Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

Vast planes, high grass swaying in the wind like waves in an ocean. The inside of the dungeon was an idyllic scenery that resembled Kozdam's central planes. However, a darkness had come over the land, as the grass turned to gray ashes and the desolate earth was drenched in blood.

The scenery the band of knights got to see as they entered was very different from how it originally looked. A black haze covered the now ashen wasteland. The corpses of orcs littered the ground of what looked like a guard station in front of the entrance. The black haze played around their ankles, giving birth to a hissing sound whenever it touched their silver shields.

Whatever it was, it was clear that it was harmful as it was blocked by the membrane of holy power they clad themselves into. Past the demolished guard station, in the distance, they could see a mighty stronghold. Was that the main site of the dungeon?

“Let's check this place, before going to the stronghold.” the leader made the decision, once everyone arrived. They got a little closer to the ruins of the guard station, before sending the scout inside.

“AargH! Get it off me!” a scream of anguish echoed in the air, soon after the scout went it. But the scream came not from the ruin, but from the back of the group! As they turned around, they saw that one of the corpses, a massive orc warrior missing half his torso, had grabbed onto one of the knight's legs and sunk his fangs into his calf.

His comrades did not watch for long, as someone immediately unsheathed their sword and slashed at the orc, severing its head and the remaining arm. However, the damage was done. The fangs had breached the silver aura and pierced the armor.

“Quick, take off his leg armor, I will heal him immediately.” the priest exclaimed, coming over and kneeling down beside the man. When the armor came off, the priest recoiled in shock. The wound just suffered had already started festering and necrotic veins began traveling up and down the leg.

As he poured his magic power into the healing spell, the dark lines slowly receded, much slower than his mana was able to recover. The priest quickly realized, that he would not be able to save the man's leg. He needed to make a decision, as he still had to use his power later on.

“Cut off his leg! Quickly!” he said and jumped back to make way for the slash, that decisively cut the leg. Once the limb was severed, the stump was quickly healed and the bleeding stopped. What was this vicious power, that resisted his holy magic so vehemently?

“Burmunt, you will-” the leader wanted to tell one of the men to take the injured and bring him out of the dungeon when they realized, that they were surrounded. All the corpses had risen, breathing the dark haze from their rotten maws.

“On Guard!” with one call, the men formed up to defend against the horde of undead that suddenly rose around them. They faced the surprise attack with practiced skills and quickly cut down the lv.65 undead. The lost leg stayed their only loss in this fight. They collected their scout, while the injured one of the men returned outside with the injured.

Cautioned by the incident at the entrance, the band of knights slowly advanced across the desolate plane toward the stronghold. Although it was a depressing sight that weighed on their mood, the dry flat ground made it hard for any enemy to sneak up and attack them.

Betraying their caution, there were no more undead randomly lying around, playing dead. Their nerves were strained for nothing, as the way to the stronghold was a peaceful walk. The gates of the castle stood wide open. The walls, the tower, and the court inside were all empty.

Staying right outside the gate the knights waited while it was the scout who entered alone once again. Their eyes scanning the dead plane, they waited for half an hour until the scout returned.

“It’s empty. I looked through every room, even the prison and cellars, but there was nothing. Not even a corpse. I think it’s safe to enter,” the scout shared his findings and conclusion with his comrades.

The leader nodded slowly and took the lead as they entered the stronghold. Since the scout said that everything was empty, it should be safe, but the priest still had his suspicions about the whole situation. Why was the stronghold empty? Where had the undead gone? This seemed like a-

“Priest, you think so too, right? Try using <Vision of the Past >

in this place. We have to know what happened here and make sure our target has not already left,” the leader whispered to him, so as to not demotivate their comrades.

<Vision of the Past >

was a holy skill, that took quite a lot of mana. It allowed him to use a fraction of the power of their goddess and take a glance at the past of a place or person. Although the priest preferred to save his power for emergencies, he agreed with the leader, that it was necessary.

The priest's eyes turned into the back of his head, revealing only white. Scrying into the past was costly and the cost rose the further into the past he tried to look. He began with recent events. There was the scout, walking in reverse across the whole castle, then there was silence for a while.

It was followed by a horde of undead orcs walking backward into the stronghold where they quickly took positions on the grounds, in their beds, on the walls. The black haze that laid over everything slowly receded and the corpses on the ground began the horrifying process of reverse dying.

