The Battle of Themis (Part 2)

“Karak-Harth’s broken through the western gate with tens of thousands of undead!” A messenger informed Lawrence, Arieon, Lily and Christoph.

“What?!” Lawrence bellowed. “Is he still there?”

“No, my lord, he’s gone north!”

Arieon frowned. “Towards the palace.”

“He means to kill the royal family?” Christoph asked.

“No matter what he intends to do.” Arieon leapt up from his chair with impressive vigour and grabbed his staff. “We have to destroy him or else this will be the last day of the Holy Empire.”

***

As Dante landed near the gates, he decapitated two death knights with ease and then cut a bone golem in half.

Two more bone golems charged at Dante, but he shattered them into tiny pieces with a blast of air from his palms. A death knight stabbed at his back, but Dante leapt above the blade, landed on the death knight’s shoulders and kicked its head off.

The head went flying into a group of weaker undead and exploded, taking out more than fifty in a single attack.

“And here I was worried I’d be a bit rusty,” Dante mused, swinging his massive scythe effortlessly into droves of the undead.

The Arts of the Monster Hunters were a unique type of magic that manipulated the air around the user for incredible abilities, and it naturally enhanced the user’s physical abilities.

Dante was also able to make his attacks much more powerful by using his arts to guide his scythe in battle.

There shouldn’t have been an undead that could have posed a threat to Dante, yet, among the oceans that had broken into the city, he found one that made his skin crawl.

It was a tall, black knight standing separate from the rest of the horde in a clearing; it easily dispatched anyone who tried to fight it by cleaving them in two.

What kind of undead is that? Whatever it is. Dante hurtled towards it. I’ll destroy it!

Dante swung his scythe at the knight’s neck, but the knight parried the blow and punched at Dante. Dante brought his scythe in front of his body to block the strike, but the momentum knocked him back a few feet.

Dante blasted the undead with his arts, but the undead didn’t budge.

The black knight sliced twice at Dante; they were so fast that Dante couldn’t dodge them in time and had no choice but to block them instead. Dante pushed the knight’s sword to one side and sliced at the undead’s stomach, but the undead easily blocked the strike with its hilt, knocking Dante off balance.

The undead went to stab Dante in his heart, but Kella appeared from the side and blocked the blow.

“You’re late!”

“I saved your life, didn’t I?”

The two withdrew a few feet from the black knight, but the undead didn’t pursue them.

Instead, it moved into a defensive stance and watched them.

“What kind of undead is this, Kella?”

“No idea. How strong is it?”

“Well, let’s put it this way. I could cut everything else down here with ease, but this.”

“Oh.” Kella laughed. “That’s reassuring.”

***

Karak-Harth flew through the palace doors, blasting them off their hinges, before launching bolts of lightning from his palms.

The blasts electrocuted the guards inside and ricocheted into the walls, destroying the windows and paintings.

Not wasting any time, Karak-Harth continued flying through the palace halls towards the throne room, flinging countless spells at anyone he saw.

When he arrived in the throne room, he found it empty.

So, the royal family evacuated to somewhere safe already. He landed softly on the carpet leading to the throne.

Slowly, Karak-Harth ascended the stairs towards the throne where all the emperors and empresses of the Holy Empire sat. It was the oldest symbol of power in the Holy Empire, a luxurious chair made specifically for Saint Themis after the War of Unification.

“I remember the first time we came here, Themis,” Karak-Harth mumbled as he gently stroked the chair. “I remember the way you spoke about a utopia-like empire. One without war, without bloodshed, one that would know peace and happiness for an eternity.” Karak-Harth smiled somewhat remorsefully at the chair. “You were a fool, my dear.”

He turned towards the ceiling and bellowed, “My only regret is not being able to see your face as your dream dies!”

“And here I thought your biggest regret would be betraying her, Karak-Harth,” Arieon mused as he, Lawrence, Christoph and Isabella entered the throne room.

Karak-Harth’s neck twisted unnaturally around his body as he turned to look at the defenders who’d rushed to challenge him.

“Even her descendants are fools,” he grumbled, turning his body around to face them. “I’m insulted that you think I’m so weak.”

Lawrence drew his blade. “Maybe it’s not that you’re weak, but we’re strong, traitor.”

Eight large magic circles formed behind Karak-Harth, sparkling with purple energy.

“Oh, I assure you, you’re wrong.”