Both Alexis and Alistaira watched in smug silence as their forces mopped up the last vestiges of the Anglish forces. The mercenaries who had made up the center of the enemy formation had been the most difficult to deal with but were ultimately no match for the hammer and anvil tactics employed by the two great necromancers. Now the only thing that needed to be done was to strip the bodies of any valuables and continue the warpath. Arms and armor would be appropriated from the losers and would be sent back to Darksol to be melted down and used to make things for their nation. From plows into spears and back into plows, the cycle of metal was to continue.

The Fel Bat swarms that made perimeter sweeps in order to make sure there were no escapees from the battlefield were doing a very good job. Occasionally they would spot a lone man who had somehow managed to make it off the butchering grounds and would silently swoop down and consume the flesh and blood of the unfortunate soul. One such swarm of Fel Bats spotted a lone figure speeding towards the ruined town, rather than away from it.

Not being incredibly intelligent, the unit descended from the sky on an intercept course. As they prepared to impact and feast upon their target, they were all killed instantly by a burst of air so cold that it caused them to flash freeze. As the horse-sized bats fell to the ground with the sound of frozen flesh and bone crunching on impact, the lone man kept running towards the now fully alerted forces of the undead.

…

“Hell, and damnation! That bastard should have died long ago!”

Alexis slammed her fist into the table that she and Alistaira were seated at, causing the burnt wood to shatter.

“What’s the problem?”

Alistaira had no idea what had just happened and there was not enough time for Alexis to thoroughly explain what was happening.

“You need to flee. Now. A Hero is coming, and you will not stand a chance against him. I will not let you die here and make my beloved angry, so leave. Let me handle him.”

Alistaira laughed.

“A hero? He has got to be a fossil by now! How tough can an old bag like that---?”

A chill greater than anything she had ever experienced before swept over Alistaira and caused her to start shivering uncontrollably. The sounds of the wood around her cracking made it clear that the temperature change was far worse than she could possibly know. Alexis was right, if she stayed here, she would die a terrible death by either hypothermia or from mortal wounds. The only problem she faced was that she was so overcome by the cold that she could not move and to make matters worse, neither could any of the undead that had remained after the fight.

“Kain damn it!” Alexis cursed as she wrapped a cloak of magical flames around the freezing necromancer and felt her connection to her undead being severed unit by unit. She had to act fast before her spell wore off and her pawns were destroyed. It was a race against time to prevent the death of Alistaira and the destruction of her undead minions.

…

Piotr rushed through the forest, the cracking of trees echoing all around him as he sped towards the town of Wessex. Occasionally, a tree would explode due to the sheer cold that was radiating off of the man who swung his massive blade through the stiffened undead whose bodies were overwhelmed by the True Frost Aura that covered him. One by one he cut down the Dire Wolf packs that were in his way, before proceeding onto the plains that had seen the death of every member of the Anglish forces. As he carved a swathe through the petrified undead, he felt the presence of something moving towards him at high speed.

With a fluid motion, he redirected his swing from its initial path and spun around to block the rapier of someone whom he knew all too well from his memories. Clad in finery befitting of one of the hated royalty of Earth, the Vampire Primogenitor, the Crimson Empress herself executed a flurry of thrusts towards the Living Ice Age. The two had no words for each other, they instead would let their weapons do the talking.

The pair of fighters had extremely different combat styles. Piotr’s was all about heavy blows while forcing his foe to face the debilitating cold that flowed off his body, while Alexis focused on using her race’s heightened physical capabilities to deal swift and precise strikes in order cause her foes to bleed out. Every strike from her rapier, Bloody Tears, would create horrible wounds that would at least need mid-grade healing magic to deal with. Piotr lacked healing magic and without someone to back him up he had to be careful to avoid taking even a single strike.

At least, Alexis had thought that he would be cautious. Instead, the rampaging Russian abandoned defense altogether and went all in on his attacks. Seemingly heedless to the wounds that were increasing second by second on his body he rushed the undead monarch with a barrage of powerful blows. As he was only human, Alexis would have normally been more than capable of dealing with this suicidal soviet. However, this man was a Hero, and therefore had physical prowess far beyond the human norm.

Alexis knew that she only had a few seconds left until the spell that kept her associate from freezing to death ended. She could try and deal a blow directly to his jugular or his heart, but she would need to exert far more speed than she was used to. Her centuries in isolation had dulled her and made her quite rusty, but a burst of speed was needed to finish the fight. The two beings danced for what felt like minutes but in truth was only half a second. Their speed and the force of their blows creating shockwaves as they danced a dance of death. As the wounds he had sustained took their toll, the colossal Russian slowed down just enough to allow Alexis to execute a Shadow Step behind him and impale his spinal column, her blade passing through the vertebrae and out through Piotr’s throat.

Life slowly left the weary mortal, and with the last of his strength his face turned to one of joy and relief. His body was still held up by the rapier’s blade that now was the only thing keeping him on his feet, but with a single fluid motion the blade was twisted and pulled from the dead man’s body with the sound of flesh being torn. The oppressive cold that had clung to the battlefield slowly dispersed and was replaced with the sensible coolness of an average summer night. Alexis brought her blade to her mouth and used her tongue to lick the blood and spinal fluid from her prized rapier.

The last remaining Hero lay dead at her feet, but Alexis did not have the feeling of triumph that she had expected. Instead, she felt cheated. This man did not fear death, instead he came here to seek it out. He was not here to kill herself and her companion, but to be killed by them. The realization that he was not protecting himself during the fight because he WANTED to die was what made this even more distasteful. She had wanted to make him suffer for what he and his kin had done, but instead he welcomed the pain and anguish like an old friend.

He had denied her a delicious victory, so she and Alistaira would deny him the final rest that he had wanted so badly.

“Spoil MY fun, will you? You will understand my displeasure when we raise you as a puppet to do our bidding. For your soul to be trapped within your unliving vessel, unable to find the rest you so desired will be a fate most befitting of someone as vexing as you.”

Alexis left the body of the fallen Hero on the frost-covered ground and flew off towards where Alistaira was, hoping that the Arch Necromancer yet lived.