Zealth shifted his grip on the Netherrose sword and stopped trying to kill.
Now he aimed for control.
The captain slashed downward.
Zealth slipped left, letting the fire blade strike the floor. He stepped onto the captain's sword arm—not the blade, the wrist bone—and forced it down for a fraction. Then he drove his shoulder into its chest.
The captain barely moved.
"Okay," Zealth said. "Still heavy."
A shield skeleton tried to bash him from the side.
Zealth grabbed its shield rim and pulled it into the captain's next slash.
The flaming sword carved through the shield.
Fire burst.
The shield skeleton staggered, burning at the edges. Zealth kicked it into another undead, creating a brief pile of undead stupidity.
The captain turned.
Zealth was already moving.
He circled toward the broken pillars, forcing the captain to follow through tighter spaces. The massive chamber favored the captain's reach, so Zealth denied it room. He ducked behind a fallen column. The flaming sword struck the stone, showering sparks across his shoulder.
Heat washed over him.
He used the moment to grab another old weapon from the ground.
A short axe.
Rusted.
Dull.
Probably useless.
He threw it at the captain's face.
The axe spun end over end and struck the skull.
The captain's head snapped back slightly.
Not damage.
Distraction.
Zealth charged.
The captain recovered fast, thrusting the burning sword forward.
Zealth twisted his body sideways. The blade passed under his arm, close enough to smoke against his armor. His left hand snapped down and caught the captain's wrist.
Bad idea.
Heat surged through the gauntlet.
A warning flashed red.
Zealth clenched his teeth.
"Damn it."
With his other hand, he slammed the pommel of the Netherrose sword against the captain's elbow joint.
Once.
Twice.
The bones cracked but did not break.
The captain's free arm swung.
Zealth ducked, but the blow clipped his shoulder and sent him stumbling. The captain pulled its wrist free and slashed again.
Zealth jumped back.
The flaming edge cut across his chest armor, leaving a glowing line.
Armor Integrity: Reduced 65/100
"Slater's discount better include repairs," he growled.
The captain lifted its sword for another heavy strike.
Zealth's eyes flicked to the floor.
The vines.
The broken camp.
The old bones.
The undead are still moving around them.
Then to the fire.
A plan clicked.
Ugly.
Risky.
Good enough.
Zealth ran toward the campsite.
The captain followed.
So did the lesser undead.
Zealth weaved between rotten bodies and skeletons, using his speed to stay ahead by inches. An undead grabbed his arm. He sliced its hand off with the Netherrose sword—not enough to kill, obviously, but to escape. The hand reattached behind him with a wet snap.
"Disgusting. Really disgusting."
He reached the fire pit.
Dead ashes. Damp wood. Rusted utensils.
And around it—
Old oil jars.
Probably expedition supplies.
Maybe ruined.
Maybe not.
Zealth kicked one jar toward the captain.
It rolled across the floor, cracked against a stone, and spilled thick, dark liquid.
The captain stepped into it.
Zealth kicked a second jar.
Then a third.
The oil spread across the moss and stone beneath the captain's feet.
The captain did not care.
Zealth stepped back and raised both hands slightly.
"Captain," he said, "permission to borrow your sword?"
The captain answered by swinging.
Zealth waited until the flaming blade came low.
Then he dropped flat.
The sword passed over him and struck the oil-covered ground.
Fire spread instantly.
A bright sheet of flame burst beneath the captain.
The moss caught.
The old cloth of the ruined tent caught.
The dry roots around the campsite caught.
For the first time, the captain staggered.
Its cloak burned.
The chainmail glowed.
The lesser undead near it caught fire too, their dark bodies screaming in low, rotten groans as flame ate through the mist that held them together.
Zealth rolled away, coughing.
"Okay," he wheezed. "That worked more than expected."
The captain stepped through the flames.
Still moving.
Still armed.
But slower now.
The fire swallowed the captain whole, slowly. But, he still healing.
