Chapter 53 - A Lich's Curse: Part 7

If there was anything Eric regretted more than charging into the unknown, it was the precious seconds he had to spend as the approaching swarm at his back slowly got closer, shaping in his mind exactly what he needed if they were to have a chance in hell of surviving. He was surprised, in fact, that he could visualize it so quickly and so precisely.

“Eric, move now!”

Morlekai’s desperate caw rang in his ear as the bird nipped his cheek, but Eric was already charging into the crevice with a roar, into the rough-faced fissure smelling of brimstone and desiccated flesh, before standing absolutely still and carefully eyeing the fissure, stroking it with his armor-covered fingers as the knocked-over zombies righted themselves once more.

“Eric!”

“Hold them off, for fuck’s sake!”

“I’m already holding off the ones at our back!”

Eric clenched his jaw with a tight hard smile. “You’ve got five seconds before I seal us. Which side do you want to be in?”

“Shit!”

Eric didn’t respond to that. Couldn’t afford to.

All his focus split between forcing the zombies popping out of the massive shimmering mirror glowing at the other side of this cyst of a cavern to back off from his white-hot blade, and holding back the plug he was a heartbeat from forming from all the precious lizard hide he had felt so prudent setting aside from his bulwark, even when he had first made it… just in case.

And it was a damn good thing he had set at least that much aside.

Even if his dreams of a second perfect suit of essence-infused enchanted scale armor would remain forever that… a dream.

“I’m in!”

Because every single last scrap of it, including all the meat and bones he had saved from multiple sources, was now being used to make a massive hybrid plug that nearly, but not completely, filled up the fissure serving as an entrance into this chamber, Eric designing the front to be covered in the lizard’s hard scales, and the tough hide of numerous orcs to grip the rough cracks in the fissure, so no skeletal hands would be pulling it out, anytime soon.

And Eric didn’t dare spend even a moment admiring his own handiwork as the undead walkers that had just slipped through the flashing mirror-like rift in the back of the chamber immediately began racing towards him, weapons raised high.

You have successfully parried Disemboweling Blow!

Your opponent has successfully Shield Bashed you for 5 damage!!

You have managed to keep your balance.

Sword blade has rammed you in the kidneys! Blade fails to penetrate armor. 4 damage and Mild Bruising suffered!

Your blow has been deflected!

Eric pushed aside the interface messages flashing across his mind’s eyes as he desperately fought just to survive this elite guard, far tougher than the others.

His carefully measured lunges and slashes were countered by staggered blocks, two zombies linking their shields at just the right moment. His attempts to force their shields off-line were met with canny shifts of in stance and balance. Worst of all was their ability to work in perfect unison, one champion fainting high while another smashed him with a scutum for the half-second needed for the third to crack blade against knee cap, and if Eric didn't have a 20+ Vitality and 1 rank in Damage Resistance, which seemed to block considerably more than a single standard health point, that could have spelled his end right there.

But he did. And for all that he was absolutely humbled by how well these undead were at mastering him in the arena of sword and shield, for all that he felt his guts swimming in fear when the portal began to shimmer and sparkle, like tiny flashes of jeweled light shimmering from an obsidian core, Eric had an advantage these champions did not.

A blade of wrath and reserves of strength he had hesitated in tapping into, lest he have none left to give when he needed it the most.

But if he was dead… then none of it mattered anyway.

So he quit holding back, lashing out with everything he had.

Carefully calibrated attacks, making the most of distance, timing, and calculated feints not working? Then it was time to smash right through their lines, shield first, and lash out with great sweeping cuts and furious lunges from any and all angles, piercing ancient shields with inhuman might that did nothing to stop his wicked sharp white-hot point from caressing ancient flesh, and setting it ablaze.

You have embraced Burst of Strength!

You have slammed through shield wall!

1 Champion set ablaze!

It was at that pristine moment, when one of the perfectly synchronized warriors had stumbled back, ancient rotting eyes widening as it burst into flame, that he embraced the e

ssence of the cut, the final pair before him now right where he needed them to be.

