The crater was a vision of hell carved into the earth.

  I didn't slow down as we approached because slowing down would mean thinking, and thinking would mean remembering that this was insane. My boots pounded mud, and with every step the [Crushing Momentum] trait built up like a pressure cooker ready to blow.

  My body felt wrong. It felt heavier. Given the nature of my new trait, I didn’t feel like I was running anymore. I was falling forward and pretending it was a plan.

  "Four elites blocking the path!" Borric's voice cracked somewhere behind me.

  I could see them. Undead Ogres and Chimeras, all of them Fifth Ascension. They formed a wall of meat and bad decisions between us and the crater. A defensive line to protect their King.

  "Draft behind me!" I shouted.

  Ragna didn't question it, she just fell into step behind my left shoulder with her club raised like she was about to go shopping for skulls. Isolde stuck close to Borric, hands already glowing blue.

  The first Ogre stepped forward. It raised a club that looked like someone had ripped a tree out of the ground and forgotten to remove the roots.

  I didn't dodge.

  I lowered my shoulder and slammed into it.

  The impact was different from a normal hit. It was not a clash but a transfer. I felt the Ogre's ribs shatter, sternum caving in like wet paper, and the thing didn't fall so much as it exploded. Torso separated from legs in a spray of black blood and bone shards, the upper half spinning through the air before crashing into two lesser zombies and turning them into paste.

  [You have slain an Undead Ogre – Level 52!]

  I didn't stop to admire my work.

  The second Elite, some nightmare stitched together from wolf and bear parts, lunged form the side. Ragna was already there. Her club came down with a wet crack that caved in its skull.

  "Clear!" she shouted, laughing hysterically.

  We punched through the defensive line in maybe ten seconds. The remaining zombies scattered or got trampled as we broke into the crater proper.

  That's when I saw how badly things had gone.

  Marius was on one knee. Blood dripped from his nose, his mouth, probably places I couldn't see. His robes, usually pristine, were torn and caked with mud. The Sand Colossus he'd summoned earlier was just dust now, scattered across the crater floor like a broken promise. He was holding up a dome of glass, superheated sand fused into something translucent, but it was cracking. Spiderwebs spread across the surface with every pulse of the Dead King's aura.

  And in the center of it all was Asharion Thalasson.

  The Dead King.

  Up close he looked worse. The armor was rusted, cracked, exposing patches of gray flesh. The red cape hung in tatters. But the worst part was his face. It still held the shape of the man he'd been. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, the same brow Isolde had inherited.

  The skin was chalk-white though. Peeling at the edges. And the eyes were just gone, replaced by pits of green fire that didn't blink.

  [7th Ascension]

  He raised his greatsword. It was called Tidecutter, based on the stories Isolde had shared before. The greatsword glowed with Death Aura, black-green miasma clinging to the steel like oil on water. He was winding up to finish Marius and Yasafina in one blow.

  I didn't give him the chance.

  [Leap]

  I launched across the crater with my axe raised. I still had momentum from the charge and the trait amplified it, turning me into a cannonball.

  Our weapons met.

  The impact was a thunderclap. The ground beneath us cracked, fissures spreading like broken glass. My arms screamed, bones grinding against force they weren't built to handle, but the Dead King got forced back a step. Then another.

  First time he's moved.

  Asharion's head tilted. Curious, maybe. Then he pressed forward and I realized I'd made a terrible mistake.

  He was stronger. Far stronger. Valtherian Physique was a cheat, but I didn't have the proper version of it yet. The clash had just surprised him. Now he was applying real force and I felt my boots sliding backward through the mud despite [Crushing Momentum].

  My axe was being forced down, inch by inch, toward my own chest.

  A blade of compressed sand shot up between us. Asharion pivoted away. Marius had recovered enough to cast again.

  "Get back, barbarian!" Marius shouted, hands weaving patterns. "Even you can't match him in raw strength!"

  I jumped back and created distance. My arms were numb. Marius stepped forward, expression grim but his brain was clearly working overtime trying to find the angle.

  "I've got an idea. Quicksand," he said more to himself than me. "I'll turn it into quicksand. You force him to waste energy on balance instead of attacks."

  That's actually clever.

  "Do it," I said.

  Marius took a deep breath and slammed his palms against the earth and the crater floor rippled. Packed dirt turned to loose sand, then something softer. Quicksand. Asharion's boots sank an inch. Then two.

  The Dead King didn't look concerned.

  He drifted forward, his boots barely skimming the treacherous surface.

  Then he vanished.

  One moment he was there, sinking into the mire. The next, empty space.

  A scream tore through the air.

  Asharion reappeared behind Marius, Tidecutter mid-swing.

  "Look out!" I shouted.

  Marius managed to throw up a wave of hardened sand, but it shattered instantly. The flat of the blade caught him in the ribs, sending him tumbling across the crater like a ragdoll. He hit the far tent and didn't get up.

