Lich King Araxesendenak was experiencing an odd sensation.

He was expending effort.

The strange woman was testing him, dancing in and out of his attack range, throwing high-tier spells at him and probing him with mid-tier abilities, seeking chinks in his armour, in his skill, in his tactics. Which was not an altogether unreasonable approach to the situation—if futile, in the end. Didn’t this chitty understand who she was up against? Anyone with the brains of a sea mollusk would surely recognize the futility of this stand.

At least, that’s what he had thought when the battle first joined. Now…

She came in suddenly, going from circling and probing to a sudden 1-2-3 punch combination that hammered into his ribcage and shattered his bones beneath his armour. They knit back together almost instantly, but even as he swung his scythe back at her she was no longer there, ducking and rolling past him—and then sweeping his legs out from under him as she went past.

He sighed and expended an effort of will, and instead of hitting the ground on his face he rotated fully and wound up hovering upright just above the dirt.

She came at him again, and this time instead of meeting her with his scythe he wove his fingers through the air in a spell. Wall Of Evisceration was not a simple spell, and it cost him a hefty sliver of his available mana… But it was getting time to end this.

* * *

Diana screamed as thousands of tiny cuts opened up on her body, slicing deep enough to draw blood and nick bone. She stumbled, almost going to her knees in front of the lich, but managed to stay upright.

Gods, he was powerful. Even attached to the system as he was, even within the ruleset he was bound to, he was powerful. Powerful enough to stand up to a Child of Apollyon. Maybe powerful enough to beat her. She hadn’t expected that.

Make a note, she sent to the Crew. The Lich subrace/class combo is completely broken.

Then she reached for her abilities as a Child of Apollyon, and drew on the strength he had given her, and activated Apollyon’s Wrath.

Power flowed down her arm and out through her extended palm in an invisible, unstoppable blast. It hit the lich just before she stumbled to a stop in front of him, caught him up like a rag doll, and sent him pinwheeling away.

* * *

The woman shrieked as the air in front of her was suddenly awash with whirling razor-edged blades. Dozens of cuts sliced into her agile form as she plowed headlong into them, and Araxesendenak had the satisfaction of seeing her health bar plummet under the sudden assault. She kept coming at him though—no denying her tenacity, he supposed—and he raised his hands and began to trigger his Soul Leech ability--

Then he was flying backwards as power slammed through him, shattering bone and ripping tendons. He slammed into and through one of the quaint stone houses on the edge of the square, and through the one behind that. His health bar dropped like a rock, so fast even his regeneration abilities couldn’t keep up. It stopped at a bare quarter of his health about the same time he wound up skidding to a stop just outside the green-grocer’s storefront.

What the hell was that?

He lay there for a long moment, letting his regeneration work. He replayed those last few moments, trying to understand what had just happened.

She hadn’t touched him. Of that he was certain. She’d been several feet away, bleeding her life out. Then she had reached out to him, fingers extended—She hadn’t even cast a spell. Was it an ability? If so, it was like nothing he had ever seen, nor felt. It was—

Hang on a moment.

Violet eyes narrowed as a memory half-recalled pulled itself up from the depths and set itself before his eyes for consideration.

Well I’ll be, he thought, surprised. He had felt that power before. Or something very, very close to it.

He took his time getting back to his feet, dusting off stone dust and debris from his armour and robes. His scythe drifted back to his hand when he called for it, and he walked slowly, regally, out of the destruction and back towards the square. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, as the inhabitants of this little hamlet scurried deeper into their hovels, clearly afraid of him. Which was the appropriate reaction, of course, and at another time he would have taken a moment to savor it.

Now, however, he had something else on his mind.

The woman still stood where he had left her—at speed—in the square. She turned to him as he ambled up the street and planted himself across from her. Her fists came up and her eyes narrowed, and blast and be bothered if she wasn’t at full health again.

Of course, now her power made sense. Or perhaps there was the possibility of it making sense, it would just take some investigating. Which, as he thought about it, was probably of far more importance in the long run than attempting to finish this fight in his favor.

After all. How many times in one’s undeath does something utterly new happen along? It had been centuries since the last one.

“You are stronger than you ought to be,” he declared, eyeing her with newfound respect. “I wonder why that might be.”

“Clean living and I eat all my vegetables,” she said, smirking.

“Yes yes,” Araxesendenak waved it away. “Patently absurd standard heroic dialogue. I’ve heard it before.” He lamented, briefly, the fact that he had no lips to twist wryly at the woman.

“However,” he continued, “much as the standard bravura usually has little effect on me, I confess this once I am willing to be swayed by it.” He inclined his head to her, never taking his eyes off of her. “I am willing to declare this a draw for the moment and withdraw.”

“What makes you think I’ll let you walk out of here, Boney?” she asked, cocking her head. “What if I feel like just smushing you instead?”

Araxesendenak peered at her for a moment. Then he sighed and grounded the butt of his scythe against the cobblesones.

“Because,” he said quietly, “you would not enjoy the attempt.”

And he let her see it.

He spent so much time, these days, being the fop, because it was enjoyable and it was rather freeing in a way. After all, when one was as ancient and powerful as he, who gave a tinker’s damn what others thought? But occasionally, very occasionally, there came a time to drop the pretense and to allow who and what he was to shine forth.

And this, he fancied, was just such an occasion.

