I awoke to a place totally incomprehensible to me, so much so that just looking at the sight before me produced unimaginably painful headaches. Headaches that, might I add, should have been easy for me to endure.


    “What an interesting specimen, you are.”


    Then, a voice called out. I peered at the figure before me, a solid shape but no texture. Only the form of a man? It was hard to describe, just like everything in this place. And, just like it, a migraine assaulted me.


    “Full of anam, but also pure of soul...”


    No, it doesn’t seem to be talking to me, but instead speaking to itself.


    “And surprising still, that I can’t harvest the soul. Peculiar, unheard of. What are you?”


    It seemed to ponder the question, not really asking for my input. I tried to speak, but the very act of it seemed to induce a heavier headache.


    “Dead, but cannot be harvested. Living, yet full of anam. Pure and corrupted. Denizen, but not truly. Rules, not applicable, yet still benefiting from it. Complete, yet shattered. What are you, truly?”


    The figure circled around me, one hand on its chin. There was a rising curiosity in its voice after each word, speaking one revelation after the other.


    “A walking contradiction.” It concluded.


    A form of a smile seemed to appear on its flat features.


    “I may not harvest the soul, but I can subordinate it.” It said and moved its hand to my head.


    However, something stopped it, something I, too, cannot comprehend. Just like the solid white of the world around me, this thing was a solid black in the shape of a stick... no, a spear.


    The figure stepped back, an expression surprise apparent on its blank features. Its mouth curved upwards as it looked at the black spear in front of me.


    “A relic of the old god, interesting. So, you are its contracted. Wonderful, you grow interesting by the moment.” The figure crossed its arms. “I so wish to take you as mine, but it seems this prickly thing will go against me yet again. Fine, I will do so at a later time.” It said, the last part seemingly aimed at the black spear.


    Then, the white figure turned its back and left. No, it disappeared, as did the white world with it. What was left, instead, was a blank space, and one that did not cause me headaches.


    The black spear then stuck itself on to the ground, or what seems to be. Several, solid black chains sprouted out from the ground and tied me up.


    “You are still needed.”


    ~ Madriel ~


    I stepped to the side to dodge the Dreviout’s charge. Using the momentum, I spun in place using my feet and swiped it across and struck the Dreviout’s arm.


    My feet, clad in light, melted off a slight portion of the arm, but it wasn’t nearly enough of a blow as I wanted to. Clicking my tongue, I twisted my body and used its arm as a platform and shot myself backwards.


    As I was about to land, the orbs of light surrounding my body cushioned the impact, making my self seem to glide on the ground.


    “Come.”


    The Dreviout growled, looked down on its arm, and glared at me. It seemed to have thought of me as a sufficient threat and curved its back down, almost as if ready to pounce at any moment.


    I wanted it to underestimate me for a bit longer, but it seems we can’t have everything. I took in a deep breath and took my stance. It was that of the elven style, one I take pride in knowing. This was something we rarely ever used, as it was considered a dishonor even in the afterlife should an elf lose after using the elven style, or should it be used haphazardly against weak opponents.


    This was something only elves would ever use when all options were exhausted, and they knew very well that the opponent before them would be an opponent worthy of it. It was mired both in tradition, but also in power.


    The moment I took this stance was the moment I turned into an elfin warrior.


    As if resonating with me, with the art of combat that I decided to use, the intensity of light that emanated from me increased by a notch. Nearly bathing the entire room in white light.


    The flesh of the Dreviout seemed to sizzle at just the touch of the light. It growled in annoyance and drew out a breath.


    I smirked, not at my chances, but what I was about to do.


    I knew full well about my own capabilities, and the power that this Dreviout had shown. I had meager, to almost nonexistent, chance to win against it. But, even then, I had my own pride as an adventurer, as the radiant fairy of the battlefield.


    It was either I trust my chances and move to die or kill myself in my inaction. As a proud elfin warrior, my choice was obvious.


    I grit my teeth and readied myself, looking at the eyes of the Dreviout. I smiled knowing that I would not be played with.


    “Be honored, for I shall present to you the elfin dance.”


    I was confident that the elfin dance, renowned for its power, would give me a boost, enough to reach adamantium.


    ~ - ~


    Attacks rang out in the large room, each attack causing large ripples of energy.


    I traded blows with the large beast, each punch melted one more scant of flesh, each kick tearing away at the skin. Just by proximity, I was burning through its large farce. Yet, even then, I was at a disadvantage.


    I could kick away its attack, and follow with a punch. A shallow wound, but each attack I make tires me sooner.


