Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

The door that had suddenly opened slowly fell shut again. Sitting on his throne, presiding over his little realm of death, the shapeless shadow only fixated the door for a moment. His court kept dancing their eternal dance, the musician played their unending song.

He could even feel his power growing as if he was close to gaining even greater strength than he could have ever imagined in his life. Everything was good.

Until an eerie, demonic voice suddenly started filling in the room, echoing from the ether. The ghost felt no change and couldn't find the source of the song, but the same was not true for everything else in the room.

The ghost froze like statues and the musicians halted. He didn't think a simple tune could stand before him in his own realm. These were all is subjects, nobody could fight his authority. Waves of power flooded the room in an attempt to wrestle back the control of the ghost, but they just washed over them, like the surging water over rocks.

Suddenly, the musicians finally started moving again. However, it was not his music they played. It was a piece of quick and strong music, with a seductive charm. They followed the demonic tune, strengthening its effects, and finally, the words also started taking a form in his own mind.

"... start to march, Against the world in which they have to live and all the hate that's in their hearts. They're tired of being pushed around and told just what to do. They'll fight the world until they won, and peace starts coming through~ "

The rule cocked his head at what the music tried to say. He felt no effect on himself at all and nobody moves, apart from the musicians. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't wrestle back control. During the second verse, there was a change,

All heads in the room turned to the throne. He always relished the attention of his subjects, but their gazes were not to his liking. Where was their fervor, gone was the fanatism. He was something rebellious. Was there revolution in their minds?

With the third verse, it became clear he had lost all power over them.

"So, you children of the world

Listen to what I say

If you want to live a better life

Show the world your will is still alive,

You must be brave or you stay children of the grave."

The song started to repeat, but the spell was done. Like a horde of mindless ghouls, his beloved court suddenly started charging at the throne. The desire for rebellion was evident in their eyes. He had spent decades of his life to become a king after his death. The sacrifices, the deals, the black magic rituals. He could believe that his efforts were so easily overturned.

"Preposterous!"

Enraged, he stood up from his throne and unleashed his might on the subjects that were attempting to fight for their freedom. Hit with the unholy force, most were blown away, however, they did not stay down.

They were ghosts, so there were no injuries, instead, their existences had weakened. Turning more transparent as they rose up against the surging power, their will was unbroken. Something gave them the will to fight, even if the only outcome was death.

Yeah, their resistance was futile in the face of his accumulated power. He could feel it growing with each moment. This power was exactly as god had promised. It was not even fully grown, but already amplified his abilities by several times.

"Hahaha!" his maniacal laugh filled the ballroom. He did not intend to kill them. No, with this new power he would torture them until that glint of rebellion was gone again. And he would find whoever instigated all of this and turn them into his willing slave. The ideas of torture he came up with to make them suffer for eternity had far exceeded his wildest dream during his lifetime.

He was reveling in his own greatness when his arm suddenly vanished. It vanished. It wasn't cut off, it was simply gone. The shadow's eyes widened in horror when he saw the sump where his arm used to be.

There was no pain, but a massive feeling of loss and... a sensation he had not known for centuries. Fear. He didn't know what just happened. How could he simply lose an arm? The song and music had fallen silent. Was it the weird singer?

Next, he lost connection with the souls outside the ballroom. No, he lost connection over all? Slowly, the world seemed to slip out of his hands. It was almost as if he was dissolving...

What came over him was the fear of the unknown. In his eyes, he was a Sage of the Undeath. Facing a situation that was outside his knowledge was more threatening, than that man who simply kept breaking through doors.

"No, no, no.." he kept mumbling. There had to be a way. He kept trying to find y way to escape. His thoughts kept racing as the darkness encroached on his body and mind. In his last moments, he suddenly felt a hand grabbing his neck, and the figure of the man from before appeared before him.

When did he grab him? No, he had been grabbing him this whole time... he just didn't notice...

"No need to struggle. It will be over in just... now," he whispered just before the world became dark.

…

Ghostly fangs were about to rip out Sandra's throat when the handsome young ghost was suddenly punched back.

The room around them was demolished after a chaotic struggle. Sandra had fought quite hard. Even if she had not tried to buy time, this would have been a hard fight for her survival. It made her understand, why the rescue teams had not managed to return.

"Vice-Captain!" a familiar voice greeted her, heavily panting.

A girl with hazel brown hair, eyes of the same color, and tanned skin stood beside her. Her black exorcist uniform was ripped and dirty in most places. The second of the troublemakers had appeared at just the right time, but she also didn't seem to do well at the moment.

A girl with the rare innate ability to touch and harm incorporeal existences with her bare hands. The usually confident girl looked like she had a rough few days behind her.

"Masie."

"Urgh."

The girl suddenly held her side and sank to her knees.

"Masie! What happened?"

"I moved too quickly. My wound opened."

"Can you hang in there?"

The girl answered with a nod. The ghost had gotten back to his feet in the meantime. Sandra gritted her teeth. This time she would end it. Even though she was buying time and drawing attention, with the insured Masie beside her, she couldn't go easy anymore.

With a second target, he seemed to deliberate which was the easier prey to kill first. She readied her attack and the moment the ghost moved to take action, the ghost suddenly halted.

His wrathful expression calmed and his body relaxed. He simply stood there, as if contemplating something. The two women looked at it carefully, as it simply stopped moving. They stayed vigilant.

He gave them an apologetic smile and waved at them as his body lost substance and the ghost simply vanished.

…

Seth on the other hand had just harvested the soul of the boss with the help of Wraithguard. At this point, it was almost terrifying how easily he could dispatch this kind of opponent.

The ghosts in the ballroom slowly started fading away as the invisible power that held them on earth vanished after the perpetrator's death.

The Soul of a man who explored the deepest abyss of the human mind and committed unspeakable atrocities. Not even death could stop him. Soul has talents in necromancy and darkness affinity.>

Seth frowned. The stats were good, but it wasn't a soul he wanted to do anything with. Although it was massive, Seth could feel that it was barely above the mark to be called massive. It wasn't worth the suffering it took to break an ego.

Maybe he could exchange these kinds of souls with Tano'Mol for some that fit his taste better. Even when the thought of a necromancer golem was compelling, Seth never warmed up to the idea of an undead army.

After the boss was gone, he took a moment to look around but couldn't find a dungeon core, most likely it had not formed yet. Seeing this, Seth didn't stick around for long and went to find Sandra.