Heavy droplets of water plunged from the sky, falling to their ultimate doom at one of two extremes. Some of them sizzled away into nothing but curling wisps of steam when they touched the searing surface of the beam of Light. While others fell deep into the cold embrace of the wall of shadows, engulfing themselves in its endless void as they were hungrily swallowed up by the shadows, as if it was a starved beast getting its first taste of water.

The wall of shadows itself cast a long and infinitely dark shadow, one that was growing slowly and expanding across the ground despite the blinding source of light directly above it, and the fact that the source of the shadows was not changing at all.

It was an impossible shadow, by all known laws of physics and logic. But since when did that matter?

The Lightbringer only noticed the encroaching shadow at the last minute, cutting off his sizzling beam of light and leaping backwards, just as the inky black spikes launched themselves from the darkness. Spears made of shadows erupted from the encroaching darkness, stabbing at the air as the Lightbringer twisted his body to barely avoid them.

He wasn't able to move far, the horde of puppeteered bodies might not have posed much of a threat to him, but they were densely populated and refused to be easily moved. Pushing against them was like pushing against the tides of the ocean, and trying to move through them with their grasping and dragging hands was like trudging through a mire. Only instead of mud sucking at your boots, it was rotten hands clawing at your face.

The Undead were always most dangerous in numbers, especially when they had an intelligent mind behind them.

The shadow spears that did manage to tear apart his clothes and dig into his flesh, simply scraped across it uselessly, not even leaving a white mark never mind a proper cut. All of the shadow spikes failed to pierce his iron skin, as the belief of his invulnerability held too strongly amongst their audience.

Noticing their futile efforts, the shadow spikes lost their rigidity and immediately became prehensile and fluid, turning from spikes into tendrils like that of an octopus, that eagerly began to ensnare the Lightbringer.

They wrapped around his thighs and ankles, shackled his wrists and curled around his mouth to act as in ice cold, shadowy gag that muffled the Lightbringers angry screams.

New beams of searing light poured from his eyes, blasting away the shadows that were trying to blind fold him, before he set the beams on one of his arms shadowy shackles. Once his arm was free, light poured from that as he freed himself.

But for every chain of darkness he broke, another leapt from the shadows to take its place. For every undead monstrosity or empty suit of armour he batted away, two more were already lunging at him.

It was endless.

'He's trying to drain me, but it won't work. Hehe, that idiot thinks I'm like all the others. So long as these people believe in their god, my power will never run out. If he keeps up like this, it will be him that runs dry first!'

The Lightbringer was so focused on his internal monologue and laughing to himself, that he failed to notice an important detail. The man that he was laughing to himself about had disappeared.

Although the wall of shadows had fell, their conductor was no where to be seen.

He was so focused on the shadows that were latching onto his body, that he didn't notice the ones spread across the battle, stuck to the feet of every member of Seth's unliving army.

Pure black smoke curled from these shadows, as if they were hundreds of hands reaching out into the third dimension, clawing at the world above in eagerness to be one with it and no longer stuck to the second dimension.

One of these curling, smoking shadows, was much darker than others. And within that black abyss, shone a pair of silver eyes that focused on one thing, and one thing alone.

Death.

Seth leapt from the shadows, already swinging his newly forged weapon as he soared through the air. Perhaps it was the eruption of energy, or perhaps it was the feeling of a murderous gaze burning into the back of his head. It might have even been him finally realising his idiotic mistake.

Or maybe... just maybe it was the luring call of death as his hand tickled the back of the Lightbringers spine, sending chills down it.

Whatever it was at that moment, the absence and reappearance of the Death-bringer finally clicked in the mind of the Lightbringer, as he whirled around towards Seth to find his weapon swinging towards him.

A scythe, formed of pure black blood, cleaved through the air towards the Lightbringer like the weapon of Death himself.

The Lightbringer raised his arms on instinct, confident in his indestructible iron skin. But at the last moment, a flash of fear caused him to leap backwards while keeping up his defense.

The swing that should have cleaved into his neck instead scraped across his arms, tearing apart his splendid and expensive suit like it was tissue paper. A flash of pain erupted from the Lightbringers forearm, where the blade split his skin as easily as his clothing.

The cry of pain was heard by all, causing a new wave of hushed and fearful whispers to spread across the audience. The scythe of death on the tip of their tongues, as they all spoke of the god slaying weapon.

A weapon that did not need their belief, but only benefited from it.

The Lightbringer stumbled back, clutching his forearm which began to trickle blood, as he dodged the next few swipes with panicked movements. Light beams erupted from his eyes, striking down grasping shadows and cutting apart the undead legion that were still dragging him down.

'I need to get out of here... I can't do anything with these damn zombies and these traitors watching on doing nothing to help their god! I need a better audience. I need numbers of my own!'

With a cry of outrage, and in a desperate display of power, a wave of pure light erupted from the Lightbringer, forcing everyone and everything back, including Seth who was ready to take his head once again.

The unliving army around him was thrown back, but with no minds to be disorientated nor eyes to be blinded, they immediately lunged forwards once more whilst Seth retreated into the shadows once more, waiting for his next opportunity.

But the Lightbringer had other plans. Wings of pure light, like that of an angel, sprouting from the Lightbringers back and with a single flap, he shot into the air like a rocket. The earth trembling from his powerful leap as a tsnumi of air rushed along the ground, throwing countless members of their audience back.

From their seat on their ground, and with freshly bruised butts, they watched in awe as the Lightbringer shot into the sky, retreating so high that he appeared as nothing but a dot of light against the black clouds, before that dot shot off into the distance.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The Lord of Death launched from the depths of the shadows, large smokey wings flapping in the air as he soared after him. Some might have seen them as wings of a demon, mainly those that followed the Lightbringer, but it was his own forces that knew differently.

They had seen those exact wings spread across the sky and blotting out the sun countless times before. It was the wings of the Wyvern.

Glancing over his shoulder, the Lightbringer let out a muffled curse as he flew. Unable to ignore the shadowy figure in hot pursuit of him. Worst of all, was the dull and throbbing pain in his arm, which he had clutched tight against his chest.

Black veins crept across his arm like cracks in the surface of a porcelain vase. However unlike when it spread throughout Seth's veins, there was nothing protective or divine about this.

It oozed a profane aura, at least to the Lightbringers senses. Each spread of the disease brought with it a new bout of pain, and a dwindling of his energy.

Energy that should have been limitless, and yet this wicked poison was eating away at it. Piece by piece.

Seth's draconic wings beat heavily against the air, formed entirely out of the wispy darkness of his cloak, as he forced himself forwards. He drew closer to the Lightbringer, each inch feeling like a mile as he pushed himself to his furthest extent.

He wasn't sure if it was because he was going faster, or simply because the Lightbringer was slowing down.

But it didnt matter.

As soon as he drew close enough, Seth began to inhale. Filling his lungs with the chilling air, and filling the other organ that resided in his throat. An organ that swirled the oxygen inside it, converting it into a noxious green gas that gathered in his mouth.

With a flick of his wrist, Seth's ethereal thread wove themselves into a complex pattern infront of him. A single dancing across the entire pattern, like the singular stroke of a pen.

A second thread joined its brethren once the first had completed its task. But it didn't weave a complex pattern. All it did was create a single dot, that caused the entire pattern to glow with the energy he poured into it.

A pattern that spelled out the first word Seth had learned in the runic language.

FIRE.

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