Doom Slice!

Eric flashed a fierce smile as terror turned to exhilaration when his blade slicing through flesh, bone, and so much more.

Futilely raised shields effortlessly sheered through, cleaved open bodies bursting flame as they tumbled to the ground.

You have successfully defeated three Champions!

He immediately positioned himself behind the blazing pyre of furiously burning necrotic flesh, doing his best to hide his dizziness that, thankfully, only lasted for a moment while smiling coldly at the three who, with shields locked, had been almost certain to bowl him over.

With his foes now hesitating, circling him as he circled them, Eric was happy to take advantage of the extra moments to allow a bit of whatever he expended when embracing his weapon feats to recharge while keeping the massive pyre of flame between himself and the three remaining elite zombies, their eyes glittering with eerie sentience and unmistakable malice.

“You’re death is inevitable!” Hissed the closest with a voice he realized he recognized, much to his horror. He could feel its owner like a damp wet breeze from a flooded grave invading a crypt before slipping into his brain.

Eric said nothing as he drew a prize that caused the closest of the three undead champions to smile. “You dare to wield that which is a reflection of us? Then let it damn you, before you join it in death!” the closest one hissed, a bone-white finger pointing right for Eric's bow.

Soul Bound artifact successfully resists Undead Compulsion!

It furrowed its brows in a strangely human gesture, eyes glowing with an eerie intelligence, and Eric was all but certain that the same foul entity that had taken over Velvet was now controlling its movements.

Now furrowing its rotting countenance in a twisted smirk, as Eric had fully drawn his bow without any arrow knocked in the string.

A lack he corrected an instant later in a flash of white-hot light. Yet he wasn't aiming for the trio of glaring champions. Rather, his target was the shadowy figure he sensed like a wave of coldness slipping through the portal at that very moment.

You have critically hit Greater Revenant!

Greater Revenant is stunned!

"Now, Morlekai!" Eric screamed as he switched bow for blade and charged right for the gate, thinking nothing of knocking aside the furiously swinging gladius from the closest champion as a murder of crows swarmed right behind the hissing abomination before knocking it off its feet and into the pyre of flame.

Earning a kill Eric didn't dare look back and see, all his focus on the pulsating obsidian gate before him and the swirling cloak of shadows that Eric could sense, much to his awe and horror, was actually fighting against the flames trying to consume it, attempting to crush it down to nothing.

But not before Eric had smashed into it, having slashed open his own wrist between gauntlet and vambrace with his saber, a bit deeper than he had intended, but it was too late for anything else except to scream out the words to his most perilous ability as he drenched revenant and gate with his blood, saying the coolest four words any adventurer possibly could.

“YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”

The wave of weakness crushing Eric to the ground at that moment was beyond horrific as the chamber filled with a brilliant flash of light and a soul-splitting CRACK! could be heard throughout the chamber as Eric was sliced by shattering glass.

You have successfully cast Unorthodox Abjuration at the cost of 300 EX, 50 Health, 100 mana, and 50% of base Soul Reserve capacity! +20% Potency for badass trigger phrase is now in effect! (Culturally sympathetic magic detected!)

The remaining pair of champions behind him shrieked and charged him as one.

And Eric couldn't help but give an exhausted chuckle, spitting up blood as he stumbled forward to meet them.

Before rolling to the ground just as the first reached him, sending the undead champion tripping forward and right into the billowing soul flame that was now the gate, or what was left of the gate, the champion immediately crumpling to superheated ash even Eric scrambled back to his feet and lurched away.

The final champion’s eyes glowed with unfathomable hate as it hissed and circled Eric, shield raised high, gladius at its side, its rotting eyes firmly on the fiery saber waving flashy moulinets through the air.

Finesse check made! Feint successful!

Only to stumble in surprise when it collapsed to the ground, minus its feet, thanks to the soul-linked bardiche Eric had instantly summoned forth and struck low with, while its eyes were on the saber swinging high, giving the creature just a split second to appreciate its own imminent demise… before Eric’s cleaving windmill strike tore its head in half.

