Every face of those dead by his hand flashed before his eyes. They weren’t just bodies and blood bags to be chopped and hacked to pieces. They were people with lives, loved ones, dreams of better, or worse, futures that they hoped to bring to fruition. Every death served its purpose here. Every death contributed to healing the land. Humans, animals, plants, bugs, all overrunning the world with no threat of death, only to be maimed or wounded in some terrible way, left in a suspended state of agony with no escape.

  The Bone Doctor had taken life, that which is so sweet to those who possess it, and turned it into a perverse and terrible twisted nightmare for those who were caught in his path. The twisted beings woven into his buildings, furniture, and township, they were once people with dreams, with life. Now, they were beings twisted in agony, hoping for sweet death to take them to a better place, but with no hope of reprieve.

  This imposter had ravaged, twisted the idea of death, the final adventure of the living, the thing that gives life, ever so short, its meaning. He had waged war against death. His head filled with grand delusions. His tower of lies would come crashing down, and he would come face to face with death, even if Rigor had to drag his rotten corpse there with his own two hands.

  He would relish every moment of this jester’s demise.

  “Shall we begin this duel? I’ve grown tired of this interaction. My work waits for no one, not even death.” The Bone Doctor twirled his cane, grabbed the end, and pulled the cane in two, revealing a deadly-sharp blade beneath. The metal glinted in the faint light of the chapel, a green line twisted throughout the blade, culminating in the mouth of a snake at the tip. He held it horizontally, aimed at Rigor’s heart, “En garde, heathen.” He spit the cigar to the floor, sending it clattering in sparks of ember and ash across the floor.

  Rigor rushed in and swung his axe as hard as he could to cleave the imposter in half with just one slice. The thin cane-sword met his black metal, redirecting the slash into the air. Rigor staggered forward; his footing caught off guard. The Bone Doctor took the opening to stab into his exposed shoulder, his blade slipping though the rusted chainmail with ease and into Rigor’s flesh.

  Green smoke sizzled out of the Death Knight’s shoulder. Rigor grunted in pain as his flesh burned from the heretic’s blade.

  The Bone Doctor ripped the blade out while stepping back, not allowing pride to settle in his strike, sword held high, ready to riposte the next attack. His mind flashed to the last fight he had with a Death Knight. Things did not go smoothly then, and as a new found God, he would take his own wisdom to heart and not underestimate his opponent here. The key was to use the brute’s strength against him, and soon, he would have a new trophy to celebrate with. He smirked, this would all be over soon enough.

  Black metal flashed upwards, striking at his underside. The Bone Doctor used both hands, one on the blade, to block the incoming strike, pushing with all his might as the blades collided. Sparks erupted, and the Bone Doctor lifted off the ground, landing several feet back, bumping into his sacrificial altar. He glanced back for a second as his favorite chalace tipped over, spilling wine across the altar. It’s milky white eyes exuded laughter at the Bone Doctor, hoping the charlatan would take an axe to the head.

  The Bone Doctor glanced back to the Death knight. The behemoth didn’t just possess strength, but speed as well. This one was leagues above the last Death Knight sent by that tarnished God of Death. His smirk faded. No more games.

  It was time to get serious.

  Rigor recomposed his body, standing tall and puffing out his chest. His shoulder ached, burned, and oozed blood. He could feel the blood trickling down his armpit, splitting down his arm and chest. This was a formidable opponent indeed, nothing like the weak men who had stood up to him so far. If this was a taste of things to come from this world, then he was delighted to take part in this battle. His mission would end when the Bone Doctor’s head was cleaved from his shoulders and taken back to Necroth as a trophy of his great deeds.

  It was time to end this.

  Light flickered from the Bone Doctor’s face as he sparked up a match. Another cigar smoked in his mouth. The tender, delicious taste of smoke filled his mouth and tantalized his tongue. He took a deep drag in, filling his lungs full of smoke as the black, metal hulk rushed him again.

  His sword met the axe, over and over, sparks erupted as blows were deflected, redirected, and parried. The Bone Doctor got a few stabs in here and there, nothing fatal, but inflicted wounds nonetheless. He held the smoke in his lungs, the grey cloud festered in his chest, building up an acidic peculiarity.

  Rigor leaned in with his next slash, distraught at his lack of progress so far. Strength wasn’t going to win this fight for him, at least not without putting some elbow grease into it. He waited for his enemy to parry the blow, only this time, he put all his weight forward, sticking his elbow out, crashing it into the Bone Doctor’s face.

  The ‘Would Be God’ staggered back, caught off guard by the dirty tactic. He quickly looked back to the Death Knight, expecting the next blow to come for his head. As he predicted, the axe was held high in the air for a killing blow. His lips formed a circle and he blasted the thick cloud of smoke in Rigor’s face.

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  The grey matter burned Rigor’s eyes as it penetrated his helmet, sticking to his face. He blinked away the pain, looking for his mark, but the Bone Doctor was gone. Before Rigor could turn, a cold, sharp blade slashed across the back of his knee, one at a time. The Death Knight dropped to his knees, breaking the bone floor beneath him. He grunted in pain again as his legs felt as if fire was searing his bones.

  The Bone Doctor twirled back in front of Rigor, kicking the large axe from his hands. His blade held to the Death Knight’s neck. “You discovered the hard way, dear Death Knight, but I am always victorious, fore I am a God among men.” His lips twisted into a smile as his arm reeled back to strike right under the helmet. The artery was his killing blow. “This was inevitable. Take your death with pride.”

