Tye hated grocery trips.

“This is insane,” he complained, helping Lord Medraut pull a crate of bread on a cart. Locals, including the merchant who sold them the food in the first place, stopped to look at the undead horse with a mix of contempt and curiosity. “Useless, worse than useless.”

“I am discovering a new side of you, Walter,” Medraut mused, showing no shame in this thankless task.

“I should be researching or having homunculi carry these crates,” Tye made his displeasure known. “Can’t we teleport them to the citadel?”

“You spellcasters are all the same, believing you can ‘magic away’ all your problems.” Medraut shook his head in displeasure. “I understand that you may hate getting these groceries, but you lose more than you think when you stay holed up in an ivory tower.”

“Black tower,” Tye corrected, earning a light tap on the back of his head. “Ouch.”

“Didn’t your father ever take you on such trips?” Medraut asked, moving to the driver’s seat.

“No,” Tye replied, as he moved on the cart’s back with the crates. “My father thought I would be better off reading, studying, and leaving the village for the city. Said I would struggle less than he did.”

“Ah,” the knight paused. “Your father was wise.”

“You never speak of your family, Lord Medraut,” Tye said, unable to restrain his curiosity. “Is true that you are the king’s bas—”

A mere glance from the black knight shut him up.

“I was adopted,” Lord Medraut said, full of bitterness, as he ordered the horse to walk through the city’s street. “My father, whoever he may be, abandoned me as a baby in the woods to die. I was an inconvenience, but he didn’t have the guts to do the deed himself.”

“I…” Tye blustered. “I’m sorry, I…”

“No, no, you could not know,” Medraut said with a warmer voice, before sighing. “I am not outspoken about where I come from, so there are rumors abound. I’m afraid the real tale is that… I was lucky to be born at all.”

“But you didn’t die in the woods,” the Pale Serpent apprentice pointed out.

“I was adopted by three witches, believe it or not. Not the friendly kind, I can tell you that; they ruled over local villages around their forest with an iron fist, cursing those who did not pay them their ‘due’. Their power was such that they had the first night of any new groom.”

“Sounds like nobles,” Tye deadpanned.

This made the knight laugh, although a dark kind of laughter. “I loved and hated them in equal measure,” he admitted. “They had big plans for me, but they made the mistake of letting me do their errands to the nearest city when they needed rare materials. One time, I was busy negotiating with a merchant when I saw her, surrounded by guards.”

“Her?”

“A woman. The most beautiful woman I had ever met; and quite a few lasses had tried to ask me out. She was the daughter of a Jarl, some kind of warrior princess. Or at least, she appeared like that to me. I asked the merchant where she was going, and he said that her father held a swordplay tournament for her birthday.”

Tye thought it sounded a little too good to be a true story, but Lord Medraut never lied, and the knight’s eyes brightened as he spoke.

“The witches’ thralls had trained me in all kinds of weapons, and I used the funds I should have spent on magical regents to buy some cheap armor too big for me, and a blade of the meanest steel. I entered the tourney as a nameless knight, and I demolished my first opponent. When the maiden asked for my name, I demanded her favor in return. She granted it.”

“You won the tourney next?” Tye asked, knowing where the tale was going.

“Oh no,” Medraut laughed, surprising the apprentice. “I made it to the final round and faced a Royal Knight twice my age. I was tough, but there is only so much you can do as a talented boy against someone with twenty more levels. Imagine his face when he removed my helmet and realized a teenager, barely past fourteen, had defeated half a dozen warriors.”

“And then?”

“The Royal Knight squired me on the spot, and the maiden insisted to have me for dinner.”

“And then?” Tye asked, more and more curious. “Did you marry her?”

“It’s… it’s a tale for another day.” Medraut turned around and patted Tye on the head. “Only if you follow me on the next trip.”

Tye groaned, but couldn’t help but smile.