In the blink of an eye, he traded soul-bound weapons once more, and stuck his white-hot saber in the squirming remains of yellow-green brains that moved like sentient worms… before squealing and thrashing as Eric set them all ablaze.

“And this is why I didn’t choose the Abjurer class!” Eric hissed with a fierce smile. “Because it turns out that I can abjure your twisted magic just fine on my own, and nothing beats flipping soul-bound weapons in the blink of a fucking eye!”

An instant later, he heard the distant sound of what seemed like countless bones suddenly collapsing to the ground as his Interface blared with a message that set an exhausted Eric smiling so wide that he thought his cheeks would split, now knowing that there were sweet rewards to be had in this world, besides those earned training hard and gaining levels.

Congratulations! You have successfully closed a Lesser Incursion Rift! This is the first time this rift has been closed! You have earned a permanent +1 to Soul Reserves, Willpower, and Vitality! You have proven that even against overwhelming odds, you have both the resolve, determination, and physical resilience to push through all obstacles and achieve the near-impossible!

Spirit Mastery is now Rank 11! (You have dared to match wills with a Lich and close at least one of his gates!)

Flesh Sculptor is now Rank 11! (Synergism is everything! You didn’t think your Flame essence alone is what dissolved all those elite zombies, did you?)

Rituals of Summoning and Binding is now Rank 12! (Talk about hands-on training!)

Bardiche (War Blade) is now Rank 11!

Journeyman Saber is now Rank 13!

Unorthodox Abjuration is now Rank 3!

Blade and Shield has achieved Rank 10 & Journeyman Status! You now enjoy +1 to Finesse, and can intuitively sense how best to use shield and one-handed blade in tandem! - Note! This is not a true path, but an expansion of a path you already walk!

Eric took a deep breath as the messages flooded through his Interface, filled with a profound sense of relief as he happily savored his wonderful gains, grateful just to be alive.

His body was now tingling with an incredible sense of vitality, as if he was now forever 1 cup of coffee ahead of everyone else, and could run for endless hours and hardly feel it at all. Even his movements felt more graceful, more natural, now finding it second nature to flow into his steps, feet as silent as a cat's footpads. He smirked at the thought, but had to admit that he felt more sure-footed even on this rocky splintered ground than he had ever been before.

And his mind… he was still himself, but he felt an intense resolve to do whatever it took to complete his mission, feeling a sense of drive and dedication that only mirrored his old self on his best days.

It was as if he was now embracing life with the most epic battle music tracks from his favorite self-tube channels playing inside his head, lifting his mood and drive. And how he would dearly love some music to listen to, now that he thought of it.

He couldn’t help flashing a fierce smile as he exchanged glances with a now fully reformed Morlekai, whose crimson eyes were also twinkling with the sweet pleasure of endless potential flooding through his soul.

By dint of closing that single gate, Eric’s soul had been infused with as much power as any level-up, in addition to the single point he had earned pushing Blade and Shield to Journeyman status.

Just as importantly, it seemed like completing quests and closing incursion gates was an absolutely fantastic way to infuse his core.

You have successfully completed Objective 2 of your active quest: Sealing Main Town Gate! (Potency boon already rewarded in the form of skill enhancements!)

You have successfully completed Objective 4 (Major Objective) of your active quest: Closing Local Incursion Gate leading to the dread necropolis of King Olzoth!

Congratulations! Your core has achieved 27% Saturation!

Note. For maximum potency gain, it is advised that you complete Objective 3 of your quest! (Before the boss destroys all your hard work!)

Eric was surprised to hear himself chuckle, even more so when it turned to roaring laughter with tears in his eyes, wild mirth mirrored perfectly in Morlekai, whose honey-silk laughter could have charmed bees out of trees.

Twinkling eyes caught his own with a bemused grin. "After endless battle and strife, nothing, not even honey and spice, beats the sweet joy of simply being alive."

Eric nodded in wholehearted agreement. "I feel utterly drained, body and soul… and so charged with energy that I wouldn't be surprised if lightning crackles from my blade."

