From Ashes To Scales

As the smoke from Magnus’s spell began to clear, a low, rumbling laugh echoed through the throne room. Magnus’s eyes narrowed as he saw the space in front of him distort and ripple. The remnants of his *Celestial Flash* dissipated against an unseen force, revealing Volkos, still standing on his throne’s dais, completely unharmed. A shimmering barrier of dark energy surrounded him, flickering ominously before it faded away.

Volkos stepped forward, his eyes glinting with malevolent curiosity. “Impressive. I didn’t expect to face someone capable of wielding 7th-tier magic. You’re no ordinary lizardman, Magnus.”

Magnus frowned, his grip tightening on his staff. “And here I was hoping this would be easy for once. But it seems you’re not as weak as you look.”

Volkos chuckled, his voice filled with cold amusement. “Oh, it’s far more than that. You’ve caught my interest. Few mages in this world can claim to harness such power. It would be a waste to destroy you outright.”

He spread his arms, gesturing to the dark, oppressive chamber around them. “In this world, there are millions of variables, but only one constant: death. Conquer that constant, conquer death, and the world will be in your grasp. Join me, Magnus. Together, we could rule over life and death itself. Why be a mere player in this game when you can be the master?”

Magnus met Volkos’s gaze with an icy stare. “We all have to face death sooner or later, Volkos. You’re just a coward who ran from it. I’d rather embrace my mortality than spend eternity as a wretched creature like you.”

Volkos’s expression darkened, the amusement fading from his eyes. “So be it,” he hissed, raising one clawed hand. “If you refuse my offer, then you’ll perish like all the rest. I’ll summon an army to tear you apart!”

He began chanting, his voice echoing through the throne room as dark magic swirled around him. The air grew heavy with the stench of decay as the ground beneath them trembled, and skeletal hands began to claw their way up from the floor, dragging with them undead soldiers from the depths.

Magnus, however, recognized the summoning technique. The runes in the air, the flow of mana—Volkos’s necromancy, while formidable, had its flaws. His technique was once again inferior compared to the Undead Kings’.

“Spell Breaker,” Magnus whispered, a blue aura forming around his staff.

With a swift motion, he brought his staff down, slamming it into the ground. A wave of crackling energy burst forth, shattering the summoning spell in an instant. The skeletal soldiers crumbled to dust before they could fully form, their essence dissipating into the air.

Volkos recoiled in surprise. “What? How did you—”

“Your necromancy is crude, Volkos,” Magnus interrupted, his voice calm but laced with disdain. “You’re nothing more than a glorified amateur. That summoning spell was sloppy.”

Volkos snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. “Insolent worm! If you won’t bow to me, then you’ll be crushed under my heel!”

The two mages clashed. Magnus’s movements were precise, each spell cast with the intent to break through Volkos’s defenses. He summoned bolts of lightning, spears of ice, and waves of pure force, each one aimed at the heart of his undead foe. Not that he has a heart, but aiming at the torso is what makes sense for Magnus.

Volkos, for his part, countered with dark flames, spectral claws, and walls of impenetrable shadow. The two mages danced a deadly waltz, their magic tearing apart the very air between them.

But it quickly became apparent that Volkos had more tricks up his sleeve. As the battle raged on, his eyes gleamed with a dark inspiration. He raised both arms, and a dark, swirling vortex of energy formed above him. With a guttural incantation, the vortex spat out bones—thousands of them—that assembled themselves into a massive undead dragon. The creature’s skeletal form towered over the throne room, its wings stretching wide and casting long, eerie shadows on the walls.

The dragon’s hollow eye sockets flared with dark energy as it let out an ear-splitting roar, shaking the very foundations of the castle. It lunged at Magnus with terrifying speed, its maw wide open to devour him.

Magnus swiftly cast the defensive spell Life Saver, forming a barrier of shimmering light in front of him. But as the dragon’s bony jaws clamped down, the barrier shattered like glass.

Magnus leapt back, narrowly avoiding the dragon’s strike. He quickly gathered his magic, casting another spell to immobilize the creature. But to his shock, the spell fizzled out, having no effect.

Volkos laughed, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the throne room. “Did you really think your magic could affect my dragon? It is immune to magic!”

The dragon lunged again, forcing Magnus to dodge, its bony tail whipping through the air with a force that cracked the stone floor.

“Immune to magic?” Magnus muttered, studying the creature as it pursued him relentlessly. “No… not immune. Resistant, perhaps… up to the 7th tier.”

Volkos sneered, his confidence swelling. “Your bravado won't help, Magnus! Even if you’re strong, you cannot stand against the might of my dragon!”

Magnus skidded to a halt, pivoting to face the dragon as it charged toward him again. He raised his staff, its tip glowing with a fierce, golden light.

“Let me ask you something, Volkos,” Magnus called out, his voice echoing over the dragon’s growls. “Do the undead fear death? It’s time for your long-overdue appointment with it.”

The dragon lunged at Magnus, its jaws poised to snap him in half. But Magnus was ready. With a calm, deliberate motion, he raised his staff, the golden light intensifying until it was almost blinding.

“8th-tier spell: Calamity Blaze!”

A massive beam of radiant energy erupted from the tip of Magnus’s staff, engulfing both the dragon and Volkos in an instant. The beam was a brilliant torrent of light, so intense that it tore through the dragon’s bones, disintegrating them on contact. The beam continued, piercing through the dragon and slamming into Volkos with the force of a nuclear blast.

Volkos’s scream of rage and pain was drowned out by the roar of the beam as it blasted through him, cutting a path through the throne room, and out the back of the castle. The sheer power of the spell created a massive crater where the throne had once stood, reducing the entire section of the castle to rubble.

As the dust and debris settled, the throne room was left in ruins. The once-imposing walls were now crumbling, and the air was thick with the smell of ozone and scorched bone. Magnus stood in the center of the destruction, his breath heavy but his eyes sharp, scanning the wreckage for any sign of Volkos.

A moment passed in silence. Then another. But there was nothing—no movement, no sound, no sign of the Necromancer Lord.

Magnus lowered his staff, the light fading from its tip.

“That should do it,” he murmured, though he remained cautious, ready for any trick Volkos might still have up his sleeve.

But for now, it seemed the battle was won. The undead dragon lay in pieces, and the once-mighty Volkos was nowhere to be seen.

Surprisingly enough, a small rock fell on Magnus's head, which made him look upwards.

*Gulp*

“Perhaps… that wasn't such a good idea.”

Because of the impact of his spell and because Volkos was now dead, the castle… started to crumble.

“I gotta get out of here before this place falls on my head. Only one thing to do. Engaging… Coward Legs!!”