by Michael Sisa
Chapter 1: The Elder Lich
His bones loudly clanking, he ran through decrepit tunnels, forks, and pitfalls. The area was as familiar as the carpals of his arms, like a maze clearly jotted down for the way out. His body was skinless, but he felt that sweat had started to flow like a river as his nonexistent heart loudly pounded. The empty sockets of his eyes glowed ever so brightly, his emotions swirling in turmoil.
He encountered numerous horrendous undead monsters along the way, but none of them intervened with his path. All of them ceremoniously knelt down as he passed by. Skeleton Warriors, Ghouls, Banshees, Death Knights—all stepped aside as he ran past through like the wind.
The air inside the cavern seemed staler than usual, and the spikes that dripped from the silver black ceiling above felt more threatening. That creature was his master, his creator, his God. How could it die? Such thoughts seemed distant even now. It was an impossibility that he refused to accept.
Even the so called Heroes were unable to inflict mortal damage to his master. No one was puissant enough to banish it from existence. He was pretty sure that even the so called Gods of the puny mortals were not a match for his creator. But now, they were telling him that his creator had died against an unnamed mortal? Such blasphemy!
He stopped right before a large double door made out of pure gold. Intricate engravings of the undead were carved, forming an insignia. The two death knights standing guard immediately bowed down the moment he skidded to a halt, his nonexistent eyes widening in fear. Time seemed to have slowed down as the double doors opened inwardly, its creaking sound becoming more familiar by each passing second.
He clenched his bony fists then entered the room. The inside was a stark contrast to the decrepit cavern that crisscrossed into numerous veins outside. The floor was made entirely of topaz; pure golden white polished to utter perfection. A large banner hung from the wall, covering more than half the space. Numerous statues of his master adorned each and every direction, seemingly overseeing the place’s entirety. At the center was a pedestal, and on top of it was a blue tomb that shamed even the most polished of sapphires. It was wide open, revealing the slumbering appearance of his creator. Four figures stood right next to the tomb, their faces sunken with grief.
“W-What happened? Master’s not… not… dead, right?” he asked, afraid of the answer. Was his creator really dead? It could not be, right? Serving him was his purpose, the reason for his existence. If he was really dead, then what use would his life be? A few more seconds passed but no one answered.
He snarled, “What happened?!”
His voice was deep and abysmal, as if all the hatred in the world had condensed and concentrated into a single point. All of the figures turned his way as his voice reverberated. The ground rumbled and shook as everyone stared at him with fierce eyes, their glares piercing to the point of massacring.
“Lower your voice. Do not sully our master’s tomb,” a male voice said. It came from a demon with twin horns sprouting from the side of his head. His ears were long, almost like those of elves, and canines protruded from his firmly shut lips. Small wings were seen at the back of his body. “Elder Lich, you have heard the news, correct?”
The Elder Lich stood in total stupor as he tried to digest the words spouted by the demon. They were not denying it. They made no refute to dismiss the thought of their master’s bane. Was the news correct? He could not accept it.
A soft voice filled with utter fury remarked, “The Empire of Vehena sent a raiding team composed of elite warriors. They confronted master as he was journeying the Ancestral Ruins near the Empire.”
The Elder Lich gazed at the one that spoke. It was a small figure that hardly passed the one meter mark. She hovered right above the tomb of their creator, eyes brimming with tears. Contrary to the horrendous appearance of those present, hers was divine, almost godly. With soft fragile wings that seemed to break from a moment’s touch, her body carried with it the appearance of snow. Her cheeks were rosy yet pale, and her eyes were saucer, pure and untainted. Yet, despite her appearance that resembled the fairies, her voice was filled with vehement ferocity for the creatures that killed their master. Her anger could be felt even from the distance. It was suffocating, and the Elder Lich was sure that it could kill an ordinary human in an instant.
So, their creator was killed by mere warriors of the Empire? By humans? He could not believe it. He could not accept it. He was tasked to ensure the dungeon near the Kingdom of Tesma, and it took him half a day to arrive at the Great Labyrinth despite the numerous teleportation spells he had chanted.
“Where were you guys when it happened?” snarled the Elder Lich. His fury was reaching the boiling point. “Why were you not with our master when it happened? Why were you not with him to perish as his shields?!”
Unable to contain his wrath, he began to direct his fury towards his comrades. He was kingdoms away from his master when the raid happened, but what about the others? It was the task of the five guardians to ensure that they perish as their master’s shields; that not a single harm comes to their creator.
One of the figures, an overly bloated red slime responded, “The four of us were here—master clearly ordered us not to interfere with the fight… that he wished to fight the Empire’s warriors alone.”
“But still!” roared the Elder Lich. The entire tomb rumbled as miasma began oozing out violently. The empty sockets of his eyes shook and quivered in deep rage. “You should have guarded our creator! You should have guarded our master!”