Her eyes flew open wide as his power radiated out. He watched it wash over her, watched it blacken the greenery around the square, watched it tarnish metal and erode mortaer. Stone turned to dust, windows cracked and crumbled, and wood molded and decayed. In seconds, he stood at the center of a wide circle where nothing lived, nor ever would again.

And then the buildings started to crumble.

It was slow at first, but sped up as more and more of his power radiated outwards. The town hall groaned and creaked ominously, and then suddenly caved in on itself, going from a rather quaint edifice to a pile of rotten rubble in an instant. The houses and businesses along the square followed suit, falling one after another like dominoes. Birds dropped from the air, decayed, and turned to dust before they hit the ground. A few rodents caught in the miasma squeaked their dying breaths.

Within 90 seconds, nothing stood or lived within two hundred yards of his current position. Except for her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, staring.

“So you see,” he said, retracting his power back inside himself. “We could continue, and in truth I’m not certain of the outcome. But I think it far more prudent for us to return to our respective locker rooms and lick our rooms, while boasting about our perceived deeds on the field of battle and possible engaging in a good-natured towel-flicking fight with out peers.

“Or we could continue,” he added, lowering his voice so she would have to strain to her. “And our battle will flatten this hamlet and the surrounding lands for miles in every direction, with no guarantee of outcome. I leave the choice to you, Lady Unknown.”

* * *

What is happening?

Sam stared at the map, at the unmoving lich and the stationary stranger. Were they talking to each other? Were they locked in some kind of ranged combat? Their health bars hadn’t moved since that last attack, and neither had anything else.

Cooldown Timer: 2 minutes

His parents still stood together on the edge of the square. The blue dots of Nat and the other townsfolk were hurrying away back towards the dungeon, with the dragon trailing them. And still the two powers, Araxesendenak and the unknown gray dot, stood facing each other, unmoving.

Then all at once the crimson dot that was the lich king started moving away. Slowly at first, then gathering speed as it left the square. It stuck to the streets for a moment, then suddenly swerved and zoomed off across houses.

Flying away. He’s leaving? He’s leaving!

Sam stared as the lich’s dot flew out of Melloram and past the point where Cora’s map could track him. He turned the focus back to the square, and the dots still there. His family was alive. Nat was alive, and his siblings. They were alive.

His legs gave way under him and he collapsed to the floor, tears burned in his eyes as agonizing relief seared through him. Every breath felt like razors in his chest. Every exhale felt like it took a piece of his soul with it. He gulped down air, trying to calm his frantic heart.

Too close. Too close.

Sam: Ma, Pop, Are you okay?

He could reach out to them now that the danger was past. Now that they didn’t need their every ounce of attention focused on staying alive.

Annie: We’re alright Sam. We’re fine. Are you okay?”

Sam: No. I’m not. Not even close. What happened?

Jackson: We’re safe, son. And so are Nat and Zed and Emmy and the rest.

Sam: Who was that, fighting the lich? Are they a friend? The map just says ‘unknown’.

Annie: It’s… I’m not sure.

Sam was about to ask more when a chime pinged through the White Room. He jerked his head up and his eyes went to the countdown timer. The cooldown had expired.

Sam: I’m on my way.

* * *

Sam respawned at the very edge of Cora’s influence, slapped his Guardian Teleport power to the edge of town, and hit the cobblestoned streets at a dead run. He dashed past a few stragglers hurrying away from the battle scene, heard a couple of them call out, but ignored them. Later. He could sit down and listen to their words later. Right now, there was only one place he had to be.

He skidded around a corner, leaped over a slurry of debris that had spilled into the road, then turned that leap into a series of harness-aided hops that kept him speeding forward without his feet ever touching ground. The Square was only a dozen yards away now. He burst out from between two buildings, made a sharp turn, and slowed his velocity just enough to avoid physical damage as he threw himself at his parents and buried them in his embrace.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” his voice was a rasp as tears and relief flowed in equal measure. “I thought—“

“Shhh,” Ma’s voice was gentle as she returned the embrace. And Pop was silent, a solid presence of iron and oak. They all held each other tight, Sam unwilling to let go, not caring who saw him.

So close.

Too close.

Finally, slowly, he withdrew from the embrace. He gave a mighty sniff, clearing his throat of fear and helplessness. It was okay. The lich was gone now. Beaten off by…

Oh. Right. He cleared his throat again and turned, fully intending to convey his absolute heartfelt thanks to the stranger for saving his family.

She stood a few paces off, hands at her side, feet shuffling slightly as if she were seeking her balance, or… Was nervous? Why was she nervous? Surely the danger had passed.

He stepped forward and opened his mouth, and the movement drew her eyes. Their gazes met.

And he stopped.

No.

The world dropped away beneath him, leaving him spinning in a void. His breath stopped, his mind stopped, his life stopped. All that was left to him was the sudden inferno raging in his chest, and his eyes, unable to look away.

She was taller. Her hair shorter, her features sharper, her skin darker. Her clothes were of a strange cut and a strange material. And she was glowing. If he looked only at those things, he was looking at a stranger.

But the eyes were the same.

She shifted again and a smile ghosted across her lips, revealing white teeth with a gap between them.

It can’t be.

“Um, hiya Dungeon Man,” she said. And the voice hadn’t changed either.

He stared. He licked his lips. The inferno raged. The wind roared in his ears. It was impossible. It was insane. It was true. And even as he opened his mouth to speak the name clawing to be free, he felt the foundations of the world shift, crack, and shatter beneath him.

“Marie?”

The abyss yawned.

And he fell.