Take solace, weeping mothers, you shall have children until your wombs refuse to carry them, and milk shall run from the rivers. Once the Great Blight is eradicated, there shall be no need for dead sons and husbands.

  -Rebel Black, the Shattering Tome.

  Catacomb was hardly paying attention as the Great Nemesis cut through dozens of weak necromantic constructs, a good hundred of which were from the dwarves he had dropped into floor two. The first time he had pulled the trick, the Onyx King was visibly disheartened. It had been fourteen raids since, and it seemed to be losing its efficacy.

  Instead of worrying about his ___ fight for his life, Catacomb was instead pondering his daughter’s actions.

  He understood what ((HEALING)) was, the Bipeds did it all the time, and he had the option to heal his monsters, although it was rarely worth the cost. Still, what in the Green Inferno had possessed Sanctuary to make her think that the way to end an attack was to help the attacker.

  Although, he had never exactly told her how to fend off a Raid. Hrmm. Perhaps he needed to re-evaluate his parenting method.

  The Onyx King set off a spell. Suddenly Catacomb’s ((GAZE)) was filled with fire. He hissed with annoyance, and altered his settings. The fire spread throughout the narrow and twisting corridors with a vicious speed. The ((SYSTEM)) continued its eternal ping in the corner of his vison.

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  ENCOUNTER FAILED… +20 MANA

  ENCOUNTER FAILED… +20 MANA

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  Catacomb ignored him, and turned his attention to the Onyx King. He had never seen another creature like the King. His skin was black like impure ashes, with a hint of scales. Green eyes peaked out under a golden circlet that contrasted oddly against his rather tame clothing. His ears were thin and pointed, and his nose was rather downturned.

  Most oddly, he kept coming back. Even the members of his court, after two or three raids would become weak and die, or simply never return. The Onyx King always headed the assault. Currently, he was shouting something angry and incoherent vaguely in the direction of his ((GAZE)). Normally, the invaders didn’t speak, he guessed it was so he wouldn’t learn their language, but apparently, he had done something to enrage the Onyx King enough that he forgot.

  The thought pleased Catacomb. He watched as the King and his court proceeded to floor eight. A forest of bone-white trees spread out past the stairway. Copies of the same four sculptures sat in the same orientation under a pale faux sun. The invaders hesitated for a moment, clearly expecting the dragon skeleton that had been the sole occupant of the large cavern for the past hundred or so raids. Catacomb laughed.

  Did they really think that he was going to let them continue to torment him, and put his daughter in danger? No.

  No, of course not.

  This was the day that the Onyx King would die.