Tye banished the memories as he flew towards the steep side of a mountain cliff in [Ghostform]. Returning to the Logres region so long after his order’s demise made him feel nostalgic, but the fog of undeath obscured his souvenirs.

He had traveled far and wide towards the location indicated on Medraut’s map, reaching the tall mountains of the west. No wonder none had found the Tomb of the Fianna before; anyone without flight would have been unable to cross these rock formations.

Dark, stormy clouds obscured the sight above, raining hail and thunder on the mortal world, carried by a freezing wind. A natural stone platform rose from the mountainside, two immense stone doors carved inside; they seemed to have been recently excavated by magic.

An old friend was waiting for him at the entrance. Perhaps he had been for hours.

As the tales said, he had become a [Death Knight], a skeleton in charbroiled armor expelling heat and the flicker of flames. He carried the symbol of Calamity Surtr on his chest plate and had traded his old claymore for a fiery replica of the legendary weapon [Laevatein]. The blade which Surtr would use to set the cosmos ablaze during Ragnarok.

As the necromancer landed on the platform, switching from his [Ghostform] to his human shape, Tye’s mind-reading hit a wall. A powerful defense shielded the other undead’s thoughts from intrusions; although the necromancer could speak normally while polymorphed into a human, it surprised him.

The only force that could credibly resist a Calamity’s Perk... was another Calamity’s influence.

“You are dead too,” Tye spoke up first.

“I was. But like a phoenix, I rose from my pyre’s ashes. For the flames of vengeance within me burned brighter than any mortal fire.” The [Death Knight] looked at the [Calamity] dead in the eyes, two dead men standing. “It has been many decades, my friend.”

It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Medraut...”

“Nidhogg.”

Tye immediately frowned. “Tye. Walter Tye.”

The [Death Knight] marked a short pause as if a little surprised by the answer. Silence stretched for a few seconds before the warrior regained his composure.

“It’s good to see you,” Medraut said, patting his old friend on the back. It was meant to feel warm, even without the unnatural heat, but his words felt like the embers of something long gone. “I apologize for the trouble my mothers caused you. They acted against my wishes, while I was busy infiltrating my old knightly order.”

“It is fine; I had a few uppity minions of my own,” Tye replied. “Did you kill him? Calvert?”

“No. I waited for the right opportunity as Lancelot, but it never came. He was extremely paranoid, drinking his own mead to avoid being poisoned and always being surrounded by Royal Knights. I might have prevailed if I sacrificed my cover, but I thought I could afford to be patient.” The knight shook his head, clearly disappointed. “My spies told me he left the capital before the news of the Royal Family’s demise reached him.”

Which implied the archmage had learned of it as the events in Lyonesse took place.

“Come in,” Medraut invited his old friend inside the tomb. “After I spoke about finding this place for so long, you deserve a visit.”

“The Tomb of the Fianna.” Tye remembered the stories, as he eagerly walked with his old friend inside. “When the Vanir and the Aesir hadn’t formed a unified pantheon, two human kingdoms fought for domination of Midgard. The Kingdom of Avalon, who served the Aesir; and Ulaid, who honored the Vanir. Their sworn protectors were the Fianna, a legendary band of ten high-level warriors.”

“Seventy to seventy-three,” Medraut replied, as they walked inside a long, ancient stone corridor. “Great warriors, sacrificed before they could reach greater heights.”

“How do you know their levels?”

“Because I raised them,” the knight replied casually. “I sought this place while alive for the artifacts left behind, but undeath broadened my horizon.”

The [Death Knight] led his old friend to an underground crypt; one much smaller than the mausoleum beneath Lyonesse. Ten golden sarcophagi formed a circle round a central pillar holding the ceiling, each with the runic symbol of the Fianna carved into them. Statues of the Vanir oversaw the tombs, but someone defaced and desecrated them; in the darkness, only Medraut’s embers provided some measure of light.

While the sarcophagi were closed, Walter could sense the undead life within them. These ancient warriors brimmed with magical energies, frozen in a state of suspended animation until their new master would allow them to rise.

