A Bored Lich

"Vampiric Touch," with that green energy lept into Doevm's hand.

"You," the shaman seemed to have a little more energy than the others. It let go of the spear and weakly raked its claws against the back of Doevm's hand. With a layer of blue life essence to protect him however, the claws cracked. "The Knights' Academy is supposed to be out of this fight. Who are you? An instructor? Some sort of an ally?"

Doevm scrunched up his lips: 'I already have Undead specialized in reconnaissance, combat, support, defense, and one crowd-controlling type.' He reached over with his other hand and jabbed the shaman in the leg. "Can you feel that?"

"You'll get nothing out of me," the shaman spat. "I will never betray my king."

Doevm cocked his head to the side: "No, you misunderstand. I just wanted to see if I had severed your spinal cord or not."

"Spinal kidney?"

"Spinal cord," Doevm repeated as he flicked a space just above the shaman's kneecap, resulting in a twitch. "I can't have my Undead crawling on the floor like stray animals. They'll trip over your friends."

The shaman coughed up blood, reached up, grabbed the spear, and pulled itself a couple inches off the ground. "I...curse...you," it said in between labored breaths.

"Just relax," Doevm said. "Death is not the end. Enough of your resistance."

The shaman weakly gestured to the Demis. "I curse your friends." It's head lowered as its last reserves drained away, yet the hand remained raised. "I curse…your family."

Doevm's light touch tightened before he cracked the back of the shaman's skull against the bloody ground. "I said that was enough," he muttered. He pulled his spear free and let it vanish.

Silence followed, and for the first time since regaining his memories, Doevm allowed his head to be blank. He held his hand out and stared into his empty palm. He bent each finger from the right to the left until the nail made painless indentations, then straightened his fingers. The cycle continued three times until he realized he was being stared at. "I apologize." He rubbed at his wrists. "Did someone say something?"

Menla stepped forward: "Cerlius, we dealt with the others." She pointed to the two dead warriors, both with icicles through their hearts.

"Good job," Doevm replied, staring into the open eyes of the shaman. He slid his hand from its head to its chest. Black tendrils of mana slid down his arm like three serpent hungry serpents, forming into a basic magic circle of the dark element. Mana poured through the magic circle.

The shaman's chest rose and shrunk with a pained groan. The infectious mana spread like a plague. The face twisted, the arms flailed, and lastly the legs kicked. It all stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The corpse sat up still with its open, unblinking eyes. Its head twisted completely around, locking onto the Demis with a thousand-yard stare. It communicated through a shared link to its master that most if not all Undead possessed: "Master. I await the order."

"Demons are our only enemies." Doevm responded through the mental link. He moved onto the other two warrior demons and resurrected them as two skeletons. They wouldn't be as strong as the zombie shaman, but unless their bones were broken, they would never stop. Fifteen Undead bowed down to their master.

All but Olpi and Doevm backed away from products of what was ignorantly thought of as 'vile' magic. The half-elf had originally shared the Demis' fears, but with each person Doevm saved, she voiced less complaints about his methods. As long as the Demis were safe, she would condone it. "Are we getting more?" she asked.

Doevm rubbed his chin. "Is the second floor like the first floor?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Menla interrupted, ignorant of her disrespect. The three new Demis' eyes went wide. They pulled her back and shushed her.

Olpi didn't even blink. "They are both made up of exterior classrooms surrounding a center mess hall. The second floor is different in that it uses spatial magic to alter the real size of things. Everything is much larger than it seems from the outside."

"That's because the second-years need the space to practice more dangerous magics," Doevm guessed. "How much bigger are the classrooms? How many people can comfortably fit in one?"

Olpi shrugged. "The class size is thirty but maybe, if you pushed all the desks to the sides, a hundred could fit."

Doevm cursed. "And the hallways? How many can walk side to side?"

"They're the same as the first floor. If I had to guess how many would fit side to side...maybe three people?" Her eyes widened with a sudden understanding. "An army will have trouble moving through them."

Doevm nodded: "Numbers aren't everything. Our improvised group will be more than enough."

Menla scrunched up her lips. "You sound like we are just going to threaten the demon king. Didn't you say that we are going to fight him and the rest of his army?"

"That's not needed, nor is it possible," Doevm said, earning strange looks. "Believe me, I have tried over and over and over again. Fate itself will bend against those who try, such is the power of the gods. There is only one person in all of Enloa who can beat the demon king, and he isn't even in the kingdom."

