Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Necrosis grew over stone and wood like moss, blood-seeking vines scaling the sides of buildings, crawling and shoving into the thinnest of cracks, waiting for prey blinded by eternal darkness and confused by the royal miasma to stumble upon their territory.

Sunflowers with stems as pale as bone, seeds as dark as the sovereign sun, darksun blooms all staring straight at the astral body, guide to countless stars, constellations and moons, some of them as tall as a man, some as tall as giants, growing through building, tearing them down.

Standing alongside those plants were a variety of flowers, coming in all sorts of colours, but all were either bleak or awfully bright like signalling toxicity, some twisted forms of living vegetation, others completely unseen before, produce of death alone, especially loathsome and vile.

Tulips, poppies, chrysanths, roses, irises, intertwined with mushrooms such as horn of plenties, the variety in types of growths, not caring for differences in temperature and needs, all simply grew as it wished, overflowing and eternal all, a treasure trove for botanical enthusiasts it might have been, but everything was out to kill.

Releasing parasitic spores, pumping out miasma, physically attacking, spectral blooms attempting to plant their buds within one's soul, the putrid flora was thriving, even though efforts of renovations and change had not been undergone here, death had left its mark.

Rotten trees had picked up churches, modified the scenery by erasing roads and crushing landmarks, the once holy-heavy environment was still present, only that it was now the worship of death that fueled it.

The area had been blessed by priests of death, the very center of Millipolo was now adorned with a lanky tree, its branches growing downward, as though it had plunged its many limbs into the roofs of nearby holy establishments, near this very tree, there he was, waiting already.

Climbing up on a nearby roof, getting up to the same elevation as his adversary, Thanatok Ynigós, crossed his arms, mimicking Loimos's own posture, with the snap of his fingers, the pure living dispelled the entirety of the miasma shrouding the abandoned holy city, there wasn't even any resistance, no one was trying to prevent this.

Objects shaped like small birds were flying around, construct devoid of both life and death, miniature golems transmitting their sight to the Tamarisian King and his entourage, all staring intensely, eyeing both the undead and living with unbreakable attention, already, groans were heard as their gaze landed on Loimos.

A deep purple light shining from behind the barred visor, Thanatok Ynigós rose his fist forth, his entire figure erupting with the vibrant green life force, his undead counterpart blazing with the decaying dark of death force.

"Let's make one thing clear Loimos, you are the underdog here" taunted the living, his legs tensing up, the roof beneath cracking under this mere action, any time now, at any point from now on, he could burst forth.

The undead was unfazed, and without budging in the least, the very ground moved, a great portion of Millipolo was flipped upside down as a tidal wave of corrosive black blood rose, engulfing all within it.

Disappearing within the blood, Loimos nearly immediately reached up to The First Death Hunter, who had leapt up into the air, back adorned with putrefied, thin insectoid wings, the skeleton thrust his hand like a spear, his straightforward attack easily evaded, arm grabbed and head caved in by the strike of the living's elbow, sending his life force at the same time.
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Pulling away, Loimos sliced off his own head, regrowing it back to normal in the blink of an eye, the disembodied one breaking apart, vanishing like it had never even existed.

This was Thanatok Ynigós's most dangerous weapon, not just his incredibly potent life force that allowed him to punch right through undeads like they were made of warm butter, but the fact that it sort of had a mind of its own, even when detached from him, without his input, it would seek to devour all death force within reach, easily tearing down any undead to utter nothingness in mere seconds, both in body, mind, soul and whatever else, nothing would be left if allowed to proliferate.

It was due to him that Nosferatu had become so overwhelmingly competent at regenerating his body, a single strike of his had almost completely destroyed The Graveyard back in the day.

This was his signature technique, generally titled as 'devouring life' or 'devouring life fist', overcoming it would be Loimos's first step toward victory.

The insect wings exploded as the regular wings took their place, pushing Loimos backward with a single movement, feathers detached, turning into metallic discuses, taking various paths as they all closed in on the living.

Ynigós formed a platform beneath his feet, looking at the dozens of flying weapons without urgency, evidently unimpressed unlike the spectators wishing his ultimate triumph.

Each and every single of those disks were the exact same at just a glance, but not a single one of them was a carbon copy of another, all created from the same thing, yet bearing much different capabilities, some were wholly physical, naught but what they appeared as, other were forged out of energies, some were imbued with so many battle arts that Syklon was genuinely flabbergasted, Loimos had clearly just made them up on the spot, and done nothing specific, yet the amount and sheer potency held within every single one of those arts was unimaginable.

Mixing energies, arts and his primeval rot together so seamlessly, with just the flap of his wings, this was a matter one should worry about, and everyone was, except for the one actually facing this onslaught.

With a bright smile, the pure living rapidly punched down each and every of the projectiles aiming for him, when some exploded, sending shards of shrapnels into his body, they were quickly destroyed and his injuries mended instantly.

The undead flew above Thanatok, calling forth a great steam of fire, manifesting the decapitated head of an ancient dragon, to use its signature move, but only after empowering it with every single thing imaginable of course, a blazing breath of fire that could make the mythical beast it had been stolen from look down with shame, the flames were wholly ignored, Ynigós launching himself right through it, going right through the disembodied head, and grabbing Loimos right by his face.

The slamming of life force ensured that the undead could not slip away from this grasp, thrown right back down with a loud boom, soon followed by the living landing as well, dispersing the conjured sea of black blood.

Millipolo had already suffered great damage just from this opening attack, the soil the two were standing upon was bare, certainly lower than the ground the roads and buildings were supposed to be built upon.

"Let's do this on solid ground, it's much better" Loimos's wings were already in motion, making him airborne once more, but only for a moment, throwing himself with a stomp, the hero of life moved up, knocking the undead to the ground once more.

Loimos removed part of his body to prevent the spread of life and coated himself with external death force, letting it overflow from within, another pillar of flames shot out from beneath the human, this one without the need for a dragon head to be conjured.

"Only arts for this one… And it was more powerful than the first, things are going to be messy real quick…" Syklon covered her mouth, trying to decipher the secret Loimos was employing to wield the battle arts so freely, it couldn't just be raw talent that allowed for him to manipulate them like this.

Both combatants stepped forward, preparing to engage in close-quarters.