    The beast was also unrelenting, swiping with its claws, using its arm, biting, rolling on the ground, it was using everything in its power to bring me down, and it was whittling away at me.


    Wounds appeared one after the other.


    My arm broke, my feet dislocated, A lung punctured by a rib. It attacked me incessantly. But, I would not be a skilled necromancer if I did not use my talents on myself. Each wound mended before the following attack, each broken bone healed by the efforts of the faeries.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    There was a limit to everything.


    I was reaching for a stalemate, but it was a battle of attrition.


    I was strong, and much more than a match against a desecration of life. This Dreviout was a denizen of the dark, and an undead. I, as a white necromancer, was its most effective opponent. Yet, I was still being pushed back.


    How was it possible for such a beast to exist, to even ignore its blaring weaknesses.


    Blood started to pool in my mouth. My eyes was being clouded a deep crimson. My limbs felt heavier at each move I made, my body reacting slower than I remember it should.


    The Dreviout took this chance and kicked me away. I landed on my back. I tried to stand up once more, but I couldn’t. Even more, the radiant light that I once clad was growing dimmer by the second.


    Is this the end?


    Heh, I may have dishonored my ancestors, but I am still content.


    I’m sorry that I could not avenge you, Sed, but it is what it is. Our kind of life is fraught with danger, it saddens me to know that a young one would lose his life, but this was our choice.


    I watched as the Dreviout walked over me, its disgusting smile returned on its features. It seemed to gloat at seeing my mangled state.


    “Do what you will, beast.” I said with great difficulty.


    The Dreviout looked at me, then clicked its tongue. It raised its claws overhead. I looked at it, ready to accept my fate.


    I would not close my eyes. It was the pride of an elfin warrior to stare death in the eye, and it was a sentiment I so dearly took to my heart.


    It may have been stupid, a white necromancer, nothing more than a backline support, aiming for a warrior’s death. However, the moment I took that first step in the elfin dance was the moment I became a warrior in elf society.


    The claw descended with an incredible force.


    However, before it took my last moments, several black spears, all of different length and types, filled my vision. The innumerable spearheads all lodged into the flesh, stopping the claw from descending any closer.


    ~ Chris/Sed ~


    I clutched the black spear in my hand and poured in mana. Surges of black energy seemed to overflow from every pore of my body, and the spear was sucking all of it up.


    Spears shot from the ground and into the body of the Dreviout. However, all it produced were shallow cuts into the flesh. Still, it was enough to impede its movement.


    “Did a good job hanging in there, Madriel!” I shouted and brandished the spear, the tip forward. “Time for round two, you piece of shit.” I declared and kicked off.


    I didn’t give the Dreviout much of a chance as I immediately went under it, struck my spear towards the gaping hole on its stomach, and poured in as much mana as I could into the black spear.


    An ominous light surrounded the the entirety of the spear, and as if it was a tree branch, several more spears jutted out from its shaft. These spears, or maybe spikes were more appropriate? formed at irregular angles and all lunged forward to the Dreviout’s stomach.


    It howled in pain, but I did not let it end there. I then twisted the black spear, breaking off the numerous branches, pulled it out, and ran. I took Madriel by the hem of her clothes and dragged her away from the beast.


    “H.. ow?”


    “We’ll speak later, can you move?”


    She shook her head, and that alone told me enough.


    I looked back to the Dreviout, now pierced spears all around. Not only that, but several spears were also jutting out from its back. These long, thin, and black spears that broke off from the Spear of Immersed seemed all too jagged and broken, yet still broke through like nothing.


    In its anger, the Dreviout pounced at us, it’s freakish face twisted in anger. It swung down its claws, causing the wind to split from the speed.


    You know, being dead, it gave me a bit of time to realize something... My spear, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It could easily endure the heft of an axe coming at us at terminal speed, and still come out unscathed. It is only I that could not endure the force.


    So, what would happen if I had let something else hold the spear for me. Would it not be quite the strong defensive weapon?


    I held the spear outstretched by my arm and struck the blunt-end on the ground, the tip facing up. I then start to redirect my mana outside my body, covering myself with a thin, black smoke that took my shape.


    The sound of flesh being torn could be heard just atop of me. I looked up to see the cross-shaped spearhead had stopped the Dreviout’s paw from descending any closer. The Dreviout, perplexed at the sight, tried to force through with its strength, but could not budge.


    I smirked, it was perfect.


    I activated the Spear of Immersed, immediately, the black smoke that veiled my appearance was being sucked in. Each gulp of smoke increasing the purplish light that was being emitted by it.


