Siterion- 'All Hail the Champion'

Arin's face grew stern. He walked towards the grieving Cazaqui, grabbed it by the neck, and pulled it up to meet his eyes. "Yes, I did! So what?" he snarled. Strengthening his grip, he choked the Cazaqui further. "You want pity? Would you have pitied me if that snake had eaten me alive? Whatever the world, it has always been built over piles of bodies of the weak, killed by the strong!" Arin threw the Cazaqui to the ground. "If I'm not strong, I'll lie down like you and become another stepping stone for the stronger to climb!"

The Cuitlaquilin stood up. Taking out a gilded dagger, he grabbed it firmly with both hands and pounced on Arin. Arin stepped aside, and the Cuitlaquilin fell hard on its face. Arin smiled and placed his left foot on its skull, pressing it against the damp floor. "So, what will you do now, you wretched vermin?"

"I will do nothing," it grumbled. "Whatever happens to you from now on will be done by my Great Lord! You will die under the wrath of Nahun the Mighty." Arin chuckled, "Newsflash! I'm already dead!" He pressed his foot harder. With a crunching sound, the rat's skull cracked under his foot.

Arin was a bit surprised. Why were there no notifications suddenly? It was too quiet. Something felt odd. He had assumed that he only received notifications when the ongoing crisis resolved. He wondered if it meant the crisis hadn't resolved yet and more troubles awaited him, like another 'boss' enemy. Or perhaps he had entered a dungeon and needed to exit to the 'normal' level of the sewer. Or, there could be other things for him to explore. Arin wished there was an objective table or Quest Marker, like in actual games.

Arin commanded a risen Cuitlaquilin to search the dead Cazaqui's belongings. There was only an amulet and a precious ornate dagger. On its hilt, a snake was curved, its eyes made of ruby. The amulet was similar to the ones he had obtained from other ratmen he had killed previously, but the metal was of good quality. Arin had expected to absorb the dark energy from it. But, to his surprise, there was no trace of dark energy in it. It seemed that with the demise of Nahun's acolyte, as well as the followers and the great priest, his influence had dwindled or ceased to exist in this area. Arin wondered why Nerthazir's influence was still strong there, even after the destruction of the temple and the priests. There were so many mysteries Arin still had to unravel.

Arin tried to pick up a tablet to carry with him, but it was firmly attached to the ground. Therefore, Arin and his entourage moved on to explore other parts of the secret chamber. There were mostly makeshift quarters of the guards, nothing of much importance or value. However, after searching around, he ended up in front of another big door.

The door seemed closely shut, like it hadn't been opened for eons. Even the Cazaqui and its minions must have avoided it. As Arin was stuck in a dilemma about whether to open it or not, or even how to open it, he heard a thumping sound. It was as if someone was pushing or punching something very heavy.

And it was coming from behind the door. Arin tried to listen and identify the source and nature of the sound better by putting his ear against the door. But, to his great astonishment, the door opened as soon as he touched it. It was as if it had been waiting for Arin's touch to open.

Arin entered the big hall, finding a large sarcophagus. Something was buried or trapped in it. Whatever was inside the sarcophagus was trying hard to get out, causing the thumping sound.

Arin thought for a moment and tried to open the lid. The heavy stone slab of the lid flipped like it was made of cardboard. A heavy green mist exploded from the sarcophagus, filling the entire room. In front of Arin appeared a Lich. The Lich stood as an imposing figure, shrouded in a tattered robe that once bore the sacred symbols of his divine order. Now, those symbols were warped and distorted with time, mirroring his fall from grace. His skeletal frame was wrapped in fragments of desiccated flesh, giving him a ghastly, almost mummified appearance. His eye sockets were hollow and dark like an abyss. Suddenly, they began to glow with a baleful, unnatural light, casting an eerie aura around him.

Arin felt the air grow cold and heavy. Wisps of dark energy swirled around the Lich's bony fingers, adorned with rings of power and ancient runes.

The Lich looked at Arin and suddenly stepped back, or rather flew back, as he was floating above the floor. With immense grace, the Lich bowed to Arin. To Arin's surprise, he observed all the risen ratmen also bowing to him, perfectly mirroring the Lich's gesture and posture.

Then the Lich spoke to Arin, with a voice resonating with the hollow echo of the grave, sending chills down the spines of any mortal who dared to listen. "I knew my Lord would not abandon me, and the moments of my shame, our shame, would be forgiven. I would be blessed with a second life to serve the Dread Father." Arin did not reply, knowing that sometimes speaking less or nothing is far better than blabbering like a fool. "If I had eyes, I would cry blood witnessing the glory of the Champion of our Lord. My eternal imprisonment ended when you called me to 'Rise'. Now order me, Sovereign. How can the lowly servant be of service to His Majesty?"

"You may rise," Arin waved at him. "As you command, Sire," the Lich followed his gesture and stood up. "Now give me your introduction and what happened to you," Arin asked. "As you may see, I am still in the dark." Arin did not want to pretend, feeling that the Lich could tell if he was faking, and the outcome could be foul.

"I can sense it, my Lord," the Lich bowed again with utmost respect. "It seems you have risen in this body not long ago and have not unlocked your chains or started utilizing your power. So let me have the honor to be of service!"

Arin was getting a bit annoyed with the unnecessary long speech, and he raised his eyebrow. The Lich probably got the hint and promptly corrected himself. "I am Zulkarnash, the High Priest of the Dread Father. This was once an important temple city dedicated to Lord Ner'thazir. I was the overlord of the central Ziggurat and the lord of the city."

Arin nodded. Zulkarnash was indeed a haunting reminder of the mortal priest he once was, now twisted into an immortal herald of darkness and death.

He continued, "When the vile gods were destroying the city along with the Ziggurat, my Lord spoke to me. I followed the Dread Father's command, sealed myself in this tomb, and trapped it with the Dread Father's blessing, awaiting the return of the Hem'netjer, who would free me from this imprisonment once again!"

"Return?" Arin asked. "Do you mean there was another before me?"

"Yes, that was the reason," Zulkarnash spoke cryptically. "But I think that is something to discuss when we are out of this."

"Yes," Arin nodded. "You are right."

"But before that, my Sire," Zulkarnash waved his hand, "you should have this, as it seems you lack a proper item for yourself." A long staff appeared out of thin air in his bony hands. "Please accept it, my Lord, and pour a bit of Necromantic Energy into it!"

Arin received it and followed his guidance. To both of their surprise, the mundane-looking staff started floating in the air, emanating a bright, blight-green luminescence, and transformed into a majestic, awe-inspiring staff.

"Staff of Eternal Night!" Zulkarnash murmured in an awestruck voice.

It was indeed an awe-inspiring artifact, exuding both grandeur and dread. Now it appeared to be crafted from ancient, mythical darkened wood that seemed to absorb light.

At the top of the staff, a large, flawless crystal of deep obsidian was held in place by skeletal claws, seemingly carved from bone yet imbued with an otherworldly sheen. The crystal pulsated faintly with a sinister energy, casting shadows that danced eerily in its vicinity. Encircling the obsidian were intricate runes and glyphs, glowing with a malevolent blue hue, symbols of ancient necromantic power and forgotten rites.

As it completed its transformation and took its final shape, it dropped into Arin's hand. As soon as Arin held it, a psionic pulse exploded around him, the wave spreading all around, echoing through the empty chambers and sewers.

Zulkarnash dropped to the floor and prostrated himself before Arin. "All hail the Hem'netjer," he chanted, as if the entire Netherworld echoed in unison, glorifying Arin!