Runnin' Runnin!

*CRASH!*

Harry and Nanthisk run through the hallway as corpses spew from the collapsing walls of ice. The undead charged after them no matter their condition. Corpses awkwardly sprint with fractured legs and spines, while others crawl as fast as they can due to the absence of their lower bodies.

"WHY AM I HERE!" Nanthisk hisses as he and Harry flee towards what is hopefully the exit.

Harry just grins, "ISN'T THIS EXCITING!?" he laughs.

"NO!"

They'd been running for a minute or two, yet the hallway seems never-ending... Along with the limitless numbers of corpses still chasing them. They were faster than the undead, but that didn't mean anything.

"Don't worry, I've got this!" Harry says, biting into his wrist and drawing blood from his veins, leaving a long trail of it behind him. After that, he turns and thrusts his hand towards it, shouting "Kahstienn!", causing the blood to ignite into vicious-looking green flames. It lingers on the ground like napalm, and any undead that touches it quickly turns to ash.

*CRASH!*

Unfortunately, they were in enemy territory, so the environment wasn't on their side. Harry turns to see more undead spewing from the walls in front of them, but Nanthisk was holding them back via his calcification gaze. The undead caught in his gaze has their flesh quickly turn to bone, rendering them immobile.

"Massster! We have to go!"

*Shatter!*

A rotten arm punches through the ice next to Harry and grabs his shoulder, but he just strikes back with flame covered fist, crushing its brittle skull against the ice it was trapped in.

Harry grabs Nanthisk and runs towards the calcified undead, weaving through them to try and get ahead of the cascading walls that continued to release undead.

*Crash!*

Four more crawl out in front of them so Harry jumps up and off of one of their heads, accidentally crushing its skull underfoot as he carries Nanthisk over them.

Another minute of running later and they reach the end of the hallway... Almost tumbling off of the edge of the icy path as they step out onto a ledge overlooking an incredibly high fall. It was too dark to see what was at the bottom, but they couldn't ascend upwards due to the undead appearing on that particular path. The only path free of undead was the stairs circling down the large cylindrical room.

He and Nanthisk charge down it just in time to avoid the flood of undead from the hallway, many of which tumble into the abyss below as they fail to stop their charge.

"Reckon all the gold is down there!?" Harry asks as if they weren't currently running for their lives.

"NOW ISSS NOT THE TIME MASSSTER!"

They continue to descend down the stairs, thankful that no more undead was springing from the walls. However, the further they go the worse the stench of blood becomes. Six minutes later, Harry's fire finally reveals the bottom of the room... The cylindrical room opens up into an even widen rectangular one which was far better decorated than the others the duo had seen thus far.

The stairs became free-standing as they circled around a large pit that was positioned in front of what one might call a 'frozen throne'.

"Is that...?" Harry starts, slowing his pace as the undead behind them had already fallen quite far behind... That or, they simply stopped following altogether.

Nanthisk nods his head, "Blood."

The pit before them was filled to the brim with blood. Most of it was frozen over, with only a small portion in the centre actually being fluid... It was dark, almost black, and bubbled as if it were placed in a cauldron.

The room itself was made of a mixture of dark ice and gold accents. The throne was designed similarly, making it apparent that whoever ruled this place held wealth among one of the highest virtues... That, or they just had too much gold lying around.

"Hmph, a visitor. After all these years." a distorted male voice echoes through the room and the duo drop into a combat-ready stance.

"You must be the owner of this place. 'The Scourge?'" Harry wonder aloud, wondering if this was going to be a boss fight.

"Oh? Am I so famous that people still know of me? Strange, none have attempted to breach my sanctum until now. I doubt my enemies would have sent a weak child and its pet." the voice remarks as the shadows of the room gather together and coalesce into one spot. The black shell dissipates to reveal a black-cloaked figure which floats down into his throne.

Harry notices the man's skeletal feet however, "You're a Lich!" he exclaims.

The Necromancer scoffs, "Of course I am, how else would I live so long? Foolish brat."

"I'm foolish?" Harry questions, "How are you even talking to us now? Shouldn't you be speaking in some ancient language or something?"

"Magic."

...

"Of course..." Harry numbly replies.

The Lich holds its arm out to the side, allowing shadows to climb into his hand to form a staff made of bones and gems. "I believe we have played long enough. Submit, or join my army of mindless undead."

"Submit?" Harry parrots, unsure of what the Lich actually means by that...

The Lich nods, "You managed to outrun my weak servants thus far. You have some amount of skill, or a body worth something. Become my Apostle. You will serve me as your god, and we will lay waste to those arrogant mortals who dare enter my territory!"

...

Does he mean those old northern expeditions?

Harry shakes his head, "I won't serve you! I won't serve anyone! And if anyone is going to destroy them it will be me and me alone!" he exclaims, readying his magic.

"So be it." the Lich states, tapping his staff on the icy ground and causing large amalgams made of hundreds of corpses to enter the room and look at the duo with icy glowing eyes.

...

"Nanthisk-RUN!" Harry shouts, running away and towards the large doors on the opposite side of the throne room.

"HAHAHAHA! YOU THINK YOU CAN FLEE INSIDE MY OWN PALACE!? HAHAHA! GO ON THEN! SHOW ME! ENTERTAIN ME! MORTALS!"