32 minutes and 23 seconds.

Horn stood inside the keep. His exhausted clan was mostly spread behind, with a thin line of fighters keeping the door. The distraction Ingrid provided allowed them to get all remaining troops inside. But seeing them in here didn’t give him pleasure. Many faces were missing, he didn’t have the count, but he was sure he missed at least a third, and the remaining were in poor shape. The timer still had over thirty minutes on it, and they wouldn’t stand ten in a straight-up fight. He checked the Soul Well, but the summoning was blocked due to nearby enemies. It wasn’t surprising. Usually, games worked like that. So it was time. Just like the quest said – make it, or break it.

Raising his voice, he addressed his clan, “Lightforge! Today we’ve been through hell. We’ve lost good men, we’ve bled for this castle, and yet it wasn’t enough. The mission put against us is an impossible one.” Heads nodded around, and the atmosphere turned grimmer. “But you know what? FUCK IT!”

The silence grew heavy, but then chuckles broke them. Soon, half the hall was laughing. Healthy deep laughter echoed the room, a stress reliever. Horn waited a moment before continuing, “We are the Lightforge! We’ve done the impossible, and we’ll do it again. So don’t worry, we’ll push through. We’ll start evacuating the hall through the catacombs. I need ten volunteers to hold off the undead until the rest is clear. Then we’ll show them who they messed with, and let me tell you – Nobody mess with the dwarves!”

“Lightforge! Lightforge! LIGHTFORGE!” voices replied.

As he called for volunteers, almost every single one of his dwarves stepped up. He noted those that didn’t, most of them were crafters, but that still was disappointing and somewhat worrying. Choosing nine, he added Goran into the mix and then proceeded to move the rest into the crypts. All their livestock and most of the supplies were already there. He remembered the coffins, but they were secured with heavy stones on top, just a precaution if some old bones decided to wake up from the nap. No sooner than his clan began descending, the door burst under banging of skeletal arms. First a single board, then another. Goran was on top of them, cutting and smashing. Their final stand began.

Taking the only remaining engineer with him, Horn prepared the light bomb. They wedged the crystal between two stones and placed the third one to crash into it when a rope would be pulled. After they finished, he left the instructions to use it when Goran’s men couldn’t hold out any longer. Then, to get the hell out of there.

Horn himself started climbing the stairs. The first two floors were empty, but he saw Grom hammering at one of the stone tiles on the third. “Why are you still here? Isn’t it done already?”

“I’m fricking sightseeing. These tiles are just a piece of amazing engineer feat!” The builder replied, still chipping away.

“What?”

“I’m not finished yet! I told you there isn’t enough time, or the whole damn thing collapses!”

“Well, I don’t care anymore. It can collapse. We’re done with that part of the plan!”

“Oh… That changes things.”

“Oh?! You have like three minutes before skeletons get your bony ass. Get moving!” Horn shouted, turning back.

“I’ll be done in five!” Grom replied, ignoring the comment.

“God damn it!” Horn cursed while thinking. The stairwell was quite broad. He might be able to slow them down, but not for a few minutes. He began descending when he saw the light emanating from every small hole in the stonework. The bomb was fired, so the doorway was lost. He stopped and looked for a place to defend. The turnaround in the stairway would probably be the best position. He strapped his shield and grabbed his axe. A few seconds later, there were footsteps on the stairway. Horn readied a strike when he saw a familiar head appearing. Goran was running towards him, with skeletons hot on his tail.

“What are you doing here? Does anyone fucking listen to me anymore?”

“Glad to see you too, Chieftain, duck!” Goran replied, launching himself flat. Horn reacted instinctively, dropping to his knee and raising the shield. A metallic bang echoed a heartbeat later as a crossbow bolt bounced off the metal.

Horn had no idea where it came from, but it did. Cursing, he braced and asked as Goran joined him. “What happened?”

“All according to plan, the clan is in the catacombs, and they’re be burying the exit behind them. We lost Flunder and Girim, but they bought time. The main hall is crawling with the undead, and I saw all three necromancers entering it just as we detonated the crystal.” Like a confirmation of Goran’s words, Horn heard a loud chant over the clanking of bones.

“Well, let’s hope that’ll take them a while,” Horn muttered as the first skeleton approached. A quick slash, cut one of its arms off, and then a shield bash sent it tumbling back the stairs. However, another two appeared in its place, and the grind continued. Slash after slash, he worked in tandem with Goran. When one attacked, the other defended. Skeleton after skeleton got trashed. But it wasn’t enough. The sheer mass of the undead climbing the stairs was astounding. The chant also started to reach higher octanes.

