Ignis and King walked through the market, surrounded by the sounds and smells of a busy day. Suddenly, a rogue halfling emerged from the crowd, his eyes filled with determination.
With a swift movement, the halfling attempted to steal from Ignis. She, however, was prepared; her scales reflected the light as she gracefully dodged. In the blink of an eye, King was in front of Ignis, his sword drawn in a menacing arc against the halfling.
The small rogue, agile as only a halfling can be, dodged the blow, using King's outstretched arm as a catapult. With a calculated leap, he launched himself towards Ignis, trying to surprise her with his speed.
But King hadn't given up. In mid-air, he grabbed the halfling's leg, using his strength to stop the attacker's trajectory. In a fluid and controlled movement, King hurled the halfling to the ground with overwhelming power.
The impact was strong, causing passersby to stop and watch the outcome in astonishment. Ignis stepped forward, observing the disoriented halfling before him. "You clearly don't know who you're messing with," Ignis said calmly, approaching the rogue.
King, with a sigh of compassion, extended his hand to the halfling. "Here, friend. Let's settle this peacefully," he said, sincerity in his voice.
The halfling, feigning acceptance, pretended to accept. "Thank you. Your generosity is… admirable," he replied, but his eyes gleamed with hidden malice.
When the halfling made his treacherous move, King was quicker. In a fraction of a second, he dodged, grabbing the halfling's leg. "I thought we could settle this without violence," King said as he spun his own body to throw him.
"What are you thinking? Let me go!" "Don't worry about it!" shouted the halfling, powerless against King's strength. "Don't worry about it," King replied with a malicious smile.
With a powerful movement, King hurled the halfling against the wall of a nearby house. The impact was devastating, causing the structure to collapse on the rogue.
Ignis, who had watched the scene with a mixture of concern and respect, quickly approached. "You don't give a chance, do you, King? Who would have thought you were as agile as you are strong!" she said, admiring King's skill.
King, breathing heavily, replied, "I really hoped to settle this without a fight. But some lessons are learned the hard way. Now he'll learn that… in hell!"
Wiping the sweat from his brow, King decided they needed a rest. Crossing the cobblestone streets, the two made their way to a nearby tavern, known to all as "The Boar's Hat". The tavern doors creaked open, revealing a warm and lively atmosphere.
"What could be better than a good mug of mead to forget the hectic day?" said Ignis, smiling as they searched for a table.
As they settled in, a young man in gleaming armor caught their attention at the next table. He was engaged in lively conversation with a group of travelers, his laughter echoing through the hall.
"I believe that's Oliva Biscuit," said King, looking at the young paladin curiously. "The youngest son of the king of the Letesian Empire. I heard he's been gaining fame for his adventures all over the frontier."
Ignis, intrigued, turned to get a closer look. "He seems far from the stereotypes of royalty," she commented, noting his relaxed demeanor. "Perhaps we should greet him."
Before they could decide, Oliva noticed King and Ignis's gaze. "Hey you! The giant and the dragonborn!" he exclaimed, waving enthusiastically. "Come, join us. There's nothing better than good company and tales of adventure!"
King laughed, appreciating the young paladin's welcoming attitude. "With pleasure," he replied, while Ignis nodded, eager to hear more of his exploits.
As they joined the table, Oliva greeted them with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to this part of the world?"
Ignis spoke up. "Adventure, of course! And perhaps a little unwanted mischief," she said, winking at King, who shrugged.
"Mischievous mischief?" asked Oliva, her eyes wide. "It seems there's a story behind it. I'm eager to hear more."
King and Ignis recounted the day's events, including the confrontation with the treacherous halfling. Oliva listened attentively, occasionally chuckling and offering insightful opinions.
"It's always a pleasure to meet other fearless souls," Oliva concluded, raising his mug in a toast. "To the adventures that unite the improbable and to the destiny that guides our steps!"
"To the adventures!" King and Ignis replied in unison, toasting with the noble paladin, while the tavern continued to echo with laughter and songs.
The next day, Ignis and King go to investigate a dungeon that was said to be cursed, as there was an outbreak of the undead in that region. They prepare themselves and meet in the lobby of the inn where they were staying.
King: Good morning, Lady Ignis. (Bowing in reverence)
Ignis: Please, King... don't call me that. I don't look that old in this form.
King: Alright... Ignis.
Ignis: See? Much better. So, are you ready for our adventure?
King: I can't wait. Speaking of which, what do you think might be causing this outbreak of undead appearances in the dungeon?
Ignis: (Adjusting his cloak on his shoulders as he walks towards the inn door, the morning sun reflecting on his scales) Hm... several possibilities. The most common would be a necromancer or cultist who found a safe place to perform their rituals. Abandoned dungeons are perfect for this: isolated, full of ancient corpses, and with residual mana that facilitates dark magic.
King: (walking beside her, carrying his backpack with supplies) A necromancer, huh... I hope it's someone strong. I haven't been able to use my full strength lately.
Ignis: (gives a slight smile) You worry too much about your strength. If it's a necromancer, I can handle it. If it's something more... exotic, then it might get interesting.
She pauses for a moment at the inn's exit, looking at the road leading to the forest where the dungeon entrance is located.
