Wiped the blood from my beard, the metallic taste still fresh on my tongue. Disgust twisted my facial features, but the tide of anger and agony within me drowned out any concern for personal discomfort. I had lost what mattered most, the one meant to carry on my legacy. Hopelessness and bitterness consumed me, a familiar feelin' reflecting my past failures with friends. The weight of guilt pressed upon me—I had failed to protect him.

  As I turned around, the unexpected sight of my son, alive and full of life, pierced through my despair. Tears welled in my eyes as I rushed to embrace Thamolin, holdin' onto him as if he were a child, unwilling to let go for several precious moments.

  "I'm fine, old man. Don't be so dramatic," Thamolin reassured.

  "I lost you, boy. You weren't breathin'. I have no idea how you're alive, but I don't care."

  "Let go. We need to stop the necromancer," Thamolin pleaded.

  "No, we're leaving," I declared firmly.

  "We can't! We can't just forget about what these monsters did to Old Oak. All those people, our friends, we can't just let them die in vain."

  "Let's leave this to the professionals."

  "You were a professional, dad. What ever happened to that?"

  "Not like these guys. The inquisitorium are experts in huntin' down Essence users and evil spirits. The exact things we're up against. They can track them better than I can, are far better equipped, have resistance to the curses these spirits use, they would just do a far better job against these cultists than I ever could."

  "So you're going to leave the hands and faith of the survivors and all our neighbors to a bunch of strangers? They might use the village as bait to catch the larger fish."

  "The larger fish have better things to do than go after small villages that would barely increase their power."

  "And what if these necromancers get away? They would go after the villages, and the inquisitors would use them as bait."

  "The necromancers know the inquisitors would be on to them. If they escape, they will retreat into hidin'."

  "Even if they did, your conscience would be okay with the deaths of the next victims? The blood of other families in your hands?"

  I paused, grapplin' with the weight of the decision. I had nearly sacrificed myself for the village, for my son's safety. The lives of these strangers, unknown to me, were equally valuable. "Fine," I agreed reluctantly. "But you're not comin'."

  "You can't stop me from coming."

  "Yes, I can. I could just knock you out and leave you outside."

  "And leave my body defenseless to these flesh eaters? And I know you wouldn't just go back to Old Oak because you would feel guilty if the sorcerers escaped."

  I snatched the claymore from his hand. "Then stay back with your bow. If you need to defend yourself up close, use this club." I handed him back his sidearm. "You don't know enough techniques to use such a large weapon in an enclosed space. Hell, this isn't ideal for me either, but I can keep my distance and get some good thrusts in. We'll be fine, considerin' the inquisitors will be doing most of the work. Now, come on, we need to catch up with the others." The Velmar had left a ball of light behind, leading us to where they were headin'. We caught up in about a minute or two since they were slowed by some shamblers. Thamolin nocked an arrow, steadyin' his aim for several moments. I came in cautiously, both to avoid being grabbed by any shamblers I may have not seen and to avoid getting an arrow stuck to my back. I heard a whoosh as the projectile my son let loose whistled through the air and landed on the side of a shambler's head, snappin' back its neck and removing the threat from the fight.

  "Where did you learn to use a bow like that?" I asked, my focus on the other threats surroundin' us.

  "I don't know. I thought it was this easy for everyone," he replied casually.

  I chuckled. "Maybe it is. I might just suck, but I definitely can't shoot like that." As I completed my sentence, another arrow streaked through the air, hitting a shambler square in the jaw and ripping it off. The precision and speed of the shot, completed in six seconds at most, impressed me. If my son carried dreams of adventurin' beyond our current ordeal, perhaps I had been steerin' his training in the wrong direction, considerin' my lack of archery skills. I made a mental note to find a proficient archer to further sharpen his talents once we escaped this bind. With that, we swiftly dispatched the remainin' threats.

  "Gather around. We must make up for lost time," declared Elleshar.

  "Oh lordy, I hate when he does this," the male ozen whined.

  "And we love it when you complain like a bontu," retorted the female.

  "Oi! Your mother is a bontu!"

  "What's a bontu?" Thamolin asked.

  "Shut up and gather. I need to cast a spell to increase our speed so we can catch up to the others." We formed a circle around Elleshar, who began chanting for a few seconds. By the time he finished, all of us could move as swiftly as horses.

  "We must act expeditiously. Come, for the worst is yet to come, and our allies may need our assistance."

  "I'll escort Roderick. His wound may be tended, but he's not fit for battle with his eye struggling to open," Keille explained.

