Necromancer!

Reaching a sturdy stone pillar, Leonard slipped behind it, pressing his back against the cold, damp surface. He risked a glance. Roger was there, hunched over a workbench littered with potions, reagents, and bits of unspeakable things.

Leonard estimated the distance: 'forty… fifty meters.' Far enough to stay out of immediate range of acid missiles and most direct spells, but close enough for him to act.

A sleeping spell wouldn't work; undead creatures were highly resistant to anything that dulled the senses. Thorn Whip? Useless. Its ten-meter range was far too short.

"Fireball it is," Leonard whispered, reaching a decision. The secondary fireball spell was quick, reliable, and destructive; everything he needed right now.

He took a deep breath, calming his mind. Using mental power to lock onto Roger would risk alerting him, so Leonard relied on pure physical aim.

His fingers moved deftly as he summoned the spell. Energy pooled at his fingertips, swelling into a glowing orb of molten flame.

'One second.'

The fireball solidified into a perfect sphere, heat shimmering around its surface. Leonard's muscles tensed.

'Two seconds.'

In the distance, Roger began to straighten, his head snapping up as if sensing something was amiss. The stitched monster let out a low, garbled growl.

"Now."

Leonard released the fireball.

It shot forward like a cannon blast, streaking through the dark with a trail of light. Roger turned fully just in time to see it; a glowing orb of death hurtling toward him.

"What—?!" Roger hissed, his raspy voice full of shock.

The fireball struck home, detonating with a roar that shook the dungeon walls. Flames engulfed Roger's table, reagents shattering with hisses and pops. The stitched monster let out a guttural roar, staggering backward as the explosion threw shadows dancing across the walls.

From his cover, Leonard grinned. "Got you."

The smoke swirled, and Leonard prepared his next move. He couldn't let up now, Roger was dangerous, and this fight was far from over.

Roger's mouth opened, his voice crackling as he began to chant, but his words were far too slow for the fireball streaking toward him.

'BANG!'

The explosion rocked the dungeon. Flames roared through the air, and a shockwave splintered nearby wooden shelves. The 'Stitched Monster' loyal to a fault, threw its massive arm forward to shield Roger. Half of the grotesque limb was instantly obliterated, chunks of scorched flesh and charred stitches scattering across the floor.

The fireball's heat licked at Roger, setting his black robe alight. He staggered backward, batting at the flames with frantic, skeletal hands.

"It hurts!" The Stitched Monster's mouths shrieked in a horrid chorus, its voice a grotesque harmony of pain. "Don't worry, protect… protect… I will protect you!"

It turned its lopsided head to Roger, its remaining limbs twitching. Multiple mouths on its face, neck, and palms quivered as they repeated their desperate promise.

Leonard blinked from his cover, caught off guard. "So loyal?" he muttered under his breath. He had always thought stitched monsters were dull brutes, incapable of advanced reasoning. Yet here it was, throwing itself into harm's way like a faithful guard dog.

Roger's expression twisted into something furious and calculating. The flames on his robe finally extinguished, and his bony hands began tracing complex sigils in the air. His voice rasped out another incantation, the ancient syllables dripping with venom.

Leonard narrowed his eyes. "Something big is coming."

From Roger's hands, a ball of black energy coalesced; dark and pulsing like a malevolent heart. It shot outward, expanding rapidly until it formed a shimmering 'black dome' around him. The shield swallowed all light, turning the area within it into an unnatural void.

The spell was both unnerving and effective. Leonard's illusion of "Ben" shattered instantly upon contact with the spreading darkness.

Leonard frowned, his fingers already twitching to prepare another fireball. He had no idea what Roger was doing inside that dome. A defensive spell? A trap? Either way, it meant trouble.

Roger's mocking voice drifted out from the darkness, cold and accusing. "You think you can kill me? Hah! Was it the nobles who sent you?"

Leonard stayed silent, his focus unbroken.

"Cowards!" Roger spat, his voice rising. "When you needed me, you bought plague powder without question. And now that the plague has spread out of your control, you come to kill me? To silence me?"

Leonard's eyes widened slightly. "The plague… spreading in the north… was him?"

The implications were chilling. This wasn't just an evil wizard holed up in a dungeon; this man had unleashed a catastrophe. 'A plague.' A weapon of devastation that had already claimed countless lives.

Roger's laughter rattled through the black dome. "I knew this day would come! I just didn't think it would be 'today'. So be it!"

