The night before had been a fun game of destroy and conquer. Each oppositeon was certainly adversary but none could quite get the jump. Quote frankly, Erebus was the most powerful undead in the area, at least for what he could understand. Of course, getting ahead of himself was also his happy boat. He loved to feel stronger than the next guy— even if he really wasn’t and knew this himself. Every little win brought him closer to peace in his cursed existence.

“Oh man, I should not have been born.” He quite himself speaking out loud, relishing on his background. He had often done it, wondering why he was here. He was here because the Universe needs balance so it introduces viruses; crowd control. Population management. It didn’t necessarily mean that it was fair. For all his victims, including yours truly, Erebus could have never been here. He was not someone that benefited the world. He was the one leveled things out.

“I’m here so they can look good.” He remarked on his thoughts. Who were they, you could wonder. “Heroes.” He answered as his eyes traveled to the stars above. “Yes. I give you lot meaning. So say what you will. There would be no you— if there wasn’t us...”

To say it would bother him, it wouldn’t. Those days had come and went. Morality was a concept not a rule. He shouldn’t think on it anymore. The Zombie entered the Vampire cave from the night before, oddly enough. The girl was gone which annoyed the undead; it either meant his goal had been intercepted or that Alistair lied and ate her, after clearly disclosing that he was against that.

Distrust.

Paranoia wasn’t much of an issue nowadays. So when Erebus had an intuitive sense, nine lives on a cat’s back would tell him he was tight, motherfuckers would surprise you. So sntering the lair, Erebus’ already had a smile as wide as the sun. He DARED for this to be an ambush. Not that it was yet. But the feeling that someone was attempting to get the jump on him made his mood lighten. Like creeping ecstasy a predator loves to feel like prey, challenge was incited that way. A huge sword the size of a man was slung diagonally across the coated Zombies back. He didn’t play games, it was probably already etched into Alistair’s mind that he didn’t.

“You’ve arrived?” The vampire spoke from the shadow, stepping for the into the light. “Obviously.” Erebus motioned to the bed. “Where’s my bitch.” Alistair disapprovingly tilted his head. “I laid her to rest, it was cruel.” The vampire then forwarded this before an argument over the mercy of a vampire; which he hates as a species, deserved his mercy.

“Maybe I wanted to smash, jeez guy. How impudent does one need be. Whatever... Are we doing this ritual here... It’s a tight space if you were hoping to draw a pentagram. “

Alistair nodded. “I agree; I know a place in the forest. Would you follow me.” Erebus laughed. This was so going to blow up in his face. But he loved the idea of it. There’s just no way curing a deal with the devil was as easy as a few witch brew items. Then again, maybe Alistair was right. Might as well see this to it’s untimely end.

“Lead the way Jackboy.” - Erebus pulled a parchment from his pocket, jotting the nickname down later so he could routinely practice calling people it to aggravate people in the future.

Footsteps kissed the soft grass, the trees shrouded the woodlands, the night was still. Like a good cop to the bad cop, Alistair was not the most menacing vampire whereas Erebus had a notable dark presence. The two pressed forward until the environment would change and a large cauldron was waiting, Alistair bent to light a fire under the metal. They waited patiently, letting it broil and brew. Then came the ingredients dropping in on at a time, Alistair read a crinkled page from a scroll. Probably some black market splendor he picked up, or something he raided from that cave. Either way, it was an irrelevant factor.

Being an Undead himself; the Zombie was positive this wasn’t going to get the right effect. Coming across racial changing potions nearly always costed a fortune and quite honestly- even the most powerful alchemists couldn’t get it right. But the man decidedly kept quiet and let the Blood Sucker do his thing.

The colors were changing, holographic before eventually bubbling into a black tar. It wasn’t pretty— but at least I’m not drinking it. He’d comment to himself in thought. Flashes of electric blue light would sizzle as the fire beneath extinguished instantly. The Vampire took a metallic goblet fastened to his belt by a rope string. Plunging it within, the Vampire scooped the antidote punch and gave a reassuring smile to his Hired Mercenary. He then breathed heavily. Draining the mug of it’s contents, the throat gulping it down in large, gooey, swallows. Ancient bones bumping his cheeks, visible within the slime.