Charisma check failed! Your [Undead Mastery] could not overcome [Medraut]’s.

If Tye’s Perk could affect them, then at least one of them was an undead… and could somehow see the [Deathlord] even while sealed.

“In their last battle,” Medraut explained, touching one of the sarcophagi with his fingers, “the Fianna fought to the last man against the Royal Knights and were defeated. Avalon absorbed Ulaid, and Aesir and Vanir unified into a single pantheon. To honor their fallen champions, Ulaid’s last knights built a tomb for them, burying their corpses alongside their legendary weapons. They slumbered in the darkness… until I arrived.”

“The original souls...”

“They died fighting for the Vanir,” Medraut said. “Even if I had raised them through conventional means, they would have opposed me and looked for any opportunity to regain their freedom. Better to take away their mind and replace it with discipline.”

To forcefully raise these undead while suppressing their free-will to such a degree... the magic needed was beyond what a [Death Knight] could ever achieve.

“You earned the blessings of the Calamities,” Tye realized.

“All of them, except you,” Medraut replied, neither proud nor ashamed. “That was why the witches raised me. To prepare me for the destiny I was born to fulfill.”

“You want to march on Avalon.” That was the only reason Tye could see to raise these warriors. “Medraut, have you forgotten our goal? We exist to end death, not to serve it. We have better things to do than indulge in pointless bloodshed.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Medraut replied, a bit annoyed that Tye doubted his dedication to the cause. “But we cannot fulfill our goal in a world where our destroyers live. Even with the royal family gone, another lineage may emerge to replace it.”

“Asclepius’ last orders to me were clear,” Tye insisted. “Not to waste time seeking revenge, when it would be better spent completing the Great Work. Your forces would be better used against Hel's.”

“You are the spellcaster, I am a warrior.” Medraut glanced away, his hands shaking around his sword’s pommel. “I failed to defend the Black Citadel because I lacked manpower. Not anymore. I shall form a great army, and march against Camelot to burn it to the ground, making sure Avalon never recovers. Then, we shall herald the End Times.”

“Herald the End Times?” Tye repeated. He didn’t like where this discussion was going.

“I know what is beneath Lyonesse, my friend,” Medraut explained, his fiery gaze appraising his old student. “One of the three great roots of Yggdrasil. Dig up the root, cast down the tree.”

But if he collapsed the World Tree, the barriers between the Nine Realms would dissolve and...

“You want to start Ragnarok.” The necromancer couldn’t believe what he heard. “Have you gone mad? You want to intentionally kickstart the apocalypse?”

Tye had gambled with fate, true, but Ragnarok was a possible side-effect of his grand plan, not the planned goal!

“You would rather let the gods rule forever?” Medraut replied angrily. “After all they did to us?”

“We can upturn their control over mankind by spreading the Great Work,” Tye argued. “Immortality will disrupt their afterlife system. It may take centuries, but once people realize that they no longer need to worship them, Midgard will be free of their shackles.”

“How long until Odin schemes against us again?” the [Death Knight] argued. “They will never stop hunting us, Walter. And even if you were right… it would not be enough for me. I refuse to share the cosmos with Odin and his ilk.”

“You would rather offer it to the Calamities?”

“No,” Medraut replied, his voice dripping with fury and disgust. Apparently, he hated his new patrons as much as Odin’s brood. “Both have to go, and Ragnarok will wipe the slate clean.”

“And what after?” Tye argued. “Midgard will go down in ashes!”

“While the gods and Calamities slaughter one another, and the cosmos is engulfed in flames, we undead shall endure the transition to the next world,” Medraut continued calmly. “When a new world is reborn from the ashes, and life begins anew, we shall spread undeath to it. The new universe will not be one ruled by gods and fiends, but the living dead. A pure world free of life and death. That was Asclepius’ true wish.”

Tye no longer had blood, but if he did, it would have boiled at this mockery of his mentor’s vision. “This is a twisted interpretation of it, nothing more!”

