The Rotting Cathedral stood in silence, its walls still humming with the echoes of Kruger's final scream. His voice, now woven into the Hymn of the Hollow, joined the endless lament of lost souls.
Selene Nocturna smiled, her fingers trailing over the blackened stone. The curse had claimed him, just as it had claimed so many before. Yet, something lingered—an aftertaste in the magic, a defiance that should have crumbled.
She turned, her blood-darkened robes flowing like living shadows.
A disturbance rippled through the cathedral's ruined halls.
The air stirred with decay and something older—an intrusion into her domain.
Selene's smile faltered.
Footsteps. Steady. Heavy. Measured.
Not the shuffle of the cursed. Not the wail of the broken.
A predator's approach.
From the cathedral's archway, a figure emerged. Cloaked in dusk-colored armor, runes glowing faintly across the chestplate, the newcomer carried a war-scythe etched with anti-necrotic sigils.
Selene's gaze narrowed.
"Another fool come to challenge me?" she murmured, more to herself than to the intruder.
The figure stopped a few feet away, lowering the hood to reveal a scarred face, burned and twisted by past horrors. His eyes—silver, cold, unforgiving—locked onto hers.
Selene tilted her head.
"Ah. Not just any fool, then."
The man dipped his chin in acknowledgment.
"Varek Hollowborne." His voice was a gravel-coated growl. A hunter's voice.
Selene sighed theatrically, tapping a clawed finger against her lips.
"You should remember my order."
That caught her interest.
She studied him closer. The rune-markings on his armor, the way his stance never wavered. He wasn't just a mercenary or a reckless avenger.
"Ah," Selene murmured, realization settling in. "The Hollowborn Hunters. I thought I had wiped you all out."
Selene chuckled, low and venomous.
A blur of black steel and seething magic, his war-scythe cut through the air with deadly precision.
Selene danced backward, the blade narrowly missing her throat. The cathedral shuddered, her minions beginning to stir from the shadows.
But Varek was prepared.
Sigils ignited around him, casting away the crawling hands, the whispering specters. He threw a vial of burning white liquid—holy fire. It splashed across the stone, searing the Rotting Cathedral's corruption.
Selene's eyes darkened.
"You've come well-armed."
"I came to finish what your plague started."
The air crackled—dark alchemy against sacred runes.
"Then let's see if you last longer than the others."