“I hope you’re not series, or I’m never going to hear the end of it from Alice,” his friend warned with mock concern.

Eric chuckled at that. "I think it's from all the juice we received, closing that gate."

Morlekai nodded. “I gained three levels in all, today. And imagine my surprise when they were gained with no sleep needed for me to fully integrate my points!” He chuckled softly. “Never have I felt so alive and ready for battle as I do here and now, at this very moment.”

Eric frowned at that. “Wait, all you got was three levels today?”

His friend burst out in laughter. “Why, are you going to tell me you actually got four?” His friend shot him a mock glare. “Best you not, or my sister won’t be the only one infected with jealousy for the boy who came out of nowhere only to save our lives at the last second, like the most absurd action movie of your choice.”

Eric felt his cheeks flush, quickly lowering his gaze. “Morlekai, you know I’m trying to compress my core, right? But… yeah. I know we have far more pressing matters than worrying about my particular quirks.”

Morlekai’s expression, oddly enough, was sympathetic. “And may that choice prove a boon to you, and not a source of lost opportunities.” It was all Eric could do not to flinch, feeling the weight of Morlekai’s powerful grip… had he always been that strong? Resting comfortably on his shoulder. “Seriously, Eric. We owe you a debt I doubt we’ll ever be able to repay.”

Eric flashed a teasing smile. “Like a larger share of the gold?”

His friend’s gaze didn’t waver, though his smile grew. “Like I said. We owe you a debt I now know we won’t ever be able to pay.”

Eric laughed at that. “I’m joking, believe me.”

“You’d better be. Each of us are taking as much as we can safely carry without playing the fool." He chuckled softly. "And would that Gold, that glorious metal worth over tenfold on the galactic market than what it was worth even in its heyday before Earth's integration, be storable in any sort of storage space or device. But our backs alone will be what we will use to hall our prize."

His gaze turned thoughtful. “Still, we’ll be able to carry a bit more, thanks to your own ability to store almost any prize save living things and gold.” He flashed a toothy smile. “I now know for a fact that you can carry enough lizard meat and hide to plug the entire ten by ten foot tunnel leading from the shattered gates to our little sanctuary. How many cubic feet is that, Eric?"

Eric frowned thoughtfully. “You know, now that I think about it, how much meat and supplies did I invest in that thing?” Then he winced when he took a very thorough inventory of himself.

Not the moral kind, which he already knew was getting pretty damned murky, but the extradimensional space kind. And the data returned was painfully black and white.

“Shit,” he said, collapsing to the ground and leaning against the jagged stone wall, ignoring the guttural groans, hisses, and scrapes still coming from the flood of zombies just outside which, sadly, hadn’t disappeared, fled, or melted to goop with the destruction of the gate.

Morlekai’s bemused gaze became on of concern. “Eric?”

Eric shook his head, chuckling softly as he pulled out a lake-chilled ale, and one for his friend as well. He drank deep of its rich fruity bounty before sighing and leaning back, hands behind his head as he gazed contemplatively at the jagged stone ceiling which looked brittle, unstable, and like it could collapse at any minute.

He knew it was a flight of fancy, but sure as shit, they’d best leave soon.

For any number of reasons.

“You know all that crap I said about counting on me to store us an absolute shit-ton of food and supplies and pretty much all our kills?”

Morlekai frowned. “Alex...”

"Yup. Somehow, it all combined with the greater lizards when I plugged the town."

Morlekai sighed and shook his head. “As if there was anything I could say to that, after you played the hero… what, twice-over, today?

Eric smirked. “Thrice-over, you and me both, with one more ugly bastard for us to take down. But who the fuck’s counting?”

Morlekai snorted, flashing a bemused smile. "One of the first lessons any good Death Lord learns, is to never mix his dinner with the corpses he’s going to raise.”

Eric winced. “You know I’m not actually a trained necromancer or anything like that, right?”

His frown grew when the chamber filled with Morlekai’s laughter.

