Lich for Hire

Starfall felt his head grow heavy and his feet unsteady. Even holy light refused to answer his call. Fighting through the dizziness, he tried to clench his right fist—he wore a ring that could trigger a divine spell capable of purging most poisons.

Before his fingers could close, however, a wine bottle smashed into his arm.

The bottle shattered. It didn't injure him in the slightest, but it interrupted his clench.

The orc bartender stood with half a bottle in hand, gazing at the ironclad figure before him with open regret. This bastard never took off his armor. Hard to ambush, no matter how you tried.

Starfall knew he'd been set up. There was no time to ask why. A surge of holy light flared from his body, instantly clearing his mind.

Spells that removed abnormal conditions were common, and he had multiple enchanted safeguards in place.

But the moment his clarity returned, a towering orc swung a warhammer straight at his head.

A golden shield flared to life across Starfall's armor, shedding most of the impact. At the same time, he seized his longsword. He slammed the pommel forward, smashing the orc back several meters and bowling over a cluster of adventurers rushing in to surround him.

Sword in hand, Starfall glanced around him. Brilliant light radiated from his blade.