  His smile quickly turned sour as the Death Knight did not accept his fate.

  Rigor lunged forward, pushing off the ground with all his might, tackling the Bone Doctor. The two crashed to the floor with Rigor on top of his mark. His massive body weight pinned the Doctor in place as Rigor grabbed his sword hand and squeezed with all his might, crushing the hand into a pulp.

  The Bone Doctor snarled as his cane sword clattered to the chapel floor. “You filth!” He spat at the Death Knight, but was met with a gauntleted fist to the face. Black, metal knuckles crashed into his face, once, twice, thrice, over and over. He held his hands out, trying to negate the blows, but his arms were feeble under the might of the Death Knight.

  Rigor’s chest heaved up and down with each strike. Pleasure filled his soul as each fist crashed down on the squishy flesh, extracting green oozing blood from his enemy. This man was no God, just a prideful cunt with an ego too large to check. Soon, this would all be over. He could return to the Black Ziggurat as a victor. Pride welled up in his chest, distracting him from the things that had entered the chapel behind him.

  The foul creatures rammed Rigor at full speed, crashing into his side, sharp claws steeped in yellow lashed out at him, gripping onto his breastplate. The Death Knight toppled sideways off the Bone Doctor, tumbling around with two of the soiled beasts amongst the pews.

  His gauntlet wrapped around one of their necks, gripping onto the flesh and ripping it out for a quick kill. The other beast tumbled towards the women. The prisoners reeled back in terror, pulling their feet and bodies as far away as they could, except for the white-haired woman, who defiantly kicked the beast in the head.

  She cursed it, “Back to hell, foul desecration of life!”

  Rigor grabbed his axe from the floor and rammed the haft down on the creature’s back, smashing clean through its chest and into the bone floor. He pulled the axe out, blood following the haft out in a mist. His white milky eyes met those of the dark-skinned woman. Her face scarred, but familiar to him. She bared a striking resemblance to Alazandrae. He nodded to her and stormed back to the Bone Doctor, pausing at the center of the room, right in front of the altar.

  The Bone Doctor’s face was covered in green blood, oozing from his swollen nose and mouth. A deep laceration cut across his forehead and dripped down to the floor below, pooling beneath him. His chest heaved up and down in exhaustion and dread. He let his guard down, figuring he had already won. It was a mistake he would make but this once. Now, he would use his full power to defeat this Death Knight and prove that he is a God among men.

  He grabbed the skull chalice and held it beneath his head, collecting the blood that dripped from his own body. “Damballa! Lend me your strength, for I have been a loyal servant, and now, I wish to become thy equal. I have given you many a sacrifice, now bless me with thy power!”

  Smoke erupted from the skull, swirling around the Bone Doctor. The chapel began to rattle and all the bones vibrated around the building. Bits of bone took to the air as the smoke swirled faster and faster. Wind gushed around them as the bone pews shook violently across the floor. Green light illuminated the figure within the smoke, casting eerie glows across the chapel, emerald shadows danced about the walls, mocking the Death Knight with a dastardly dance.

  Rigor held his axe tight in one hand, shielding his face with the other. Whatever foul magic plagued this unholy place needed to be squashed before the Bone Doctor became too strong. Stange magics were now at work. Magic was nothing to scoff at. He had to die now.

  The wind ceased abruptly. Bones dropped to the floor. The smoke abated with a boom and the room cleared, save for a strange feeling that hung in the air, like static cling, sticking to the soul.

  Rigor lowered his arm and gazed on what the Bone Doctor had become.

  Before him stood, or coiled, a massive serpent, made of bone and sinew. Emerald eyes gave off sickly light that made the skin crawl. The bone snake’s head rose, its body shaking side to side, opening its massive jaws, revealing large fangs easily the size of Rigor himself.

  As it moved, bones clattered together in hollow thumps. Beneath the skull was the very man responsible for this atrocity. The Bone Doctor was intertwined with the snake, tendons wrapping around his body, strapping him to the monstrosity, his eyes held the same emerald glow.

  The Snake God smirked again, “Now you see the true power of a God! Cower in fear, mortal, not even your precious ‘Death’ can take me now. I will ravage this land, and all its contents are mine for the keeping. Life is what I say it is, what I make it to be, and death will not take it away from me. Pray to your false god if you dare, Death Knight, for this is the last time you will breathe.”

  The snake coiled up, its ribs jostling against each other, the hollow thumps filling the air.

  Rigor held his axe tight, keeping it between him and the Bone Serpent. He spread his legs, bracing for the inevitable impact. He snorted through his nose, the helmet whistled with air. This was it. Now or never. His heart raced with excitement. All others had failed to end him. Would the Bone Doctor be the one?

  The snake jolted forward, snapping its jaws faster than anything he had ever encountered. There was not time to dodge. No time to counterstrike. Only time to hold his ground and rely on his own strength.

  The Bone Snake crashed into Rigor and clamped its mouth down around him. A massive fang pierced his chest and cut through his breastplate like a hot knife through butter. Blood spat from underneath his helmet as he clung tight to his axe. The snake jolted upwards and crashed Rigor into the ceiling of the chapel.

  He grunted, more blood pouring from his mouth, as he hit the bone ceiling hard. The bone handiwork didn’t hold up under the snake’s onslaught, and the roof burst out into the night air. Bones flew all about the Basilica, raining down on those who remained in the township.

  The Bone Snake held Rigor in its jaw, high in the night sky. Bright unnerving light bathed them both in an eerie glow.

  Above them, the Southern Star burned brighter than it ever had before.