A few hours passed within the underground halls south of Gauntlet. The five teams had gathered outside the Madamra Rampart, thirty-one people in total. Logan had flashbacks to the goblin invasion some time ago, the number of people at the walls doing their best to save the inner city from a force they were unprepared for. But this wasn’t the same. Many of the adventurers here were experienced and knew what to expect.

  Few words were needed to be exchanged between the party members about what was required of them, but Cassius’s mantra had filled them with the need to be over-precautious. Arms and armour were triple-checked while vials of liquid swapped hands as everyone ensured there were no weak links in the chain.

  The plan had shifted only slightly from Cassius's instructions at the beginning. No signs of the undead meant the final room was to be full of them, and so Cassius would lead the charge on the boss while many of the weaker adventurers were to see to the additional forces.

  With the issue of teleportation at work, the raid leader was worried about the enemy team overcoming the defences of the rampart itself, and so the magi would be set on the mission of finding any teleportation circles or counteracting any teleportation they could spy. Logan would be among that team.

  As the day headed into the evening, though it did not affect the underground as much, the team finished up their final rest as two Rogues made their way to the grathering from separate doors.

  “Route 2 is safe”, one of them informed.

  “Same for route 3 and entrance”, the other added quickly.

  Cassius nodded. “Good work. Either the lord inside doesn’t know what's happening, or they don’t care. The plan will go through as usual”, he spoke as he pulled out his commwatch to relay the information to the entrance teams.

  Marcus tightened his gauntlets and boots before standing beside Logan. “This is probably one of the smoothest operations we’ve been part of. I’ve got a bad feeling about all the negative circumstances awaiting us in that boss room.”

  Logan smirked. “No doubts here. Jirango’s hired help should repel any sort of dual-attack, though. If this is to be a distraction from the imprisoned Alaska cultists.”

  Amalia stroked Logan’s shoulder as she passed the pair, heading to the defensive group meant to surround the casters. Logan smiled at her in response.

  The larger force of the raid team moved around into three sets of half-moon formations, Cassius at the head on his own. Placing a hand on the door, Cassius had his body vibrate, creating an afterimage of himself that went outwards before dissipating. Controlling the spellforce around him, the door shuddered at his command. “Madamra, I challenge what lies within. Your monsters have no hold!”

  Opening with a low-rumbling roar, the doors allowed the team to enter. The final boss room was vast and foreboding. The cold, thick wind caressed the adventurers as they entered, wrapping around their shoulders and backs as if being put into death’s embrace. The ceiling stretched into shadowed heights, the invader’s eyes getting lost in the darkness.

  Thick with an eerie chill, the air carried with it the faint hum of spellforce accompanied by weak moans of the dead. Each footstep was met with resistance, as if stepping into oil instead of a clean stone floor.

  Lit up by magical sconces containing flames of violet, lending strange shadows across the walls and floor that were made up of brilliant purple and blue shades. Etched into the stone, and pulsating with life, were countless runes, sigils, and magical circles. Logan could tell most of these had a purpose, but without the time required, he couldn’t figure out most of the details.

  The etchings had been drawn with a strange, glowing, phosphorescent ink that seemingly tried to grab at the nearby sconces held on the walls. The humming continued across these markings, and they were almost at war with the different magical signatures.

  Pillars of cracked bone, painted blue, and bleached skulls rose from the corners of the room, engraved with more of the arcane symbols. The glowing markings made the bones seem alive and shifting, as if trying to find the skin that had covered them in the past.

  At the far end of the chamber were two large skeletal hands, clawed with their tips to the ceiling like a blooming flower containing a prize in the centre. That prize was a large altar, an imposing stone slab of dark grey. Chipped and formed to their desire, the altar seemed to grant postulation to both Madamra and Skearos, Lord of the Dead.

  Atop the altar was a skeleton garbed in age-old robes, full of holes and caked in dust. An intricate staff lay at the side of the skeleton, its old arm from centuries ago. A lich in all but its current predicament, Logan saw no power in those bones any longer. Atop its skull was a crown of black-steel capped with a diamond that still glowed silver, the diadem of a skeleton king.