“It’s not that funny.”

“Oh, but it is,” Morlekai insisted, wiping a crimson tear from his eye. “You, who blitz through undead foot-soldiers like they’re no more relevant than kindling to your flame, just hours after mastering a lich’s artifact that should have made you little more than a puppet, a bow you can shoot as if it were the springiest of sapwood, blasting holes through revenants who take the time to insult you personally. And believe me, Eric, no lich would deign to honor a vampire or mortal by even addressing him as anything but parasite, save for the few who dare to embrace the arts of the Flesh Sculptor and Spirit Master.

"And to top it all off, you manage to cast a greater abjuration that I sure as hell didn’t teach you. One radiating so many conflicting arcane strands ringing so discordantly against multiple essences that I’m surprised you even survived the casting!”

He gave a darkly bemused chuckle when Eric winced and paled. “That bad, huh?”

Morlekai smirked and nodded. “That’s right. You’ve created a destructive cycle so discordant that it actually damages the arcane matrix securing most spirits to their corporeal shells, more than sufficient to destroy whatever highly sophisticated magics were behind that gate.”

Eric sighed, rubbing his face, despite his helm. “And now that hyper-discordant spell that clashes with whatever laws of magic I never learned has just achieved third Rank, and I found out that I actually have a Mana Pool. Which I only tapped into by chance, because no one will show me shit, Morlekai, save for a single example of a Soul-linked blade.”

And here alone, Morlekai's eyes flashed with sudden heat. "That's right, Eric. I showed you how I blood-linked my blade. Once! And that's all you needed to not only learn the skill, but to take it to heights I never would have imagined, unlocking its true potential. It’s not just a mark of blood, but an artifact linked to your very soul!”

His friend gave an approving smile. "And that single skill has somehow opened multiple avenues of power for you to explore under the paths of Blood and Dominion both. And if that doesn’t show your potential as a master of the True Art, what the fools who would think to master us all call a crooked path, then I don’t know what would.”

Eric flinched at what his Perception made very clear was absolutely not the distinct cracking of stone over their head. "Well then, since that's taken care of, what's say we head out?"

This earned a raised eyebrow. “To the swarm of undead waiting to tear your throat out?”

Eric flashed a wild smile, summoning his shield and a white-hot saber. "Beats the fuck out of getting killed by a ceiling about to collapse." He laughed at Morlekai's expression. "And it's all about perspective, my friend. You see perilous foes that could kill us? I see walking bags of experience. And just like Pokies… I'm doing my best to collect them all."

A jolt of dread shivered through Eric’s spine as a sudden sharp retort echoed from the roof… and nothing.

Not a single jagged piece of stone came tumbling down. Not even a stream of dust smelling of brimstone and death.

But before an open-mouthed and too handsome Morlekai could say anything else, Eric had returned the wall of lizard hide and meat blocking the corridor to storage with a single touch, already racing forward into a hoard of walkers hissing with surprise… and hunger.

Skill check made!

Burst of Strength enhanced Shield Bash sends Undead flying!

You have successfully smashed aside: 12 Undead.

Iado skill check made! You have sliced open 3 prone walkers.

Prone walkers have been incinerated by the Essence of Fire!

You have successfully blocked Disemboweling Blow.

You have successfully slipped past 3 attempts to Grapple.

You have broken through: Zombie hoard!

With a roar, Eric was slamming through undead like a pro linebacker tossing aside underweight freshmen, sending them pinwheeling and crashing to the ground in a desperate attempt to break free of the crush. Right before Burst of Strength wound down and he stumbled, suddenly vulnerable, in a sea of frenzied undead eager to tear the flesh from his bones.

He gave a triumphant howl, unleashing firey death with his saber, pausing only to scream, "Get the fuck out of there, Morlekai!"

Before sprinting down the corridor, back the way they had come, flashing a fierce smile when his hunch proved right.

Past the crowd around the entranceway to the former rift, there were hardly any undead at all.