“Elder Lich! Are you telling us that we should have not followed our creator’s order?! Such blasphemy!” the last figure, a Banshee, shrieked. She wore a light blue dress that complemented her long flowing black hair. Her face was pallid, almost luminescent against the topaz ground.
The Elder Lich was left unable to retort after her question. His heart was filled with conflicting emotions. What was the purpose of their existence? Was it not to be of use to their creator? To fulfill his wishes? Even so, if the wish was to remain watching as their creator dies, should they still take heed and do so? He was unable to find the answer.
Deep inside, he knew that the other guardians must have been feeling the same remorse and conflict of emotions as he was, but he was unable to voice his thoughts out loud. The pain was too unbearable; it was excruciating.
Seconds lingered, and all of them stood there in complete silence. They were unable to find an answer. They all felt empty, like a shell broken after being sucked dry by scorching flames. What use was living? They did not know anymore.
The fairy-like guardian broke the silence. Her voice had turned calm, but definitely not composed. “I am sure that everyone thinks of taking revenge, but just as Geneva had said before, it is blasphemous to ignore our creator’s orders. It is the worst sin a guardian could commit.”
The Elder Lich did not like the way the conversation was going to, but he remained listening regardless.
The fairy continued, “I will now convey our creator’s last words. It was imparted to me, and I was tasked by the master to convey it to all the guardians.”
Silence became absolute, and everyone’s eyes were fixated at the hovering divinity. The fairy eventually added, “In accordance to the will of our creator, I will now share it with everyone.”
Immediately, memories streamed through everyone’s mind. Like a movie, the scenes started to play out vividly.
Two figures were watching the sun set on top of a familiar cliff. The Elder Lich was sure that it was the place located outside Elymia Dungeon, an S-rank maze inhabited by strong monsters. It was the dungeon ruled by Fairentel, the fairy-like creature that ranked among the guardians. The sky above had turned red
from the crimson ball of light, and flocks of birds flew past by. The blades of grass swayed westward, free and unrestrained.
Fairentel hummed a song while the other figure sat leisurely on the grass-blanketed ground. His figure was that of a human, but his skin resembled gnarled wood with numerous veins running through all sides. His eyes were slit-like, almost serpentine, and the sharp hazel glow it gave seemed to shame even the crimson ball of light before them. His limbs were thin and old, and a single glance would give one the impression that it would break from a single touch. Yet, despite the meek appearance, his wrinkled face was smiling in utter contentment.
“Fairentel, this is such a beautiful sight, isn’t it” he said, voice soft and mellifluous.
The fairy broadly smiled, revealing a small set of teeth. Her cheeks blushed violent red, her eyes brimming in jubilance. “Yes, Master Thanatos~!”
The old figure gestured for Fairentel to come closer. With a smile, he gently placed a hand on top of the fairy’s head, ruffling the silver hair that flowed down till the waist. Fairentel closed her eyes in utter bliss as she savored the euphoria.
“The end of my life is nearing, my child,” he mumbled. Fairentel slowly opened her eyes upon hearing his words. She titled her head in utter confusion. End of life? Her master was immortal.
Thanatos continued, “I have decided to enter the realm of the dead. I have decided that my existence in this place shall end soon. I have already fulfilled my mission. I am no longer necessary.”
Fairentel stood in stupor. Was her master serious? She did not know. She puffed her cheeks and her fragile wings violently flapped. “Master?! What are you saying? You are necessary! We need you! This world needs you! You are our creator! All of us—all of your creations… our purpose is to serve you!”
Thanatos heartily laughed after seeing the flustered look of the guardian. He gazed at the sun, his eyes soft and gentle.
“This is a decision I had come to after hundreds of years of deliberation. I have long realized my purpose in life, and I deemed that I have long since fulfilled it. My existence ends here.”
He saw the tears that uncontrollably flowed from Fairentel’s eyes. His heart throbbed in pain from the sight. But what else could he do? He had already decided on his path.
“Fairentel, as the one that accompanied me moments before my death, it is your duty to convey my message to all the guardians. The five of you were my personal creations. My children. My happiness. My salvation.”
“Master! Please! Did we do anything wrong? Please don’t leave us! We promise to do better to please Master! We promise!” said Fairentel. Snot had started to drip down her small nose, her cheeks vivid red. Her chest rapidly rose and fell as she tried her best not to break down in hysteria.
Thanatos wryly smiled. He raised a hand and pointed it at the setting sun. In a split second, their surroundings distorted and they found themselves on top of the clouds. The crimson ball of light seemed to have hovered closer, blocking everything the eyes could see. They felt that they could touch it. The warmth that pierced through their skin was hot and nostalgic.
“Why does the sun set? Is it to give way to the stars, the moon? Why does darkness come after light? Why are we granted immortality? Why are we stronger than the humans? If a God’s purpose is to overlook his creation, take care of it and nurture it, then what is our purpose? Us, beings that are heralded in dark light,” said Thanatos.
Her master’s words were abstract, and she was unable to understand any meaning behind it. Still, she listened. She listened with keen ears and pure eyes.
