The cultist's hands had also shifted into paws resembling the hind limbs of the frost dragon, buts of feather adorning his wrists, sign that in his venture to commune with the beast, he would eventually lose his arms, replacing them for wings, that was only for the future however, and as of now, the living's future was uncertain.
Loimos first attempted to turn the area into a blood swamp, with shriek, his enemy countered that, sending mana outwardly, wrestling the blood away from him, although his mana was inferior to the undead's pure death force in terms of quality, Loimos had yet to have to vye for the domination of his own energy.
Next, the skeleton stabbed forth, his sword caught in the hold of the draconic paw, the blade incapable of cutting into the skin, infusing death force, it began to bore into flesh, before rotten blood could be injected, the cultist pushed Loimos's arm away, striking the undead straight in the chest, his attack hitting a solid surface.
Although only the helm was visible, the undead was garbed into the full set of armour, the chestplate, placed upon rot that shifted to absorb the force of the blows, still, the punch pushed him away, aimed to simply shove him off of the mountain.
A pillar of rot was erected to catch Loimos, who sunk into the decay, which then expanded into multiple directions, roaring at the sky, imitating his idol, the cultist's voice carried an intense freeze with it, aiming to stop the rot right in its track, trapping the undead within his own creation.
The frost roar was impressive, but not quite as much as the real deal, the range especially, left much to be desired, it could not reach the initial pillar of rot, the instant the roar stopped, Loimos blasted out from there, sliding on the ground, arriving before the cultist with swiftness, but a certain lack of impact, stopping right in his track before tackling the living, that's what one would normally expect after all.
Bracing for a shock that never occurred, his defences were left wide open, allowing Loimos seize hold of the lizard-like head, the inside of his helm suffused with both a purple light and the sound of intense bubbling, unleashing a stream a corrosion, puking it all at point blank.
Twitching intensely for a few moments, the now faceless cultist quickly went limp, the transformation of the body was certainly potent, most would have been left headless, but this one had managed to keep his skull.
Now passed, decaying what remained was as simple as it could get, that thick skin would make a great addition to Loimos's collection.
This guy had not used any breath attacks for some reason, did the frost dragon really not possess one?
Perhaps his roar was so powerful because it was both his breath and an art, food for thought, Loimos just continued on his path, this cultist may have been respected enough by the other denizens, but transforming one-self into a dragon was not exactly a straight line to more power, it simply was not a natural act, truly, life would do anything other than just die.
Loimos was made to enjoy some tranquil travel, at least, free from constant attacks, there were creatures roaming the mountains still, but not lusting for battle like before, the undead kept on going higher and higher, there were rarely any moments where he was not ascending further up into the sky.
Traversing through the different layers of clouds, encountering the skies that most would never even suspect existed, not that they were that different, but for some reason, looking from down there, one would naturally assume clouds were only at one altitude, for it was all that was visible.
But it was merely because the clouds above the first layer could not be easily perceived with sight, as of now, Loimos had gone through five of those layers, the clouds getting denser and denser, forcing him to physically carve a path for himself, it was interesting to imagine how, by rotting them, he could perhaps alter the consistency of his miasma.
Ascending up the same mountain for weeks on end, his most difficult encounters being with the environment itself, at last however, he arrived on the third peak of his journey, there he was able to bear witness to a very exclusive sight.
It could really make one wonder just how crooked and off this entire world was, well, most of the denizens quickly grew accustomed to the extraordinary and nonsensical concept being thrown on the head and spun around was something one would see or hear off multiple times in infancy.
So, even though it would be deeply surprising, being able to see more suns by just climbing very high could just be chalked up to this world being the way it was.
A spectacle of light unfurled before Loimos's very sockets, failing to move him in any ways, those suns came in a variety of colours and shapes, it was said that sometimes, for no distinguishable reasons, the sun that illuminated people's days would change, having been documented to become a triangular shapes, or to turn green, well, clearly, the sun was not changing its form, Loimos could see all of those documented transformation coexisting within his line of sight.
Some of those clearly sported elemental properties, others casted the exact same light as the regular sun, one in particular, was naught but a gigantic variation of the common star, it was difficult to say whether it was simply enormous, or if it was just much closer, but since the undead was not a pile of ashes, it was more reasonable to assume the first option was true.
The ancient tree did not show up to explain random stuff this time, not that it was necessary, the scenery spoke for itself, the day turned to night, the brilliant stars vanished, as if retreating behind a veil, letting place to just as many variations of the moon, but in the night, a sun still appeared, looming close to Loimos, extending one of its fiery tendrils toward him, or rather, pointing at somewhere behind him it appeared.
This sun was entirely dark, casting not light, but darkness, no shadows could exist under its glow.
The sun retreated back, disappearing into thin air, whatever this encounter meant, Loimos seemed to have understood what the dark star had conveyed to him.
Climbing back onto the caravan, going the direction the solar mass had pointed out, making his way onto rugged terrain, the road that had once been there completely ravaged, large imprints left that clearly told what sort of beings had done battle here.
None of them were left around, the prints of their hands upon the mountains all that testified to their passage here, Loimos continued on ascending.