Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

"Don't just disregard me.” Piotr, the legendary lich reminded them of his existence, as he stabbed his staff into the ground. Rushing out from the tip of his staff were lines of magic, shining a bright blue. They covered the whole valley, swallowing the undead and surrounding mountains in their light.

“City Deployment” the rotten skeleton exclaimed, the sparse, long beard hair waving in the wind of his power, as he showed why one should never underestimate a wizard with preparation time. Rising from the magic circle that resembled a giant snowflake, was a ghostly city.

Incorporeal ancient ruins, made of translucent pale energy covered the valley. In a matter of moments, the lich had erected an ancient necropolis with him being its lord. The camp's shield strengthened, as power collected on the skeletal torso.

Natina found hope again. Although Piotr had shown a sorry state fighting the dragon and the worm in the sky, it was a different case for a battle on the ground. The Lich’s legend revolved around his immortal city of undeath, where he reigned over the dead and enslaved the living.

Suddenly, four voices sounded, singing in unison.

“Today is the day you die in the fight. None shall remain to pass one more night”

As if to answer their choir, the sky was filled with cursed magic directed at the horsemen and their demonic bard. What doubled resource cost? What increased casting time? In this summoned apparition of Sokolov’s home ground none of that matter. The effects of the skill nullified their debuffs.

His casting time and cooldowns were nullified here, and he was sucking mana from the city, the land, and its newly acquired residents, the zombies of Urth, which wouldn’t die even if he sucked them dry over and over. The only drawback of the legendary skill was that it needed time to deploy and the effectiveness depended on the situation.

A barrage of unending spells filled the sky, raining down on the four horsemen, showing that the current location was favorable. Right, this wasn’t the time to hesitate. She looked a the last living soldiers left, less than one thousand.

It didn’t matter anymore now. Whether they lived or died, she would get in trouble anyway. Her life was more important. Relying on the Elder Lich for cover, Natina opened her circle of reincarnation and to bring the skeleton dragon and the koor worm back out. With three legends on her side, one of them being Kalzemir, her chances would be-

Choir: “Now the World's calling us-”

Seth: “Immortal!”

Choir: “We are lords of war”

Seth: “Immortal!”

Choir: “We are lords of war”

Her thought came to a grinding halt as a figure plowed through the sea of offensive magic with incredible speed as if it was an innocent autumn creek. The aura of menace the rider expelled made the curses and spells surrounding him seem harmless.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

The horsemen of hunger, wielding his baneful weapon seemed unimpressed by the magic hurled at him. When he reached the barrier over the camp, at the center of the incorporeal city, the automaton slammed the hooked end of its staff against it.

It didn’t break. There was not even an impact. The mighty bulwark of magical protection just …fizzled out. Where the hook touched it, it became paler before completely vanishing, creating a hole with soft, thin edges on their shield, like a vignette framing the rider’s arrival.

Where Strix passed, the blue city of ancient ruins lost its vigor and color. The black stag charged at Sokolov, so fast that Natina could only watch, but not react. The horseman swung his staff and the three hooks at the end of the chains struck Sokolov’s rib cage, taking hold of the elder Lich.

“You have been weighed!” the rider exclaimed with a terrifying voice, as he lifted the lich up, using his right hand as the balance point of his scale. As the legend was hoisted up, the vivid mana flowing through his bones and around his body dimmed, as it was absorbed by the vicious hooks, clawed into his torso. Even the ethereal city around them dimmed in this short amount of time.

Cursing in her mind, Natina began casting her skill to support Piotr, but she immediately felt the weight of the legendary presence. What used to feel smooth and easy when casting the skill, now felt like a chore, as if she was chewing sand while casting spells. She could only try and cast as fast as possible, while she was forced to watch in the meantime.

“You have been measured…!” the horsemen exclaimed, riding a curve, still pulling Sokolov along. At the peak of the curve, uniting the momentum as well as the power behind swinging the weapon, the hook dislodged.

Clank Clank, with a bell-like, bright sound of chains, the legendary Lich was catapulted into the massive rock face of the valley. The skeleton torso was lodged deeply into the rock of the valley. Natina had a hard time feeling her connection to the undead. She had to hurry... The stag became slower, coming to a halt.

“…And you have been found wanting,” the automaton finished, staring at the lich, who lacked the strength to move. The horseman had no eyes, but his gaze was filled with an unquenchable thirst. Natina would have never thought that someone’s hunger could be so palpable.

Before she could finish her casting, the skeleton dragon and the undead sea serpent had finally exited her cycle. This was her chance, she had to buy time. The automaton was attempting to pull the lich from the hole in the rock, she had to stop this.

“Diromold, stop him!” she commanded telepathically, overcoming her shock. Her instincts finally kicked in. She had to fight for her life, struggle, and claw her way out to survive. Her undead army flooded from the purple gates and the undead under her summoned more undead. She threw everything she had into the situation. 𝑅

Seth: “Omens, what are you waiting for? Go join them by their side! Let the four horsemen go- For a ride!”

Choir: “Born under the sign of the hammer we ride and here you all may die.”

Answering the bard, the other three horsemen charged into the valley like a murder of crows.

“Their blood on the ground,” Conquest spoke.

Diromold, who had charged at the horseman of hunger to save Piotr, was suddenly struck by a bolt of purple lightning, turning part of the desiccated skin atop the bones into a dull metal. The sea serpent halted for a fraction of a second, and then the surface layer of skin that had turned into metal broke off like brittle stone under the force of its motion. However, this gave the horseman just enough time to evade, riding his black stag.

While the Koor Worm faced the horsemen of Hunger and Conquest, the horsemen of War attacked the skeleton dragon. Enduring the debuffs of their legendary aura, Natina finally managed to finish the casting for her skill , before the next attacks hit.

Kalzemir, Diromold, Piotr, the Liches, the Doom Knights, and every undead under her and every undead under them were clad in purple flames, significantly increasing their powers, and bringing back some of the vigor they possessed in life, as additional strength. However, it also left the necromancer with less than a third of her mana at the same time.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“The battle horns sound.” War continued.

The crimson flames of the horseman of War covered the sky, as he released an attack from his blade. The wave of fire washed across Kalzemir, but left no visible damage. Natina clenched her fist in excitement. She had been shocked by four new legends suddenly appearing, but they were all humanoid.

Right, facing Kalzemir was for them, comparable to Byron's legends facing the abominable guardian tree. She still had the upper hand! She- A cold shiver ran down her spine. Acting on pure instinct, she activated the power of Kali.

In an instant, six arms made of purple energy, each equipped with a different legendary item, blocked a hand glad in glistening black armor. A black knight, clad in the aura of death, oozing from the armor like a dark fog, had reached out his hand for her.

The horseman of Death had approached from behind, without her even noticing that he was missing from the battle. The empty eye slits of the helmet glowed in a fiendish, dim red.

“Let thy Armies die.”