“Asclepius left journals. About who he was. Where he came from. And the serpent god he worshiped.” Medraut observed his friend closely, peering into his soul. “Did you never wonder where our order’s name came from? Who created the first undead? What the murals in Nastrond’s cathedral truly represented? Don't you remember your previous life?"

"The fog of undeath makes it unclear to me," Tye admitted. His past life's memories were but a shadow. Vague flashes and the remains of pictures long consumed by time. He didn't care for them, and refused to let them dictate his future.

"The murals do not represent the future, Walter," Medraut explained, "They represent the past.”

Tye froze, as something suddenly clicked. “This is not the first time these events have happened.”

“No.”

“The next world after Ragnarok,” Tye realized, as he saw the murals’ pictures in another light. Not predictions, but records. “The cycle already happened, more than once. Time magic?”

“Not time.” Medraut shook his head. “When Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms burn, a new world tree is reborn from the ashes. The souls of the dead reincarnate, to repeat the same path they walked on in their previous life. There are always small divergences, but the great milestones stay the same. Or rather, that was the case, until undead and Earthlanders appeared.”

“The gods tried to prevent Ragnarok,” Tye assembled the puzzle. “To kill my previous incarnation ‘Nidhogg’ with Earthlanders, and prevent him from casting down the World Tree Yggdrasil.”

Medraut nodded gravely. “Long ago, in the first universe, there was a dragon. Maybe he always was the monster we know him to be; maybe he was a linnorm smarter than average for his kind. Whatever the case, he discovered a ghastly path to immortality. One that needed him to gnaw at the roots of Yggdrasil, and feast on the corpses of the gods themselves.”

Every mural, in this endless chain.

How many times?

How many times?

“Nidhogg endured across the cycles, feasting on the chaos; an immortal evil willing to undermine all creation so that he alone may survive,” the [Death Knight] continued his tale. “Each time, he would cast down the world tree to feed on the carnage of Ragnarok. All to repeat the cycle; all to maintain his immortality. With each cycle, his knowledge of magic grew, until he realized he could raise the dead he fed on to serve him.”

“My [Sin-Eater] Perk forces me to feed on sinful corpses…” Tye trailed in horror.

“Undead beings count,” Medraut confirmed. “Salted meat to feed a cruel dragon’s boundless appetite. That was why undead were made. Asclepius knew it, for he was one of Nastrond’s serpent priests.”

Like Spook. The mummy had been found in Nastrond and was seen using [Priest] abilities right after Tye gained the ability to grant spells to his followers.

“When the gods first summoned the Earthlanders, they attacked and sealed Nastrond in an attempt to prevent Nidhogg from starting Ragnarok,” Medraut continued. “In the end, they only delayed the inevitable. Asclepius escaped the city’s destruction and turned to Loki’s patronage next; both working together to alter destiny in their favor.”

“Lies,” Tye defended his dead master. “Asclepius would never worship a Calamity. You have been lied to.”

“I know this hurts,” Medraut said, sounding apologetic. “I told you Asclepius’ reaction when he learned your true name, Walter. He never intended to revive everyone; only his master. The Pale Serpents believed in a false cause.”

“You lie!” Tye raised his voice, incensed. “Asclepius was a visionary, who died for his ideals! Who died to protect us!”

“To protect you.” Medraut pointed a finger at Tye’s face. “The Calamity you were destined to become.”

The necromancer refused to believe this nonsense. Tye could entertain the theory Ragnarok was a cycle, but that all he ever did was built on a lie? Impossible! “What about Hel?” the necromancer pestered the knight. “How does she fit in this madness?”

Medraut was a lot less confident about this part. “Hel, I believe, is aware of the cycle; although I am unsure if she tries to disrupt it like Odin. She survives Ragnarok and shepherds souls into the next world, but her current actions make little sense to me. No matter; we shall slay her in due time.”

On that at least, Tye agreed. The rest though...

