Maurice stood in the heart of the battlefield, a twisted, maniacal grin carved onto his face. Behind him, legions of the undead stood in rank, their eyes hollow save for the faint, flickering glow of death. He threw his arms wide, embracing the surrounding ruin as if it were a grand stage.
"O brave heroes..." he began, his voice dripping with theatrical flair. "Allow me to pull back the curtain on the truth of your struggle. These are no mere corpses; they are an army bound to a single master. The very man you hunt, Andre—the Master of Death himself."
The air grew heavy. The Ice Legion froze, exchanging glances of pure bewilderment. Andre stepped forward, his pupils narrowing with dread. "The Master of Death?" he asked, his voice strained but steady. "Who in hell is that?"
Maurice let out a dry, rasping laugh. He began to pace slowly, like a storyteller weaving a bedtime tale, though his eyes burned with a sinister light.
"Let me tell you what was hidden. Centuries ago, when the realms knelt before a single throne, there was one being whose very name made the King tremble. He possessed boundless power but chose silence... until the King's foolish son dared to desecrate his lair."
Maurice paused, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
"In that instant, we all felt a surge of horrific energy. A single strike leveled half the kingdom, crushing palaces like sandcastles. The strongest shields shattered in seconds. The Prince returned, but the King did not mourn his people—he shook with terror, knowing his son had disturbed the Master of Death."
Maurice mimicked a sword's stroke with his hand.
"The King sent his wisest men to plead. When the envoy arrived, he found the Master of Death asleep, his sword by his side, indifferent to existence itself. The envoy tried to wake him, but was stopped by the Master's deputy. He returned to the King with one message: 'This cave must be guarded at all costs, for his awakening means total annihilation.'"
Maurice's eyes glistened with unshed tears of pure malice.
"The King asked why, but the envoy said nothing. Instead, he drew his dagger, pulled out his own tongue, and sliced it off with cold indifference, dropping it at the King's feet before bowing. The King understood: Silence was the price. That envoy became the eternal Warden, carving a warning in his own blood: 'Traveler, if you read this, flee for your soul. If you stay, you have invited your own end.'"
Maurice struck his chest violently.
"I am the descendant of that messenger, Andre! Sentenced to guard this cave until I rot. And because of whom? Because of the Demon Lord who dared to challenge the Master of Death! If not for him, I would not be a prisoner. When I saw the Demon Lord at the mountain, I rejoiced—I decided to take my revenge on him through you. My previous plans failed... but now? With this army of the dead, I will erase you from existence!"
The undead legions surged, forming a suffocating ring around the Ice Legion. The tension was palpable. Yet, amidst the despair, the Ice Lord stepped forward with calm, heavy strides. He placed a cold hand on Andre's head, ruffling his hair with the quiet reassurance of a father, then turned to Maurice with a mocking smirk.
"A touching story, Maurice. Fit for a cheap novel. But you missed the final line... To get to Andre, you'll have to walk over my cold, dead body first."
Maurice erupted into hysterical laughter. "You? Ice Lord? Your strength is fading! Your contract with the Frost-Covenant Beast is draining your life. You are the weakest among them now. What can you possibly do?"
The Ice Lord didn't flinch. His smile only grew bolder as he gripped his sword until the veins on his hand bulged.
"For a child like you to underestimate me... is an insolence that demands discipline. Challenge accepted."
He turned to his squad, his face hardening into a mask of absolute authority. He roared with a voice that shook the very earth:
"Listen up, you fools! I have enough energy left for thirteen minutes. After that, I am finished. We either win, take this crier's head, and rip the truth from his filthy mouth—or we die trying. No other plans! Do you hear me?"
"WE HEAR YOU, MY LORD!" the legion thundered back as one.
The Ice Lord gave Andre one last defiant look. "Andre, either I reach him and kill him for you, or you take your own revenge. The choice is yours."
With a sharp signal, the massacre began.
Thousands of arrows rained from the undead army, ignited by the breath of dragons until the sky became a falling hellscape. Harold stepped forward, his eyes blazing; he unleashed massive waves of fire that swallowed the arrows, turning them to ash before they could touch the ground. Simultaneously, Henry slammed his massive fist into the earth, shattering the soil into deep trenches that swallowed rows of the undead.
But the Ice Lord did not wait. He leapt into the air with a grace that defied his massive aura. With a single, perfect stroke, he cleaved a dragon in two. As the beast crashed, gasping its last, the Ice Lord stood atop its carcass, flicking the blood from his blade.
"Ignoring me?" he said coldly. "I heard dragons had pride. Have you fallen so low? Or did you forget it was I who defeated you once before?"
Suddenly, another dragon exhaled its fire—not at the Ice Lord, but toward Maurice! It was a feint. Oliver emerged from the shadows behind Maurice, his blade missing by a hair's breadth. As Maurice spun in terror, the real threat arrived from the other side.
Andre had lunged like a bolt of lightning, his sword raised to claim Maurice's head. Time slowed. Andre's eyes burned with the fire of vengeance.
CLANG!
Andre's blade struck something solid. An armored skeleton had materialized from nothingness to block the strike. Maurice regained his balance, a wicked grin returning to his face.
"I expected Oliver's treachery... but you, Andre? I was waiting for you."
Black portals tore open around Andre, vomiting dozens of armored skeletons. They swarmed him in a closing circle of death. But before the blades could bite into his flesh, a massive stone wall erupted from the earth, rising in layers to shield him. Oliver appeared by his side, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back from the death trap, leaving Maurice to bellow in rage behind the wall of silent stone.