Wood Against Undead Part Two

The axe's blade cleaved through the first mage's ribcage, splitting it in two. Its tattered robes fluttered empty to the ground before its bones collapsed into dust.

Another raised its staff—Arkanos grabbed it with his free hand and ripped it from its grasp, snapping the ancient wood like a twig.

Then he drove his knee up into its chest.

CRACK!

The ribcage imploded, and the undead was sent hurtling backward, smashing against the dry, cracked fountain's rim.

Two left.

They shrieked, retreating, frantically carving dark sigils in the air.

But Arkanos didn't give them the chance.

He stomped.

BOOM!

A shockwave rippled from his foot, splintering the stone and calling forth roots from below.

The enchanted roots snaked up, coiling around the final two mages' bony frames.

They struggled. Writhed. Screeched.

But Arkanos clenched his fist.

The vines tightened.