A few hours ago Commander Grimbold sent four soldiers along with Lieutenant Ryker at the designated meeting point. There they could see the king's army gathering in the sky.
Lieutenant Ryker, a grizzled veteran with a scar above his left eyebrow, led his team of soldiers as they flew up to meet the king. "Your Majesty, we have found him," he said, his voice carrying clearly through the air. "Eryndor, the one they call the bad luck magnet, has been located."
King Arinn's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he looked down at the lieutenant. "Where is he?" he asked, his voice firm and commanding.
Lieutenant Ryker hesitated for a moment before speaking. "He's hiding in a forest, about 4 hours of flight from here. We've got a team of soldiers searching the area, but we're not sure what kind of danger he poses."
The king's face set in a determined expression, he nodded curtly. "Very well. Order the other search parties to return and regroup. We'll fly to the forest immediately."
As the lieutenant nodded and turned to carry out the king's orders, the sound of trumpets echoed through the air, signaling the call to regroup and prepare for battle. The king's army, some 10,000 strong, began to gather in the sky, their flying creatures forming a vast, shimmering cloud as they moved towards the cave.
The king, his eyes fixed on the horizon, led the way, his flying unicorn soaring through the air with ease. The soldiers followed close behind, their faces set with determination as they flew towards their destiny.
Present situation
As Commander Grimbold and his army of 100 soldiers teetered on the brink of extermination, it seemed as though the sun had hidden behind a dark cloud, casting a pall of despair over the battlefield. But, in reality, it was not a cloud that had obscured the sun, but a vast army of soldiers, their armor glinting like a swarm of insects as they descended upon the scene.
At the forefront of this army, a man who appeared to be a royal, sat astride a majestic flying unicorn, its coat shimmering with a light that seemed almost divine. The royal's presence commanded respect, and even the Lich Xandros, with his 10,000 minions at his command, felt a shiver run down his spine as he beheld the newcomer.
"What in the name of the gods...?" Xandros muttered, his eyes fixed on the royal, who seemed to be gazing beyond him, his eyes fixed on the mouth of the cave.
"It's a king," Steve, the skeleton, whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the army's approach. "And he's got a lot of soldiers with him."
Xandros's gaze flicked back to the king, and he felt a surge of unease. He had been so focused on destroying Grimbold and his army that he had not noticed the king's arrival. But now, as he beheld the sheer scale of the king's army, he realized that he was outmatched.
The king, King Arinn, seemed to be ignoring Xandros and his minions, his eyes fixed intently on the cave. "I see you're protecting Eryndor," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But you're not going to be able to hide him from me."
Xandros's confusion was evident. "Eryndor? Who's that?" he asked, but the king merely smiled, a cold, calculating smile.
"It doesn't matter," the king said. "What matters is that you hand him over to me. Now."
Xandros hesitated, unsure of what to do. But as he looked out at the king's army, he knew that he had no choice. He could not defeat them, not even with his 10,000 minions at his command.
"Very well," Xandros said, his voice dripping with defeat. "I admit my loss. I will hand Eryndor over to you."
As he spoke, Xandros began to walk slowly but steadily towards the cave. But what King Arinn didn't know was that Xandros had sneakily activated a spell, a spell that would allow him to escape to the Netherworld.
Xandros cursed himself for being in this situation. He had only just escaped from the Netherworld, and now he had to go back to that dump of a world just to save his miserable life. He had stolen Angel's blood from one of the strongest beings in the Netherworld, and with that blood, he had created an ancient teleportation spell to this world. When he arrived in this world, he had created a teleportation spell back to the Netherworld, just in case he had to run back to avoid danger.
But now, the remaining Angel's blood has been depleted, and this was a one-way trip back to the Netherworld. Xandros wouldn't be able to come back once he was gone, and he cursed himself for his bad luck. But as long as he was alive, he could find another way to come back.
Meanwhile, Eryndor had finished bringing all the treasures inside the spatial magic ring and was facing a new challenge, a challenge that seemed almost laughable compared to the dangers that lurked outside. A mosquito, its buzzing growing more and more annoying, flitted around his head, dodging his clumsy attempts to swat it.
Eryndor's frustration grew, his anger boiling over as he tried to crush the mosquito with a series of clumsy claps. But the mosquito was too quick, dodging and weaving with ease.
After a while the mosquito, exhausted from its aerial acrobatics, finally landed on the wall, its tiny legs wobbling with fatigue. Eryndor, still seething with rage, saw his chance and swung his hand with all his might, determined to squash the pesky insect once and for all.
But, in a stunning display of agility, the mosquito dodged Eryndor's attack at the last second, leaving Eryndor's hand to slap against the wall with a loud thud. And, to Eryndor's horror, his hand seemed to stick to the wall, as if it had been glued there.
Eryndor tried to pull his hand back, but it wouldn't budge. He tugged and tugged, but it was stuck fast. The mosquito, meanwhile, looked up at Eryndor with a smug expression, as if to say, "You should have gotten me when you had the chance, human."
As Eryndor struggled to free his hand, the red patterns on the wall glowed brighter, and Eryndor felt himself being sucked in, his hand glued to the wall he was pulled into a world beyond his wildest imagination..
As he disappeared into the unknown, the mosquito looked on, a tiny smile playing on its lips. It had outsmarted Eryndor, and it had lived to buzz another day.
The Lich Xandros's bony frame went into panic mode as he sensed someone had activated his spell. "Noooo! Not my escape route! Anything but that!" he wailed, sprinting towards the heart of his lair like an undead chicken.
His face turned beet red with rage as he stared at the empty wall where his spell was once inscribed. "Eryndor, you little thief! You've stolen my treasures and my escape route! I'm stuck here now, thanks to you!"
He threw up his bony hands in exasperation. "I was going to escape, but noooo, you had to go and steal my teleportation spell! Now I'm stuck here, facing the king's army. Great, just great."
The Lich Xandros shook his head, chuckling wryly. "Well, I guess I'll just have to add 'get revenge on Eryndor' to my to-do list. Right after 'don't get killed by the king's army'."