The master spy or Puss in the boot adventures

The death of the emperor, Part 63

Scorpion struck like a viper, his katana flashing in the flickering light as it pierced the Emperor's back. The tyrant let out a strangled gasp, eyes widening in shock and pain as he slumped forward. Blood pooled around the throne in an ever-widening crimson stain.

"No!" Nyx howled in fury as he saw his puppet ruler fall. "You will pay for that, assassin!" The necromancer redoubled his assault, hurling bolts of necrotic energy at Scorpion with reckless abandon.

The assassin danced between the blasts, his smoke-wreathed form seeming to blur and vanish as he evaded Nyx's wrath. Scorpion lunged at the necromancer, his blade hungering for the kill. But Nyx was far from helpless. With a wave of his staff, he summoned a wall of bones to block the ninja's strike.

Across the chamber, Mer-Mer cried out in pain as one of the undead guards managed to land a blow, its rusted sword biting deep into the beastling's shoulder. Shadow magic swirled around Mer-Mer as he fought to stay conscious, the dark energies within him surging in response to his distress.

Latina saw her friend fall and let out a roar of anger. Abandoning her duel with the venomous spider, she leapt to Mer-Mer's aid, her spear a whirlwind of deadly precision as she tore through the undead ranks.

Ragnar meanwhile was being slowly driven back by Pooch's relentless assault, the metal hound's jaws snapping at his heels. The rebel warrior's sword arm burned with fatigue as he parried blow after crushing blow. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever.

"A little help here!" Ragnar shouted desperately to anyone who could hear. As if in answer, a barrage of crossbow bolts whizzed past his head, sinking into Pooch's metallic hide with dull thunks. Ragnar whirled to see Shadow-Cat perched atop a shattered pillar, a stolen crossbow in her hands. The cat-spirit gave him a fierce grin before reloading and firing again.

In the center of the melee, Spartacus and the demon continued their cataclysmic duel, blades ringing and dark energies crackling. Both bore wounds that would have felled a lesser being, but they fought on with desperate ferocity.

Chaos reigned all around as rebels clashed with undead and abominations spawned from the blackest pits. Mer-Mer frantically dodged lunging corpses, his shadow magic straining to keep them at bay. Latina skewered the monstrous spider again and again, black ichor spraying, but still it came on with implacable hunger. Ragnar yelped as Pooch's metal jaws snapped inches from his throat, the warrior desperately fending off the demon hound.

Sweat beaded on Scorpion's brow beneath his mask. The moment had to be now, while Nyx was distracted. Bracing himself, the assassin tensed, preparing to leap...

When suddenly, a piercing whistle cut through the din of battle like an icy wind. Everyone, living and undead alike, paused in a moment of startled confusion. Even Spartacus and the demon halted, their weapons locked together, as they sought the source of the sound.

There, striding through the shattered doors of the throne room, came a familiar figure in black robes, crimson eyes gleaming with power and purpose.

Mer-Mer gasped in shock. "Vespera?"

The healer's staff was aglow with eldritch light that pulsed in mesmerizing patterns. She walked with fluid grace, untouched by the surrounding violence, an aura of command emanating from her.

"Nyx!" Vespera called out, her voice echoing with unearthly resonance. "Your foul sorcery ends here."

The necromancer spun to face her, baring rotten teeth in a snarl. "You dare to challenge me, witch? I'll add your corpse to my army!"

He thrust his staff forward, sending a seething ball of black mana hurtling towards Vespera. But she merely raised a hand and the deathly energy dissipated like mist before the rising sun. Nyx stumbled back, disbelief and fear .

"You've won nothing!" the necromancer spat venomously. "Solaris is on the cusp of ultimate victory. Enjoy this hollow triumph while you can, for soon you will all be kneeling before a new god!"

With that final hateful pronouncement, Nyx vanished in a swirl of oily smoke, retreating to scheme anew. The Emperor lay on his throne, blood trickling down his crimson robe.

Seeing their most powerful ally run away, the undead guards collapsed like puppets with cut strings, the necromancer's magic undone. Pooch and the spider skittered away into the shadows to lick their wounds. Only the demon Champion still stood, axe crackling with dark power.

"I think we've won, "Spartacus said, wiping his face, black with the demon's blood...

"Only the demon left, the necro run away!"

but he was very very wrong...