The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis crouched low behind a crumbling stone wall, his eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield that had once been the goblin fortress. The clash of steel, the cries of battle, and the roar of the Goblin Apostle echoed all around him. He tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, keeping to the shadows, his gaze flicking from one corner to the other as he took in the madness of the scene. He could see Queen Elowen, her presence commanding as she led the charge, Vyrelda moving with a deadly elegance, and Earl Vaelis cutting down the goblins with his sheer strength. He felt a pang of pride, watching them fight like legends from an epic story.

But then, his eyes locked onto something that turned his blood cold.

Across the courtyard, among the chaos, the lich stood still, almost eerily so, as the world crumbled around it. Its skeletal fingers twitched, and dark energy began to gather, swirling around its outstretched hand. The red light in its hollow eye sockets seemed to focus on something—something important. Mikhailis followed the lich's gaze, and his heart dropped.

Elowen.

He swallowed hard, a lump of fear building in his throat. The lich was preparing to target Elowen with dark magic. He couldn't just stay here and watch her get attacked. No way.

Taking a deep breath, Mikhailis narrowed his eyes, fingers brushing against the handle of a knife at his belt. He knew he was no match for the lich, but if he could distract it, just buy a little time, it might be enough. With a swift motion, he stood slightly and hurled the knife through the air, its polished blade flashing in the faint light as it flew straight for the lich's head.

For a moment, he almost dared to hope it would connect. The knife flew true, slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. But then, with an almost inhuman fluidity, the lich shifted its head to the side, and the blade missed, clattering harmlessly onto the ground behind it. The lich's red eyes snapped towards Mikhailis's hiding spot, and for the first time, Mikhailis felt the full weight of that cold, glowing stare.

"Oh, great," Mikhailis muttered under his breath, already moving. He knew he had to get out of there—now.

The lich started towards him, its skeletal form moving with an eerie grace. Mikhailis could hear the faint crunch of its feet on the rubble, each step slow, deliberate, as if it knew he had nowhere to run. Experience tales at empire

Alright, don't panic. Just get it away from the others.

He backed away cautiously, retreating further into the ruined fortress. He needed to lead the lich away, to keep it away from the main battle. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as he moved, eyes darting around, looking for any potential cover or escape route.

The lich continued to follow, its hollow eyes fixed on him. Its voice echoed through the air, chilling Mikhailis to the core.

"I've been watching you, little goblin," it said, its tone almost conversational, though filled with malice.

"You are different. Strange. Not one of them, are you?"

Mikhailis felt a jolt of fear, his heart skipping a beat. He swallowed hard, keeping his mouth shut, hoping silence would make it lose interest.

Keep calm. Don't react. Just keep moving.

The lich tilted its head, as if studying him, before speaking again.

"You will be a perfect specimen for my studies," it hissed, raising a bony hand, dark energy swirling around its skeletal fingers.

"Perfect specimen? I've got no interest in becoming a science project!" Mikhailis retorted, forcing himself to keep moving. His eyes were darting around, searching for anything he could use to his advantage—a hiding place, a weapon, anything. The ruins were mostly empty, though, nothing but broken walls and shattered stone.

The lich's hand came down, and with it, a burst of dark magic that shot towards Mikhailis. He barely managed to leap out of the way, feeling the rush of cold air as the magic missed him by inches. He hit the ground and rolled, coming back up to his feet, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Alright, think, think!" he muttered, ducking behind a pillar. The lich was still coming, and Mikhailis knew he had to do something fast.

The lich raised its other hand, and the ground began to tremble. Mikhailis's eyes widened as skeletal hands began clawing their way out of the earth, pulling themselves up. The lich was summoning undead—a lot of them. The skeletal warriors rose, their hollow eye sockets glowing with that same eerie red light.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Mikhailis muttered, drawing his knife. He took a deep breath, his mind shifting to combat mode. His training as a prince, all those lessons in self-defense, came flooding back, guiding his movements. He could do this—he just had to stay focused.