Ignis: Another possibility is a cursed artifact that was recently activated. Sometimes, inexperienced adventurers mess with things they shouldn't. Or it could be... a leak of the Dark Demon's negative energy, coming from some planar rift...
King: (scratching the back of his neck) The Dark Demon? That would be much worse than a necromancer.
Ignis: That's exactly why we're going to investigate. (She turns to him with a defiant glint in her red eyes) Besides... it's been a while since I've had a good excuse to use real magic. Let's see if this dungeon amuses me a little.
She starts walking towards the village exit, the light wind billowing her cloak.
Ignis: Stay close to me when we go in. Common undead aren't a problem, but if there's something controlling them... it might try to separate us. And I'd rather not have to search for you in the dark.
King: (smiling slightly as he quickens his pace to keep up) Understood. But if you need me, I'll cover your back.
Ignis: (without looking back, but with a slightly softer voice) I know... With your size, you can do much more.
The darkness of the dungeon swallows the daylight as soon as they cross the threshold. The air is heavy, damp, laden with a stench of rotting flesh and ancient mold. The elven stone walls, once engraved with delicate runes, are now stained with black lichen and claw marks that have scratched the surface over centuries.
Ignis advances first, her red eyes immediately adjusting to the dim light, her slit pupils dilating like those of a predator. Her tail drags lightly across the ground, scraping broken bones that crack under the claws of her feet. She doesn't speak; she only raises a hand, signaling for King to stop.
From the end of the corridor, a damp, dragging sound echoes—flesh being pulled across stone.
King: (low voice, almost a growl) How many?
Ignis: (without turning her face) At least twelve. Skeletons and... something more rotten. I smell fresh entrails. Someone died here recently.
The first skeletons emerge staggering from the shadows to the sides. They are not the clean elven warriors of legends; They are broken carcasses, exposed ribs, cracked skulls, still with tattered shreds of dried tendons hanging from them. Their empty eyes gleam with a faint, greenish necromantic light, pulsing like a diseased heart.
King waits no longer. He enters a Rage with a guttural growl that reverberates off the walls. The tribal tattoos on his gray skin ignite blood-red, veins bulging as his Fanatical fury takes over his mind. He lunges forward, the axe descending in a brutal arc.
The first skeleton is split in two. The blade pierces the spine with a dry crack, sending fragments of bone and ancient dust flying through the air. The second tries to raise a rusty sword, but King twists the body and delivers a powerful punch to the skull, tearing off its head, which rolls across the ground with its jaw clicking uselessly.
There is no blood on the bones, but there is on the others.
Three zombies emerge from a side niche—recent human bodies, adventurers perhaps. Their light armor is torn, abdomens ripped open exposing gray, swollen intestines. One of them still has eyes: glassy, white, filled with pus. Its mouth opens in a gurgling groan as it drags its broken legs.
Ignis raises her right hand. Flames condense in her palm, a devouring, hungry fire. She utters the command word in Draconic, and the fireball flies.
The impact is silent at first. Then comes the sound: sizzling flesh, melting fat, bones cracking with the sudden heat. The zombies don't scream—the dead don't scream—but the smell of burnt flesh fills the corridor like a burning slaughterhouse. One of them keeps crawling even with half its torso charred, until King steps on its head with a wet crack of brains splattered across the stone.
Ignis: (cold, emotionless voice) These aren't the work of an apprentice. Necromancy is refined. Whoever is down here knows what they're doing... and is waiting for us.
She advances over the still-smoldering remains, her claws crushing charred bones without hesitation. A drop of blood trickles from a shallow cut on her scaly forearm—a skeleton managed to land a lucky blow before being incinerated. She doesn't even seem to notice.
King wipes the axe on a scrap of clothing from one of the zombies, the viscous, black blood staining the blade.
King: (breathing heavily, fury still pulsing) Those adventurers... they came before us. They didn't even last until the second corridor.
Ignis: (stopping before a cracked stone door, covered in newly carved necromantic symbols with something sharp—perhaps a fingernail) Exactly. They were bait. Or an offering.
She touches the door with the tip of her claw. The symbols glow for an instant, reacting to her draconic blood, then fade.
Ignis: (almost a whisper) Whatever is down there... wants ancient power.
She pushes the door. The rusty hinges refuse to open.
King: (approaching the door) When you pay someone a visit, it's much more polite to knock.
King delivers a powerful punch to the door, shattering it into pieces. Ignis looks on in amazement, but continues on, only patting her chest.
On the other side, the darkness is absolute. And in the center, something large moves—a sound of dragging chains, heavy flesh settling, and a hoarse, slow breath, like a broken bellows, followed by a weak laugh.
???: You finally arrived. You were much faster than I had imagined. But... I'm afraid you arrived a little late.
Ignis: (eyes narrowing, fangs bared) That smell... That energy... that person... no, that thing... it's something much darker and more powerful than we thought.
King: What are you talking about, Ignis?
Ignis: That thing... It's... a demon!
King: A demon!? It can't be... this has suddenly become much more serious.
King raises his axe, his wild smile now replaced by a hard, focused expression. The figure approaches, the chains dragging, the air grows colder, more lifeless, while the smell of sulfur becomes more evident.