Jericho was fighting. His long, dark, oily hair swiped through the air as he ducked under a massive club, then clenched his large fist. With a fearsome roar, he buried it deep into the giant’s stomach—the highest part he could reach.

  The giant reeled, pale skin going slack on its bare belly. Jericho’s punch wasn’t enough to bring it down, but that was part of the plan.

  The moment the giant hunched, a wooden club thick as a trunk smashed against the back of its knees. It tried to growl, but the water bubble around its head stopped it.

  The zombie giant wobbled for a moment before falling to a knee. It dropped its club. Jericho reached up to grab a handful of its dirty hair—they were face-to-face now that it was kneeling—and dragged the creature down, trying to smash its head into the ground. With a wet gurgle, the giant placed a hand on the ground to arrest its fall. The handful of hair was torn from its scalp under Jericho’s strength.

  At the same time, the massive wooden club from before smashed into the back of the giant’s head. Its arm gave way as it toppled to the ground, spasming and convulsing from drowning. It was dying—again. Jericho watched it coldly.

  Giants were proud creatures, even undead ones, but after this much damage, there was a chance it would surrender. It didn’t matter. They’d get what they wanted anyway.

  Opposite Jericho, Gorgon the ogre raised his big club up high and, with a sickening crunch, brought it down. The giant’s head caved in, and it stilled—not quite destroyed, but certainly subdued. The water bubble around its head enhanced its despair.

  Jericho shook his head. This creature, the bane of all nearby hordes, had been defeated just like that.

  “Good job,” a voice came from the shadows. Herald Maccain stepped out, wreathed in darkness and mirth. “You are proving your worth, Lela. Keep it going.”

  A water spirit appeared by his side, taking the form of a beautiful, blue-skinned woman with dark eyes. “The pleasure is all mine, Master,” she replied with a bow. Maccain nodded.

  “Now then,” he said, taking a step towards the fallen giant, “step aside, Jericho.”

  Jericho obeyed. His insides convulsed at being ordered around, but he had no choice. This was his master, and he was an undead. At least he was useful, so Maccain would keep him around—unlike a certain someone.

  Maccain approached Gorgon. The dim-witted brute stood proudly over the subdued opponent. He was too stupid to understand what was coming for him; too stupid to realize that the giant they’d defeated was just a better version of himself.

  “A cloud giant will be a wonderful addition to my collection,” Maccain said, stepping before Gorgon. “Thank you for your service.” He touched Gorgon’s chest. There was a transfusion of power. The next moment, Gorgon toppled to the ground, completely lifeless.

  Maccain then turned to the cloud giant. “Arise,” he commanded. The giant shook, his caved-in skull popped back out, then he pushed against the ground to stand again. Everyone’s heads rose with him. His eyes held loyalty.

  Cloud giants, at least this particular one, stood over ten feet tall. Maccain smiled. “What a rare find. A cloud giant under his clouds… Tell me, what were you doing here?”

  The giant looked on, not responding. Maccain shook his head. “No matter. Your power remains, and that is all I need. Welcome. I will call you Bogdanov.”

  The cloud giant nodded, then bowed deeply. Maccain’s smile widened.

  Jericho took this all in with apathy. It wasn’t the first time he witnessed Maccain’s powers, and he had to admit that his master was a very capable man. He was ruthless, cunning, and calculating. He was always two steps ahead, and he was slowly but steadily accumulating enormous power.

  Wizards became two-feathered when they experienced their Awakening. Their powers advanced, giving each wizard a special variation of magic that only they possessed, and one that was perfectly suited for them. A large part of Awakening was understanding the exact nature of your power before it appeared, which required deep awareness of yourself and magic.

  Maccain was a two-feather wizard stronger than most, as were all Herald. His Awakening allowed him to gain control of wild undead, as well as steal the undead of other necromancers.

  It was a frightening power. But, then again, all of them were.

  Thanks to it, Maccain had easy access to strong undead, which were normally extremely hard to find. He formed an elite team of three undead at a time, choosing quality over quantity, and roamed the King Continent looking for stronger undead to replace the ones in his collection.

  When Jericho had joined, Maccain had forsaken a sword-wielding undead. When the previous water spirit fell fighting Jerry Shoeson, Maccain had assaulted and defeated a necromancer nearby Edge Town, stealing his death knight water spirit, Lela. Then, they’d crossed the Damn Wall and toured the Dead Lands, heading for the Academy, the Wizard Order’s headquarters, from where Maccain had received a summoning.

  On the way, they heard about an undead cloud giant roaming a valley. Maccain ignored his summoning and spent two days looking for the cloud giant. They’d found it, and now that they defeated it, Maccain replaced Gorgon with this new undead, Bogdanov.

  Unlike Gorgon, Jericho wasn’t stupid. He understood that, eventually, he too would be replaced, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was only a stepping stone on a necromancer’s road to the top. Maccain would forsake him just as Gaia had.

  Burning pain assaulted Jericho’s heart.

  Oh, Mother, he thought, looking at the ground, why did you abandon me?

