I Killed The Main Characters

The group adjusted their strategy.

The knights aimed their strikes at the undead soldiers' chests.

Their weapons smashing through the black, pulsating smoky substance embedded within.

The effect was immediate—without their hearts, the undead soldiers crumbled to dust, unable to rise again.

Draven took the lead.

His strikes becoming even more precise.

His blade found its mark with unerring accuracy, shattering the ribcages with each swing.

Roselyn supported him from a distance.

Using her alchemical concoctions to weaken the soldiers and expose their vulnerable chests.

She even managed to hit a few hearts directly with her energy device.

Her aim improving with each shot.

Ariana continued to command the elemental spirits, using their powers to create openings for the others.

A spirit of earth formed jagged spikes that impaled the undead soldiers, holding them in place for the knights to finish off.

The battle raged on, but the tide had turned.

With each black heart destroyed, the horde's numbers dwindled.

The knights and guards fought with renewed vigor.

Their morale bolstered by the students' resourcefulness and bravery.

Finally, as the last undead soldier fell, the battlefield grew quiet.

The air was thick with the smell of ash and burnt bone, and the ground was littered with the remnants of the horde.

Sir Calder lowered his sword, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

He turned to the students, his expression a mixture of relief and begrudging respect.

"You may have disobeyed orders..."

He said gruffly.

"...but you fought well.

Without your quick thinking, this battle might have ended very differently..."

Suddenly the ground rumbled ominously, shaking the very air with its intensity.

The noise was deafening, like the growl of some ancient, angry beast waking from its slumber.

Draven, Ariana, Roselyn, Elias and the knights froze, their breaths caught in their throats.

The clattering of scattered bones and weapons on the ground added to the unnerving soundscape.

Suddenly, the air grew heavier.

A sinister energy spreading through the cemetery like a suffocating wave.

It was demonic, raw, and potent, seeping into the lungs and pulling bile into throats.

Several guards collapsed to their knees, their faces pale, clutching at their chests as they gagged and retched violently.

Others stumbled, barely able to stand, their swords and shields trembling in their weakening hands.

Even the more seasoned knights were struggling, sweat pouring down their brows as they fought to maintain their footing.

Draven stood amidst the chaos, his legs firm against the trembling earth.

His knuckles whitened as his grip on his sword tightened.

Though his breathing grew heavier and the veins in his arms bulged with the strain of resisting the demonic energy, his posture remained unbroken.

His sharp eyes darted across the cemetery, searching for the source of the overwhelming malevolence.

And then, from the darkness of the cemetery's heart, a figure emerged.

The first thing that caught their attention was her vibrant red hair, glowing faintly under the moonlight.

A stark contrast to the tattered white nightgown she wore.

It clung to her frail form, torn and stained with dirt.

She was barefoot, her steps unnervingly steady as she walked over broken stones and sharp debris, unfeeling.

Her glowing red eyes were the most haunting part.

Wide and unblinking, with hot tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

The knights gasped audibly, the sound cutting through the growing silence.

One of them whispered hoarsely.

"The Princess... It's Princess Elara."

Draven's eyes widened ever so slightly, his grip on the sword tightening further. Stay connected via empire

"Tch...that's not the princess we know..."

Draven muttered to himself a sweat rolling down his cheek.

Ariana covered her mouth in shock, her other hand gripping Roselyn's trembling arm.

"Elara..."

Roselyn breathed, barely above a whisper.

But the princess's arrival wasn't the only horror that emerged from the shadows.

Behind her, towering over her delicate frame, was a monstrous figure unlike any of the undead they had faced so far.

A skeletal soldier, but more than that—

This one was massive, standing at an imposing seven feet tall.

It wore black, pristine clothing, though the bottoms of its trousers and long coat were tattered and frayed.

As though it had been dragged through the cemetery's dirt for centuries.

Yet the outfit bore no signs of decay.

Its head was a bare skull engulfed in swirling red and black flames, flickering malevolently.

The flames licked at its jaw and collar, yet the skeletal remains and the clothing were untouched by the inferno.

A fedora sat tilted atop its blazing skull.

Its shadow casting an eerie angle across its hollow eye sockets.

The hat seemed untouched by the supernatural fire, as pristine as its clothing.

The undead gripped a long walking staff in its bony hand.

Its fingers were impossibly long, the tips curling like talons around the staff's smooth black surface.

It stepped forward with an unnerving grace.

Its polished shoes clicking against the stones.

The air seemed to grow colder with each step.

Then it smiled—or rather, the flickering flames around its skull twisted into the grotesque semblance of a grin.

The knights, guards, and students all froze, their weapons hanging limply in their hands.

The skeletal figure pointed its staff toward them.

Its voice cold and echoing, dripping with an ancient malice.

"Are you... the betrayers?"

The question hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a blade.

No one answered.

The knights exchanged wary glances, their eyes wide with fear and confusion.

The guards, still reeling from the oppressive energy, dared not move a muscle.

Even Draven, ever composed, said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the abomination before them.

The undead tilted its head, as if amused by their silence.

The tip of the walking staff it held, a gleaming blade protruded.

The metal caught the faint moonlight, casting a deadly glint that seemed to pierce through the darkness.

Princess Elara's gaze, previously fixed ahead, now slowly lowered to the ground.

Her shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she looked utterly defeated, as though weighed down by an invisible burden.

Then, with a sudden, metallic clatter, chains materialized around her arms and legs.

Black and spectral, they glimmered faintly, binding her like a puppet tethered to its master.

Her glowing red eyes rose once more, locking onto the group.

A strange smile spread across her tear-streaked face—

A wide, unsettling grin that bared her teeth.