  "Uncle!" Isolde screamed.

  The Dead King turned toward her.

  "Move!" I yelled, already sprinting. "Everyone, scatter!"

  Isolde froze for a moment when her eyes met her father's, but thankfully Ragna was there to drag her away. Asharion raised his free hand as dark energy condensed into a sphere of writhing shadows.

  He wasn't aiming at Isolde though. He was aiming at the crater wall above her, where the loose rock threatened to collapse.

  He fired.

  The explosion shook the ground. Isolde threw up a mirror shield, but the falling debris shattered it. She disappeared under a cloud of dust and stone.

  "Isolde!"

  My heart hammered against my ribs. The plan was falling apart. Marius was down and Isolde was buried. That left me, Ragna, and a merchant who was hyperventilating near the entrance.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "Ragna!" I shouted across the crater. "Keep him busy! I need ten seconds!"

  "On it!"

  She didn't hesitate.

  She charged the 7th Ascension monster with a shaky grin that was all teeth and adrenaline. Her club wreathed in flames, she slammed into Asharion's guard.

  CLANG. CLANG. CRACK.

  She was fast, brutal, and fighting like she had nothing to lose. But the Undead King was faster. He parried her strikes with contemptuous ease, stepping through her attacks rather than around them.

  After a few exchanges, the Dead King caught her club mid-swing with his bare hand. “Grrgh…” Steam came out of his mouth as he grinned.

  Ragna's eyes went wide.

  He twisted his wrist. The haft of her club, made in Valteria, meant to beat on dragons, splintered. Then he punched her. A simple, brutal strike to the gut that lifted her off her feet and threw her twenty yards back. She hit the ground and didn't move.

  Only me left.

  Asharion turned his empty gaze toward me. He raised Tidecutter.

  I was scowling at him. The quicksand hadn't worked. Ragna's brute force hadn't worked. Marius's magic hadn't worked.

  Think, Thorvyn. Think.

  I looked at the battlefield. At the mirrors Isolde had set up earlier, still standing around the rim. At the burning camp fires reflecting in them. At the dark miasma clinging to Asharion.

  They must have attacked during the night for a reason more than just easier ambush. I hoped so. It must be the case. That Dark Mage in that village was also doing his rituals at night. The Aura… it feeds on darkness. It suppresses light.

  "Borric!" I shouted without looking back. "The mirrors! Can you move them?"

  "I– what?"

  "Tell Isolde's clones to angle the mirrors! Aim them at the King!"

  "I can't control her magic!"

  "Then use a Contract! Bind the clones! Do something!"

  Borric scrambled toward the nearest mirror construct. To my surprise, the illusory copy of Isolde turned to look at him. He shouted something I couldn't hear, his hands glowing with golden light.

  The mirror shifted.

  A beam of concentrated firelight hit Asharion in the face.

  The Dead King flinched. The Death Aura writhed, recoiling from the sudden brightness.

  Another mirror turned. Then a third.

  The crater flooded with blinding light. The shadows retreated. Asharion hissed, a sound like steam escaping a vent. He raised an arm to shield his face.

  Now.

  I activated [Storm Call], channeling fire around me with everything I had left. An inferno erupted around Asharion, flames heating up armor and sword. Not enough to stop him but enough to slow him down.

  If this was the Solar Mantle from the Phoenix I'd slain, it'd have been over already.

  Isolde pulled herself from the rubble. She looked dazed, bleeding from a cut on her forehead, but her eyes found me. She saw the mirrors, saw my flames, and noticed the King flinching.

  She didn't need to be told.

  She raised her hands. The mirrors glowed brighter, amplifying the light until it was almost rays of physical beam.

  Asharion roared with a grumble.

  He swung Tidecutter blindly and a wave of black energy shattered two mirrors instantly. But the distraction had bought us the opening.

  "He's guarding his chest, guys!" Borric screamed, voice cracking. "The core must be there…! Yes, yes, I see it! Black crystal, right over the heart!"

  Asharion's head snapped toward Borric. He raised his hand again, shadows gathering.

  No you don't.

  I charged.

  But I didn't aim for him. I aimed for the glistening storm of flame I'd created with Storm Call. I hit it at full sprint and slid, dropping low under his guard.

  My axe hooked his ankle.

  I yanked with every ounce of Valtherian strength I possessed.

  Asharion crashed to one knee.

  "Isolde!" I roared. "Hit him!"

  She stepped forward. Blood poured from her nose, her ears. She was channeling everything she had left into a single spell.

  What she used next must be [Reflected Judgment] but how? There was no attack to reflect.

  As if to answer my confusion, she made one. She conjured a massive shard of sharp mirror-glass above his head and let gravity do the rest.

  The shard fell. Asharion swung Tidecutter up, shattering the glass into a thousand razor-sharp fragments. The force of his swing sent a shockwave upward.

  For a moment I wondered if that was a stupid move from Isolde or not, given glass shards flew all over the area.

