The One Ring, forged to rule them all.
Sauron had crafted twenty rings imbued with dark magic, either by his own malevolent hand or through the manipulation of others. Nine fell into the possession of mighty humans: kings who ruled vast kingdoms, powerful warriors whose names echoed through history, and renowned wizards whose arcane knowledge shaped nations.
Yet their specific identities remained shrouded in mystery, known only through ancient rumors claiming three were nobles of the fallen realm of Númenor. The Witch-king was said to be among their number, while another with clearer origins ruled among the Easterlings: Khamûl, now called the Eastern Shadow.
Among all the Nazgûl, only the Witch-king had never suffered direct defeat at Levi's hands. He represented the final card in Sauron's spectral deck.
Of course, the Witch-king's defeat wouldn't matter significantly in the grand scheme. One more resurrection, another temporary setback. Who accomplished his destruction mattered little; at most it would dent morale slightly before things continued as before.
But where specifically he fell would matter immensely.
Anywhere in Middle-earth would be acceptable, except at Gondor's very doorstep. Defeat in such a historically significant location would give Gondor quite the tale to tell for generations.
Four Nazgûl possessed documented origins, but the remaining five remained complete mysteries. Not even Levi knew their identities. Even the elves and wizards might lack certainty about their true names.
"The Witch-king approaches?"
"No, that's not correct. You're not him at all."
At the ancient crossroads, Levi rose from where he'd been waiting, his keen eyes studying the Nazgûl who approached with measured steps. His voice carried clearly across the twilight air:
"I've been stationed here nearly a full day. Where is your leader hiding? He promised to meet me at these crossroads, yet he's nowhere to be seen."
The Nazgûl offered no response, continuing his deliberate advance. Evening's dying light filtered through his dark, spectral form, casting strange shadows on the cracked stones behind him.
Before the weathered ruins of a forgotten Gondorian king's statue, the wraith drew a broken sword from his back. The weapon's blade was so damaged by time and battle that it could barely serve as an oversized dagger.
"You intend to face me with that pathetic thing?"
Silence. The Nazgûl remained mute, studying his opponent with hollow intensity as he advanced step by measured step, his movements creating no sound on the ancient stones.
"Not much for conversation, are you?"
Indeed, these Nazgûl kept their mouths sealed when unnecessary. When they finally opened them, it was usually to unleash bone-chilling shrieks designed to paralyze their enemies with supernatural terror.
They were fallen beings, unredeemed evil wraiths who retained their living abilities and intelligence, yet whose self-awareness had been systematically eroded. Everything they did served one purpose: advancing their master Sauron's will.
"It doesn't matter."
Seeing his approaching opponent had no desire for dialogue, Levi smoothly drew his own weapon: Sting, the ancient elven blade that had tasted orc blood countless times.
"Too cowardly to face me himself, so he sends subordinates to die in his place. This strategy does preserve his dignity, if only barely."
If some unknown challenger had appeared to issue provocations, the Witch-king certainly wouldn't care. He wouldn't even dignify such a person with a glance.
But the provocateur was Levi. His every action sent ripples through the political landscape, and news of his movements spread with remarkable speed throughout Middle-earth.
The Witch-king had no choice but to respond, by whatever means necessary.
"But what good will that do him?"
The last traces of light gradually faded from the western horizon.
When final brightness withdrew from the world, the Nazgûl's form suddenly vanished like smoke dissipating in wind.
Clang!
Levi spun with lightning reflexes, using Sting to deflect the broken sword aimed directly at his throat. Sparks cascaded from the collision of supernatural steel.
Swoosh.
His counterattack carried unstoppable force. The impact sent shock waves through both weapons, forcing the Nazgûl to retreat several steps while nearly losing his grip on his damaged blade.
Unfortunately, Levi's disarming follow-up failed to connect.
"My combat skills reached their peak long ago."
"Care to try that backstab technique again?"
Hearing these mocking words, the Nazgûl raised his head to study the black-armored warrior before him. A crushing presence washed over the wraith as a long-forgotten emotion stirred within his corrupted heart: genuine nervousness.
