodied head, his eyes filled with defiance despite his injuries. With a sneer, he spat a mouthful of blood onto Aiden's cloak.
Puii.
Aiden's face darkened, but he didn't flinch, waiting for the man to speak.
"You think you've won?" the figure rasped, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Hehh, you've already lost the moment you stepped out of that portal."
Aiden frowned, the man's words sending a chill down his spine.
"What do you mean?"
The figure chuckled weakly, his laughter turning into a gurgling cough as more blood dribbled from his lips.
"Those traitors… covering for you… they're being dealt with."
The words hit Aiden like a hammer. His eyes widened, and his mind raced as he pieced together the meaning.
"What did you do to the villagers?" he demanded, his voice rising.
"They've done nothing to you!"
The figure's smile widened, his teeth stained red.
"Hahaha… a punishment well-deserved… for traitors."
Aiden's hands trembled, his fury building to a breaking point. The thought of the innocent villagers, Gareth, the children, the kind faces who had taken him in, being harmed because of him made his blood boil.
"You bastard," Aiden growled, his voice laced with venom.
He reached for the dagger at his hip, his movements swift and precise.
The figure's laughter was cut short as Aiden plunged the blade into his throat, silencing him in an instant. The man's body slumped forward, lifeless, as blood pooled beneath him.
Aiden stood there, the dagger still clutched in his hand, his breathing heavy. His mind raced with conflicting emotions, rage, guilt, and the overwhelming realization of the cost of his power. The villagers had trusted him, and now they were paying the price for his secrets.
"If I'm fast, I can still make it," he muttered, his voice filled with determination.
"I'm sure of it."
He clenched his fist, the ring on his finger glinting faintly in the dim light. Aiden turned his focus to his undead army still lingering nearby, their glowing eyes fixed on him. He needed to move quickly and couldn't risk wasting time or energy controlling them manually.
"Return," he commanded, his voice steady.
At his words, something extraordinary happened. The undead didn't crumble to dust or dissolve into the earth as they usually did. Instead, their forms shimmered, their outlines glowing faintly. One by one, each undead began to transform into a swirling orb of sickly green energy.
The orbs hovered for a moment, pulsing with a strange rhythm before shooting toward Aiden's ring.
The ring absorbed each orb effortlessly, its surface glowing brighter with each addition. A faint hum resonated as the orbs disappeared into the artifact, the sensation of power briefly coursing through Aiden's body as they settled into their new prison.
He glanced down at the ring, watching as its glow dimmed slightly, settling into an eerie, constant pulse.
Yes, this was one of the ring's abilities: to store undead within its confines, allowing a necromancer to carry their army without the need to summon and maintain them constantly. It was an extraordinary tool, one that could make any necromancer nearly unstoppable.
But there was a catch.
The artifact was far from its full potential. Aiden could feel it—something sluggish, almost resistant, in the way it functioned. The ring's power had dulled over the years, lying dormant for what seemed like ages. Without regular feeding of essence, it was incomplete, its capabilities hindered.
Essence.
The thought made him uneasy. He knew what it meant. The essence of life was required to fuel its power
With that, Aiden turned toward the forest path leading back to the village, the glow of the ring a subtle reminder of the choice he carried. Time was running out, but he was determined to make it. The ring's quiet pulse seemed to echo his resolve, though the hunger within it remained, biding its time.