Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Only a small force had been sent out, their purpose was simple, but as was expected, they were met with resistance.

"Where did Miss Yuhu and Miss Latir-e-se even go?" Griar had seen the former blur and disappear, and the latter just ran off.

"Leave them be, and focus on the greeting party that just arrived" Lady Syklon, her hand on the handle of her sword, stared at the four minor lords accompanied by large golems built in the image of high orcs, especially the one leading the group, his pale and chipped blade propped against his shoulder.

The four minor lords exchanged a few words in the death tongue.

"The little one, it should be Syklon, the general told us not to engage with her" Alkayne, a zombie garbed in heavy armour, the dark sun represented on his chestplate, his right foot replaced with some sort of metal prosthesis, carrying a halberd, a cape that was originally a banner covering his back.

His face was largely rotted and goopy, still, his eyes remained, retaining a serious glow.

"I can occupy her for at least five minutes, Yuolrt, buff the others" Ourlon hollow sockets darkened, grasping his blade seriously, he pointed it at the small woman.
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Yuolrt was also a skeleton, her skull falling apart, as though someone had swung an axe right in the middle of it, nearly completely split apart, from within this gap, a sick green crystal was growing.

Large antlers decorating the side of her head, dressed in faded green robe assorted with withered roots and dead flowers, she would have advised against it, but Loimos had put Ourlon in charge for a reason, and it was because he was the only one that could somewhat handle a powerhouse of the living amongst the minor lords, at least, in a one versus one situation.

A green glow washed over the undead lords, except for Ourlon, who challenged Storm Of Blade silently, the two Tochians, even from ages far apart, stepped off to the side.

"Don't die kids" she gave a very much not useful advice, Ourlon spinning his sword, pointing it downwards, edge pointing toward his opponent, speaking a word in death tongue, a dark dome encompassed the two swordmasters, from the outside, it was merely a few dozen of meters wide, inside, it was an entirely different space, an underground sparring room, lit to perfection, the walls close, yet unreachable.

"You must be Ourlon, right?" Syklon tapped her hilt, her pale face as indifferent as ever, cracked a bit, revealing a small smile.

"You know me?" the undead was surprised.

"I was not expecting the legendary Lord's Blade to have defected to the side of undeath, you have become a famous tale about the dangers of pursuing the arts of the blade with too much passion"

"What sort of bullcrap is this? Argh, it doesn't matter, I am Ourlon, minor lord in the service of King Nitok!"

"Not a gravelord?"

"Not a gravelord indeed" he shook his head "I have abandoned my old title in life, searching for an opponent capable of defeating me even when trapped within this art, 'Duel Of True Skill'- Is this what you know it as? I have never been very selective about the names of my arts" he chuckled, his dry teeth clacking against one another.

"In any case, I have to explain how it works before we can start"

"I was under the impression that you would just leave that out and keep me trapped here for a while" Syklon smiled, clearly a mockery.

"Here, everything is gone, energies, the system, the arts, innate abilities, all is gone, we are only left with our true bodies, one untouched by any enhancement from the outside, only our uttermost mastery of our bodies and swords matter here" he explained without paying attention to the provocation, this particular art is what had made him a famous figure in certain stories from Tochi, it stripped the combatants of what was unnecessary, pitting their foundations against one another.

Even the user.

With it, he had cut down countless heroes and champions, with ease at that, without their precious abilities, they had all come crumbling down without much resistance, such sorrow, for a proud warrior like him, to find out that he was without peers, only surrounded by posers.

"An especially deadly art against mages, and yet, it was one that bested me completely, King Nitok is simply standing in another world compared to us, he stands far above us, in such a position, I would not have hesitated to cut down my lesser opponent, mocking him for even daring to think he could amount to anything, but King Nitok is kind and righteous, with the mere cost of my life and loyalty, he made me an undead, without hunger, without stamina, a perfect control of my strength at all times, and so much more!" he extended his arms.

"King Nitok gave me everything by taking nothing, helped me develop my arts to the next level, he is the lord all warriors want to hand their blades to, you should consider upgrading your standing Syklon, and bow to the Monarch Of The Eternal Night!"

"Are you done? Was that sermon also needed for activating the art?" she stared at him disinterestedly.

"Matter of factly, it is, adding more things make arts more powerful, and it would be idiotic not to make this offer to fine warriors such as yourself, you have everything to win by letting go of life"

The two of them got into position, Ourlon having a massive advantage.

Duel of true skill, although it swiped everything clean, it did not mean that victory was in the bag, ever since becoming an undead, his natural strength, perception and everything had gone through qualitative changes, but he remembered his early days as well, when one progressed, their physique would not only improve as per the will of the system and such.

Pursuing the martial path, even without anything else, one would notice a qualitative enhancement of their capabilities even then, considering how skilled Syklon was said to be, and Ourlon believed it fully, for it was Loimos that had told him.

He held full respect for Loimos, not only because he had been made the general of the vanguard by King Nitok, but also because Loimos had defeated him fair and square both inside and outside 'duel of true skill'.

"By the way, time in here and outside is vastly different, your precious students might already be long dead once this art collapses!" he tried to shake her before striking.

Ourlon did not doubt that outside this art, he would not stand a chance against this battle art genius, he was good, but he had never been genius, Ourlon could tell the gap that separated him and her just by looking, from Tochian warrior to another.

However, here, she was restricted by her small size and frail body, even if tempered by the invisible forces, her physique had to be lesser than his undead perfection.

Swords clashed, the familiar sound of two blades hitting one another, two masters pitting themselves against one another.

It was a comforting sound for the two of them, nothing could beat the thrill of a fight where you could lose it all at the slightest of mistakes.