He assumed they had either joined the boss Norvolth in trying to pound through the plugged up gate leading to Junk Town… or they had been tightly packed by the rift entrance, eager to sink their jagged fangs into his face.

But now, now that he had broken free of their mass with a wide-open corridor to play with… he had absolutely no problem playing hit and run.

You have summoned War Blade Bardiche!

You have struck 3 Walkers with consecutive windmilling blows.

You have decapitated your foes!

Eric felt a fierce surge of exhilaration, his fearsome weapon now as graceful in his hands as a conductor's wand, whipping it about at devastating speeds that had pushed him utterly at Strength 16. But at 20? Nearly 21? It was like swinging a hardwood stave. It still had some heft, but flowed through the air almost as gracefully as his saber.

It was a weapon he could now manipulate with precision and absolute control as he embraced montante-style moulinets, whipping it through the air like an Italian greatsword master, his glorious weapon hardly slowing down when it sawed into bronze shields and desiccated bodies alike, shredding limbs and sending bodies crashing into the far wall.

Perception check made!

And his heartbeat's fierce satisfaction nearly spelled his end as death dropped on him from above. Death that thought nothing of gloating, when it saw Eric's eyes snap to the roof, snarling it's discontent as it spat caustic acid for Eric's eyes as it crashed into him from above.

“You think your base weapon can harm a vessel of King Olzgoth? Fool! We are a thousand eyes when my bile will allow you NONE! And we will always know where yo—“

Quickness check made!

Caustic bile avoided!

You have critically struck your foe!

Eric lurched back a step, allowing spittle to sizzle on the ground as he plunged his saber deep into the entrails of the revenant whom Eric had absolutely no doubt was utterly immune to the cleaving blows of his bardiche.

But Eric already knew it was vulnerable as hell to the kiss of 2000 degree flame.

As for the arcane barrier he sensed flickering wildly around the beast... it flickered and sizzled out the instant his soul-bound saber kissed its flesh.

Essences of Flame and Wrath trump lesser ward!

He couldn’t help sneering his hate at the doomed revenant impaled by his blade, another tool of the lich to die like all the others.

What he wasn't expecting was for the impaled horror to actually grab the white-hot blade with its own two hands, scurry up the blade, even as its entrails burst into flame, and tear his face off, quicker than he could even blink in surprise that soon turned to choking agony.

Your foe manages to claw your face!

Your foe has shoved his arm down your throat!

Your foe is tearing into your flesh!

You have suffered a critical injury!

And the messages flickering across his Interface meant nothing as his world became one of blinding pain. His moment of cocky surety, mastery over his foe, his situation, shown to be tenuous happenstance that could change in an eyeblink as ebony claws tore for his throat, scrabbling furiously for a scale-covered jugular it could find no purchase upon… before settling for Eric’s face and near tearing off his jaw.

Eric screamed when bone splintered, flesh tore, and hot blood tainted with the vile effluvia of rotting flesh flowed down his throat.

Refusing to choke as the monster tearing up his face gave a hideous chortle. Not when he could find much darker satisfaction in wrenching his blazing blade free and lashing out with a ripping slash that cleaved his foe in half on the backstroke, Eric allowing himself a single fierce smile as horrified eyes gazed into oblivion as the skull exploded in flame, taking hot delight in another fragment of the goddamned lich dying forever before he bent over gagging on a great hot gusher of blood pouring down his throat.

“Eric! The undead are swarming! Move! Now!”

He wanted to sob but could only fight for breath, realizing the bastard revenant had torn him up but good with vicious knife-like claws in the roof of his mouth and tongue, and yes, even his throat, Eric now wheezing and coughing up blood as he jogged down the corridor, desperate to keep ahead of the shambling implacable hoard that might have seemed like easy pickings five minutes ago, but now, while he was wheezing for breath, coughing up blood, feeling dizzy and terrified, he felt as if those zombies were death inexorably closing in on his weakening form.

Filling him with instant sympathy for the other thousand citizens of his town who must have felt the exact same way.

“We have to keep going!”

“I know!” Eric coughed and wheezed, desperate eyes looking for something… anything!