  ***

  The group had finally gathered back together. After a brief discussion, they understood the maze’s layout.

  It was split into four regions, with one being the starting area and the other three being under the pit trap. Of those three, one contained tentacle monsters and was run by the tentacle person, one contained the pack of hell hounds and was run by Akolateronim, and the third contained all sorts of dangerous undead and the Guardian, as well as the door leading deeper—presumably to the fake Prism.

  Axehand and Horace had discovered that door shortly after defeating the Guardian—who they claimed was underwhelming—but had returned to find their companions.

  Now that everyone was back together and the maze was mostly cleaned of enemies, the group made a beeline for the door and reached it easily. It was made of white marble, striking against the maze’s black walls. The veins of black glass that ran all over the maze converged here, and the doorframe—also made of black glass—was so packed with energy it shone purple.

  There was also a sizable lock on the door. They had found no key, but the door swung open after a polite knock by Axehand, revealing the space beyond.

  They found a large empty room, far larger than expected in an underground environment. The ceiling rose at least fifteen feet high, while the walls formed a circle with a diameter of around sixty feet. There were also broken skeletons sprawled around the edge of the room as if something had smashed them into the walls so hard they died—a somewhat ominous sign.

  This was an unreasonably large room, which was probably only built to accommodate the device in its midst.

  The fake Prism was a large black crystal the size of a child. It released power in slow, regularly spaced pulses, shining completely purple every time it did. The ripples bounced off the far-off walls and spread around the room, creating an environment so saturated with death energy that Laura found it hard to breathe.

  "I will wait outside," she said hurriedly. "This is too much."

  "Yes," Jerry replied with a nod, "let’s not risk it. This will only take a moment, anyway. Axehand?"

  The skeleton grunted as he took a step forth, raising small amounts of fine, white dust—the entire floor was covered in it. He slowly reached the crystal, resting his eyes on its smooth black surface.

  On closer inspection, the crystal was covered in mystical, tiny veins woven in intricate patterns, and it contained several items Axehand could not make heads or tails of, as well as faint white lines that connected them all.

  It seemed like the world’s most delicate and complex item. Axehand raised an axe to smash it to bits.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Laura had been planning to leave, but she’d stayed a few seconds longer to watch. She finally broke out of her reverie, realizing this strike might unleash death energy she wasn’t prepared to endure. She turned around to leave.

  "Um, guys?" she asked. "Who closed the door?"

  "What are you—"

  Jerry turned around to discover that the door had closed. As heavy as it was, nobody had heard it move. With a clicking sound, it locked.

  "Oh," he said. "This can’t be good.”

  Horace’s eyes sharpened. Axehand’s axe fell on the crystal—and with a plink, the axe flew back. The skeleton grunted as he looked at his shaking arm.

  "Overcharge him, Jerry," Horace said quickly, and Jerry complied, but it was too late. Just as Axehand pulled back for another strike, this time using his full strength, the entire room shook. The fine dust on the floor moved with it, rippling as it rose in waves, and one wave struck Axehand, managing to push him back.

  Yet, it was only dust, and he was Axehand. Pushing him should have been impossible.

  "Break it!" Jerry shouted, and Axehand lunged forth again, but the dust refused to calm down. More and more of it rose into the air, whirling like a typhoon as it encircled the crystal and hid it from everyone’s eyes. Axehand reached through to strike the crystal but missed—it was no longer there!

  "It’s flying!" Horace said. "It’s floating in the dust tornado!" He launched three arrows in a row, but each was pulled off-course by the dust.

  Axehand prepared to jump when everything shook again. The skeletons around the room rose shakily, each missing at least a limb, and they instantly broke down into bones which flew into the tornado, joining it. Axehand retreated as it expanded, not wanting to be caught inside. As strong as he was, there was nothing he could do if suspended in mid-air.

  Horace clicked his tongue. "This is a problem," he said.

  The tornado stabilized. The bones moved on their own, assembling on top of each other to form suspicious shapes, and the tornado bent to fit inside them. Slowly, a monster was revealed, and as it did, it roared.

  Everyone’s eyes widened. Nobody knew who said it, but they all shared the same thought: "Oh, shit!"

  A bone monstrosity occupied the center of the room. It stood fifteen feet tall, thrice a regular person’s height, almost scratching the ceiling. Its body was made of bones, and filling it was a maelstrom of fine dust—it was now obvious that the fine white dust was ground bones.

  The monstrosity had a humanoid shape, but its skull was devilish with two short horns sticking out. Its long arms ended in sharp claws, and it was impressively slim and athletic, giving an impression of speed that such a large creature shouldn’t have the right to possess. It also had a long tail trailing behind it, ending in a razor-sharp appendage.

  "Woah," Jerry said, stepping back. "What’s that?"

  "A bone monstrosity," Laura said, gritting her teeth. "I’ve seen a few before, but way smaller… Only Arakataron could make something like this!"

  "It’s protecting the fake Prism," Boney said. "Laura, if we destroy the crystal, will this thing collapse?"

  "Probably. It’s either that or breaking every bone in its body."