  Swirling around the altar was an ever-changing vortex of purple mist, blue lines, and the afterimage of the magical sigils. As if barring sight behind it, the powers that be became silent and still, revealing a tall throne behind the altar made up of bones and chitin. Sitting in their rightful place was the skeleton lord that Logan had faced earlier.

  The raid team ran to their positions, professional and leaving no room for error. The Madamra Rampart doors closed slowly, sealing the challengers for the coming battle. Logan gulped back a frog in his throat, this was the most intimidating boss room to date.

  Cassius adjusted his grip on his artefact blade, aiming the sharp edge toward the lord and anticipating a beginning strike from his foe. But instead, the lord leant its skull on its palm, its elbow propped up by the arm of its throne.

  Dead, low, and full of dust, the lord spoke in a bored tone, “Trek have come here. Is this arm meant to sweep me under the stone?”

  A few of the raid team flinched at the voice, not expecting a conversation to begin.

  Cassius replied with a forceful tone, “We’ve come to eradicate those who invade our home. What was your reason for doing so, Lord?”

  The skeleton rumbled its bones as if replicating a huffed laugh without lungs. “The homes of trek do not concern the dead. You stand atop our bones, it is ours. As for the reason. A request.”

  “Who asked you to invade Gauntlet?”

  “Gauntlet is the home of trek now? What a moniker to assign.”

  Cassius held his gaze, awaiting an answer.

  “I heed the command of those who are stronger. There is always a hierarchy to follow.”

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  Cassius then asked, “What is above a skeleton lord?”

  “Their creator.”

  Hushed whispers started to permeate the silence of the raid team.

  “Who could create something like that?”

  “A hero?”

  “An oracle?”

  Cassius then spoke louder, “What’s your purpose? Do you intend to attack Gauntlet again? What of your creator?”

  The skeleton shuffled a bit as if replicating a sigh without breath. “You challenged the door. You know the rules.”

  “Ready yourselves!” Cassius warned as the skeleton lord rose his other clawed hand.

  Shadows coalesced and flowed over the digits of the undead; the runes all across the room lost their lustre as they were replaced with roiling shadows, like thick fog set dressing a stage. Claws dug up from the shadows as the undead began to swarm the arena.

  Cassius warped to the air above the lord and struck downwards with his sword, swathed in flames and eager to incinerate the bones. However, the leader’s blade collided with the air, a small portion of metal had formed to meet his weapon, and quickly thereafter, the whole greatsword formed with its handle in the lord’s grasp.

  With the forming of its weapon, the skeleton lord also had several trinkets adorning its frame as if appearing out of nothingness. What was a one-sided attack by Cassius then turned into a more equal footing as the lord swung back to push the living target away.

  As Cassius flipped back, the lord teleported to his side to land a devastating slash. Cassius countered with his own warp to the lord’s rear to strike at it. The lord quickly moved his other arm behind himself, blocking the slash with his wrist-mounted shield. Continuing into a spin, the pair landed blades against one another again.

  With the echoing of destructive forces combating one another in the distance, the rest of the raid team was facing down numerous undead that had formed from the walls and floor. Skeletons that held their previous classes and skills proved to be worthy adversaries for the melee combatants, while zombied casters let off fire and stones at the further still-living intruders.

  Spells of varying hues collided with opposing spells in the air or penetrated the meagre remains of the undead that aimed to assault the team. Most of the melee adventurers had swapped to bludgeoning weapons for the bony foes, but the zombies required a more cutting end.

  Logan was fine using his Force mick to hit some of the undead forces. In the back of his mind, the pervailing thought of something going awry kept him reserving his stronger spells for its inevitable arrival. It still dealt a meaty 40 points of damage to enemies without any sort of resistance to it, and with how many times he could use it in a day, practically infinitely—it was a better choice than going all-out with the number of allies at hand.

  Amongst the Devouts, who were using Blest and Chain Guard to blast apart the undead with holy magics or to restrain them for the melee attackers to break apart, Marcus was casting and dipping around to smash the undead with his punches. His style of fighting confused the other casters, as it was rare to see a Devout be so combat-focused over healing or casting.