Erebus wore a clinically disturbed face as he still didn’t understand why drinking that and being mortal was better than eating whores and living for potentially ever. Irises focused, teetering over hallowed eye bags, the Zombie watched the event unfold before his very eyes. Alistair screamed as the pain in his stomach burned, his fangs to retracted and his eyes to burned with blood trickling, tears watering them down, when finally they too were normal browns. Wow— could it be, it worked? Erebus shrugged; letting moments pass to decide if everything was over, fully content that the absolute worst possible scenario was on the verge-lines. He sighed. False alarm, supposedly, everything went according to plan.

In another reality— perhaps.

Black hell fire of the abyss blew open out of no where. Forcibly blasting the Zombie meters back where his back slammed into a tree, splitting it down the middle. Satanic emblems in the air, horrid ghostly whispers. You name it, and it was there. A fucking séance if Erebus knew one! This was all a setup, he FUCKING KNEW IT. But alas, now it was a game of predator. Which amused and appealed to the sadist mind. He flew to his feet brushing the white jacket that was atop his turtle neck.

“Damn it Alistair, now I have to kill you. Again.” He cheesed, laughing at the situation this baboon was pressing towards. Black lightning, and red blood droplets surrounding his person. The Fused Alistair spoke with three underlying voices meshing and creating a distorted demonic tone.

“This strength... it’s like no pleasure. I- I’ll add your DNA to my power, I’ll take it all. This euphoria, this rush. I-“

Erebus lunged forward, closing the distance as a massive blade nearly tore the Empowered entity in half.

“Shut your mouth.”

He threw a spin on top of his movement. His leg flying into the lower ribcage of the monster. Blood gushed from it’s mouth. Suggesting that a base damage of A-rank physical was plenty to body this wannabe. But just as his blow landed. Fused Alistair was channeling his own gimmicks. A sword of blood manifested within the air firing through him to deal B-rank damage to his side. Grunting the Zombie decided to place pressure. He’s need to readjust after skidding from the strike placed but nigh instantly after he’d lunged into swinging radius again. This time he could swat like a bat, with enough physical strength to wield his sword in a single hand, nothing was slowing down his marks. Alistair took to sidestepping most of the strikes as his form mixed to what he could assume was a hybrid Werepyre. He then swatted the buster to the side and closed distance. Forcing his maw forward, the creature bit Erebus by the neck, then spiraled over shoulder to begin smashing the Zombie against the ground several times totaling S-rank damage on the Spellhowler.

But Erebus was no pushover for long, his head was just dazed from the ground pounding and the teeth in his shoulder. His hand still clasped the handle of his blade, he took a second on the travel back up to flip the sword blade down facing behind and rotated the wrist by somewhere close to a hundred and eighty degrees. When Erebus planted into again Alistair would come down his neck to the blade severing his brain from his limbs.

Face in the gravel Erebus growned to himself. He spit dirt to the side. Standing up he allowed his body to heal.

1 - B-rank healed.

Alistair’s corpse shakes for half a second...

2 - B-rank healed.

Then it hit him as he was gauging the situation. Erebus found himself nudging onto his feet. “Liches tend to resurrect. And if I’m thinking correctly here, you’ve absorbed all their darkness into one vessel. There’s about to be a round two. And you already made me eat shit once.” This was about to move into dangerous territory if Alistair could open up on the Zombie after that last close call.

3 B-rank healed.

He summoned the last of his stamina to the field. Defensive in stance he waited to see Fused Alistair would fall onto his Lich abilities or engage with the previous too once more. The Werewolf mode was nice, thankfully Erebus is passively capable of sustaining a minor resistance to physical damage.

4 B -rank damage healed.

Fused Alistair summoned a pillar at his side. Which radiated with mana. A spirtual link tied and then solidified into the Lich Werepyre’s back. Creating an amalgamation-consisting of the most grotesque appearance possible. Howling with the gritty raspy souls of it’s absorbed races. The Banshee formed a giant blood bubble full of cosmic arcane, dark magic. Fused Alistair seemed like he was ready to level this whole forest. What he hadn’t foreseen was Erebus sprinting at him; debuffed by Fear, but unafraid of Challenge he leaped Jutting his sword with impact on the Torso of the beast. The bomb from the clouds was inches from slamming on their heads and causing a cataclysmic nuke. With the instant death of Alistair a second time; thanks simply to timing and pure brute courage in the face of fear. The spell dissolved and diminished. Alistair fried into mist with no time left in this world to leave words said. There was a place worse than hell for him now.

Petty soul.

He Probably went straight to the Abyss.

All of the loser’s clothing lay ripped and scattered on the Battlefield. Erebus looted it, gaining 5 pumpkin pops and some cash. He made off, deciding to leave the night at that.

End.

1795 Words.