  But Isolde caught that shockwave.

  The fragments also rushed towards her, merging with the energy. She caught the kinetic energy of his own defense and sent it back down at him in the shape of a spear.

  The shining spear slammed Asharion into the mud. His armor cracked as it cracked into his flesh. The black crystal in his chest flared, exposed and vulnerable.

  There.

  I'd been circling the rim the entire time, building momentum with every step. My [Crushing Momentum] had turned all this velocity into mass and I'd been running long enough to feel like a boulder downhill.

  Every step added weight, speed, and force.

  Terminal velocity achieved.

  [Leap]

  My body launched at an angle to bring me down on the King's exposed chest. A loud barbaric cheer left my chest. Mid-flight I triggered [Storm Sovereign's Edict]. My draconic roar tore through Death Aura like tissue, stunning Asharion.

  Then [Thunderclap Crash] amplified by [Crushing Momentum].

  At that moment, I wasn't a man. I was a meteor with an axe.

  Asharion tried to raise Tidecutter. He was preparing for a magnificent clash, but… he froze for a moment. I didn't know how, but he froze. As if he held himself back.

  That gave me the opening.

  My axe drove down.

  Volcanic glass pierced rusted armor with a shriek of metal. It cracked through ribs like snapping branches, striking the black crystal in his chest.

  The crystal shattered.

  Not dramatically. Just broke. That thing fragmented into pieces that fell like broken glass as light died.

  Asharion froze.

  Green fire flickered. Dimmed and then died.

  I landed on a crouch, panting as if I'd just ran a marathon. My body was trembling. Arms felt like dead weight, covered in blood from cuts I hadn't noticed.

  Instantly, across the battlefield the undead collapsed. All of them, like thousands of puppets with cut strings. Falling silent.

  The quiet was oppressive.

  Soldiers stared in disbelief. Some began to cheer. Others just sank to their knees in exhaustion.

  Isolde walked toward her father's body.

  She moved slowly, as if wading through deep water. I didn't stop her. This wasn't my moment to intrude.

  She knelt beside Asharion's remains. The green fire was gone from his eyes now, leaving only empty sockets.

  But somehow, his face looked almost peaceful.

  Almost human.

  The twisted snarl of undeath had smoothed into something gentler.

  His lips moved and not eyes snapped wide. He was alive! Of course, I hadn't even seen the System notifications!

  “Is-” I tried to stop her, but a whisper left the King’s lips, barely audible even in the sudden quiet.

  "I can... rest easy…” King Asharion said. “Knowing you have such strong allies."

  Then he turned to ash.

  It wasn't a slow process. King Asharion simply crumbled, his body disintegrating into fine gray powder that the wind caught and scattered across the crater.

  Within seconds, there was nothing left. Not even bones, not even the armor.

  Just ash and silence.

  [You have slain Undead King Asharion II – Level 112!]

  [You’ve completed the 5th Ascension Quest!]

  [You have slain a creature much higher leveled than you, you've gained massive experience points! Since you weren't the only fighter, the experience points have been distributed around your party.]

  [You've leveled up!]

  [You've leveled up!]

  [You've leveled up!]

  [You've leveled up!]

  [You've leveled up!]

  [You've leveled up!]

  [You've reached Level…]

  There were a lot of other notifications but I decided to wave them off for now. This wasn't the time.

  Isolde stared at the empty space where her father had been. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. She didn't cry. She just knelt there in the ash and mud, alone with a loss she couldn't even bury.

  I stood beside her. I didn't offer words because I didn't know what to do. Well, there were no words that could help a woman who just lost father anyway.

  I just gave her my presence. Maybe a little too intimately as I crouched down, pulling her head into a hug. She began to tremble in my arms.

  Ragna limped over, her club dragging in the dirt. She looked at Isolde, then at me, then at the scattered ash. For once, she didn't laugh. She just stood there, silent.

  Borric approached cautiously and Marius was leaning on him, holding a water skin. I looked at them and Borric nodded while Marius also stared at his brother's ashes.

  After perhaps two minutes, I spoke up.

  “Do you want water, Isolde?” I asked gently, squeezing her arm.

  She didn't reply, her shoulders shaking as she cried. After a moment, she nodded. “Yeah…” she said, clearing her throat. “The soldiers are shaky. I need to speak.”

  Borric offered the water skin to Isolde without a word.

  She withdrew from my arms and took it. Her hands were shaking so I helped her drink.

  Marius had withdrawn to the crater's edge by now. He leaned heavily on a broken spear shaft, using it as a crutch. His face was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on the way I stood beside Isolde. The way she didn't pull away from me.

  For the first time since I'd met him, this strange man looked at me not with disdain or calculation, but with something closer to adoration.

  Only when the sun began to peek from the horizon did people begin to relax.

  The Dead King had fallen.

  But the ones who raised him were still out there, watching from the shadows.

  And this war was far from over.