Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

More than mere mindless reanimated corpses, the draugrs' white eyes flashed with cunning and experience.

A step back, a raised hand, an axe drawn behind their tense back. That's how they would kill the intruder if the fiery defensive stars prevented them from approaching.

A forest of steel glinted under his flames while a line of Viking shields, their once bright colors faded, rose to protect the throwers in a ghastly show of disciplined cooperation.

Their tight formation and sinister snarls should have chilled his blood or, at least, made his heart pound against his chest. Yet, a vicious smirk split his face as the stars crackled brighter and his voice thundered.

"Fools! Did you think I'd cower behind a flimsy defense weak to projectiles?" His fingers cracked into a trembling fist around the fragment as a subtle redness spread into his emerald eyes. "No! Versatility is what I pursue!"

However, the dead army didn't care about his words. Instead, a cacophony of grunts echoed. Their arms blurred, displacing the vapor raised by the melting ice in their descent and shoving its scent into his face.

Hundreds of whistles overwhelmed his voice as death spun to reap his life. Yet, a misplaced, almost out-of-character, eagerness boiled in his throbbing veins.

Simultaneously, the stars gathered and swirled erratically.

A river of flowing fire burst forth, scalding waves roaring before him.

He shoved his trembling fist towards his enemies, his voice cracking with suppressed rage.

"Vaporise those disgusting detritus, river of stars!"

CRACKLE

Animated by his will, a burning dark tide rose and engulfed the axes. Their metal brightened, a scalding glow bathing the room in an orange sheen before an orchestra of sizzles and smoke replaced it. Melting iron dug charred holes in the rotted slabs, adding a new layer of uncomfortable scent.

But no one paid it any attention, not when the river continued its charge like a scavenger laying its eyes on its favourite dish.

Instead, the undead shoved their feet firmly into the ground. Leaning forward, they pushed their shields to confront the attack. More than that, they roared a challenge as the courage they once had as living warriors reignited. Experience new tales on empire

The snarls transformed into grumbles. Then, one draugr spoke a complete sentence that resonated with their deepest desire and regret.

"The Valkyries' eyes can't ignore us this time. In the name of Odin, I fight to earn a place in Valhalla!"

Valhalla, the golden hall reserved for the bravest warriors, where they feast and drink with the gods. A place everyone aspired to go to after death, yet few proved worthy enough—just like them.

However, icy defiance chilled their hearts when no Valkyrie came to fetch their stiffening bodies, and a single thought reverberated in their collective subconscious.

'Our battles weren't epic enough to get Odin's approval. We need a feat grand enough to impress him! Something like Sigurd when he slayed the evil dragon Fafnir. Therefore, we'll continue, relentless, unstoppable, and proud, until we find that last battle.'

Their ultimate goal had faded over the millennia, but facing a demon as ferocious and mad as Fafnir himself awakened their yearning.

"Hold the line, brothers!"

A last epic roar echoed as their vine-like hair and beard ignited, and the tide collapsed on the first shields.

BOOM

The wood ignited as they slid backwards uncontrollably. Flames passed through their collapsing defenses, igniting them like black torches. Yet, they didn't care. As undead, the pain didn't affect them, and even if they collapsed, only the epic scale of the battle and Odin's approval mattered to them.

Emboldened by their ideal, the ones behind shoved their shields against the front line's backs. Their hulking biceps bulged as they secured their positions, resisting the blazing inferno threatening to engulf them all with the purest bravery.

More roars echoed to replace the grunts and snarls despite the scent of burnt flesh permeating the room and the rain of ash coating their pale skins in grey.

"For Valhalla!"

Each time one turned into drifting smoke, another rose to take his place, showing their unwavering determination.

Meanwhile, Adam sneered at their determination. "Valhalla? I hope you'll enjoy the little time you'll spend there." His voice dripped mockery, and a vicious chuckle reverberated. "Before I burn it to the ground and transform Asgard into a blazing hell. Hahaha."

As the flames devoured more draugrs with each second crawling by and his vicious laughter echoed, his reddened eyes enlarged.

Dread's icy finger wrapped around his chest, caressing his scalding heart as he trembled and scrutinised his clenched fist.

The rough fragment inside seemed to grow heavier. Not a physical weight, no. One that insidiously squeezed his mind and drove it step by step to the edges of sanity. And now, without realising it, he had raised his foot above the abyss of madness calling for him, just a step away from plunging into it.

"NO!" His face distorted into a terrifying grimace.

His eyes narrowed, lips curled over his sharp teeth, and black lines dug into his forehead as he tried to open his hand. His sweat turned icy, biting his skin like a swarm of ants, commanding him to stop. But how could he? He had to get rid of the fragment without delay. It was too dangerous, too powerful.

As he trembled under the strain, the whispers returned, fiercer and more mocking than ever.

"Poor little demon. You focused on ignoring the voice but forgot about the rest. No matter how you resist, you'll fall." It became gentler, almost like the voice of a friend. "Why are you struggling when power is at your fingertips? What is sanity's worth if death and sorrow will engulf your world?" It whispered against his ears. "Accept this gift and shatter the world's limits to rise above the gods... to protect your subjects, to protect... her."

His jaws tightened, and teeth cracked under the seductive voice's allure and promises. Even if he wanted to resist, no matter what he tried, a part of him battled his will to open his fist.

Urgency and desperation fueling his movement, he punched his forearm, the pain jolting him awake, yet the fist remained closed. Another strike, a sharper pain, yet the outcome didn't change.

Even worse, he shattered his bones as he felt his mind tilting and his raised foot lower towards the abyss...