    Many long spears appeared from the ground and shot themselves towards the body of the Dreviout. These long spears each held a menacing light similar to the Spear of Immersed. They tore through the flesh easily, but each one also gave me a prickling sense of my energy being sapped.


    I had to end it fast. I had already died once, and I was already nearing my limits.


    I let go of the spear and ran back, away from the Dreviout’s hulking mass. Then, I activated one of the Slayer’s skills, one of their trademarks even. The Longstrike skill. It was a bit tricky to activate it, and took atleast a second of revving up before I could even use it, but it was quite an effective ability.


    Gathering my strength on my legs, I jumped. I soared through the sky and looked down. There, the Dreviout wanted to move away, but I had poured in so much mana on the Spear of Immersed that it was having a lot of trouble even moving one part of it’s body from the numerous spears that impaled it.


    The Longstrike, a jumping ability of the Slayer. Primarily used by players to strike down flying enemies or very large raid bosses, it was quite a useful skill, if a bit tricky to land. After all, it was only a jumping ability, what happened next was the player’s decision.


    One of the popular martial arts to be used with the Longstrike was the ‘Dragon Descent’ movement that turned their weapons into a single-target nuke that dealt immense damage.


    Without my weapon, I could not use it. However, I wasn’t without a plan.


    I had a lot of time to think about the fight prior to the dark room, and a lot of realizations occurred to me then. Critical attacks were just fatal strikes, were they not? In the game, it was an arbitrary chance to deal double the damage, but now that this was real life, did that not meant I had some control over my critical strikes?


    Maybe this should have occurred to me earlier as I was fighting the chimeric beasts on the surface, but they were far too weak of an opponent for me to realize it. Now though, this Dreviout had my mind working on overtime that it honestly felt embarrassing.


    In the air, I internally gathered the last of my mana and gathered it into my hands. Then, short swords made of inky shadows formed.


    Shadowslice, one of the weakest spells in the arsenal of the Occultist. With its abysmal damage, no one really used it save for a few very focused skill builds. It did have one saving grace, and that it had an incredible potential for critical damage. So much so that many critical hit builds would use the Shadowslice as one of their core spells.


    In the air, I followed the set of movements for Dragon Descent and aimed at the neck of the Dreviout.


    And, just like a meteor strike, my attack struck the Dreviout.


    The shadowy blade was lodged deep into the neck of the Dreviout, where it could only soundlessly howl at the pain.


    I flicked my wrist and sliced out with both swords. The flesh at the neck was easily cut, but I did not stop there. I cut, I sliced, I hewed.


    Slice, slice, slice, cut, stab, stab, sliced. I wondered if all my attacks were considered critical, but from the howls, it may have been.


    With no regards for my condition, with no regards for the outside, I focused on my one-track commitment, my focused devotion, to cut off this beast’s neck. Did it take mere minutes, or maybe an hour and a half? I truly did not know, as I had already lost track of time.


    “...d”


    “Se...”


    “Sed!”


    I broke from my reverie at the sound of Madriel’s voice calling out to me. I looked at her. She, with great difficulty, stood up. She shook her head at me. “It’s dead, Sed. It is done.”


    I stopped, and as soon as I did, the exhaustion took over me. The shadowy blades receded from my grasp, and I was alone atop the Dreviout. It’s neck was a mess of torn flesh. A major portion of it was severed from the body, and only a few muscles held the head in place.


    I shakily leaped off the corpse, but I soon lost my balance once my foot landed on the ground. Thankfully, Madriel took me by the hips and back, saving me from the pain of falling.


    “Thanks.”


    “You took the words out my mouth, Sed. Had you taken a moment longer, I would not be of this world.”


    I smirked. “It’s thanks to my preparations, still, I do not want to experience death one more time.”


    I took out the amulet of resurrection, though now it was cracked and split at the center.


    It should have been able to resurrect me once a week, but it broke after one use. I suppose it was too good to be true. I sighed and clutched the broken amulet.


    “That was an amusing show, mortals.”


    Then, an ethereal and ghastly voice spoke over the room. It seemed to originate from every direction. We both bore a surprised expression as we looked around, both of us taking a fighting stance.


    “Don’t be so surprised, did you think I would not realize there would be intruders in my domain? Not to mention, being so loud just a room over. Come in here, let’s talk.”


    Madriel wavered, her body trembled and her voice shaken. “Bastroll...”


    I held my head. “Nothing truly is that simple. Ugh.”