"You mean we can't beat him? Why are we fighting him in the first place?" Soulmagic could only last so long, and as Menla responded, he saw his calming effect finally wear off. Menla stepped towards Doevm in a huff yet a shuffling of cold feet across the cracked, bloodied ground brought her to a halt. Eyes filled with nothing but burning hatred. The Undead might have been under Doevm's control, yet they were still Undead.

The three Demis hid behind Olpi, who approached with mana pulsing at her fingertips: "Everyone, stop. I want you all to live through this. Now please, let the man talk."

Doevm nodded and waved his troops off: "I apologize. It was a force of habit. Back to your question, Menla, I do intend to beat the demon king. It just won't be me who beats him. I have a friend, the best one I have, and he seems strangely dependable as of late." He followed up with a smile, just like Lance had taught him. "To save the Demis. Now if you all would kindly step back, we can enter the battlefield."

Everyone hugged the walls of the classroom, even Doevm. Stepping forth was a particularly bulbus Undead made out of a normal corpse of a demon, an Undead appropriately named: Bulber. It woddled to the center of the class with loose flesh jiggling at its sides. It opened its massive mouth and out came gallons of green, liquid bile. The caustic solution bubbled as it splattered across the ground.

The flat stone melted into a pungent odor that soured the air. The Demis covered their noses yet strangely enough it was Doevm who was caught off guard. 'I've never had a sense of smell before,' he lamented as he stuffed parts of his robe up his nose. The last bubble popped. The remains collapsed. Through the hole was the second story, where the demon king resided.

'Maybe I should give them some time to prepare,' Doevm thought, having reflected on the near-fight that Olpi prevented. "This is it," he announced. "If you have anything to say to each other, say it now. When the fight ends, not all of us will be standing."

Doevm had the Undead stay with him on one side of the rift. He crossed his arms and leaned against the back wall, as silent as the dead.

Doevm watched Menla pull the Demis to the other side of the hole. They all hugged. He guessed that they voiced their regrets to each other. He couldn't hear after all, nor did he wish to listen in. It wasn't his place.

After a minute, one of them made their way past the rift. Doevm pushed himself off the wall and lifted his head to see it was Olpi. "Are they all done?" he asked.

Olpi shook her head. "No, and neither am I, Cerlius."

Doevm raised an eyebrow. "You still insist on that name."

Olpi leaned against a wall directly to his right and put her hands in her pockets. "It's your name, isn't it?"

Doevm shrugged. "Yes and no." He gestured to a nervous-looking Dwarven girl standing across the room. "I think Menla still wants to talk to you."

Olpi looked over and shook her head. Menla crossed her arms but kept watching from afar. "Cerlius," Olpi repeated that old name. "Are you a bad person?"

"Yes and no."

"Well, you seem like a good person," the half-elf had an air about her as she talked. It wasn't innocence but Doevm couldn't call it anything else. He sent a mental command and a Banshee drifted by. Bits of her shredded white dress trailed behind her. Olpi simply watched the spectral figure go by and turned back to Doevm. "When you say you're bad, do you refer to the incident with Travis?"

"Who?"

"The one who slapped you with a fish," Olpi leaned over and poked his cheek. The Undead stood still. "You then slammed him, blinded him, and threatened him. Thank you again for doing that." She said the last sentence in Elvish.

Doevm took a deep breath and replied in Elvish. "You are who you are and I am who I am. When this is done and through, we will both walk our own paths. Go talk to your friends."

Olpi blinked twice. "I am talking to my friend, Cerlius, aren't I?"

Doevm sighed. "Whoever you choose to believe I am, I am."

"Well Cerlius, I hope you won't leave," Olpi said before she gestured for the Demis to come over. "I think we should get moving."

Doevm shook his head. "It's almost back." They waited a moment and a pair of light footsteps steadily grew louder. Poking its head above one of the walls was an Undead with two clouded eyes bulging out of its face. 'What did you see?' Doevm asked through their shared mental link.

The Undead Seer crawled in front of Doevm and kneeled. 'Smoke and mirrors.'

Doevm frowned. 'Keep an eye on it.' The Undead bowed and left. Doevm pushed himself off the wall and looked at the Demis: "Everything is ready. When we get down there, stick together. Even if you are grossed out by my Undead, they will give undead life and limb to protect you. I swear it." He held up a fist and smiled at his old habit. "Formation: Labyrinth Bull rush."

Two Guriants and a Bulber made up the front row. They would soak up damage. Composing the middle were Ghouls, Skeletons, and Demis. At the back were a few un-named surveillance types, Doevm, and a single zombie, weak but more than able to produce more without expending magic. The Pregovian Weeper stretched under the entire formation like the shadow of death. Everything was ready. They descended.