As Jonathan and the others approached, the figure looked up. It didn’t seem aggressive.

  “Who are you?” The figure asked in a breathless voice.

  “I could ask the same question,” Arkanon replied, a hard look on his face. “Who, or rather, what are you?”

  The man smiled slightly. “My name is Alkard. I have lived here for eons beyond my recollection. It has been an eternity since I have seen the living.”

  “So everyone here is undead?” Jonathan asked.

  “They are. Under the dominion of the Stillborn Hegemon, legions of the dead inhabit the lands of Cessation, undying testimonies to the nature of this circle. Most are mindless, but the few of us that still retain sapience are more powerful than most.”

  Jonathan tilted his head, and scanned the other man, suspecting that he was concealing strength by his demure appearance.

  Alkard Unordan

  Revenant

  Level 325

  Health: 345897/345897

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the first Tier 4 being he had seen since coming to the Infinite Hells. Now that he knew, he could feel a slight aura of restrained power around the man. Although he did not seem to be overly powerful for his level, Alkard was more dangerous than most Jonathan had fought.

  “If you are undying, then how come your level isn’t higher? Wouldn’t most push for as much power as possible?” Jonathan asked.

  “This realm does not have much in the line of steady leveling opportunities. Most are weak, and those that are Tier 4 range wildly from the bottom to the top of the rank. Of course, it is quite hard to fight above your level, to say the least.”

  “I see. Well, can you point us to wherever the Stillborn Hegemon is?” Jonathan asked. “We seek an audience with him.”

  Alkard regarded them with his unblinking eyes. “He dwells amidst the ruins of a dozen ruined cities, at the very center of this realm. A court of powerful undead surrounds him at all times. Why do you wish to meet with him, though?”

  “As you can probably tell, we are newcomers to Cessation. We seek a way out, and to the next realm,” Jonathan answered.

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  The undead sighed. “Ah. I was worried about that. You must be Jonathan Harlowe, the infamous Hellbreaker, come to kill the lord of this realm. Unfortunately, I must stop you. As an undead, I am beholden to my maker.”

  Jonathan sighed as well, and girded his gauntlets with purple fire, motioning for the others to withdraw. For most of them, this was not an ideal starting battle for this realm. Respectfully, Alkard waited for Jonathan’s troops to reposition, and then attacked. His body blurred as he activated a skill, almost teleporting before Jonathan. The hunk of wood in his hand transformed into a weapon, made deadly by its sheer speed. Jonathan suspected that it was Tier 4 wood, which meant that although it wasn’t crafted for battle, it could still harm him.

  Jonathan, though, was ready for the strike, and as a ghostly shadow of Alkard’s form swept its weapon towards him, he prepared to duck under the real strike. When it came a moment later, it passed over his head harmlessly. He drove his fist towards Alkard’s torso, a pillar of purple fire erupting from it. The man nimbly rolled his body to the side, basic biological limitations being overcome by his undead form as he twisted his joints out of shape. Jonathan was forced to withdraw as the piece of wood came hurtling towards his head once more, and as he moved, he felt a sharp impact to his left leg. Unsure of where it came from, he cast his gaze down for a moment, spotting a small hole in his armor.

  A few feet away, Alkard’s hand was pointed towards him, a wisp of green smoke drifting off it, as if something had just been fired. Jonathan felt a twinge in his leg as something started to crawl into it, a poison seeping into his veins and muscles. His leg began to buckle, but before he could fall, he pulsed the Void through his limb, excising the elemental taint from his body. A splatter of green liquid splashed onto the dusty ground before him, hissing as it ate through it.

  “I see where your legend comes from. The conceptual poison of Undeath itself should have had more of an effect on you.”

  Jonathan smiled. “I have also been underestimating you. That ends now.”

  Stamina pervaded his limbs, as he sent tens of thousands of points hurtling into himself. He let loose with his true speed, using his muscles to the extent of their stat values. With a sharp crack, he carved a canyon into the ground with his steps, and a split second later, his fist slammed into Alkard’s head, bursting it like an overripe melon. Grey ooze spattered the nearby houses, and before the man could potentially recover, Jonathan dragged his hand through his torso, bringing a wave of Voidlight with it that consumed every last bit of his flesh.

  You have killed Alkard Unordan!

  You have leveled up!(x2)

  Jonathan grinned as the essence washed into him, and he grew closer to Tier 4.

  Alkard’s body fell bonelessly to the ground, before starting to flake apart into ash, returning to the dreary substrate of the world around him. Jonathan heard a few echoing footsteps coming from around the corner of a nearby house, and readied himself for more trouble. When their producers came into view, however, he realized. Three shambling undead, around the midpoint of Tier 3, came into view. While powerful enough, their minds were gone, rotted away either by time or by the process that had consigned them to their dismal fate.

  “I’ll deal with them,” Eliza said. “It will do me the most good, as the rest of you are too high leveled.”