This sensation reminded him of facing massive predators during his mortal years, when all he could do was stake everything on a desperate struggle for survival.
Levi suddenly charged forward with explosive speed. In response, the Nazgûl's form flickered and disappeared, evading the attack through supernatural means.
Time seemed to slow as the wraith's speed increased dramatically. He materialized atop the broken statue's crown, smoothly drawing his bow with practiced efficiency. Arrow after arrow flew toward Levi's head in rapid succession. Five consecutive shots struck their target almost instantaneously, each finding its mark with deadly precision.
Boom!
Levi's head snapped back as dizziness clouded his vision. The runic shield protecting his body flashed five times in quick succession, each activation costing several protective layers.
This devastating assault stripped away nearly half his magical defenses in seconds.
The attack power was impressive, though it failed to penetrate his ultimate protection.
Turning toward the source of the arrow barrage, Levi quickly switched to his own ranged weapon and returned fire.
The blazing arrow streaked through the darkening air toward its target, but the Nazgûl merely gestured dismissively. His broken sword intercepted the projectile mid-flight, striking it aside without requiring him to move a single step.
"Fascinating."
Levi's tactical mind engaged fully as his long-dormant battle instincts awakened for the first time in months.
Perched atop the ruined statue, the Nazgûl raised his bow and nocked another arrow. Just as he prepared to loose the shot, a fishing hook trailing a bright float caught onto his armor plates.
A fishing hook?
Caught completely off guard, an irresistible force yanked through the line. The Nazgûl plummeted straight down from his elevated position while Levi waited below with raised sword, ready to deliver a crushing blow.
"Do you know what baseball is?"
Just as this seemingly devastating strike was about to connect, the wraith's shadowy form flickered once more. The Nazgûl vanished mid-air, instantly materializing behind Levi to repeat his signature backstab attempt.
Levi pivoted and parried with a backhand block. The violent impact froze the Nazgûl's sword arm, providing the opening Levi needed. His follow-up strike knocked the broken blade aside with tremendous force.
The sharp ring of clashing metal echoed across the crossroads.
The Nazgûl lunged forward instinctively, one hand reaching desperately for his fallen weapon. That movement seemed supernaturally accelerated, though Levi didn't simply observe. He immediately activated a charge-enhanced sword technique. Dust exploded behind him as his entire form blurred with incredible speed, closing the distance in heartbeats.
When the Nazgûl's fingers closed around his broken sword's hilt, Levi's blade was already descending.
The ring's power activated suddenly. The Nazgûl's movements quickened, but he only managed to raise his damaged weapon in a desperate blocking maneuver. Levi maintained relentless pressure, forcing the crossed blades closer and closer to the wraith's exposed face.
Roar!
Finally, the Nazgûl couldn't suppress his nature any longer. His bone-chilling shriek pierced the night air, though it failed to instill fear in his opponent. However, it proved effective in another way: this cry successfully emboldened the wraith himself. He gripped his broken sword with renewed determination, using maximum strength to deflect Levi's blade and buy himself precious breathing room.
His form vanished once more from the mortal world as the Nazgûl escaped into the wraith realm, reappearing at a safe distance. But when he looked back toward Levi's position, he found only empty air and drifting purple particles.
The Nazgûl searched frantically. His supernatural senses suddenly screamed warnings as a large hand seized his helmet without warning. No matter how desperately he struggled, he couldn't break free from that iron grip. His frantic counterattacks couldn't penetrate the shimmering runic shield. Finally, he could only be dragged helplessly and slammed against the statue's stone base with crushing force.
A razor-sharp blade pressed against his throat.
Scrape.
At the critical moment, the Nazgûl wrenched himself free and rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the thrusting longsword. Looking back, he saw Levi's weapon pierce the stone base as if it were soft earth.
Then the embedded sword began to move.
Zzzrrrr.
