The Final Stand: Unity Against Darkness

Tomas, panting heavily, turned to Arlan with a grin, despite the chaos around them. "Well, well. Looks like I'm saving your ass again" He wiped the sweat from his brow. "You really know how to get yourself into trouble, don't you?"

Before Arlan could respond, Mira emerged from the dust cloud, staff in hand, her eyes hard as stone. She fixed him with an icy stare, then spoke through clenched teeth. "We'll talk about this later. After we're done killing everything in sight."

Arlan shuddered at the thought of what that conversation would entail.

Leila followed, giving Arlan a wink as she nocked an arrow, her voice light but with an edge of concern. "You really do know how to drag us into trouble, don't you?"

And at last, Beren emerged, He gave Arlan a solid pat on the shoulder with a grin on his face. "Told you, you'd get us all killed."

Each of their words cut through the tension in the air, reminding Arlan of why they were fighting—for each other, for the city, and for a chance at survival. Arlan felt a brief sense of comfort but knew the battle ahead would demand everything from him.

The Lich stood tall, a figure of absolute darkness. The undead around him moved like an unstoppable tide, and the air itself was charged with the essence of death. Arlan felt it—the crushing weight of it all. But this was it. The moment they had all been waiting for.

Tomas surged forward first, Gerald raised as a bulwark between the Lich and his companions. He deflected necrotic pulses with expert precision, but each block sent vibrations through his body. Tomas was beginning to show signs of exhaustion, but his determination never wavered.

Leila stayed on the fringes, darting between shadows, her arrows finding their marks in the undead minions that swarmed the battlefield. Her movements were swift and precise, but her eyes darted constantly to Tomas. There was an undeniable sense of dread that gnawed at her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this battle was too much for them to handle.

Mira, with her fire magic, sent waves of flame cascading through the horde. Each fireball she cast incinerated undead, but the Lich's power seemed to be endless. Her magic didn't seem to have the same impact as before. She shot a glance at Arlan, frustration and worry clouding her features. He was the key, but she wasn't sure how much longer they could hold the line.

Beren cleaved through wave after wave of undead with his axe, the massive weapon cutting through bones and flesh with ease. But even his raw power was beginning to wane. Each swing felt heavier, and the Lich's power was pushing them all toward their limits.

Despite their efforts, the Lich wasn't just standing back—he was actively manipulating the battlefield. With every movement, undead minions rose from the ground, as though the earth itself was being twisted into his will. The Lich's aura darkened everything, and the group could feel their strength fading under his relentless pressure.

The Lich's Power Unleashed

The Lich raised his skeletal hands to the sky, and the very earth beneath them rumbled. A pulse of necrotic energy shot outward, and undead soldiers poured from every crack in the city's foundation. The ground shook violently as the Lich unleashed a wave of necrotic destruction—the sheer force of it tore through the streets, ripping apart everything in its path.

Tomas took the brunt of the force, his shield barely holding up against the onslaught. He staggered but didn't fall. Leila and Mira scrambled to reposition, firing arrows and blasting fire, but their attacks barely seemed to faze the endless tide of undead.

Beren was knocked to the ground by a massive blast of necrotic energy, his body crashing into the rubble. He tried to rise but was shaking, struggling to stand. The undead kept coming, and they weren't stopping.

The Turning Point

Arlan stood in the midst of the carnage, feeling utterly helpless. His summons—Vrekk and Gorrick—werent in fighting condition. He had relied on them for too long, but now, it was his turn to stand on his own. The Lich's power was overwhelming, Arlan wasn't sure he could win this battle.

His gaze turned toward his companions. Tomas was doing everything he could to hold them off, but even he was wearing thin. Mira, Leila, and Beren were all taking damage. The weight of the world seemed to press down on him.

And then, something within Arlan shifted.

He closed his eyes, pushing aside the doubts, and reached deep within himself. The necrotic energy he had long relied on began to surge in his veins. But this time, it was different. He wasn't using it to control. He was using it to protect.

He tapped into his own soul, pouring his very life force into the magic. Shadows swirled around him, and his body flickered between corporeal and ethereal. For a brief moment, Arlan became one with the shadows, his presence flickering in and out of existence, faster than ever before. He could feel the power of death coursing through him, but this time, it was his choice. It was his defiance against the Lich's influence.

He raised his hand, his fingers glowing with dark magic, and lashed out at the Lich.

The Lich's skeletal form faltered, a flicker of surprise crossing his empty sockets. Arlan's magic hit the Lich with force, cracking his dark armor and sending waves of energy through his body.

But the battle wasn't over. The Lich reacted swiftly, his eyes glowing brighter as he retaliated, launching a devastating necrotic wave.

Severing the Connection

Arlan's eyes widened as he noticed something on the Lich—a dark crystal embedded into his chest, pulsing with the same green energy that fueled the Lich. Arlan realized that this crystal was the source of the Lich's power. It was the anchor, binding the Lich to his master, Malthar.

Arlan's hand shot out, and the necrotic energy that flowed from him extended toward the crystal. He could feel its dark magic pushing against him, but he didn't stop. With a roar, he gathered all of his soul energy and lashed out at the crystal, shattering it.

The Lich screamed, the sound echoing across the battlefield. The necrotic energy that had once held him together began to unravel.

Victory and Aftermath

The Lich's form disintegrated, his skeletal body turning to ash. The undead that had risen with him fell to the ground, their bones crumbling to dust. The battlefield grew quiet, the sound of death finally fading away.

And then, through the dust and smoke, a single ray of sunlight pierced the gloom, shining down on Arlan's exhausted form. His eyes fluttered as he felt the warmth on his face, a small reminder that the smallest of light shines bright in the darkness.

He smiled, his body finally giving out from the strain. His vision blurred, and as he collapsed, he heard the voices of his companions, but they seemed far away. The light dimmed as he lost consciousness, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders.