Daemon released a ragged sigh when he finally emerged from the trees, dragging his battered body and his new loot toward the barricade where Grunt and Runa waited. The pair of Orcs had done good work—makeshift barricades of logs, sharpened stakes, and piles of bones blocked the easiest paths in. Torches flickered everywhere, stabbing at the creeping dark.
Behind the defenses, the Wolves and other beasts huddled together in exhaustion—some licking wounds, others snoring, twitching paws betraying dreams of hunts and kills. Grunt crouched near a white Wolf, wrapping rags around its leg. Runa stood on watch, a heavy branch braced in her hands like a spear.
Daemon’s massive feet crunched over the churned earth. His shadow swallowed the barricade. Runa turned first, relief flickering in her eyes before she bowed her head. “Lord Asura.”
“Good work, both of you,” Daemon rumbled. His voice was raw, yet calm. “Keep the fire burning. Any sign of more?”
Grunt grunted—living up to his name. “None, Lord. Forest is quiet. Animals stay close.”
“Good.” He stepped past the barricade, careful not to trample a dozing fawn curled near a torch. He sank to one knee—well, as much as a ten-meter titan could. The great Spear clattered down beside him. The Axe thunked into the dirt. The Katana and Swords rattled against his bare thigh.
He shut his eyes. Just for a moment. Just a breath.
But the stillness didn’t last.
A distant howl shivered the trees. Then another—closer. He felt the tremor through the ground before he heard the crunch of armored feet.
Daemon’s eyes snapped open. He rose—slowly, like a mountain waking up. Grunt and Runa straightened behind him, gripping their makeshift weapons tighter.
Through the trees, gold glimmered. First one pair of burning yellow Soul-fires—then eight more. And behind them, a cold, steady green glow. The Skeleton King had come. And it wasn’t alone.
Daemon cracked his necks left, then right. He lifted the Great-Axe and balanced the Spear over one broad shoulder. His breath misted in the torchlight.
“Stay behind the barricade. Protect the wounded. I’ll deal with this.”
Runa stepped forward. “Lord Asura—”
“No.” His voice silenced her. “Keep them alive. That’s enough.”
He stomped forward, the earth trembling underfoot. The Royal Guards stalked into view—Gold Armor gleaming, Shields up, Blades ready. The Skeleton King loomed behind them, wrapped in tatters of regal black cloth, its Purple Armor dusty and neglected but still daunting.
Daemon didn’t wait for a charge. He raised the Spear and pointed it at the King. “Come on then. Waste more of my time.”
He turned, stomping toward the Fountain’s mist again—dragging the enemy into his trap a second time. The Undead advanced, grim and silent except for the hiss of ancient iron scraping bone.
Halfway there, the King lunged—a massive blur of Purple and green Soul-fire. Daemon sidestepped the heavy swing, feet digging furrows in the soil. He spun the Great-Axe around in a savage arc, clipping a Royal Guard and sending it tumbling into the Fountain’s glow.
Instantly, steam and black smoke rose. The Guard’s wail ended in silence.
Daemon laughed—harsh, tired. “Blessed water, bastards. Keep coming.”
Another Guard lunged. He caught it with the Spear’s haft, spun, and slammed it backward into the King’s path. The King’s heavy sword carved its own follower in half.
“Oops,” Daemon sneered. “Watch your swing, your majesty.”
The Royal Guards tried to circle—blades flashing at his flanks. But Daemon was a hurricane now. His Halberd swept left, chopping through Shields. His Katana parried a Spear thrust and drove forward, punching through a skull. His foot stamped down, crushing a crawling Royal Guard beneath a heel.
The King roared—a hollow, echoing wail that made the Wolves whimper behind the barricade. But Daemon’s grin only widened. He lunged, all six arms striking. Steel clashed with bone and Gold Armor. Sparks flew. The Fountain’s holy mist hissed at their feet.
When the last Guard fell back, melting in the Fountain’s reach, Daemon turned on the King. The Skeleton King staggered—cracks splintering its Purple Breastplate. Its green Soul-fires flared, burning bright with hate and something else—fear.
Daemon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No running this time.”
He drove forward—one Spear high, another sweeping low. The Great-Axe rose, blade glinting red in the torchlight. The King tried to parry—its black Sword catching Daemon’s Spear just long enough to shove it aside.
But the Halberd came in under its guard, punching through the King’s ribs and pinning it to a tree. Daemon snarled, hauling the King closer with the embedded Halberd.
“Sleep,” he hissed—and slammed the Great-Axe down.
The Purple Helm cracked. The green Soul-fire sputtered. A final, bitter wail rattled the branches as the Skeleton King’s body shuddered and fell still. The last wisp of light faded like a dying star.
[Skeleton Wave]
[Targets Eliminated: 9,999/10,000]
Daemon straightened, staring down at the twitching bones and the ragged mist curling off the Fountain. Then came the final whisper of breaking bone—and the message flashed before his eyes.
[Skeleton Wave Completed]
[Completion Reward : Death Band]
[Death Band : Strength +20]
He exhaled—relief and triumph tangled in that single breath. A Purple Bracelet flickered into existence inside his Inventory. A tiny skull carved at its center grinned up at him. He grabbed it with one massive hand and slipped it around his wrist.
The change was instant—a surge of power coiled through muscle and bone.
[Asura : Tier-0]
[Race : Fiend]
[Faction : Horde]
[Hero/Leader/Warrior/Spellcaster]
[Strength : 38.4]
[Agility : 30.9]
[Vitality : 21.3]
[Endurance : 23.5]
[Intelligence : 27]
[Magic : 24.1]
[Health : 470/470]
[Stamina : 540/540]
[Mana : 685/685]
Daemon grinned—a weary, hungry grin. He leaned down, pried the Purple Helm free, and kicked the battered body aside. He turned back toward the barricade where Grunt and Runa waited with wide eyes.
“It’s done,” he rasped. “Tomorrow… we clean up the rest.”
He trudged past them—naked, enormous, weapons rattling against bare skin, feet dragging trenches in the mud. Somewhere ahead, his Iron Throne waited.
Sleep finally called to him.
And the forest, at last, was quiet for the night.
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