In the heart of the decaying castle, hidden deep within the smoldering remains of the Forest of Death, Alaric and his unit of elite knights faced their greatest threat yet: a Lich, a Heavenly General of Demon King .From the underworld, standing tall in a throne of bone, draped in dark robes etched with ancient runes. Its face was a hollow skull, eyes burning with violet flame, its very aura bending the air with death.
The ground trembled as the battle began.
Alaric didn't charge blindly. He split his forces, sending knights to flank the creature while he led a direct assault. He ordered holy oil to be flung from blessed vials, coating the Lich's summoning circle to weaken its defenses. Other knights used blessed iron bolts fired from ballistae stationed on the tower's remains, trying to pin the creature down.
But the Lich was no fool.
It raised its bony hands and unleashed a wave of necrotic magic, turning the ground to sludge and causing spears of bone to erupt from below. One knight was impaled instantly. Alaric blocked a strike with his sword but was flung back by a burst of dark energy. His ribs cracked, blood dripping from his mouth.
"Radiant Mend!" he roared.
A wave of green aura surrounded him. Sacred Bless Art – First Form: Radiant Mend surged through his veins, knitting broken bone and sealing his wounds. But as he stood, the Lich summoned a storm of soul-chains, wrapping around Alaric's legs, dragging him forward. With a wicked chant, the Lich tried to drain his life force, sapping his energy.
Alaric gritted his teeth, slashed the chains, and fell to one knee. Again, his healing art activated, glowing brighter this time—less a prayer, more a defiant scream against death.
Around him, knights screamed in agony, some crushed by summoned bone golems.
But Alaric would not let them die.
"Sacred Blessing Art:Third Form Blessing Field!"
A surge of green light spread from his body in a dome, washing over the wounded knights. Bones straightened, skin mended, and vision returned to the blinded. Dozens stood up once more, gripping their weapons, eyes burning with purpose.
"We charge now! Together!" Alaric shouted.
They rallied.
The knights surged forward in formation, blessed blades raised high. The Lich began to chant, and a storm of withered souls rose from the ground, howling in fury. Magical barriers exploded, repelling some knights. Alaric took a shadow-spear straight through the shoulder. His scream echoed, but again, he healed, blood turning to light as he tore the spear free.
The battle dragged on, the Lich regenerating its shattered body using unholy energy from the altar behind him. Every time Alaric gained ground, the Lich twisted space and shattered reality. The knights were brave, but it was a war of attrition they couldn't win.
He needed time,just enough so that he can sent his soldiers to break the altar.
Then—the sky split.
A blazing fire pillar roared down from the heavens, striking the Lich's altar like divine wrath. The entire castle shook. The Lich screamed in agony, its core exposed, its defenses shattered.
At the edge of the battlefield,inside his wagon,sitted the Duke, his cloak fluttering, hand raised high.
Heavenly Flame Art,Third Form,Blazing Tempest
Alaric didn't wait.
He sprinted forward, aura blazing like wildfire. Every step was pain, but it was buried under fury and faith. With a cry that shook the ash-filled sky, he leapt.
"Sanctified Blade – Final Form: Heartpiercer!"
His sword, glowing with sacred fire, drove through the Lich's cracked chest and pierced the phylactery, the blackened soul core pulsing within. A terrible scream echoed through the forest as the Lich's body cracked, burned, and crumbled to dust.
Silence fell.
Alaric fell to one knee again, this time not from pain, but from the weight of victory. Around him, his knights cheered through blood and exhaustion.
Far away, the Duke looked down with grim approval.
"One more general down," he muttered. "But the war has only begun."