Horn knew the time was running out, he started backing on the stair. Fighting a moving battle over old and steep stairs wasn’t the most fun he had in life, but it was close. Surprisingly, somehow he didn’t trip. They reached the third floor with a horde on their heels. But what worked even better, Horn saw parts of the undead spreading on the other levels. Either they were looking for his dwarves, or they just mindlessly filled the keep, but it worked perfectly. Finally, he heard Grom’s voice from behind, “All right, it's done. It’ll work, almost certain of that, well you can't be certain of anything with hoomish buildings, but I’m almost sure.”

Maybe that weren’t the words Horn wanted to hear, but between them and the undead, he would take the chances. He shouted back, “Then use it already! We’re running out of time down here!”

“Prepare everything, then use it already, just like my ex-wife! Never could make a decision and keep it!” Grom grumbled from above.

“I will fucking kill you!” Horn replied in rage,

And Goran added, “And I’ll keep you still while he does!”

“Fine!” Grom called back.

A few moments later, the sound of pickaxe was echoing in the stone walls. As he heard that, Goran asked, “But you never told me what was the plan?”

“Oh,” Horn replied, “You’ll see!”

Not thirty seconds later, the walls began to shake. Taking this as a cue, Horn shouted, “Haul your ass to the fourth floor. This thing is going to collapse!”

He left the dumbstruck champion behind and sprinted up the stairs like the world was ending. Which in some way was doing just that. The old keep structure began screeching with pain as pieces of mortar gave up and crumbled into dust. Here and there, stones started moving and falling down. The whole thing was going down, or if Grom did his job, the first three floors were going down. He really hoped that was the case, as the Gryphon and the eggs were on the fourth one, and he was going there. He really wanted them to survive, they were the whole reason behind this challenge, or he thought so.

Horn knew that there was no way he could defeat the undead army, nor probably hold until the end of the timer. He came close, but close wasn’t enough. So he had another idea. The quest said, Stop the ritual, or kill the necromancers. Ergo, the necromancers were the ones doing the ceremony at the Soul Well. A Soul Well located on the bottom floor of old four stories keep. That was occupied by dwarves for the past few hours. His people were great builders. Who said they couldn’t demolish as well? This was why he summoned Grom’s crew. That is what they were doing for the past several hours, loosening the critical points. Hacking out others for a precise demolition of the first three floors. He doubted that even a powerful mage was able to withstand several hundred tons of stone dropping on his head.

The catacombs that were leading far away from the keep were a godsend. Horn was worried about his clan's survival, but with the miners checking the far end, they told him it would be quite easy to dig themselves out of there. The only thing he regrated was the loss of all wagons and both scorpions. They were just too big to fit in there. At least the animals were herded in there - small victories.

They raced up the stairs as the keep kept shaking. Horn was almost sure Grom fucked up. The building should move like that. He had just reached the top floor when an almighty crash deafened him. Like a mountain dropping from the sky, the ground itself shook. Pillars of dust were shot in the air, and pieces of gravel dropped from the sky. Horn fell to his knees as the world kept shaking.

A minute later, the shakes stopped, and surprisingly the top floor stood whole. Grom was spread on the floor next to him, with Goran a few steps behind. Horn could swear that he heard Grom muttering, “I do not believe that worked. It had one in five chances to work. Thank gods!”

Horn just started laughing, he checked the quest seeing,

New quest: The cycle of undeath

Objective: Defend the Soul Well for 12 minutes and 3 seconds or find and kill Necromancers. Progress: 11/12

Bonus objective: Protect at least half of Gryphon eggs. Progress 15/15

Failure: Allow the necromancers to complete a ritual at the Soul Well.

Reward: New clan members (wave 5/5), Hidden

Bonus reward: Friendship of the young Gryphons, Blueprint for Gryphon’s Nest – Tier 4 building

He almost did it! The final necromancer was somewhere out there, but the timer was nearly done. But then, something happened. The number next to Gryphon eggs dropped to 13/15. Horn raised his head and saw it. The majestic creature didn’t look anything like before. The festering wounds spread through its body, and the smell of rot blanketed the whole place. However, the stone shard sticking out of its chest was probably the worst addition. Fresh blood still covered it, and the creature couldn’t be alive. Nothing could survive a foot-wide stone pillar skewering its chest. However, not being alive didn’t stop the beast from tearing apart another egg. The mighty foot-long talons shredded the delicate shell.

Horn cursed, the guardian turned undead and was killing HIS Gryphons! That wouldn’t fly. “Goran, get your arse up. We have a beasty to kill.”, then he shouted at the creature, “Ey, birdy, come play with someone that can fight back.”