  "Be careful out there, friends," Roderick stated anxiously. "And may God guide you." The crusaders exchanged their farewells. I looked at my son with pleading eyes one last time, but he was set on comin', no matter the outcome. The five of us, Davorn, Elleshar, Jeremiah, Thamolin, and myself, navigated the halls, with Elleshar leadin' the way with his magic. We moved through the corridors as quickly as Kor'tish would. I had never ventured with a caster with such great power before who could use such a spell so effortlessly. Coupled with his ability to create shortcuts by shapin' the dirt and stone, I was confident that the enemy wouldn't escape us. Yet, there was a lingerin' fear that we might reach them before the inquisitors despite the lead they had.

  Elleshar raised his hand, signalin' a halt. "They're near. We can close the gap in a few seconds. Any final preparations should be made now." He uncorked a small vial of blue liquid, radiatin' concentrated fumes as the fluid sparkled mysteriously—an Essence elixir. Though the vial held only a few drops, Elleshar's energy surged, veins glowin' with a bright blue hue.

  "If you had those, why didn't you give some to Davorn so his magic would be restored too? Roderick and Keille could've come with us," I reasoned.

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  "My men, possessing commendable resilience and resourcefulness, would glean insufficient utility from this elixir compared to its potency in my hands. Our esteemed cleric, in the benevolent act of restoring Thamolin and Roderick to the state you observed, depleted nearly the entirety of his Essence. In the absence of his miracles, he stands on par with me in close-quarter combat. However, it is imperative to discern that his command over miracles extends only to the third order whereas my repertoire encompasses the loftier echelons of the arcane, delving into the intricacies of spells belonging to the 5th circle." Elleshar explained, the glow of his veins reflectin' the potency of his magic. I got the jist of what he was sayin'.

  "It's true. As useful as our friend's miracles are, they are still low grade. We're not inquisitors, and if we get caught surrounded by even a dozen Wights without Elleshar's use of Essence, we would likely be massacred. The sword is mighty, but you could only slay one enemy at a time with it. That delay could be the difference between life and death," Jeremiah added, his grizzled features showin' both experience and caution.

  ""I'll let you guys handle the brunt. I'll stay back watchin' our flank."

  "I'd have it no other way. Stay away from any necromancers. If you are no threat to them, they will focus on me, and if I cannot stop them, the inquisitors will have to. Do not aid me against them, no matter what," Elleshar's stern gaze encompassed both Thamolin and me. His warning was clear, and I nodded in understanding.

  "Boy, do not piss off the casters. You do not know what they are capable of," I added, my fatherly concern mirrored in the glance I exchanged with Thamolin. The boy nodded, absorbin' the weight of the situation.

  Elleshar raised his hand, shapin' the stone to create an opening for us to pass through. As we stepped forward, four Wights emerged, their growls echoing through the cavernous passages. In an unexpected move, they turned and fled deeper into the catacombs.

  "They're getting away!" Thamolin exclaimed, his impulsive nature ready to give chase. I intervened, grabbin' his collar.

  "They're tryin' to lure us. It's an ambush."

  "Your father is correct. Undead, contrary to popular belief, are not mindless corpses. Yes, they obey the commands of their masters for the most part, but they're no mere puppets controlled by wielders of negative Essence," Elleshar explained, his voice a guide through the grim domain.

  "So what do we do?" Thamolin inquired, seekin' guidance.

  "We honestly should wait, but the inquisitors are nowhere to be seen. Jeremiah and I will slow them down as best we can while you and Davorn stay back. Some Wights and Shamblers are placed here as sentries to take us from behind as soon as we engage," Elleshar disclosed; his words carried the weight of a weary acceptance of the unavoidable conflict.

  "How do you…" Thamolin started, but Elleshar interrupted with a pointed statement, "I can feel them. You know this, Thamolin. No time to waste."

  Elleshar and Jeremiah advanced into the shadows, and as anticipated, a score of Shamblers and half a dozen Wights emerged from concealed alcoves.

  "I hope you're ready, men. We're in for a real skirmish now," Jeremiah declared, his gruff voice reboundin' through the dim corridors. I tightened my grip on my greatsword, feelin' the weight of the approachin' battle.

  Thamolin, havin' my reflex pendant, seemed nervously eager. As the demons howled and charged, he improvised with a makeshift molotov, tossin' it at a Wight. The monster managed to leap out of the way, the bottle burstin' behind, settin' a group of Shamblers ablaze. The chaotic dance of fire brightened the crypt, revealin' the twisted faces of the undead. I braced myself, ready to take on one of the Wights chargin' at my son, but the dwarf came in like a ram, knockin' it down with a shield bash.

  "I handle stronger spirits than you on a daily!" he taunted as he continued to bash its head with his mace.

  Thamolin swiftly prepared another molotov, this time strappin' it to an arrow before unleashin' a blaze upon an unfortunate wight. Now faced with only four of the demons, a manageable number compared to the initial six, I thrust my blade in rapid succession to keep them at bay. The agile creatures dodged every strike, remainin' at a cautious distance. The Wights grew bold as Thamolin nocked another arrow, a subtle challenge accepted. Three of the demons lunged towards my defenseless son, while one fell behind, shoved to the ground by the others.

