The Dragonmancer

He raised a hand, and the air hummed. Souls of the recently fallen, patrons caught in the crossfire swirled around him like storm clouds. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled a concentrated bolt of necrotic energy. It struck Krag’s mechanical arm, corroding the metal into blackened slag. The minotaur howled, stumbling back as Diagon’s skeletal warriors pinned him to the wall with spears of shadow.  

“Anyone else?” Diagon growled, his voice layered with the whispers of the dead.  

The remaining thugs hesitated until their leader, the scarred demon, roared. “Kill the half-breed!”  

Three enforcers lunged for Lyra, chainsaw blades revving. Diagon snarled. “Come on, guys, now isn’t the time to be petty.”  

He snapped his fingers. The Tesla-charged jukebox exploded, arcs of electricity surging into the chainsaws. The thugs convulsed, flesh sizzling, as Diagon’s shadows coiled around their throats. With a jerk of his hand, he pulled; their souls tore free, glowing orbs of light he crushed in his palm, fueling his mana.  

Lyra stared, wide-eyed. “Soulmancer.”  

Vex, the succubus bartender, ducked beside them, loading her pipework shotgun. “You owe me a new bar!”  

Diagon ignored her, focusing on the grenade. He exhaled, and a spectral dragon’s maw materialized, swallowing the explosive whole. It detonated harmlessly in the void.  

The scarred demon leader charged, hydraulic claw screeching. Diagon met him head-on, shadows solidifying into a scythe of pure entropy. Their weapons collided steam versus necrotic decay. The claw shattered, and Diagon drove the scythe’s haft into the demon’s gut, pinning him to the floor.  

The demon spat. “The Claw Syndicate’s got eyes everywhere. You’re already dead, scales.”  

Diagon’s eyes narrowed. He pressed the scythe deeper. “Claw Syndicate? Never heard of such a thing. You’d need more than petty thugs to dream of hunting me.”  

Before he could strike, Lyra shouted, “Behind you!”  

A clockwork hound, massive, its gears dripping oil, leapt from the rafters, jaws snapping. Diagon spun, but too slow: its teeth sank into his shoulder.  

"Foolish mistake."

He grinned, blood dripping from his fangs. °Necrotic Embrace.° 

The hound’s mechanical body froze as Diagon’s mana invaded its circuitry. Its glowing red eyes dimmed, replaced by violet necrotic fire. With a shudder, the hound turned on its Syndicate masters, tearing into them with renewed ferocity.  

Chaos reigned. Patrons fled through shattered windows. Vex blasted apart a thug’s steam-powered crossbow. Lyra, seizing a fallen dagger, slit the throat of an enforcer holding her chains.  

The Iron Lotus trembled as the Claw Syndicate’s reinforcements stormed in clockwork hounds with razor-fanged jaws and glowing crimson eyes. Their gears hissed, oil dripping like saliva as they circled Diagon and Lyra.  

“We have to get out of here,” Lyra muttered, clutching her stolen dagger.  

“What’s the rush? It’s been a while since I had some exercise.” Diagon’s claws crackled with violet energy. “Rise.”  

The skeletons from the earlier skirmish reassembled, their bones clattering into grotesque amalgamations. One fused with shattered Tesla coils, electricity arcing between its ribs. Another wielded a rivet-gun arm scavenged from the fallen ogre. The hounds lunged, but Diagon’s undead met them head-on, sparks flying as steel clashed with bone.  

Vex ducked behind the bar, lobbing vials of glowing red-and-gold liquid dragon’s blood toward Diagon. “For the love of sulfur, don’t die in my bar!”  

Diagon caught the vial, downing it in one gulp. Fire essence surged through his veins, scales glowing like embers. He slammed his fist into the floor, and the shadows erupted into a colossal skeletal dragon, its wingspan shredding the ceiling. The construct roared, spectral flames melting the hounds’ metal hides.  

The skeletal dragon’s roar shook the Iron Lotus to its foundations. Spectral flames licked the walls, melting steel beams and incinerating Syndicate enforcers. Clockwork hounds screeched as their gears fused under the heat, collapsing into molten slag. Diagon stood at the center of the carnage, his scales shimmering with dragon’s blood, eyes blazing like twin suns.  

Lyra ducked behind a shattered table, her dagger trembling. “You’re going to bring the whole district down!”  

“That would be so much fun,” Diagon hissed, flexing his claws. Shadows coiled around him like serpents. “Let the Claw Syndicate choke on the rubble.”  

The scarred Syndicate leader staggered through the smoke, hydraulic claw sparking. “You think you scare me, halfbreed?” he spat, eyeing Diagon’s horns with wary contempt. “The Syndicate will swallow your bones!”  

Korvath, the Claw Syndicate’s regional enforcer, stood at Level 500, a towering brute in steam-plated armor, his hydraulic claw crackling with unstable Tesla energy. His scarred face twisted into a grin as he cracked his neck, gears grinding. “You must be one of those ancient dragons fresh from hibernation, still thinking your hide makes you untouchable? Let’s test that.”  

Diagon smirked, flexing his obsidian claws. “Level 500? Cute.”  

Korvath lunged, his claw erupting in a superheated steam blast. Diagon didn’t flinch. The scalding jet ricocheted off his chest scales, melting a hole in the wall. The blast continued into the street outside, shearing through a steam-powered trolley and igniting a gas line. The explosion rocked the block, flames engulfing a textile factory. Workers fled as bolts of fabric unfurled into fiery banners.  

"Pathetic,” Diagon said.  

Enraged, Korvath lobbed Gear Grenades, their shrapnel-filled cores erupting in a hail of molten shards. Diagon’s tail flicked, shadows coalescing into a necrotic shield that swallowed the blast whole. The bar’s walls cratered, bottles shattered, but Diagon’s scales remained unmarred.  

“Tickles,” he yawned.  

Korvath roared, piston-legs propelling him forward. His °Hydraulic Crush° clamped down on Diagon’s arm with bone-splintering force only to grind to a halt against dragonhide. Diagon’s free hand shot out, seizing Korvath’s throat.  

“Is this all your Syndicate masters taught you?” Diagon sneered, slamming him through a brass support beam.