Duelling Dungeons

Rameriz watched as Lanivia’s team finished crushing the rest of his undead horde. He never expected them to cause much damage; they were only there to be a distraction anyway; Animated bones were no match for a true undead.

For a moment, he wondered if they’d intentionally built their team specifically to challenge him; it was a surprisingly good matchup. The Revenant and Ent were resistant to his death magic; the Dryads would use their magic to slowly expand their root systems, creating an area where they could control and even shut down his adds, and the Siren was capable of removing his curses and healing her teammate’s wounds.

Their setup was almost as good as that of many master-level adventuring groups. Almost.

Even though they were resistant to some of his moves, they were extremely weak against others, and he wasn’t restricted to a limited subset of skills here.

So, fire it was.

He inhaled, an action that wasn’t really necessary anymore but after thousands of years felt natural, before exhaling a roiling inferno that was equal parts dragonfire and black magic. The half-dozen animate skeletons were instantly incinerated, turned to ash as the magic fire swept over them, closing in upon the Treent.

Just as it was about to engulf the team, a thin layer of ice formed upon the treeman, brunting, but not negating the attack.

“New spell?” one of the Dryads asked.

“Old one, actually,” the Siren replied, sagging slightly. “It’s a basic water magic spell because unless you specialize in armor spells, it not only takes a ton of magic to cast, but it also requires a constant supply to keep running. I just didn’t see another way to survive that blast.”

“Don’t worry, girl, I’ll make the most of the time you bought me,” the Treent exclaimed as it strode across the arena.

This would normally be where most dragons would shout ‘Imputant!’ and try to strike the Treent down, but Rameriz was no common dragon. Not only had he spent thousands of years learning to suppress his draconic instincts, but his transformation had allowed him to suppress his base desires and evaluate everything in a much more methodical, logical way.

The Treent, Voss, if he remembered correctly, was tough enough to take a blow, and may have had enough strength to restrict Rameriz’s movement for a moment or two; he was ultimately harmless to the Dracolich.

Poison and Pestilance meant little to something that was already dead.

As the tree thundered across the room, Rameriz raised a claw, summoning his power, preparing to toss the tree aside with a burst of pure magic.

Or, at least, he tried too. Vines erupted out of the ground, entangling his claws, holding him to the ground. Rameriz spared a quick glance at the Dryads. It was impressive coordination, too bad it was futile.

As Voss raised his massive wooden fist, closing within a few feet, Rameriz released the power that had been building in his claw. Straight down.

The floor around him shattered as dark power erupted from the ground, ripping the vines apart and sending Voss flying across the room.

Rameriz didn’t give the ent another thought; instead, he raised his other claw, jabbed a talon at a random point in front of himself, and started carving a rune into the air, leaving behind a trail of dark magic.

As the Revenant charged forward, Rameriz wordlessly released the growing power.

The Revenant was both extremely quick and highly skilled, but at the end of the day, it was just a single warrior. Rameriz swiped at the pest, but the undead managed to duck underneath his claw and jam its blade deep into his chest cavity.

The magical blade bit deep, but to the Draco lich, the blow was nothing more than a minor irritation. As Rembrandt withdrew his blade, black fire erupted from the wound he’d created in Rameriz’s spectral form, engulfing the sword and eating away at the blade.

“What?” Rembrandt muttered in confusion.

“Did you think that old bones and illusory skin were all that was left of me, little one?” Rameriz smiled. “I’m no minor undead like you. I’m a Draco-Lich; magic permeates my entire being. If you want to take me down, you’ll have to do better than that.”

The Revenant jumped back, quickly skipping out of Remeriz’s reach before twirling around. “Calliope! The plan…” he began, but when he saw what was behind him, he paused.

“Oh? Have you finally realized?” Rameriz rumbled. “Did you not wonder what I was casting when you rushed forward?” He lowered his head until it was level with the much smaller undead. “It was a wave of decay.”

He raised his head again and glanced casually at the group standing at the back of his chamber. The Dryads had already collapsed to the ground, moaning in pain as their skin broke into sores, then split open, and it looked like the siren was struggling to cast a spell, but couldn’t get it out between the bloody coughs.

He could think of at least a dozen spells that would have crippled or killed the little group faster, but the secondary effects of decay made it ideal here. It caused the opponent’s body to literally break down, causing intense pain, disrupting their movement and breathing, and even causing mental instability. He took no pleasure in causing that much pain to his opponents, but while plague or death spells might have worked faster, decay worked on creatures with disease resistances, disrupted casters, and even had the ability to jump to living, non-sentient things. Like the Dryad’s root systems.

A single spell that completely crippled his opponent’s backline.

The Revenant slowly turned back and stared at the ancient dragon. “I told you, I would take you seriously. Although you’re not at my level, you deserve that much,” Rameriz explained calmly. “Now that I’ve taken care of your teammates, I’ll take care of you.”

“Not all his teammates,” Voss announced as he pushed himself to his feet. The Treent normally looked sickly, but now it looked as if it were dying on its feet. Sap oozed from every crack, and his bark was sloughing off him in sheets. “I’m still standing.”

“Indeed. I suppose after years of poisons and plagues, a little pain is nothing to you,” Rameriz said. “Very well. Come, I’ll give you one last chance. Show the public your courage before I bring this match to an end.”

Voss shifted slightly, balling his massive hands into fists, while the Revenant dropped into a fighting stance.

“In that case, I won’t hold back,” Voss grumbled. The Treent shambled forward, unsteady at first but more confidently as he thundered across the room, shaking the floor with every step. Across from him, the Revenant dashed forward, dodging back and forth as he closed in.

The Treent slammed into him like an avalanche, and the punch Voss delivered was so strong that it made Rameriz’s head snap to the side; the magic holding his skull to his neck strained but did not give way. At his feet, the sword master slashed at his claws, delivering blows at a blistering pace, the precise strikes actually chipping away at Rameriz’s bones.

If he hadn’t crippled the manor’s backlines, it was possible the two might have been able to cause him serious damage over time. Maybe.

Rameriz let a small, spectral smile rise to his lips as he flapped his wings, forcing the pair back with the strength of the wind. “This was entertaining,” he exclaimed. “I hope you’ll keep practicing for next season; I’d like to face you again.”

Voss and Rembrandt rushed forward once more, intent on dropping the draco-lich, but Rameriz inhaled much deeper than last time, and when he exhaled, the dragon didn’t target either of them, but filled the entire room with a wave of fire. It crawled forward, scorching every inch of the lair, consuming everything in its way.

Voss managed to stop himself right before he ran into the oncoming wave and returned the smile. “Good match,” he managed just before the massive fire consumed him and Rembrandt.

“Good match,” Rameriz repeated.