I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 105: Inside the Tower Part 1

The inside of the tower was alive.

Not metaphorically. Not spiritually.

Literally.

The walls pulsed faintly, covered in some kind of organic film that writhed when touched by the violet mist drifting from the floor. Each step echoed wetly, as though they were walking across a stomach lining instead of stone. Inigo’s boots stuck slightly with each step, like the tower itself didn’t want to let them go.

"Disgusting," Korrik muttered, wiping his blade across his cloak like it might be tainted just by the air.

"No more disgusting than Hollowmere," Lyra replied, though her voice lacked humor. Her bow was drawn, arrow nocked. She was tense.

Inigo raised his M4, sweeping his scope left to right. The weapon felt heavier in here, not because of weight, but because of the pressure building in the air. A feeling like walking into a trap.

They moved deeper. The tower’s corridor widened into a massive chamber lit by unnatural light—glowing pods embedded in the walls throbbed like infected boils. Some pulsed. Others twitched. A few dripped viscous liquid into the floor.

It stank of sulfur, rot, and something worse—magic.

Then, a sound. A slow, deliberate clicking—metal against bone.

Inigo raised a fist. They stopped.

From the far end of the chamber, two figures emerged.

The first was tall—nearly seven feet—encased in black, jagged armor with glowing cracks of blue energy running through him. His sword was massive and wickedly serrated, resting over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. His helm fused into his face, and his steps rang with calm purpose.

The second figure floated. She didn’t walk.

Her robes trailed across the floor like shadowed water, her skin pale and tattooed with glowing runes. Her hair flowed behind her unnaturally, and her eyes burned with a dull violet glow. No breath. No blink.

She raised one hand.

The ground answered.

All around them, the organic floor began to bubble and tear. First in small patches—then violently—gaping open like burst wounds. Rotten flesh, bone, and twisted limbs erupted upward as the undead clawed their way into the chamber.

Dozens. Maybe hundreds.

Some had no eyes. Others had too many. Their arms were made of sharpened bone, fused weapons, or muscle-stitched flesh. Some dragged shattered shields or worn armor. Others had no legs and slithered like eels.

Korrik stepped forward, sword raised. "I hate necromancers."

Arienne moved behind him and slammed a warding sigil onto the floor. "These aren’t normal undead."

Inigo raised his rifle and chambered a round. "Then full send. Light ’em up."

The necromancer floated back, her hand still outstretched. The armored demon remained rooted—watching.

Then the horde charged.

Inigo was the first to fire. Muzzle flash lit the dark as he unloaded short bursts, his rounds tearing through the first wave. Their bodies burst apart in puffs of rot and viscera, but it barely slowed the rest. Lyra’s arrows followed, dropping three more before they could reach striking distance.

Korrik met them head-on, sword cleaving clean through one, then another, bones snapping with each blow.

Arienne flung out both hands. A burst of fire shot across the ground, igniting a group of undead who screamed as their limbs twisted and curled in flame.

But more poured in.

Inigo ejected a mag, slammed in a fresh one, and switched to semi-auto. He picked off targets near Arienne, protecting her flank as she set up another barrier.

"She’s just standing there," Lyra shouted, dodging a swipe. "Like she’s waiting!"

"She’s testing us," Inigo replied, firing point-blank into a twisted ghoul trying to leap. "That knight’s her judge."

The armored figure still hadn’t moved. His blade remained resting on his shoulder, and his glowing eyes were locked onto them.

Watching.

Evaluating.

Korrik smashed through two undead with a spin, then planted his foot and shouted, "Then let’s pass the test!"

Inigo pulled the RPG from his back. "Clear the path."

"What?" Lyra blinked.

"Fire in the hole!" Inigo dropped to one knee.

The rocket whooshed out with a roar, streaking across the chamber and slamming into a dense cluster of undead near the tower’s far side.

The explosion rocked the walls. Flame, smoke, and blood burst outward as bodies were flung in every direction. The shockwave knocked a few others off balance—and the chamber grew quiet, just for a second.

A moment later, fresh holes opened in the walls and ceiling. More undead spilled through.

Lyra loosed an arrow into a charging brute’s face and yelled, "That didn’t slow her down at all!"

"It wasn’t for her," Inigo said, slinging the RPG back and switching to his rifle. "It was for us."

"Cover me," Arienne called, "I’m unraveling her barrier!"

Korrik bellowed as he waded toward the summoner. Every swing of his blade sent limbs flying. Lyra moved in tandem, nailing threats that closed in from Korrik’s blind spots. Inigo pushed forward as well, controlled bursts from the M4 carving a path through rotting masses.

The necromancer turned slightly. Her expression hadn’t changed, but her eyes glowed brighter. She raised both arms now—and from above, something dropped.

It hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Ten feet tall. Made of multiple corpses—stitched and spliced with claws, teeth, and limbs where they didn’t belong. Three arms, each holding a different weapon: a jagged cleaver, a massive hammer, and a set of hooks fused into its flesh. Its torso opened vertically—ribs spread wide like a second jaw.

"Back up!" Inigo shouted.

Too late. The monster lunged forward.

It caught Korrik’s blade mid-swing, twisted it, and backhanded him across the room. The impact sent him flying into one of the pulsating walls. The structure absorbed the hit, squelching with a sickening noise. Korrik groaned.

"Stay on it!" Inigo stepped forward, rifle raised, and fired at the beast. The rounds struck—but not deep enough. Its hide was too dense, too reinforced.

Arienne turned and fired a beam of concentrated magic at the abomination’s left leg. It stumbled.

Lyra rolled, ducking beneath a wide swing and jammed a dagger into one of its twisted joints. It hissed—but didn’t fall.

The necromancer’s eyes flicked downward.

She didn’t like that.

Inigo swapped mags and sprinted past the beast, sliding beneath its swipe and coming up near Arienne. "How long?"

"Almost done!"

"We need seconds!" he shouted, grabbing a frag from his belt. He tossed it under the creature and dove.

The grenade detonated. It staggered the beast, rocking it backward. A huge chunk of flesh and fused bone tore free from its side, leaking glowing black blood.

Korrik, battered but alive, stood up groaning. "I’m not missing this."

He charged again—slower, but with twice the fury.

The abomination turned—and Korrik slammed his sword down, cleaving one of its arms clean off. Arienne followed with another blast of fire, and Lyra’s arrow found the exposed core in its ribs.

The monster shrieked—and collapsed in a heap of twitching limbs and smoke.

But before they could regroup—

The armored demon stepped forward.

His steps were slow. Deliberate.

Each one cracked the floor beneath him.

He drew his sword.

A low, resonating hum filled the chamber. Energy coiled around him like smoke from a dying star. The walls seemed to pulse harder, in rhythm with his movements.

"Get ready," Inigo said, lifting his M4 and flipping it to full auto.

The summoner hissed something ancient—and vanished into smoke, retreating into the shadows.

She was done testing.

The real battle was beginning.

The demon raised his sword with one hand—and pointed at Inigo with the other.

Then, he charged.

And the chamber exploded into violence again.

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