“My child, after hundreds of years, I have finally found the purpose of my existence… and I have fulfilled it. The moment I’m gone, it is the duty of the young to find theirs. It is unacceptable to simply live. Purpose is what makes life worthwhile,” said Thanatos. He again lifted a finger, and the next moment, they found themselves overlooking the entirety of the world itself. The large ball of green and blue hovered above the sea of black aimlessly. Large clouds drifted over continents, and Fairentel could not help but be moved from the sight. Just like she thought, her master was the most powerful. Could such a being actually die? Impossible.
As though reading her thoughts, Thanatos said, “Tomorrow, I shall enter my eternal slumber. My death would mean salvation to the humans. I shall make it a farewell gift to the mortal race. I shall grant them the glory of slaying the Immortal God called Thanatos.”
He turned around and gazed at the still crying Fairentel. His brows creased and he made a soft and gentle smile. “I forbid the guardians to follow me to my death. Do not seek revenge. Find your purpose. That is my last will as your master.”
Chapter 2: The Knights of Tesma
The funeral for Thanatos lasted five days in accordance to the Great Labyrinth’s custom. Normally, they would do everything in their power to revive a creature they deemed worthy, but for an existence akin to a God, it was impossible with the guardians’ power. All that they were left able to do was grieve and mourn, all the while ponder the meaning behind their creator’s words.
Immediately after the funeral, the Elder Lich left the Great Labyrinth. His exit was swift and fluid; he did not bother to say his farewells to his comrades. Deep inside, there was boiling hatred and resentment towards the other guardians. They were a mere teleport away from their master when the raid happened, but they did nothing to protect him.
If he was in the same position, ordered to stay still while their creator dies before them—would he comply? His mind was in turmoil as he tried to find the answer, and he found none.
Using numerous teleportation spells, he travelled from Kingdom to Kingdom, from mountain to mountain. Eventually, he arrived at the Qavan Mountain Range. It was the large piece of land that separated the Kingdom of Tesma and the United Grakas Alliance. At the same time, it was also the place where his Labyrinth was located.
“Rigar—I shall leave this place to you,” said the Elder Lich. He sat on his throne, with thousands of undead gathered before his dominion. Skeleton Warriors, Skeleton Archers, Skeleton Mages, Ghouls, Slitherans, Death Knights, Liches, Infernal Knights: All knelt down before his majestic figure. “I will embark on a journey in accordance with my God’s will.”
The creature named Rigar stood beside the Elder Lich. He was an Infernal Knight clad in flames, with a body that towered five meters. His thick limbs were reminiscent of molten lava; it was devoid of skin, and numerous patches of inferno continued to violently bubble inside. He bowed low then said, “As you wish, Lord Jiablu.”
Jiablu gazed over all the undead present. All were his creations. They were the result of his blood and sweat, of his vehement fervor to create a strong army to serve his God. And now, he was leaving them behind. For an instance, he felt a prickling sensation in his heart. Was it sadness? He could not tell.
After a wave of his hand, Jiablu’s figure vanished, leaving behind a vacated throne.
***
Jiablu stood outside his Labyrinth. The trees that surrounded him in all directions had dried and withered, and the smell of sulfur was pungent. The ground was reminiscent of a dead valley, with numerous cracks crisscrossing in all directions.
Where should he go? It was the question he kept asking himself the moment he heard of his master’s last will. If it took his creator hundreds of years to find his life’s purpose, then how long would it take him, a mere dust when compared to his God? He sighed as his nonexistent eyes peered beyond.
A mountain away from where he stood, he saw a village being ravaged by undead creatures. Smoke swirled upwards as small wooden houses burned to crisp. He could make out the petite bodies of what seemed to be scorched humans. After a full second, he realized that he had ordered his undead to secure the area around his labyrinth, and part of it was massacring the surrounding villages.
Without much thought in it, he decided to visit the blazing settlement. He lifted a finger and a split second after, his surroundings distorted and he
found himself at the village’s gate. The meek partition was torn to pieces, and slabs of stones were thrown in all direction. Dead bodies of humans were scattered about. By now, he felt that the undead creatures had gone deeper into the village, probably in search for surviving humans.
“H-Help!” a voice rang out. Jiablu glanced at the source and saw a child crawling towards his direction. He was probably in his early teens, around the age of eleven to twelve years old. Aside from the bloodied body, limp limbs, and torn calf, a distinct feature was the missing left eye. The remaining eye was closed, and Jiablu realized that the plea for help was not directed at him, nor was it directed to anyone in particular. It was the child’s last flicker; his last attempt to cling to life.
To Jiablu, an Elder Lich with unparalleled magical prowess, healing the child was as easy as breathing. If he willed it, he could even bring him back from the dead. But why would he do so? Such insects were unworthy of his time. He could not even suppress the hatred boiling inside him. They were the lower life forms that tried to kill his creator numerous times before.
The Elder Lich pointed a finger at the child. He was going to obviate its existence here.
