A Bored Lich

Further and further Frey descended into the darkness, his limbs uselessly flailing through the murky waters. His open eyes stared lifelessly at a hazy light that was just out of reach. 'Finally…rest.' His thoughts echoed aloud.

He allowed his head to sink back yet, like an insomniac lying in bed, his mind refused to shut off. An invisible thread halted him on the boundary of the pitch-black. He tensed, remembered the goblin cave and the piercing fear that had pushed him to victory.

'Enough…I'm tired.'

The thread gently caressed his back.

He blinked. 'What is this?'

Pain shot through his thigh and he coughed up bubbles of air, which rose to the surface and popped. The far away light dove into the water, rocketing through his thigh and amplifying the pain. He flinched away. The light stretched out in five directions, forming fingers of flaming, white aura. A small, delicate hand yanked him up towards the surface.

He felt the desperation she felt.

He wanted to win the fight like her.

Their fight wasn't over.

'I see,' Frey thought, recognizing the light. 'She trusted me to win this fight. My grandfather's power doesn't just respond to my will, but also the will of others. Thank you, Olpi.'

The cold night air slapped Frey awake. He wiped the blood from his eyes and traced the pain in his thigh back to a needle. He stood. Renewed strength flooded through his body, which cried out in protest. The flaming, white aura shut the pain out. 'Olpi, I won't let you down,' Frey thought.

Owen, who had made his way over to Olpi, slowly turned around. He laughed and shook his head: "I can't even be surprised. I knew I should have broken your legs."

Frey shambled, slowly closing the gap between them: "You seem to have regrets. Not killing me will be your last."

"You can barely stand," Owen remarked.

Frey kept shambling forward.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen feet.

Ten feet.

'It does seem that way,' Frey thought. 'When Doevm pulled this stunt in our first match, I let my guard down as well.' He exploded forward, snow flying behind his thundering steps before he grabbed Owen's thick head and cracked it against his knee.

Owen bounced away, eyes nearly rolling back as a groan escaped his throat. By the time he shifted for a counter, Frey was out of reach. "That was weak," Owen said.

Frey gestured to the blackened blood dripping down Owen's forehead. "Come on, War Monk. Isn't unarmed combat your specialty, or are you just slowing down?"

"One good hit and you'll fall like a ton of bricks," Owen hissed.

Frey slowly looked over to a bystander, Olpi, and subtly motioned for her to leave. She nodded and backed away slowly, as not to draw attention to herself. 'You've done what you came here for, Olpi, now run,' he thought. 'You should always be cautious at a time like this, the most dangerous part of a fight.'

Owen's eyes shifted left to right, scanning the clearing. He slowly realized that he wasn't the hunter anymore. His prey had escaped his traps and turned his own weapon against him. There was nowhere to go. He could only struggle against the end, like a cornered animal. That made him dangerous, but also predictable.

Owen launched at Frey. His previously-precise punches left a trail of desperation as they harmlessly drifted by Frey's head, as gentle as the snowfall.

'It's like he's presenting himself on a silver platter,' Frey thought, staring at all the openings. He had his pick of the ribs, the stomach, the head, anything. He smirked, opened his fist up, and slapped him.

The sound echoed in the night.

The fiery look in Owen's eyes as he held his reddening face told Frey that he had chosen correctly: humiliation. "You…" Owen blurted out, spittle flying out of his lips.

"Oh you look pissed!" Frey taunted him, then struck him hard in the ribs. Owen wheezed and stumbled back. His stance was so sloppy he could barely react even if he had seen it coming. Frey took in a lungful of air and pressed into his momentum. Head, ribs, stomach, nose, and chest, he rained down blow after blow after blow. Blood splattered everywhere.

Owen hit the ground covered in bruises, still trying desperately to get away. Frey stomped on the snow as Owen rolled to the side and aimed a mana-filled hand at him. "It's over."

Frey grabbed Owen's wrist.

Bright, blue mana and flaming, white aura collided. The air itself cracked around the two combatants. The battle transcended the physical for a brief moment. 'Come on,' Frey thought, watching the magic circle crack. 'Just a bit more.'

The energy built to a peak and expanded outwards. Frey flew to one side of the clearing and he heard Owen crash far on the other side.

'Come on,' Frey thought. 'I can't pass out again.' His bones creaked as he struggled to get back to his feet. 'It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. Keep your head up.'

"It's over Frey," Owen called.

Frey pushed to his feet to see Owen standing over Olpi, who had tried so desperately to run away. However, without life essence she moved like a snail compared to them.

Owen's face was pale. The poison had spread through most of his body. It didn't matter if Frey could beat him. He could beat Olpi.

"Let's try this again," Owen coughed. "You put on those manacles and let's go see my family again, alright? We. Are. The. Greater. Good. We will worship the goddess like normal people. Let's not associate ourselves with heathens like Olpi or Doevm or Elero. I'll kill-" He looked down to see a magic circle at his feet.

Olpi pushed her mana out, and the ice anchored Owen to the spot. It climbed up his legs, his chest, his arms, and finally his head. The look of shock on his face was frozen within the cocoon.

Olpi stepped away from him. The edges of her lips curled into a sly smile. "We did it."

"You could have done that earlier, you know," Frey said.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Olpi explained. "I couldn't." She slowly stepped away from Owen, not daring to look away a second time.

"Wait, so what changed?"

They both stared at the frozen visage of Owen as they calmed themselves down. "I think you absorbed his magic," Olpi guessed.

"Oh that's nice. Think that'll hold him?" Frey asked.

"It'll have to do for now." Olpi said before she collapsed.

Frey looked down at her and let out a sigh. "Hey, we still need to walk back. I don't even know if I can carry you like this."

"Sorry," Olpi said, not moving.

Frey let out a pained groan as he took a knee, his body still aching from the fight. He shook her, but she didn't get up. "Come on." As he flipped her over to her back, he finally noticed the blackened veins along her body.

"I'm sorry, Frey," Olpi lamented. "I'm just not a fighter like you." She raised up her hand, which had swollen with around a needle mark.

"This is…"

"I accidentally nicked myself back at your little hideout. I think I got more than one dose."

Frey glanced over to where he had left the antidote, but it was empty. "We'll just get you back to town and Doevm will figure something out."

"Maybe," Olpi coughed. "But then again I might also die, so might as well apologize while I can. I'm sorry I got into your…your way. I didn't freeze all of Owen, but you should melt him out soon or he'll…he'll die too. I'm sorry. I should have been more careful."

Frey glanced at Owen. "How long can he survive frozen?"

"A few minutes maybe."

Frey scrunched up his lips. 'I can't carry them both back,' he thought. His spatial ring lay just on the other side of the clearing. With a lava boar's tusk, he could melt Owen out. Then what? Leave Olpi behind?

Olpi coughed and wheezed, the black in her hand pulsing with her heartbeat. Frey gritted his teeth in frustration and walked towards his spatial ring. 'Maybe I can make Owen walk back with us…right?' Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it wouldn't work.

Olpi coughed and convulsed. "I'm sorry." She sounded so pathetic. It made his stomach churn.

Frey cursed.

She felt so frail in his arms.

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