The ornate double doors burst open, and a giant skeleton lumbered through. Unlike the D-Ranked horde of warriors, the Skeleton King was draped in a crimson robe.
A golden crown sat atop its empty skull, and its eyes were filled with Malevolent Miasma so concentrated that it seemed to flow out like tears.
Suddenly, its jaws went slack. A foul stench emanated from within its skull as it leaned forward in rage.
Looking at the Skeleton King, Aventine felt a melancholic smile crack open across his lips.
"Kirivan the First. Third Puppet King of Grakkis."
A mere slave of the Elder Lich who ruled the Soulless City.
Ten thousand years as a slave in its own kingdom.
And a slave of undeath forevermore.
"What a tragic existence."