“You are the serpent that gnaws at the roots, Nidhogg. The one who shall usher Ragnarok and carry the dead into the next world. Don’t you see the hand of destiny?”

“No, I do not,” Tye replied coldly, refusing to play a role in this insanity.

“While we can swim against its power, fate is an insidious force, trying to pull us back in our proper place,” Medraut argued. “Odin had Nidhogg slain to avert fate, only for the forever serpent to reincarnate into you. You were pulled back to Nastrond, back to the role you were meant to fill. You are not as free as you think you are, Walter.”

Tye had to admit that this wasn’t a coincidence, but he refused to fall into fatalism. “Did the records mention anything about immortality being discovered? Did they mention Avalon’s destruction?”

“Avalon always falls,” Medraut replied, before conceding one point, “although the Records didn’t predict this particular end, nor your involvement. Neither did they predict the undead plague you unleashed.”

"What about Arthur?"

"He was to become a mighty king and rule for thirty years, before dying in battle as a great king."

“Then this means the prophecies of Ragnarok can be proven wrong,” Tye pointed out, "By killing Arthur before he could become king, we made fate lie."

“To a degree, destiny can be altered,” the [Death Knight] agreed. “But not enough to steer away the final end. Ragnarok is inevitable.”

His fatalism got on Tye’s nerves. “You speak like all these fools saying death cannot be avoided and should be accepted. We proved men’s death could be avoided; why should the world’s demise be any different?”

“Because I wish it not.”

“Why?” Tye asked, flabbergasted.

“In a world where everyone is immortal, the gods will live.”

Tye froze, as for the first time in the entire conversation, he noticed something in his old friend’s gaze. An intense madness, a glint of an unquenchable hatred smoldering within his empty skull.

He would never stop.

A fire didn’t stop. It was either drenched or consumed everything in its path until nothing remained.

“Fate’s power is too entrenched in this current reality,” Medraut said. “The chain of events can no longer be broken, and even if we undead and Earthlanders can change things, destiny shall correct its course. But after Ragnarok, the slate is wiped clean, for a time. Those who survive the transition will decide what comes next. This is the only moment when the chain can truly be broken, where the Age of Undeath that Asclepius foresaw can begin.”

“Assuming that there is a new world after Ragnarok,” Tye replied, doubtful. “The Calamities could get their lucky break and annihilate everything.”

Much to the spellcaster’s horror, Medraut didn’t even react in denial.

If he had lips, he may even have smiled.

To him, this scenario was an acceptable alternative.

“You said the inquisition burnt you at the stake,” Tye rasped, more and more on edge, as he realized what he was facing. “Who raised you from the dead? Who brought you back, Medraut?”

The [Death Knight] scoffed, the symbol of Surtr on his chest plate flashing brightly.

“Which side are you on?” Tye accused Medraut. “Loki’s? Surtr’s?”

“No,” the knight replied. “Let the Calamities favor me as they will, they will never earn my loyalty. They are fickle and cruel, as all gods are; let them burn in the inferno they started. Ultimately, they will all perish.”

“This is not what the brotherhood was built for,” Tye insisted. “We were to discover immortality for humanity. Whatever Asclepius’ original motives were, you must still believe in our dream.”

“It is impossible so long as Odin, Hel, and their cohorts draw breath.”

“It is possible. I have made progress. I completed the Great Work and abolished death. We shall spread undeath to Midgard, until fate itself becomes distorted.”

“How long until the Aesir’s hand sweeps you away?” Medraut replied. “The rot must be excised, so something better can rise.”

No.

No, that was what he said to his followers, maybe even to the Calamities. But there was more to it. It was an excuse, to hide the ugly truth even to himself.

“You are not at war with the gods,” Tye realized. “You are at war with life itself.”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

“I will not stand by this,” Tye decided, his fingers ready to spellcast at a moment’s notice. “If Cywyllog was there—”

“Careful, my friend,” Medraut warned, his skull catching fire.

