mediators story

After the void plant wilted, Lucien stood beside the make shift grave of Matthew. He wished to drop the blade of Matthew onto of the grave but Viktor stopped him saying, use it. He deserves to be avenged by the weapon that could not save him. Lucien, immediately felt the weight of the burden. He was strong, once known to be the strongest of all, but he did not know if he could carry the burdens of another's life. He barely had his own resolve to keep pushing. After laying the fallen to rest, he led his group out, an exit in the far distance lay dark and hidden. With the half moon fallen, the Area lay dark, and luciens flame was the only thing illuminating the area. Lucky for them, the attack that killed the monster, was a far distance, the walls around the area, trembled and decimated. Upon getting to the exit, Lucien felt a cold chill down his spine. And for the first time his hands trembled. But if the people around him knew, they would die where they stood. "Can you feel it too?" Lucien asked Armand through Telepathy. "It makes me want to hurl but at the same time weakens me" Armand responded. "Stay alert" Lucien said, "Do you still have your previous abilities?" "Yes, but My control is weak, do you plan to use it?" Temporarily, you'll help cover for me. Incase the creature ahead is too strong."

As they marched through the hallway, The group's resolve, already fragile, began to crumble as the air grew colder and heavier, suffused with an oppressive presence. A ghostly mist rolled in, chilling the ground and silencing the forest. As the group advanced cautiously, the presence revealed itself—a towering figure cloaked in tattered robes, its skeletal form faintly glowing with sickly green runes.

The creature's hollow eyes flared as it surveyed them, its presence enough to make Gale clutch her stomach and Logan take a step back. Even Armand's usual calm wavered. Only Lucien and Valeri stood unmoved, though the weight of the creature's aura pressed down on them like an invisible hand.

"Wretched interlopers…" the Lich's voice rasped in their minds, a jagged thought underscored by an eerie echo. Its words overlapped themselves, creating a cacophony that sent shivers down their spines. "Do you even comprehend the sanctity you defile? Your chains of mortality taint this ground."

The group braced themselves, but then the Lich turned its glowing gaze toward Lucien and Valeri. Its voice took on a sharper edge, the echoing drawl twisting into something more aggressive.

"And yet… what blasphemy is this? You two walk without chains. No tether to life, nor to death. What are you, if not abominations?"

With a violent shriek, the Lich raised its staff, and the ground beneath their feet began to crack. Shadowy tendrils erupted from the fissures, lashing out like serpents. Gale screamed as one grazed her arm, leaving behind an icy burn. Logan fired an arrow, but it disintegrated mid-flight.

Valeri leapt forward, his blade flashing as he slashed through the tendrils. For a moment, the shadows dissipated, but they reformed instantly, swirling back toward him. He fell into his Aikido stance, fluidly deflecting their attacks, but his movements seemed to have no lasting effect.

"Physical strength is futile," the Lich mocked, its voice dripping with disdain. "Did you believe you could overcome eternity with mere steel and flesh? Pathetic."

Valeri gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. His attacks weren't working, and his usual strategies felt useless. He glanced at Lucien, who stood still, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

The Lich's voice shifted, its tone now insidious and probing. "Tell me, little lambs, do you know despair? I have walked the cycles of life and death, seen the unworthy cling to hope only to be crushed beneath its weight. Shall I show you?"

The air seemed to thrum with energy, and an overwhelming wave of despair washed over the group. Gale dropped to her knees, clutching her head. Logan staggered, his breaths ragged as tears streamed down his face. Even Armand faltered, his usual composure crumbling under the weight of the Lich's mental onslaught.

Valeri and Lucien held firm, though Valeri's legs felt like lead. He forced himself to focus, to block out the creeping despair. Lucien, meanwhile, remained eerily still, his eyes fixed on the Lich with a cold, simmering intensity.

Armand, struggling to remain upright, barked a weak command. "Focus! Don't let it in!" But his voice trembled, betraying his own struggle.

As the battle raged, Lucien's frustration mounted. He had expected a challenge, but this was something else. Every attack they made was deflected or absorbed, and the Lich's power seemed endless. Worse, its taunts dug into his mind, scratching at old wounds.

"You, unbound one," the Lich sneered, its gaze locking onto Lucien. "What torment do you carry, that even death has forsaken you? Or perhaps you are emptier than I thought—an existence so meaningless that even the gods have turned their gaze."

Lucien's hands trembled, not with fear but with restrained fury. His aura began to swell, and the others felt it immediately—the suffocating pressure that made even the Lich.

Valeri's frustration mirrored Lucien's, though he buried it beneath his calm exterior. He tried to analyze the fight, searching for any weakness, any opening—but there was none. His Aikido, which had served him so well before, was useless against the Lich's incorporeal attacks.

He moved to Lucien's side, his voice low but firm. "Lucien, we need a plan. Rushing in will only—"

But Lucien didn't respond. His focus was entirely on the Lich, his aura growing darker with every passing second.

Sensing the shift in Lucien's aura, the Lich raised its staff, the runes along its bones flaring brighter. "Foolish. You think to defy me? Behold the power of one blessed by the Eternal Lord!"

A sudden burst of energy erupted from the Lich, sending a shockwave through the battlefield. The force knocked everyone back, scattering them like leaves in a storm. Shadows writhed and twisted, forming a protective barrier around the Lich as it prepared for another attack.

Lucien staggered but didn't fall. His eyes burned with rage, and his aura surged again, darker and more intense. Just as he was about to unleash his full power, the Lich's defense mechanism triggered another explosion—a blinding burst of light and shadow that forced everyone to shield their eyes.

