A Bored Lich

Elero rolled forward and another swipe of the pseudo-leader's daggers grazed through bits of her hair. Still running from both the pseudo-leader, she grabbed one of many spears she had embedded into the ground and chucked it far out of sight. A roar echoed through the swamp as the beast bait's scent finally attracted the attention of the swamp's many creatures and most importantly, the guardian. Thunderous steps approached from every direction. It was as if the entire swamp had become alive. She turned around to face the man only to instead find the rest of the group, who had all grown tired of waiting.

They charged at her and with the heavy armor, she couldn't run nor dodge much. Blades eviscerated her armor and half her halo collapsed. She spread her wings and flew high into the air. An arrow whistled past, grazing her forehead. 'How I hate the sin of pride,' she thought. 'Why couldn't I have gotten greed or lust?'

Because she had flown up, she now saw the guardian's massive form mowing down everything in its path whether it be plants, living beings, or even the very ground. The group all looked up at her with a mixture of both hopelessness and hatred. Then she took one last look at the guardian, an incarnation of death itself. Its six red eyes turned towards her.

"Fall," the guardian's gaze seemed to say, "Or you're first."

Elero descended to the ground and folded up her wings. "You should surrender before that gets here." Elero announced. The group were staring at her, speechless. She cocked her head to the side. 'That's too much of a change in attitude even considering the circumstance-'

"Surrender?" Came a voice from behind her. A chain wrapped around her ankle. She cursed and swiped at it too little too late. Her world went dark as she tumbled into the cave's entrance. Her halo shattered. She writhed on the ground, clutching her legs.

Standing at the cave's entrance was Trak, whose chains broke the wooden support beams to the entrance. "I've been planning for this for a long time." Trak reached up to his mask and peeled it off so only she would see the man underneath, Jackal Von Trike.

Jackal continued talking even as Elero crawled out of the way of the collapsing ceiling. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this but I suppose I had to deal with the guardian eventually. I need to prove myself."

The light from Elero's single eye faded. She propped herself up against a wall and stared down the chamber. She cursed and punched the wall. "Damn it. I'm still useless." She took a breath to calm herself down. "What happened to the others?"

…

'This should do it,' Thomas thought as he inspected another pickaxe. He hooked it on his belt with the rest of the pickaxes he had found. They wouldn't hold up if he had to defend himself but throwing-wise, they were…terrible. 'What the hell have I gotten into?' he thought, holding the sides of his head. 'No I can't think like this.' He pulled at his hair. 'I'm definitely going to live.' He kept repeating that single thought to himself, even if he didn't believe it. 'What would Doevm do? Maybe he would buy time so the poison would wear off?'

The soft clack of exoskeletal foot against the stone put his hairs on end. He got into a stance and swallowed his saliva. Gregen muttered, cursed, and yelled. Each step was louder than before, much louder. His exoskeletal exterior now stretched to up to his chest, stopping before his arms. Gregen laughed a hollow, dry laugh. "Found you, you murderer. It's your fault Trak is dead, not mine. You need to pay."

Thomas threw his pickaxe, which curved right into Gregen's shoulder. Gregen screeched and lashed out with the great sword, severing hairs from Thomas's head. The noble had already begun his retreat, something he was confident in after hundreds of rounds against Jameson.

Gregen lept forth, still screeching. Thomas kicked a lever as he passed, which allowed an old, rusty minecart to continue down the mine with a shower of sparks. Gregen grabbed his ears, smacked against the ground, and writhed. "Too loud!"

"Damn right!" Thomas purposely yelled, hoping to at least annoy it some more. He hopped into the minecart and took the opportunity to launch another pickaxe, which was deflected by one of many flailing limbs. Thomas cursed. 'I can't hit him when he's like that but I can only survive if he's like that.'

The cave went dim as the shower of sparks vanished. Thomas's world shifted as the minecart halted. Sparkles invaded his vision when his head cracked against the tracks. He scrambled back to his feet and shook his head, regaining a little focus. Crowding the tracks were swarms of insects like the ones that had crawled into Gregen's mouth.

Gregen stopped writhing, stopped screeching, and smiled. As he stood up, he yanked the pickaxe from his arm. Thomas turned and ran, or he tried to until a great sword severed his leg. He slid to a stop, the pain causing him to cry out. His limb plopped to the ground in front of him, blood pouring out. The insects around the minecart's wheel flew over and dug into the limb. The sound raked against Thomas's ears.

Everything went fuzzy and the stone grew colder. 'Don't give up,' Thomas thought. 'I don't want to die. It hurts so, so much.' He propped himself up using the wall, wincing at the torrent of blood dripping from the exposed bone.

Gregen licked his great sword and his fingers before rubbing his eyes again: "You can't run now, can you? Next is your arm."

Thomas took shaky breaths, trying and failing to keep himself from crying out from the pain. 'Maybe this is a dream,' he thought. 'I'll just wake up. Doevm will have a plan. Frey will come for me.' Amidst his temporary state of denial came a single truth: 'I'm going to die.' He dug his fingers into his own wound. "No!" His eyes went wide and he turned towards the support beam. 'I will live.' He put all his life essence, every last ounce into his leg and arm, lept forth, and shattered the wooden beam.

A smile stretched across Thomas's pale face as cracks ran through the ceiling. "I can at least deny you my corpse."

"Piece of shit." Gregen said. "I told you to be quiet you tricky noble." The great sword swept through Thomas's shoulder, severing another limb. Thomas collapsed and rolled on the ground, not even the strength left to scream out. Leeches flooded out of the walls and gathered around the damaged support, preventing the collapse. "Next is your heart." Gregen hissed.

Thomas's eyes slowly closed, his world fading to a cold black. Gregen approached him with a smile across his bug-like face. Thomas couldn't help but keep looking at his severed limbs, swarms of bugs gathered at the pools of blood. 'So this is it?' he thought. 'This is death.' Gregen stepped closer, still muttering to himself. He raised his great sword up high, revealing two rapidly approaching figures: one with a red aura and the other with a white aura.

"Frey," Doevm said. "Kill him."