No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

Nyxara allowed herself a faint smirk. "His name is Vel'kharn now, you sentimental idiot."

Lyrisa shrugged, glancing up at the swirling aura of luck above. "Maybe. But deep down, I think Fluffy's still in there. Somewhere under all that doom and despair."

Another pulse of energy burst across the distant ridge.

Nyxara's eyes sharpened again. "We've got incoming. Three signatures. Strong. Could be survivors from another group."

Lyrisa rolled her shoulders, drawing one scimitar and spinning it with a practiced flick. "Then I guess we stall them until our savior is able to fully determine what's real and what's in his head."

Behind them, Damien stirred and the wind grew cold.

An explosion ruptured the terrain to their left, followed by a series of coordinated elemental blasts that struck the sky in synchronized pulses. The scent of poison, the stench of beast blood, and the distant crackle of activated runes rolled across the field like a war drum.

"They found us." Nyxara said flatly.

From the fractured canyon, three groups surged forward, their formation disciplined, their leaders glowing with layered spiritual signatures. The Silver Lotus Court. The Beast King Pavilion. The Heavenly Rune Empire.

And at the front of each:

Yan Qinglan, face serene, eyes cold, a trail of wilting flowers blooming behind her.

Jin Tu, towering, shirtless, growling as he rolled his massive shoulders, stripes glowing red.

Lu Shenyi, smiling, half-naked, half-mad, bones glowing beneath translucent skin as runes drifted lazily around him like lazy wasps.

"So this is him," Yan Qinglan murmured, her voice as soft and cold as snowfall on a tombstone. Her fingers traced lazy spirals in the air as if outlining some ephemeral pattern that only she could see.

"The glorious dead raising mage who dared to kill the unkillable Wu Jinhai. You look… appetizing."

Her words hung in the air, half-appraisal, half-eulogy, and wholly amused.

Jin Tu tilted his head, nostrils flaring as he stepped forward, casting a long, hunched shadow across the cracked earth. His muscles flexed as though in response to a breeze only he could feel, and he squinted, peering at Damien with the curiosity of a beast sniffing a wounded predator.

"Huh. He looks smaller than I expected," he said, voice low and gravelly, tinged with animal rasp. "Is he crying? Or is that... is that blood coming out of his eyes?"

"He's weeping." Yan said smoothly, not taking her eyes off Damien. "Dumbass. It's too late to regret killing Wu Jinhai. Your fate and that of your whole clan is written in stone now. You better not get in the way of Wu Jinhai's father getting revenge."

Jin Tu snorted. "I fear no one. Wu Jinhai has a powerful dad. So do I. Plus… The two drow next to him looks like they are ready to carry my babies. Hahahaha!."

Lu Shenyi, standing a half-step behind the two, clapped his hands once and beamed. His clothes hung loose, runes scrawled across his arms, legs, collarbones, and possibly even his teeth, if his grin was anything to go by.

A faint twitch ran through his cheek, but it was unclear whether it was madness or excitement.

"Delightful," he said, voice lilting and sharp. "Weeping killers, weeping saints, weeping beasts. So much emotion on this battlefield. It's inspiring. I've written three hundred characters of death in my spare time, experimental syntax, lots of bleeding edges. I'm dying to field-test a few."

Lyrisa stepped forward, one hand on her hip, the other tapping her scimitar's pommel. Her gaze swept over the trio with undisguised disdain. "They truly think that us drow are pretty dolls with no abilities, huh?"

Nyxara, still statuesque, her cloak unmoving despite the ambient wind, responded without looking away from the approaching group. "They're about to attack."

"Of course they are," Lyrisa muttered. "Only assassins and narcissists stand like that before a fight. And I see three of each."

Yan Qinglan stepped forward at that moment, her movements fluid, her posture elegant and regal, as though even gravity sought her permission before touching her.

In her palm, a lotus unfolded, its petals glassy and luminescent, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic light. The scent it gave off was too sweet, almost cloying, like honey laced with venom.

"A gift for the weeping boy." she said with a smile that could end marriages. "Something gentle. Something to ease your pain."

"Don't you dare accept anything!" Lyrisa snapped instantly, her voice sharp enough to cut steel. "Not her words, not her flowers, not even a damn compliment."

But Damien didn't respond.

He stood swaying, his body barely upright, legs trembling beneath the weight of the voices pressing into his soul. Crimson streaks painted trails down his cheeks, staining the tattered edges of his collar like war paint drawn by ghosts.

Yan Qinglan's smile flickered. Just for a moment.

"Not responsive?" she said, voice still calm but subtly disappointed. "Unfortunate. I was hoping for a little eye contact. I suppose I'll test my poison another day."

Jin Tu yawned, one clawed hand scratching his shoulder lazily. "Can we skip the flirting and get to the smashing? I'm bored. And hungry. And bored again."

"Then smash the beast." Yan said idly, pointing to Fluffy and stepping back.

Jin Tu cracked his neck with a deep, satisfying pop, veins bulging as his body surged with brute force. "My pleasure."

"Wait for me!" Lu Shenyi said, nearly bouncing in place. "I want to see if the silence glyph works on sobbing. I've never tested it on a crying boy before. Do you think it would mute the souls in his head too?"

"You're disgusting." Yan murmured.

"I'm curious." Lu replied, eyes wide. "There's a difference."

And then, as if choreographed by some unseen director of carnage, they moved.

Together.

Deadly.

Precise.

Laughing.

And Vel'kharn answered.

He didn't leap so much as erupt, a living hurricane of sorrow-forged lightning, his claws screaming with the weight of all the regrets he had ever been chained to.

Each footfall tore the earth asunder, not just through strength but through emotional devastation, his aura dragging sorrow up from the bedrock like it had soaked through the world itself.

The ground where he launched split into a ring of craters, fissures laced with ghostlight spiraling outward. The sky above him howled, not with wind but with anguish, as his wings lashed wide and shredded the air.

The first volley of rune bolts fired by Lu Shenyi didn't just scatter, they dissolved, erased by the ache flooding from Vel'kharn's body like gravitational despair.