When the light faded, the battlefield was eerily silent. The Lich stood unscathed, its hollow eyes glowing with triumph. Lucien's frustration boiled over, but before he could act, the ground trembled, and a distant roar echoed through the forest—a sound that promised even greater danger. But Lucien noticed, even the Lich was confused at this strange sound. His mind raced to Hector as he felt the chilling breeze sway behind him and not a moment later, Hector, Harigold and the groups they led bursts out from a wall, a distance from where the entrance they came from laid.

Luciens group was left battered and disoriented, their resolve hanging by a thread as the Lich's laughter echoed in their minds. "Run, little lambs, run to me. Your souls will be mine soon enough."

The wind carried an unnatural chill, thick with malice. The lich stood at the center of the battlefield, its skeletal frame draped in tattered robes that whispered as it moved. Its pale, glowing eyes flared with a mix of amusement and disdain as it surveyed the chaos before it.

"A broken blade, a reckless spear, and an army of trembling lambs. Is this truly all this generation has to offer?" its voice rasped, a symphony of condescension.

Lucien and Hector stood on opposite ends of the battlefield, their tension palpable. The lich exuded an oppressive aura that made even seasoned warriors falter, but neither would allow themselves to be cowed.

"You take the right; I'll take the left," Hector said, his voice laced with confidence as his spear twirled effortlessly in his hands.

"Don't give me orders," Lucien snapped, his tone cold and clipped. His grip tightened around his broken blade, and his eyes burned with quiet fury.

Lucien moved first, his broken blade glowing faintly as mana surged through it. His movements were sharp, calculated, and precise, each step deliberate as he approached the lich. He didn't waste energy on unnecessary attacks; every strike was aimed to test its defenses.

"So you think precision will save you, mortal?" the lich mocked, raising its bony hand. A torrent of shadowy tendrils erupted from the ground, aiming to ensnare Lucien.

Lucien's eyes narrowed as he sidestepped the attack with minimal movement, his broken blade slicing through the tendrils with surgical precision. His strikes weren't flashy, but they were effective, carving away at the lich's defenses bit by bit.

On the other side, Hector charged in a blur of motion, his spear surrounded by a swirling vortex of wind. His attacks were a stark contrast to Lucien's; where Lucien was measured and methodical, Hector was overwhelming and relentless.

"I'll show you the difference between a relic of the past and the might of today!" Hector roared, his spear colliding with the lich's skeletal arm. The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield, forcing the lich to stagger slightly.

"A tempest? How quaint," the lich hissed, raising its staff to summon a wall of bone to block Hector's next attack.

Lucien's blade met the lich's staff in a flurry of precise strikes, each one aiming to exploit a weakness in its form. His movements were fluid yet purposeful, adapting to the lich's counters with ease. He didn't waste energy, each action calculated to conserve his strength while dealing maximum damage.

"You talk too much," Lucien muttered, his blade flickering as he deflected a dark projectile aimed at his head.

Hector, meanwhile, was like a storm incarnate. His spear danced through the air, creating gusts of wind that buffeted the lich and disrupted its concentration. Every strike was accompanied by a roar of wind, each one aimed to overpower rather than outmaneuver.

"Is this all you've got?" Hector taunted, his voice ringing with confidence. "For someone who talks about the glory of the past, you're not putting up much of a fight."

The lich's eyes flared with irritation as it summoned a wave of spectral fire, forcing both fighters to retreat momentarily.

"You dare mock me, mortals? You will learn the price of arrogance," the lich snarled, its voice reverberating through the battlefield.

As the battle raged on, the lich shifted its focus to the knights and other survivors within the defensive enclosure.

"Look at them," it sneered, pointing a skeletal finger toward the trembling group. "Pathetic. They don't even deserve to die by my hand. Yet here they are, hoping their champions will save them. How quaint."

The lich's words cut through the air like knives, sowing doubt and fear among the survivors. It turned its attention to Gale.

"A woman? Fighting? In my time, you would have been in chains where you belong."

The cruel words stung, and Gale's grip on her weapon faltered.

Hector's expression darkened as he saw the effect of the lich's words. He dashed toward the creature with renewed fury, his spear glowing with a sharp green hue.

"Shut up already!" Hector bellowed, launching a series of explosive strikes. Each attack sent shockwaves through the air, but the lich countered with equal ferocity, summoning barriers of bone and dark energy to deflect the blows.

Lucien, on the other hand, used Hector's assault as a distraction. His blade moved in precise arcs, slicing through the lich's defenses with surgical precision. He wasn't as loud or flashy as Hector, but his attacks were devastatingly effective.

As their battle intensified, Hector's spear accidentally collided with Lucien's blade during a synchronized attack. The clash of wind and flame created a violent explosion, forcing both fighters to retreat.

"Watch where you're aiming," Lucien snapped, his eyes blazing with frustration.

"Maybe if your blade wasn't broken, you'd be able to keep up," Hector shot back with a smirk.

The tension between them was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed as if they might turn their weapons on each other.

The lich laughed, a hollow, echoing sound.

"Yes, fight among yourselves. Make my job easier," it jeered, summoning another wave of spectral fire.

The lich unleashed a barrage of mental assaults, its voice echoing in their minds with an eerie drawl.

"You are nothing but pawns, scrambling in the dirt. Your lives hold no meaning."

The mental attack brought most of the survivors to their knees, clutching their heads in agony. Even Hector faltered momentarily, his grip on his spear tightening as he struggled to shake off the oppressive presence.

Lucien, however, remained unaffected. His eyes locked onto the lich with cold determination.

"I've heard worse," he muttered, his blade glowing faintly as he prepared his next strike.