Harsh grinding sounds filled the air as the longsword, deeply embedded in ancient stone, scraped along the base in a wide arc. The Nazgûl had no choice but to roll continuously along the statue's perimeter, desperately avoiding this domineering attack that tested both blade and wielder.
Only when the entire stone base had been carved completely through did the Nazgûl finally gain a moment's respite from the relentless assault.
"Urgh ahhh!"
A wheezing roar issued from the wraith's throat as a short-handled war hammer materialized in his grasp. Moving with supernatural speed, he struck at Levi's armored chest.
When the conjured weapon met the netherite plate, thud! Even Levi in his legendary armor actually retreated half a step from the tremendous impact.
Though the hammer appeared small, the power it unleashed rivaled a dwarven maul.
Not allowing his opponent time for combination attacks, Levi raised his sword to trade blows directly with the Nazgûl. The result proved evenly matched. His Knockback II enchantment activated, the longsword's accompanying pressure was no less devastating than a charging war beast.
Both combatants clashed again and again. Thunderous sounds echoed across the crossroads like rolling storm clouds, startling even the night butterflies so badly they couldn't fly steadily.
As this hammering exchange continued, pressure mounted on both sides. Evil power wrapped around the spectral weapon grew thicker with each of the Nazgûl's strikes, increasing its destructive potential. Meanwhile, Levi's combination attacks stacked additional power with every successful hit, until after more than ten brutal exchanges, his offensive capabilities reached maximum potential.
The Nazgûl seemed to have charged his own power to its limits, preparing for one final, devastating blow.
BOOM!
A massive explosion erupted at their point of contact. The conjured hammer in the Nazgûl's hands dispersed completely as he was knocked backward and sent rolling across the ancient stones. He scrambled upright and quickly raised his head to assess the situation.
But he was still one crucial step too late.
The next moment, Sting pierced through his spectral armor and straight through his chest, igniting his spirit form with supernatural flames.
"Ahhh!"
Like all his fellow Nazgûl, this wraith screamed in absolute agony when the cleansing fire took hold.
He struggled desperately to grasp the sword embedded in his chest, trying to pull it free, but no matter how hard he fought, the blade wouldn't budge even slightly.
Because Levi maintained his grip on the weapon's hilt.
The Nazgûl's already minimal health plummeted continuously. Finally, he let his hands fall to his sides, ceasing all resistance as if accepting his inevitable fate.
"How intriguing. Sauron was concealing someone of your caliber?"
Was this one slacking off back at Dol Guldur? Or perhaps he fled so quickly during that battle that he never had the chance to engage?
Who could say?
Through the flames blazing across the Nazgûl's form, Levi studied the ring adorning his opponent's hand. If his knowledge proved accurate, that should be one of the legendary Nine Rings given to mortal men.
The Rings of Power lived up to their fearsome reputation. Each possessed miraculous abilities that touched upon the fundamental laws of creation itself. The dwarves' endless wealth stemmed from their Seven Rings' ability to replicate precious metals, nearly achieving true alchemy.
For a moment, Levi felt an unexpected impulse to claim that ring and study its properties. But in the next instant, he became alert once more, recognizing and dismissing this inexplicable desire.
Not needed. Not necessary.
"But for an ordinary ring to possess this level of power..."
Recalling the supernatural abilities his opponent had displayed, Levi spoke with meaningful undertones:
"Most interesting indeed. You don't strike me as some nameless warrior. Though I haven't faced the Witch-king directly, I suspect he can't truly be that formidable. After all, he didn't even dare attend his own scheduled duel."
"In my estimation, you're far better suited to lead the Nazgûl than he is. Haven't you ever considered stepping on the Witch-king and claiming his position?"
"Your master would be quite pleased to witness such ambitious rivalry."
Having subordinates actively compete for power and grow stronger was absolutely something Sauron would encourage rather than prevent. No matter how much the Nazgûl fought among themselves, they couldn't destroy each other permanently. Whatever the outcome, they would still serve him in the end.
"I could help you achieve this goal."
Levi offered his calculated temptation.