  At least when it came to Sorcerers and Wizards, there were Grasp experts who needed to get close to deal more damage with their spells, but Marcus was just straight up decking his enemies to aid in the fight, with spells in the back pocket for use later.

  Sadly, Amalia wasn’t able to shine too well in this fight. The undead had quite a resistance to Come Forth, so taking the attacks for others was quite the cardio workout, running in front of attacks or making yourself wider to seem a bigger target for the masses.

  A huge blast of power toward the centre of the room drew the attention of some of the raid members, Cassius and the lord clashing with red and black misted blades. The air was cut apart as the dust was obliterated, the nearby columns getting segmented several times and falling to rubble on the floor.

  Pushing away from one another, the pair landed in a slide in opposite directions. Cassius then exploded his blade with flames, rolling over his arms and shoulders as if he had the tall exhaust pipes of a demon’s motorbike. Revving up his power, Cassius launched at the lord once again, slicing down with determination he was met with an opposing blade that sucked the light out of the room.

  Fires fought back frightful blacks, like the sun that always saw fit to dismiss the darkness of night. The heat of the arena rose to such a point that everyone had begun to sweat. The rags of the lesser undead caught alight in the heatdome, while weapons with wooden handles started to smoke.

  Cassius shouted over the sound of the screeching winds that wanted the temperatures to stop their rise, “DB!”

  In unison, Marcus included, the Devouts all jumped away from the conflict. Lifting their arms, they dropped them to the floor without any mutterance, forming beams of light above the lord and hailing holiness onto the haunted foe.

  Yellow light replaced the reds and oranges of Cassius’s attack as he pulled back, his blade now bereft of stored power, the leader panting heavily as he put in his own spellforce to see it through to completion.

  As the barrage of fourth-level Blest 2 spells finally ended, the casters drained far more than usual as they seemingly cast beyond what they could normally. The dust and debris settled. Logan had thought the 30-somethings and the below-30s with ritual casting had done an amazing job against the boss, light magic was its “weakness”. Even if it had survived, it would be badly damaged.

  Instead, Logan felt a pit of horror form around him. The skeleton lord had its off-hand raised, a dark aura shimmering around itself. The aura was so familiar. “Fuck”, Logan thought, “That’s the Knight skill, Hard Skin!”

  It was rare for a monster to have that skill, even among those who ate humanoids. What was more concerning, however, was its potency; it was as if the monster, or rather the undead, had mastered the skill. As the aura dissipated, the lord looked like it had taken hardly any damage whatsoever from the assault.

  This was the power of a true raid boss. Something that took dozens of adventurers to take down. Had it evolved due to the circumstances? Logan gritted his teeth as he battered back another undead from the caster line, more and more forming from the room to take their attention away from the boss.

  Cassius tutted with a titled head, his face scrunched up in anger.

  The skeleton lord addressed him once again, “You are strong. Trek do not offer up much challenge. But you? If my brain was still contained within this skull”, it said as it poked its helmet, “then it would feel something great about this confrontation.”

  “Skeletons can’t consume people. So. Did you keep your skills from who you were when you were alive?” Cassius asked as he stood up straight.

  The lord looked to the floor and then back at his foe. “I do not dwell on these questions. I just thought it fit to commend your power before one of us stops moving.”

  “Kept a little of your old personality at least.”

  “Bones move through magic. My knowledge contained within a speck of soul. Whatever you see is a figment. A shard of a shard”, the lord replied as it readied its sword again.

  Cassius readied a stance, countering his opponent’s. With a kick of their feet, the adversaries leaped at one another again. Cassius feinted his foe, drawing out a wide swipe that he ducked under. Pulling an item from his extradimensional space trinket, Cassius threw a crystal at the lord, it burst into the light of a star.

  It wouldn’t blind the lord, but it would distract it. It would also alert his team to their command, one that would go in hand with his action.

  “Chain Guard 2nd”, many of the Devouts called out.

  Countless chains of gold grew out from the stonework and grabbed at the skeleton. Wrapping around its legs, arms, waist, and spine, the chains pulled the monster downward and into a stationary position.

  Cassius grinned at the successful tactic. But the skeleton lord showed little emotion. Instead, it looked toward his foe and started to stand against the chains.

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