Elias stood at the edge of a desolate battlefield, where the echoes of ancient wars still lingered in the air. The ground beneath his feet was cracked and barren, a grim testament to the battles fought long before his rise. At one point, this land had been the heart of a powerful kingdom, its kings ruling with unquestioned authority. Now, only the dead remained, and they, like the land itself, were forgotten.
He felt the weight of their presence all around him—the restless spirits of long-dead warriors, their memories as shattered as the crumbling ruins that surrounded him. The winds carried whispers of their pain, their unfulfilled hopes, their betrayals, and their regrets. But Elias was not here for them. He had come for something far more powerful.
The Hollow King.
The tales spoke of a ruler who had lived centuries ago, a monarch who had once wielded a power beyond comprehension—someone whose grip on the dead was so strong that even in death, his will could not be undone. If Elias could awaken the Hollow King, he would have an army unlike any other, one with a singular purpose: to obey him.
The air was heavy with anticipation as Elias surveyed the massive stone structure ahead of him, the remains of a royal tomb. The entrance was adorned with faded carvings of kings and queens, their faces now indistinguishable, worn away by time. But what lay beyond those doors would shape the future of his reign.
Elias extended his hand, and his necromantic energy surged through him, calling upon the spirits of the dead to assist in opening the ancient tomb. The ground rumbled, the earth groaning in protest as the stones of the door slid apart with a deafening sound. The chill in the air deepened as a wave of darkness poured from within the tomb, the scent of decay and old blood filling the air.
Without hesitation, Elias stepped into the crypt. His undead soldiers followed, their bones clattering with every movement. Inside, the air was thick, damp with the stagnant presence of death. The walls were lined with towering statues of forgotten warriors, their eyes hollow, their expressions forever frozen in stone.
At the center of the crypt lay a massive sarcophagus, its stone lid etched with intricate runes. The name of the Hollow King was inscribed in faded letters, barely legible under centuries of grime. But Elias could feel the power that emanated from it—a power unlike any other.
"Awake," Elias whispered, extending his hand toward the sarcophagus. His words carried a cold, commanding tone, filled with the necromantic energy that had become his signature. He spoke the ancient incantation, one passed down from the darkest corners of the world. The words were more than just language; they were an invocation, a binding ritual that would awaken the dead and bring them under his control.
The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the tomb lit up with a sickly green light. The sarcophagus began to crack, the runes glowing with an eerie radiance. Elias felt a shiver crawl up his spine as the dead king began to stir, his ancient soul awakening from a slumber that had lasted for centuries.
Suddenly, the lid of the sarcophagus burst open with a deafening crack. A dark, imposing figure rose from within, shrouded in tattered royal robes that seemed to swirl around him like a living shadow. The Hollow King stood before Elias, his once regal face now a hollow mask of death, his eyes burning with an insatiable hunger for power.
Elias met the king's gaze, his expression unwavering. "You will serve me now," Elias said, his voice carrying an air of absolute command.
The Hollow King, for a moment, stood motionless, as though considering Elias' words. Then, a low, guttural laugh escaped his lips. It echoed through the crypt like the sound of the earth splitting open.
"I serve no one," the Hollow King rasped, his voice deep and filled with the remnants of centuries of torment.
Elias's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "You have no choice," he said, the power of his necromancy surging within him. "You are bound to me. The dead are my domain."
The Hollow King's laugh faltered, replaced by a harsh, mocking tone. "You think you can command me, child of the dead?" he spat, his voice a rasp of fury. "You know not what you awaken. You disturb a power far greater than your own. You are nothing but a shadow of the gods that once were."
For a moment, Elias hesitated, the Hollow King's words striking a chord deep within him. Was this king truly bound by death, or was there more to his power than he had anticipated?
But Elias quickly shook off his doubt. "I am no child," he said, his voice icy. "You are bound to me. You will do my bidding, or I will destroy you."
The Hollow King's eyes blazed with fire, and he took a step forward, his form growing larger, more imposing. "You will learn, necromancer," he snarled. "You may control the dead, but you cannot control what has been forsaken by time itself. I will not kneel to you. The world will burn before I am your servant."
Elias's heart pounded as the king's presence loomed over him. But his resolve was unwavering. "Then you will be destroyed," he declared.
With a sudden, furious motion, the Hollow King lunged at him, a tidal wave of dark energy surging from his body. The air crackled with power as Elias barely managed to raise his hands in time, calling upon his necromantic strength to shield himself. The clash of their powers sent shockwaves through the tomb, shaking the very foundation of the crypt.
The Hollow King's laughter filled the air as they fought, but Elias could feel the weight of the battle. The king's power was ancient, untamed, and fierce—a force of nature that refused to be subdued. Yet, Elias pressed on, drawing on the full extent of his dark magic, weaving spells that struck with deadly precision.
Finally, with a roar, Elias unleashed a burst of raw necromantic energy, a powerful wave that engulfed the Hollow King. The force of the blast sent the undead king crashing to the ground, his form crumbling like dust. For a moment, Elias thought it was over.
But then, from the rubble, the Hollow King rose again, his form more monstrous than before, his eyes glowing with a malevolent fury.
"You cannot break me," the Hollow King growled. "I am the king of all that is forsaken. I was born to rule, and I will not be your puppet."
Elias stood tall, unwavering, his eyes locked onto the king's. The battle was far from over. But as he prepared to strike once more, he realized the true nature of his enemy.
The Hollow King was no mere servant to be controlled. He was a force of nature, a being whose power surpassed even that of the gods Elias had once sought to overthrow.
This was not just a battle for control. It was a battle for survival.
And Elias would need to make a choice: conquer this ancient king, or risk losing everything.