  With lightning reflexes, I thrust my blade into the chest of the prone Wight, its guttural snarl like a silent song of death before being silenced. Stuck, ensnared in the demon's corpse, my weapon resisted my pull for a short time.

  Thamolin fell on his back, tryin' to keep them at bay with his bow. His bow shattered under the onslaught of collisions, leavin' him vulnerable. I acted quickly, tacklin' two of the Wights to the ground. I trusted in Thamolin's capability to handle the third with his pendent and club, even while prone.

  With one Wight pinned beneath me, it attempted to bite at my throat. I countered with relentless elbow strikes, causing no actual harm but staggerin' the undead enough to keep me out of immediate danger. The remaining Wight, havin' regained its footing, leaped at me. Rollin' aside, I drew my arming sword, masterfully crafted but lackin' the magical enchantments to penetrate their flesh. Right now, it was all I had.

  In a flash, five holes appeared in the chest of one Wight, courtesy of the dwarf's essence-enhanced handgun. The remaining undead, now aware of Davorn, charged towards him. I had to trust my son would be okay because, with all the zombies circlin' around Davorn, I knew he needed help.

  Davorn's accuracy with the firearm proved subpar, landin' only one of his three remaining bullets. When the Wight leaped at him, he used its momentum and his tower shield to fling the creature a safe distance away. However, two walkers seized him in their grasp. Actin' decisively, I cleaved the head off one and thrust my sword between the eyes of the other, freeing the sturdy Ozen man from their clutches.

  "Looks like we're in for some fun, konak," Davorn remarked.

  "This isn't my idea of fun anymore, but if it means peace for my people, so be it," I replied.

  "Haha, no need to be a hard rump. You need an ale."

  Then, a brilliant spark whooshed past, followed by the shatterin' of glass. Shieldin' my eyes, I felt an intense heat as the Wight and several walkers caught fire. The flames spread as they clumsily bumped into each other. A burning walker shambled towards me, its flesh peelin' off from the intense heat. I kicked it away, watchin' it tumble to the ground, screamin' in agony. It brought me great sorrow, knowin' it had once been someone's friend, someone's son, or brother.

  "Aww, you took all the fun," Davorn complained, raisin' his shield to barricade himself from the burning zombies.

  "Stop messing around and come here. They'll burn soon, and the captain needs us!" Thamolin's voice was resolute. His visage was stern and heroic even, as the magical light Elleshar had left us shone on his skin, outlining his developin' features as he became a man. I couldn't have been more proud of him, and I wished Isabelle were here to see him now.

  "What are we waitin' for? Let's go!" I urged, and the three of us pressed forward through the crypts, guided by the distant echoes of combat. The clash of steel, explosive magic, and the urgent shouts of our comrades reached our ears.

  "Hold on, konak! We're coming!" the dwarf cried, foolheartedly chargin' into battle.

  "Thamolin, keep your distance. I'll stop any from closin' in," I instructed, a protective edge in my voice. Thamolin, however, had his own plans, readyin' molotov arrows to rain fiery retribution on the advancing dread.

  "Am I glad to see you lot," Jeremiah stated as he parried a sloppy swing from one of the Shamblers and retaliated with a forceful blow from his flanged mace, splatterin' his brains across the walls.

  "How did you dispatch the reinforcements so quickly?" Elleshar inquired.

  "Like that!" Thamolin responded, his arrows creatin' a blazing spectacle as they connected with armored Shamblers.

  "A waste of good liquor if you ask me," Davorn grumbled, his mace dismantlin' a Shambler's knee.

  "No one asked," Jeremiah retorted, engagin' multiple adversaries, includin' a formidable Wight.

  The battle raged on, a chaotic symphony of violence and magic. Thamolin's molotov arrows thinned the ranks of the undead, Elleshar's magical prowess kept the necromancers at bay, and I moved with calculated precision, eliminating any threat that neared my son.

  "Retreat, brothers. I will hold them and join you in the next life," one of the necromancers declared, her hands radiating dark energy. Thamolin released an arrow aimed straight at the heart of the dark sorceress. It never hit its mark, as her ally intervened with a barrier.

  "You insolent boy!" She shouted as a ghastly finger of darkness quickly flew straight towards him.

  "No!" Elleshar cried, conjurin' a stone spike from the ground beneath her to pierce the necromancer's spin, leaving her cold, dead eyes starin' into the abyss.

  Yet, that ominous finger kept on trackin' Thamolin's every move. On instinct, I hurled myself between my son and the loomin' spell. Suddenly, darkness engulfed my vision. No pain, no light, just a strange emptiness, like I had been plunged into a bottomless pit.