The Unconventional Conquest

The arena was less a fighting pit and more a theater of cruelty, designed for the Lich King’s amusement. Thousands of undead spectators—skeletons, zombies, wights—lined the obsidian stands, their hollow eyes glowing with a faint, malevolent light. In the center, waiting for me, was a hulking Flesh Golem. It was a patchwork horror of stitched-together corpses, with fists the size of anvils and a face that looked like a Picasso painting of a very angry potato.
“KILL!” the crowd chanted, a monotonous, guttural roar. “KILL! KILL!”
I walked into the arena, my divine bone blade dragging a line in the dust. The Flesh Golem beat its chest with a sound like wet carcasses slapping together and charged.

I sidestepped.

It stumbled past, its momentum carrying it into the far wall with a tremor that shook the entire cavern. A section of the stands collapsed, burying a dozen skeleton spectators. They didn’t seem to mind, just started pulling each other out of the rubble with the same lethargic movements.
“Alright,” I announced, my voice amplified by the cavern’s acoustics. The crowd fell silent, confused. The Flesh Golem turned, a chunk of obsidian stuck to its shoulder.
“Let’s be honest,” I continued, gesturing at the golem with my sword. “This is a mismatch. Not for me, for him. Look at him. He’s got, what, three different kinds of skin? That’s a recipe for chafing. And his stitching is atrocious. The thread tension is all wrong. He’s going to fall apart in a stiff breeze.”
The Flesh Golem tilted its mismatched head, a low, confused moan escaping its stitched-shut mouth. The crowd murmured.
“I’m not going to fight him,” I said, planting my bone blade in the dust like a staff. “It’s unethical. He’s clearly been assembled without his consent. That’s a violation of basic bodily—well, body autonomy.”
I turned to the royal box, where a throne of jagged skulls sat empty. A shimmering orb of darkness pulsed above it—the Lich King’s viewing portal.
“Lord Malachar! This is exploitation! You need to unionize these constructs! Provide hazard pay! A dental plan! Do you know how many molars this poor golem is missing?”
The orb of darkness flared. “SLAY THE GOLEM OR I WILL DISMANTLE YOU BOTH!”
The Flesh Golem, apparently deciding that the angry floating orb was a better target than the chatty skeleton, let out another roar and charged towards the royal box.
“That’s the spirit!” I cheered. “Direct your grievances to management!”
The Golem began scaling the stands, sending zombies and skeletons flying like bowling pins. The crowd’s chant of “KILL!” shifted to a panicked, discordant screeching. The orb of darkness shot a bolt of black lightning, but the Golem, using the body of a screaming banshee as a shield, deflected it. The bolt hit a support pillar, and the entire cavern began to rumble.
I casually walked towards the exit, my work here done. As I passed a terrified-looking skeleton guard, I patted him on the skull.
“You know, you’d think an immortal Lich King would have invested in better employee retention strategies.”