However, beside his bravado, he was terrified. The beast was huge, and the talons didn’t seem to lose any of their power despite being dead. The carving in the stone said so. Despite the shout, the undead Gryphon ignored him and punched through another egg. Annoyed, Horn charged, casting Radiant blast. The light erupted from his chest, and the creature finally noticed. It shrieked in pain but didn’t seem to be affected too much. However, it spread its wings and, with a single leap, was on top of him. Talons struck in a blink of an eye, and Horn barely managed to interpose his shield. A loud metallic clang echoed, and he was flung back. He sailed a few dozen feet in the air before smacking hardly on the ground. The single strike, not even penetrating his defenses, cost him a fifth of his health. Taking a look at the beast he saw, Undead Empyrian Gryphon level 40-60

The creature was a class in its own. They stood no chance against it. Still, that didn’t stop Goran. The dwarf closed the distance, throwing his taunt at the beast. It launched its beak forward, piercing through his shield. The metal screeched under strain and broke, but it stopped the attack. However, it didn’t stop the Gryphon from pulling back. With its beak stuck in the shield, the undead threw Goran into the air. Thankfully for the champion, his armor held, and he was being tossed in the air, but without getting hurt – yet. Horn went through his options. They didn’t stand a chance against the creature in a normal fight. His spells probably wouldn’t fare a lot better. He still had the last soul crystal with him, but nowhere to wedge it, nor was he sure if the blast would kill it. He could cast another empowered Flame Strike, but truth to be told, he was afraid of doing so. The last one was, though.

His thinking was stopped by Goran’s shield finally giving out. With a sickly crack, the dwarf was smacked against the wall and dropped to the ground. Horn had no idea if his champion was still alive, but it didn’t stop the undead from refocusing on him. Without choice, Horn grabbed the crystal and started the cast. He felt familiar power spreading and warmth growing from the stone. The flame erupted from his palm, the raging inferno hurtling towards the monster. But then something unexpected happened. A black shield appeared around the creature. It shrieked with displeasure, but the shield blocked the flames. Horn began feeling the strain of maintaining the spell, but the sphere just stubbornly held. It was just like the shield necromancers put on, but a magnitude stronger. His mana began graying out again, and he knew there were only a few seconds left before he would start hurting a lot.

At the same time, in the old monastery, Sigrid’s patience was about to pay off. She tracked the remaining necromancer through the whole building. He never left behind his guard of four black-armored skeleton warriors. She decided to keep with him, as he was different from the remaining ones she saw. His robes were higher quality, and the amount of jewelry on his hands shouted – big shot. She tracked him to another large room. This one had a feeling of some kind of spellcasting place. Runes shone on the ground in several circles, all-around a single rune-covered plate in the middle. Several such plates were in a circular pattern on an outermost ring, but only a single one in the middle.

The guards were left behind at the door into the room, and the necromancer stood in the middle. Deep in concentration. He was standing there for good twenty minutes before his eyes shot open for a brief moment, before closing again, but Sigrid felt energy gathering in the room. Whatever the mage was doing, it spelled bad news for the clan.

Making a choice, she used her dagger as a lever to open the window. It released with a loud crack. She froze for a moment, but the mage didn’t seem to notice. She slipped into the room and hefted her daggers. Slowly stepping on her toes, she closed the distance, and with joy, stabbed with both blades. The left one struck the neck, severing the artery, while the other slipped neatly under the seventh rib piercing the heart. A death kiss – that was how they called it in the brotherhood.

However, her delight was cut short as the door burst in and armored figures thundered in the room. She jumped back towards the windows. Climbing out, but the undeads were surprisingly agile. They caught up to her in a matter of seconds, and a swing of the blade cut her midsection. The pain was manageable, but the strength of the strike broke her balance. With a silent scream, she plummeted three stories onto the ground. A crack in her ankle told her she was done for. And figures appearing from every nook and cranny told her she wouldn’t have to wait for long. But then an unfamiliar voice from above said, “You must be Sigrid? Horn sends me, name Herrak.”

Horn was struggling to keep the flame going when suddenly the shield cracked and disappeared. The inferno punched through, blanketing the undead Gryphon in a thick coat of fire. Its once splendid fur burned and sparkled under the heat, and the creature had to feel something despite being dead as screams of agony followed. However, the monster wasn’t done for. With its diminishing strength, it threw himself at the source of its pain. Two talons grabbed his chest, and Horn felt being raised into the air. He couldn’t see anymore, as the heat forced him to close his eyes. He kept channeling the spell, even as he felt it was killing him. A few moments passed as they climbed higher and higher in the air. Then suddenly, he felt the grasp lessening. A heartbeat later, he was in free fall, the cold air disrupted his tired mind, and the spell ended. Horn opened his eyes, seeing the quickly approaching ground. When a chime echoed in his head. A flash of brightness bathed everything, taking with it his consciousness.