Leonard didn't respond. His mind raced, but his hands remained steady as he began to chant, low and deliberate. Another fireball coalesced in front of him, the air shimmering with its heat.

Inside the black dome, Roger fell silent. Leonard smirked faintly, realizing something. "So you can see me in there, can't you? But that means… the view goes both ways."

It was a critical insight. Roger's spell shielded him from view, but it wasn't a perfect barrier.

Leonard's fireball finished forming. He aimed physically once again, releasing his spell without hesitation.

'WHOOSH!'

The fireball shot forward like a meteor, its orange glow searing through the darkness. It struck the black dome, exploding with a deafening roar. For a split second, Leonard saw a shape dart behind the 'Stitched Monster', which once again stepped into the fireball's path.

The monster howled as flames devoured its bloated body. Patches of rotten flesh sizzled and split open, spilling rancid, burning fat onto the floor. The stench of burning meat filled the dungeon, acrid and choking.

Leonard didn't pause. "Again."

He summoned another fireball, his chanting quick and sharp. This time, he unleashed his mental power fully, locking onto the smaller target he had glimpsed behind the monster.

Roger's voice rose from the shadows, panic edging into his tone. "You don't follow the rules, do you?"

A gray ray shot out of the dome toward Leonard; quick, focused, and deadly.

'THUD.'

It hit Leonard's invisible shield, rippling against the force field of his enchanted cloak before dissipating harmlessly. Leonard barely flinched.

"You'll have to do better than that," Leonard muttered.

The next fireball flew like a blazing comet, striking the Stitched Monster for the 'third time'.

"AAAAAH! IT HURTS!" The monster's mouths screamed in an ear-splitting chorus. It flailed madly, its enormous body now a walking pyre. Greasy smoke billowed from its flesh, the fire consuming it from the inside out. Leonard caught the sharp, sickening smell of melting corpse fat.

The creature staggered back, its remaining limbs twitching spasmodically. The flames were spreading faster than it could recover, and its gargantuan form was slowly collapsing under its own weight.

Leonard didn't let up. He prepared yet another fireball, his expression cold and merciless.

"Burn, you patchwork bastard," he muttered, his voice low and resolute.

Roger's spell had bought him time, but Leonard could already see the cracks forming in his defenses; literally and figuratively. The stitched monster was falling apart, and soon Roger would be next.

"You're running out of monsters to hide behind, Roger." Leonard's words carried through the smoke-filled air as the fireball ignited in his hands.

A gray ray shot from the depths of the black dome, streaking toward Leonard like a spear of shadow.

But once again, the transparent barrier flared to life around him, absorbing the attack effortlessly.

Leonard smirked to himself. It was almost comical; two spellcasters, trading blows like inexperienced novices. The only difference? One of them, Leonard, was wearing 'equipment far beyond his level'. His enchanted cloak shimmered faintly, untouched.

Roger's frustration erupted from the dome, his hoarse voice trembling with rage. "Damn it! STOP! Stop this madness, and I'll give you whatever you want!"

Leonard ignored him, his chanting low and steady as he summoned yet another fireball. A swirling sphere of flame formed in front of him, the heat so intense it made the air ripple.

Then the dome shuddered, and a figure burst from its blackness. Roger staggered forward, flames crawling over his skeletal form like hungry serpents. His black robe was reduced to tatters, and his bones were riddled with cracks and scorch marks. Behind him, the 'Stitched Monster' lumbered, its bloated flesh melting and burning. A hole had been blown straight through its stomach, and sizzling fat dripped from the wound, hissing as it hit the ground.

Even in agony, the Stitched Monster reached out with its last remaining hand, gripping Roger's shoulder gently.

"Protect… protect you," it moaned, all of its mouths speaking in a trembling harmony, the sound like a haunted choir.

Roger twisted his head back, the flames flickering wildly in his empty eye sockets. His voice erupted in fury. "Who the hell asked for your protection?!" He hissed through gritted teeth. "You're nothing but a puppet! A worthless pile of flesh I stitched together! You're not her—do you hear me? YOU ARE NOT HER!"

The Stitched Monster faltered. Its grotesque, bloodied face contorted in confusion, the stitched lips on its shoulder murmuring softly. "Protect… Mommy wants to protect you…"

Roger roared, his skeletal form trembling as if the words clawed at some buried part of him. "No! My mother's dead! She died years ago! You're just a mockery, a pitiful substitute I made to fill the void she left behind!"