The captain's bones did not rattle like the others.
That was the first thing Zealth noticed.
The lesser skeletons moved with loose joints and broken rhythm, their limbs clicking and scraping as if death had made them forget how bodies worked. The captain did not. Its steps were slow, but measured. Controlled. The old chainmail on its frame shifted with a faint metallic whisper, and the moss-dark cloak hanging from its shoulders dragged across the stone like a funeral banner.
The rusted sword in its hand looked ordinary at first.
Then the captain raised it.
A red glow crawled along the blade.
Zealth narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, no."
Flame burst from the edge.
Not a faint enchantment. Not a flicker meant to look pretty. The sword ignited from guard to tip, fire wrapping around the steel in a tight, hungry spiral. Heat rolled outward and pushed against the damp chill of the chamber. The moss near the captain's feet shriveled. Water dripping from above hissed when it struck the burning blade.
Zealth stared.
Then slowly looked at the rusted explorer's sword in his right hand.
Durability: 11/100
Then, at the Netherrose sword in his left hand.
Then back at the captain's flaming sword.
"Of course," he said quietly. "The corpse gets the better weapon."
The captain lunged.
For something made of bones, it moved with terrifying discipline.
The burning sword came down in a diagonal slash, fast enough to carve light across the darkness. Zealth raised the Netherrose sword by instinct.
Bad choice or not, it was still the stronger blade.
Steel met flame.
The impact rang hard.
Fire crawled along the black sword for a heartbeat, and heat bit through Zealth's glove. No pain, just the dull burn warning spread through his palm.
He twisted aside before the captain could press.
The flame blade struck the ground.
Stone cracked.
Moss burned.
A line of fire spread briefly along the floor before fading into smoke.
Zealth stepped back, eyes sharpening.
"Okay. I must admit. That's cool."
The captain advanced again.
A skeleton with a spear moved at its side, trying to box him in. Another one dragged a broken shield closer, forming a crude wall. The lesser undead were not just crowding anymore.
They were supporting it.
Zealth clicked his tongue.
"You still command after death? What a dedication."
The spear thrust first.
Zealth knocked it aside with the Netherrose sword, then cut the spear skeleton's wrist with the rusted blade. The hand dropped, but the captain's sword was already coming.
Horizontal slash.
Zealth ducked.
Heat passed over his head, close enough to stir his hair. He smelled something singe.
"My hair?" he snapped, offended. "That's personal."
He drove the rusted sword toward the captain's ribs.
The captain turned its body.
The strike scraped across chainmail and bone, chipping the old blade instead of breaking anything useful.
A warning flashed.
Explorer's Rusted Longsword Durability: 8/100
Zealth's face tightened.
"Don't start dying on me."
The captain answered with a thrust.
Zealth barely shifted in time. The flaming point grazed his side, leaving a smoking line across his armor. The dull heat sank into him, heavier than normal damage.
Zealth exhaled sharply.
"Bad. I don't want to be barbecued."
The captain pressed.
Slash.
Thrust.
Reverse cut.
No wasted movement. Each attack drove Zealth away from the open floor and toward the broken campsite. The undead around them moved with the captain's rhythm, not fast, but placed well enough to become obstacles. A spear skeleton on the left. A shield skeleton near the right. A slow undead behind him, arms reaching with wet, rotten patience.
Zealth backed up, parried with the Netherrose sword, and killed with the rusted one when he could.
He hated the setup.
The black sword had better reach, better balance, and enough durability to survive the fight. But if he cut too deep with it, the lesser undead reassembled faster. The rusted explorer sword worked properly, but it was falling apart with every hit.
An undead reached from behind.
Zealth twisted and drove the rusted blade through its mouth.
The creature collapsed into dark ash.
Durability: 6/100
"No," Zealth muttered. "Don't break fast."
The captain came through the ash.
The flaming sword descended.
Zealth raised both weapons in a cross guard.
The impact forced his boots back across the wet stone. Sparks and embers burst between the blades. The rusted sword screamed under the pressure, its old metal bending at the edge.
The captain leaned in.
Its skull was inches from his face now.
Green fire burned in its sockets.
Zealth stared back.
"Do you have any idea," he grunted, arms shaking under the force, "how annoying your weapon is?"
The captain's jaw opened.
No words came out.
Only a dry, hollow groan.
Zealth kicked its knee.
Bone cracked.
The captain dipped, balance breaking for half a second. Zealth shoved the flaming sword aside with the Netherrose blade and swung the rusted sword at its neck.
The captain raised an arm.
The rusted blade cut through the forearm—
Then snapped.
The broken half spun away into the darkness.
Zealth froze.
The captain's remaining hand tightened around the flaming sword.
Zealth looked at the half-sword in his grip.
He stared at the broken hilt.
Then sighed.
"You did your best, cheap sword."
The captain attacked.
Zealth threw the broken hilt at its face.
It bounced off the skull with a pathetic clink.
The captain did not care.
"Worth a try."
Zealth retreated fast as the flaming sword cut through the air. Heat chased each swing. A lesser skeleton slashed from his right. Zealth parried with the Netherrose sword, shoved it aside, then kicked it into the captain's path.
The captain cut through its own soldier without hesitation.
The skeleton exploded into scattered bones. Engulfing the remains with flame. Black smoke spread through the air, then vanished.
Zealth's eyes flicked to the burning sword.
It was effective against the undead.
Useful.
Very useful.
A terrible idea formed.
He smiled faintly.
"Oh," he muttered. "You're carrying my solution."