“She would tell you that this is madness!” Tye protested, showing his old mentor the [Necromancer’s Stone]. “If you have any memento, I can revive her; if not we can storm Helheim and recover her soul.”

“You think that is what this is all about?” The [Death Knight] flared up, literally. His armor shone with the bright flames of Muspelheim itself. “This is not just about her, Walter.”

“Then what is it about?” Walter snarled angrily. “Revenge?”

“I learned the gods’ greatest secret, Walter.”

The necromancer paused.

“The Aesir and the Vanir were not born gods. They became so.” Medraut slashed a statue of the Vanir with his blade in his fury, cutting the stone with swift accuracy. “Once they were two clans of powerful creatures, who leveled up all the way to level 99, the true cap of mortal potential without being a Calamity. They received a reward of Yggdrasil, and became godlike beings much like yourself; then they set out to keep anyone else from following in their footsteps.”

The necromancer’s eyes widened in horror. “You don’t mean—”

“It is not simply to gather armies for Ragnarok, or make us worship them!” Medraut thundered, “They cull us, Walter! They cull us like sheep before we can reach the levels necessary to challenge their rule!”

Tye wanted to say he was horrified, but truth be told, it didn’t surprise him.

He had always wondered why the gods condemned undeath, when the undead could defeat the Calamities and alter fate just as much as Earthlanders. But now, it made sense; thanks to their immortality, undead kept leveling so long as they existed. If the gods allowed them to level unchecked, then some lich or vampire would inevitably hit level 99 and discover the truth. That would also explain practices like dragonslaying.

These bastards...

“The more I delved into the dark secrets of this world, the more I grew to despise it,” the [Death Knight] continued. “I found other murals of previous universes long gone. Some showing the fall of Camelot. Do you know who I saw on these walls?”

Tye already knew the answer. “You.”

“Me,” Medraut said, his voice dripping with venom. “The Fall of Camelot happened countless times. Sometimes, I was called Mordred. Sometimes, Arthur was my son or my brother. I always killed him. I was bound to do all these awful things since the moment I was born, and Odin knew it! He who always whispered in my family’s ears, raising us to worship him, and then casting us down in war to keep himself in power. He and his twisted kind have to die.”

“Even so,” Tye said, ever the optimistic defender of eternal life. “There are other ways. Let us take Midgard back, and then storm Asgard’s gates with the living and the dead. Anything but Ragnarok.”

“There is nothing else!” Medraut snarled. “You will fail to change anything!”

“I cannot fail,” Tye shouted back, the tone rising between them. “I dedicated my life to this! No one will ever die! Not even the world!”

The [Death Knight] blazed brighter until the necromancer almost started taking [Fire] damage from the heat.

All pretense of friendship and sanity had been stripped away, revealing the monstrous inferno of pain, hate, and despair fueling him. A flame whose thirst would only be quenched by the destruction of everything the gods had built. Medraut was so obsessed with revenge against the gods who tormented him since he was born, that he would rather see creation burn than entertain another solution.

And the worst thing was, he may very well succeed. Walter himself had cleared the competition, defeating the heroes who may have been destined to stop him.

Could Tye fight Medraut here and now? While he was a Calamity, he hadn't reached level 100 and stagnated at 73. His former friend was higher leveled, possessed the blessings of the Five Calamities, and he had the Fianna at his back.

Now was not the time for a confrontation.

The necromancer didn’t even want one.

“I shall not budge from my path, Nidhogg,” Medraut replied, calming himself and smoldering his flames. “Out of respect for our kinship, I will let you go, and not force you to join my crusade. But do not stand in my way, or I shall retract that kindness.”

“You will strike down your own friend, as you did with your own kin?” Tye asked venomously. “I won’t let you commit murder-suicide with all of reality.”

“It was good to see you again, my friend, but remember this.” Medraut’s eyes flickered with hellfire, his undead thralls whispering inside their containers. “When the time for us to meet again comes: walk. Away.”