Zealth stood.
His left arm felt heavy from heat damage. His armor smoked in two places. His Netherrose sword remained in hand, useless as a finisher but still strong enough to parry.
The captain raised the flaming sword again.
Zealth ran straight at it.
The captain thrust.
Zealth twisted past the point, letting the blade scrape along his side. Heat flared. His display flashed warnings, but he ignored them. His hand closed around the captain's wrist again.
Burning.
Dull.
Heavy.
He slammed his buckler against the elbow joint.
Once.
Crack.
Again.
Crack.
The captain's arm bent wrong.
Zealth hooked his foot behind its knee and drove his shoulder forward.
This time, the burning cloak and damaged leg gave way.
The captain fell.
Its sword arm struck the ground.
Zealth stomped down on the wrist.
The bones broke.
The flaming sword slipped free.
Zealth grabbed it.
Heat surged through his hand, but the weapon accepted the grip. A system panel flashed before him.
Cinderbrand Officer's Sword
Element: Fire
Durability: 62/100
Zealth's smile finally returned.
"Now this," he said, breathing hard, "is a plan."
The captain tried to rise.
Zealth swung.
The fire blade cut through its shoulder, and this time the wound did not close. Flame devoured the dark mist holding the bones together. The captain lurched, green eye-fire flaring.
Zealth stepped in and swung again.
Ribs split.
Cloak burned.
The captain raised its broken arm as if still trying to command.
The lesser undead moved toward him.
Zealth turned once, carving a burning arc through two skeletons and a Rotbound Villager. They collapsed into ash and bone, unable to reform.
The sword was rough.
Not perfectly balanced.
But against these creatures, it was beautiful.
The captain groaned.
Zealth faced it again.
"Sorry," he said. "Existence denied."
He drove the flaming sword straight through the captain's skull.
Fire burst from the eye sockets.
The green light vanished.
For a moment, the captain remained standing, sword buried in its head, body trembling as flame spread through the chainmail and cloak.
Then it collapsed.
Bones scattered across the stone.
Dark ash rose, then sank.
A system message appeared.
Rotbound Expedition Captain defeated.
Zealth stood there, breathing hard.
Around him, the chamber quieted. The remaining lesser undead, stripped of whatever command had held them together, slowed. Some collapsed where they stood. Others sank back into moss and shadow, their green eye-fire dimming one by one.
The flames around the campsite burned lower.
Zealth pulled the sword free from the captain's skull.
Then the weapon in his hand flickered.
For a second, he thought it would disappear.
Temporary weapon.
Borrowed during combat.
He cursed under his breath.
"Don't you dare."
The sword pulsed.
A loot panel appeared.
Normal Drop Acquired:
Rot Ash x19
Dull Iron Weapon Scraps x11
Rotbound Eye Ember x4
Rotbound Bone Shards x27
Rare Drop Acquired:
Cinderbrand Officer's Sword
Durability: 62/100
Bind Status: Unbound
Zealth stared.
Once.
Twice.
Then he laughed.
Not loud.
Not heroic.
Just tired and genuinely surprised.
"Out of luck, Captain?"
He looked down at the pile of bones.
"Well. Your bad luck is my blessing."
He held the burning sword up.
The flame along its edge softened, shrinking into a controlled glow rather than a wild blaze. Heat still curled from the steel, but it no longer threatened to cook his hand.
Zealth glanced at the Netherrose sword at his other side.
Dark sword.
Fire sword.
One expensive mistake.
One corpse-funded blessing.
He sheathed the Netherrose blade and kept the Cinderbrand in hand.
"Slate," he muttered, stepping over the captain's remains, "if you ask, I planned this."
A faint sound echoed deeper in the dungeon.
The red marker still waited on his map.
Zealth looked into the darkness beyond the ruined camp.
His breathing steadied.
The first fight had only been the entrance.
He lifted the burning sword and walked on.