The broadside of the red-hot Tooth of Kali smashed into a leaping corpse, snatched it from the air, and for an instant the body stuck to the axe, burning there as Krota swung the blunt instrument wide.
The Tooth's white-hot edge cleaved into their ranks, ran through flesh and bone as if swinging through thin air. An appalling majority of the severed halves flew to ashes in an instant, while some continued to amble ablaze, shambling this way and that, clawing at the axe-man's boots in their live cremation.
With a sharp twist, Krota spun and snapped out his right boot to the horror at his back; a face crumbled beneath the force, the head broadcast across the scene as a flurry of shattered cranium, teeth, and rotted brains infested with maggots.
The axe once more came crashing down--nailed a nearby group into the ground to the sickening crunch of shattering bone, the mangled bodies cast as a wild shock of boiling blue-black blood and smoking bone.
Krota's veil ignited once more, and the axe-man flew deep into their ranks as a lilac nightmare--clothed in hewn viscera that steamed off his energy shield and flew to amethyst ashes and smoke.
Madness welled in Krota's wide eyes, bloodshot, sick to the soul with the power.
As he reached the apex of his stolen power, Krota knew the end game was near. He had one last shot to liberate himself, strip the necromancer bare of his corpses, and engage him at close range even if he had just one hand.
The Tooth lit in a blinding flash and vomited forth something more than fire, more than energy--flowing, viscid, and molten. Liquid sun splashed down and all around Krota as a crashing tide, reduced all creation in his immediate presence to nothingness...and burned a path toward the twisted knight.
The command was snarled more than it was spoken: "face me honorably, coward!"