The first of the skeletal warriors lunged at him, and Mikhailis moved. His body reacted on instinct, sidestepping the attack and bringing his knife down in a swift arc, cutting through bone. The skeleton crumpled, and Mikhailis moved on to the next one.

The abilities of his variant Black Thalorian hobgoblin form gave him strength and agility beyond that of a normal goblin, allowing him to move faster, hit harder. His knife flashed as he cut down one skeleton after another, his movements fluid and precise.

But the lich was relentless. It stood back, its skeletal hands weaving spells. Fireballs exploded around Mikhailis, forcing him to keep moving, dodging, diving for cover. The blasts were powerful, each one sending debris flying, and Mikhailis could feel the heat on his skin, the force of the explosions rattling his bones.

Can't keep this up forever, he thought, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He ducked behind a broken section of wall, wiping sweat from his forehead.

I've got to end this, and fast.

He glanced around, his eyes scanning the ruins. There had to be something he could use—some advantage, some weakness. His gaze landed on a section of the ceiling above—a weak spot, the rocks held in place by crumbling supports. An idea began to form in his mind, a desperate, risky idea.

Alright, Mikhailis. Time to get creative.

He moved, darting out from his cover, making his way towards the weakened structure. He needed to lure the lich over, needed to get it in the right position. He dodged another fireball, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran, his eyes fixed on his target.

The lich followed, its hollow eyes never leaving Mikhailis. It moved with that same eerie calm, its hands still weaving spells, summoning more undead to rise from the ground. Mikhailis kept moving, his heart pounding, every muscle in his body screaming at him to stop, to rest, but he couldn't. Not yet.

He reached the weakened structure, the ceiling above groaning under the weight. He could see the cracks in the stone, the way the rocks seemed to sway with every movement. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

Now or never.

He shifted his weight, kicking a loose rock into the support beam. The beam cracked, splintering under the impact. The ceiling above them groaned, and then, with a deafening crash, it came down. Large boulders fell, the ground shaking as they hit, dust and debris filling the air.

Mikhailis watched, his breath held, as the dust began to settle. He could see the pile of rocks, the broken stones that had buried the lich. He allowed himself a moment of hope, a moment to believe it was over.

But then, the rocks began to move.

"You've got to be kidding me," Mikhailis whispered, his eyes widening as the lich emerged from the rubble. Its skeletal frame was cracked, pieces of bone missing, but it was still moving, its red eyes glowing brighter than ever.

The lich turned its gaze on Mikhailis, and for the first time, Mikhailis could feel the rage emanating from it. The lich moved towards him, its bony fingers curling into claws, dark magic swirling around it.

Mikhailis knew this was his last chance. He couldn't let the lich recover, couldn't let it cast another spell. He had to end this—now.

He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he focused. He moved, his feet pounding against the ground as he closed the distance between them. The lich raised its hand, dark energy gathering, ready to strike.

But Mikhailis was faster.

With a shout, he leaped forward, his knife aimed directly at the lich's skull. He could see the red light in its eye sockets, could feel the dark energy radiating from it. The lich moved to cast its spell, but Mikhailis was already there, his knife plunging into the lich's head.

The blade pierced through the bone, the red light flickering, then fading. The lich's skeletal frame went still, the dark energy dissipating as it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Mikhailis landed hard, his knees buckling under the impact. He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked down at the lich's remains, his hands trembling slightly.

"Well... that was fun," he muttered, his voice shaky. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand. He couldn't rest yet. The battle wasn't over—the Goblin Apostle and the champions were still fighting. But for now, he had bought the humans some time.

He turned, his eyes scanning the battlefield, searching for Elowen. He needed to see her, needed to know she was safe. His heart still pounded, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but there was a sense of calm that came with knowing he'd done his part—for now, at least.

"Alright, Mikhailis. Time to check on my wifey,"