The phoenix was the key to turning Thorn into a fully grown dragon. Albert knew the legends. He knew that this was his one shot.
The phoenix had grown to its full size. Towering over the cave. Or at least, the ruins of the cave.
The cultists were there as well. All of them were charred. And yet, all of them were moving. Shambling like zombies. Their souls were chained to their husks.
"If there is hell," Albert said. He had been to the mist twice. But he didn't know if there was a cave. He remembered how Tatiana, the dungeon core, had frozen in fear as Marek had taken the form of the Jackal God.
Albert smirked as the phoenix's feathers began to smoke. The red of the plumage was becoming more prominent.
"Then I'll send you there!" Albert yelled.
He made a ball of poisonous mana. Throwing it at the phoenix, he looked for a place to hide. The cultists were coming! Gathering around the phoenix in a circle. Taking out the necromantic mana.