There!

“Eric! Where the fuck are you going?” cawed the irate crow on his shoulder.

“Side passage. I need to rest.”

“We don’t have time!”

“If we don’t, I’m a corpse!” Eric wheezed, bending over to choke out more hot blood filling up his lungs, crawling for the side passage, praying it wasn’t filled with horrors as he stumbled inside while a flood of crows did their best to distract the score or so of surviving zombies with razor-sharp beaks and claws that would have worked so much better against the living, Eric knew, the undead clearly a perfect counter to Vampire and Succubus both.

But the situation was what it was, and at least it bought Eric a couple precious seconds where dizzy concentration altered a certain mental shape just enough for him to squeeze the wall and fill it with a sudden barricade of toughened lizard hide over meat and bone.

You have successfully plugged up side passage entrance.

Infravision detects no living predators or prey within 60 yards.

Eric quickly bent down as if kowtowing before mercurial fates as he gasped and hacked up sticky mouthfuls of blood, clearing his airway with a grateful wheeze before cracking open a fresh ale with trembling hands and gargling and spitting out the awful mixture of fruity hops, black ichor, and blood.

For long moments, he just focused on breathing with his hips above his head so the bleeding wounds from his mouth and the inside of his throat poured out on the pitiless stone floor, not down his throat.

And slowly, as the seconds turned to minutes, his miraculous, lifesaving, and recently boosted to 22 Vitality repaired the damage done to his flesh.

And he didn't need the flashing message in his Interface to know that he also had to handle the taint he felt encroaching upon his soul, fighting with every ounce of his being not to collapse into dizzying darkness from which he knew he’d never awaken.

First, lotus position.

Trusting his infravision and the cawing of the crimson crows to warn him from oncoming peril, he closed his eyes and breathed deep.

In and out.

Like bellows feeding a white hot flame.

The very essence of fire.

So hot not even a lich’s malignant curse could fester within his blood without becoming fuel for the fires of his soul.

But liches were wily and clever, and the black stains were stubborn.

Then again, so was Eric, who had absolutely no problem stoking his fires to the point of white-hot absolution. Even when his Interface's chimes made it clear that he was taking damage as well.

He began sucking air in like a bellows as he visualized his trash tier technique actually improving as a certain furious lich's black claws squeezing Eric's soul so tightly from a thousand miles… a world? Away, burst into white-hot flame.

Until a cursing lich was forced to release his grasp or lose his skeletal hand entirely. And who knew how gloriously hot the flame in Eric’s soul would have become then?

If there was one tiny consolation in the nightmare he had just endured, it was that his Trash Tier Flame Origin Cultivation Technique had actually hit Novice 10%.

Yet Eric still opened his eyes with a bitter, exhausted smile, having just enough connection to his foe to taste its distant screams, before it broke off for good.

“Eric! We have to move. Now! Our home is in peril!”

Morlekai’s desperate words tore Eric right out of his trance, jolted back into the real world feeling both utterly refreshed and clean of any taint, the sting of sunburned flesh healing within seconds, thanks to his gift.

The only wound left was one to his soul.

The horrific guilt that a thousand innocents might perish because he had gotten too cocky, fighting the least of the lich's pawns.

Eric jerked a quick nod Morlekai’s way as he removed his barrier once more. Only this time, he played it safe. He removed it while doing nothing to reveal himself to the milling zombies beyond, so that it was several moments before they realized that the narrow passageway wasn’t blocked.

Flesh Sculptor skillcheck successful!

It took only moments for the shambling walkers to rush forward, eager to attack Eric, before stumbling and tripping on what amounted to a bed of spikes, made of the sharpened bones of tusks and teeth from orcs and lizards alike. Designed to tear up and trip his foes even as the carefully angled walls of lizard-covered flesh funneled the passageway to just wide enough for a single opponent to squeeze through sideways… it was with such a limited angle of vision that none saw a grimly smiling Eric waiting exactly 5 feet behind it, with plenty of room to swing his bardiche for maximum effect.