Screams flowed back into their lungs, erratic twitching on the ground, spittle jumping back into their mouths, bulging, yellowish eyes retreating back into their cavities until they finally were alive again and returned to the task they had before. Many stood at the walls and attacked something, at this point the priest had to choke off the vision. His mana was almost empty.

However, he had seen enough. Desperately gasping for air, his eyes turned back, and he grasped the leader's shoulder for support.

“It’s a trap! They deliberately left the stronghold open for-”

He stopped when he saw the knight look at him with a conflicted expression. The man glanced at the entrance, where the priest noticed that the gate had been closed.

“We already know...we fell for it.”

While the priest was in his vision, the stronghold was surrounded by undead who had risen from the undisturbed, dry ground. Outside, a horde of undead orcs had assembled. Although they were not strong, their numbers were intimidating. All they could do was close the doors and used the stronghold's defense to buy time.

…

Seth observed what was happening with interest. He had put on the helm of Hades so he couldn’t be tracked anymore and simply stood by as Haa’Skon did its thing. The golem was independently working out new tactics. As expected of the generic work of a god, it learned really fast.

Not only had it used the undead for an ambush by having them play corpses, but it had also quickly changed strategies when it realized that this wouldn’t work a second time. Now it had managed to use the den of a defeated enemy as a trap for the next one. Admittedly, Seth had helped a little by flattening the earth with earth magic, so it wouldn’t look freshly dug.

Still, right now it had surrounded the band of roughly twenty knights and forced them to lock themselves inside the stronghold. Some would say a siege was not desirable, but time was actually on Haa’Skon’s side.

Currently, the knights were shielding themselves with a kind of holy aura, but this still cost energy. Soon they would run out, and at that time they would fall to the black haze, the same way the orcs did. Seth was quite glad that <Fail Safe >

worked and the haze automatically stayed away from him, although the blacksmith doubted it would be able to get through his defenses.

Given the situation, Seth decided that it might be time to reveal himself. After all, these people had suddenly tracked him down and he was curious for what reason they wanted to throw away their lives.

When Seth appeared behind the horde of undead, that was banging and grinding their bodies against the creaking gates of the castle, Haa’Skon also dug itself out from the ground beside him. A death knight pulling itself out from the ground like a zombie was also an unusual sight.

The moment he appeared; the eyes of the Knights were stuck to his body. It didn’t feel pleasant to have a group of middle-aged men look at him so fervently.

“Hey, if you have the time to stare at me in this situation, you should also have time for a survey, right?” the bard joked. However, none of the knights knew what a survey was, so they could only trade questioning gazes with their comrades.

“Why did you track me?” Seth asked, slightly annoyed. These people were rude AND did not get jokes.

“Oh, Successor of Kova, please spare us! We are not here to fight with you!” the man in a robe stepped forward, talking pompous.

“What are you even smoking?” Seth asked perplexed. “I don’t even know who Kova is and what gave you the idea I would fall for such an obvious lie,” the bard blamed the religious man. If they just wanted to talk, they could have approached him when they marked him in the city, instead of tracking him down to the middle of nowhere.

“It is true!” “I don’t believe you. You better hurry, I doubt you have much time left,” Seth said uninterested, picking his nose. The power of <Voice of Seth >

swinging along with his words, irked the priest in a way the man himself couldn’t understand.

“I’m serious, we actually-!” “What did you say? I can’t hear you over the groaning of the undead. You have to speak up!” Seth interrupted him. However, before the priest could have a breakdown, the knight leader pulled him back.

“Successor of Kova, her Holiness the Saintess of Kavala, the Goddess of Wit, wishes to meet you!”

“Nah, I don’t wanna. If you treasure your life, stop bothering me,” the blacksmith simply shrugged and turned to leave. However, he did not call back Haa’Skon. Just because he wasn’t going to kill them himself, didn’t mean he would stop an ongoing battle.

“You goddamn heathen! Just you wait! Once Commander Harrad arrives, he will teach you a lesson!” a nameless knight couldn’t hold it in anymore and cried out.

“Yeah, Commander Harrad will beat you half to death and drag you to her highness, whether you like it or not!” “Yeah!” the crowd incited itself. “Don’t think this stupid fog could kill us. The Commander will be here and beat you before anything can happen to us!” a very brave one showed his unshakable trust in his Commander.

The bard slowly turned back to look at the band of knights on the wall that was hyping their morale. That just now almost sounded like a...

“Challenge accepted!”

With a clench of his fist, crimson flames licked up to the sky, as the whole castle burned brightly.