  "Hah, good one."

  "This is not the time for jokes!" she replied quickly. "That thing can slaughter us all!"

  "It can certainly try." Horace drew a few arrows, nocking them all at once. "My arrows can’t penetrate the dust, but they can break a few bones."

  "Axehand can—"

  The monstrosity didn’t give them any more time. It charged.

  Axehand was at its feet and didn’t back down. Already overcharged and at the peak of his power, he met it head-on. The monstrosity’s claws whistled through the air, faster than most people could react, but the twin axes were there to stop them.

  The two collided with a rattling bang, multiple bones breaking off as they couldn’t stand the force. Despite being overcharged, Axehand barely managed to defend; he stumbled, and crimson flames immediately flared in his eye sockets. This thing was at least a worthy opponent, if not an overwhelming one. It had challenged him, and now, he would rather perish than retreat.

  The broken bones didn’t affect the monstrosity much. They flew back to their original positions, quickly rearranging into a more robust shape. Layers upon layers of bones formed a massive fist to resist Axehand’s attacks, sending cold sweat down everyone’s backs.

  This thing wasn’t only strong, it could adapt, too!

  "What a terrifying creature…" Jerry wet his lips. "Arakataron… The gap between me and the peak is larger than I thought."

  Boney stepped beside him. "I will protect you, Master!" he said, drawing a sword.

  "Thank you, Boney, but I think you and I can do nothing here."

  Jerry’s soul had already probed the creature and found nothing. The bones weren’t controlled by soul ties. This thing wasn’t animated through necromancy, or at least not the necromancy he knew.

  Was this really made by Arakataron?

  The creature’s demonic head released a harsh, grating sound like nails on glass. Rearing a fist back, it slammed it down on Axehand, who had to dodge out of the way. The creature turned its entire body towards the double-skeleton, and boulder-sized punches rained down like a landslide.

  Axehand was struggling. No matter how hardy he was, the force of these strikes was cataclysmic. The monstrosity was denting the rock below him, making his footing unstable. Maybe he could survive one strike, but definitely not two.

  He weaved between the punches like a fly, dodging by a hair’s breadth. When forced, he used his axes to parry the strikes, not daring to meet them head-on, and even the parries made his entire body release cracking sounds.

  Worst of all, the monstrosity was still adapting. The outer bones of its fists left to reinforce its body, exchanging power for speed. Axehand could hold on…but for how long?

  Horace stepped forth. "Listen to me," he commanded sternly. "Axehand and I will handle this thing. The rest of you stand back. Understood?"

  Jerry nodded. He wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do against this thing. Everything came down to good old brute force.

  As Jerry and the rest of his undead stepped back, only Horace was left. His wiry body went taut. His left hand clenched the bow as his sharp eyes tracked the monstrosity’s movements, capturing minute changes to identify its patterns. He stood still like a rock, only staring—but, with each second that passed, his eyes grew sharper.

  Axehand was desperately enduring a rain of blows, but he was not afraid. His movements were aggressive even under pressure, absorbing the damage as he scoured the monstrosity for weaknesses.

  Horace’s eyes flashed as he pulled at his bowstring. He was ready.

  Axehand’s eye-flames flared as he dodged a strike by the narrowest of margins. He was ready.

  The two hunters teamed up. Two sharp gazes fell on the monstrosity—and, for a moment, it shuddered.

  A fist of bones descended, but an arrow struck its weak point and ruined its structural stability. Axehand smashed it to pieces, then spared a glare for Horace, who smirked.

  Work around me. Let’s team up, Horace conveyed through his gaze, and the double-skeleton grunted.

  Just this once, he seemed to reply. Horace smiled.

  Just this once.

  Arrows should have been ineffective against bones, but in such a high-speed battle, even the slightest of effects were important. Horace’s arrows were launched from a fully taut bow. Even against the bone monstrosity, he could make a difference.

  The monstrosity growled in fury. Its punches accelerated, but the two hunters were harmonized. Arrows intercepted the most dangerous blows, sending them out of Axehand’s way, and the double-skeleton dodged the rest. Their coordination wasn’t perfect, but they were getting there.

  Finally, a fist of bones completely missed the mark, and Axehand had a moment to breathe. Coincidentally, he was right beside one of the monstrosity’s legs. The leg towered there, thick and steady like an old tree.

  The world’s greatest lumberjack would have none of that. In his mind, the room turned into a forest clearing, and the bone leg turned into a lone tree which mocked him by standing.

  An axe smashed heavily into the leg, sending bones flying and making the entire monstrosity shake as it almost toppled over. Axehand reared back for another strike, humming a jolly tune, when the leg went away.

  The monstrosity turned, faster than he’d thought possible, and a thick tail was suddenly heading Axehand’s way. There was no time to dodge. He raised both axes vertically to block, and as soon as they made contact, he knew that was a mistake.

  Axehand was launched back at tremendous speed, smashing against the far wall and forming a crater. "Axehand!" Jerry yelled, but his voice was covered by the monstrosity’s triumphant roar.

  It turned to glare at Horace and pounced.