“Eric!”

Eric shook his head. "Playing the overconfident fool nearly got me killed ten minutes ago, Morlekai."

“Half an hour! You wasted half an hour!” The man hissed as Eric’s bardiche whistled through the air before exploding into the first zombie’s armored skull, crushing it like a tin can as it collapsed in a heap.

“All the more reason to not play the idiot again, Morlekai. That fucking revenant tore up my throat from the inside! If I couldn’t regenerate… if I didn’t have an ability that actually let me burn away a lich’s taint… I’d already be dead, or a fucking revenant myself!”

Eric roared the last even as he swung his bardiche like a man swinging for the fences, a second walker’s head exploding like melons on a batting stand.

Morlekai paused. "I didn't realize it had been so serious. But I should have."

Eric sighed. “Not your fault. I was busy playing the overconfident fool.” He flashed a grim smile as a third revenant struggled over the other two partially blocking the corridor before his windmilling overhand blow managed to cleave through both head and spine, tearing free right between its emaciated legs.

Critical strike! Congratulations! You have achieved your first bisection!

Bardiche (War Blade) is now Rank 12!

“But I’m done playing the fool. At least for now,” Eric said, switching for the longer bardiche and positioning himself for another clean bisecting cut. And when his spear glaive variant also received a bump for a perfect fatality, finally hitting Rank 11, he was more than happy to embrace the moment and see if he could shoot up the Journeyman ranks by mastering clean cuts from all angles with both his polearms.

Because he sure as hell wasn't heading back until he had taken out every nightmare horror that would otherwise be able to ambush him from behind. A simple barricade would only buy him time before his foes eventually broke it down. But funneling these undead abominations through a narrow opening like he was doing would both allow him to control the degree of threat he was forced to face at one time, and hopefully pay dividends in other ways as well.

And save for a handful of close calls where a single mistake could have cost him his life, or at least risked a good maiming, before Morlekai, a true wingman in every sense of the word, stepped in, his plan went off as smoothly as he dared to hope for.

Congratulations! You have mastered the art of striking your foes from all angles in the heat of combat with multiple polearms!

You have defeated 52 Undead Walkers! Experience earned!

Bardiche (Glaive) is Rank 12!

Bardiche (Glaive) is Rank 13!

Bardiche (War Blade) is Rank 13!

You have successfully unified your Bardiche skill!

Bardiche is now at Rank 13, and will advance when practiced with any variant!

Morlekai gave Eric a hard nod of respect, gazing down at several score of twitching, writhing, mostly dead corpses. "Well done," he said with a smirk. "And I just earned a rank with my favorite weapon. You and I are definitely due for a rematch, I think."

"Damn right we are. As soon as this madness is over." Eric flashed his fallen foes a cold smile, now almost instinctually knowing exactly where to strike his enemies for maximum effect, quickly plunging his inert, flameless saber at the base of several skulls using several different techniques to thrust and twist, almost clinically observing which technique was the easiest and quickest for severing his foe's spines. Before shifting positions and, with calculated lightning-fast flicks of his blade, aimed to cut just deep enough to severe key tendons. He found it surprisingly easy to cripple limbs with hardly any effort of all.

Morlekai frowned. "Then again, sparring can wait. We both have a lot on our plate. Now show me exactly where and how you struck those corpses once more, if you would be so kind, associate?"

Eric nodded, this time going over the motions slowly, and to his credit, Morlekai nodded understanding after each mock-kill and maiming, giving Eric pointers of his own as time went on. He smiled in warmest approval when their dark lessons were done. "Thank you, disciple."

Eric swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat, never having felt closer to the man as they both embraced the darkest of crafts, all without harming a single living soul.

Your experience butchering both the living and the undead means you can sense your foes’ weaknesses better than ever before!

Find Weakness is now Rank 6!

Your experience battling undead in pitch darkness means your Infravision can detect even the most minute shifts in temperature!

Infravision is now Rank 8!

(Residual potency for overcoming Elder Lich has been fully quantified as skill mastery!)