Of course, he wasn't suddenly interested in playing elaborate political games, nor was he attempting to recruit a Nazgûl as a double agent. Such schemes were logically impossible from the ground up.
'Trick them all into coming here so I can cut them down.'
This represented his most genuine inner motivation.
The Nazgûl, suffering continuous spiritual burning, didn't respond to the offer. He maintained his characteristic silence, though his posture revealed considerable discomfort.
Having one's spirit form ignited proved far more agonizing than any physical torture.
"I didn't witness this level of power at Dol Guldur. Just who are you exactly?"
"Someone of your capabilities wouldn't go unrecorded in the histories. At minimum, you'd possess some notable title or recognition."
Levi continued his one-sided interrogation, attempting to extract useful intelligence from his captive.
Unfortunately, this particular Nazgûl remained stubbornly mute regardless of the questioning, refusing to utter a single word.
Perhaps he truly was mute, or maybe the long years of enslavement under Sauron's will had eroded even his capacity for autonomous communication.
Forget it. No time remaining.
His health reserves couldn't sustain much more damage.
Levi shook his head and abandoned his questioning. He withdrew Sting, allowing the Nazgûl to collapse and continue burning, no longer paying him any attention.
"Unfortunately, there isn't."
The moment his health bar finally emptied, the Nazgûl seized this final opportunity to speak his only sentence since their encounter began.
Suddenly, supernatural shadow swept across the sky as the severely wounded spirit form was pulled by an invisible force back toward Mordor's Dark Tower, where he would await his inevitable resurrection.
Levi spun around sharply, staring at the charred black cloak now reduced to ash and the empty armor shell that had lost its spectral inhabitant.
Did he actually speak? That wasn't a hallucination?
Fascinating. Each Nazgûl seemed capable of delivering unique surprises.
"A nameless but undeniably powerful warrior."
"Pity he still couldn't force me to use my full strength."
No golden apples consumed, no healing potions drunk, numerous items in his inventory unused, and even his runic shield remained intact.
Though his losses were minimal, that assessment depended on specific circumstances. This Nazgûl had indeed possessed many unexpected and formidable techniques.
Without his runic shield's protection, relying solely on armor, those five arrows fired almost instantaneously at his head could have left him at half health immediately.
Instantly half-crippled.
Combined with that power-stacking hammer and the ability to weaken opponents with supernatural roars... Without his sword skills providing increasingly powerful damage bonuses, he genuinely could have been overwhelmed.
Those seemingly insignificant individual improvements had finally demonstrated their cumulative effects today. It was precisely those modest enhancements that didn't appear particularly strong in isolation but, when combined, had created the current version of Levi.
Clatter.
A small sound nearby drew his attention.
Beside the Nazgûl's abandoned armor, the broken sword had fallen to the ground, its blade showing considerable rust and battle damage.
After a slight pause, Levi retrieved the weapon.
[Broken Straight Sword]: Attack +1.
"That's it? That's all?"
He fought me with this pathetic thing?
Where was the Morgul-blade that each Nazgûl traditionally carries?
Levi took a deep breath. For reasons he couldn't fully explain, he felt somewhat frustrated by this anticlimactic discovery.
Shaking his head, he still collected the broken sword and returned to his claimed territory to continue excavating underground spaces and constructing various facilities.
No additional enemies appeared that night.
When the sun first crested the eastern horizon, Rangers stationed near the crossroads rode hard across Osgiliath's bridge, heading straight for the White City's palace with urgent news.
This day would not pass peacefully in Gondor.
"Sigh!"
Deep in the night's darkest hours, Turgon suddenly sat upright in his bed, alternately staring at the ornate canopy overhead and turning to study the marble floor below. Sleep had abandoned him completely.
After several restless minutes, he donned his ceremonial coat and walked to the balcony, gazing up at the star-filled sky with another heavy sigh.
News from the crossroads had spread rapidly through the White City's streets and market squares. Everyone was asking when the hero who had slain a Nazgûl would return to their midst.
That Levi had truly given Gondor a fierce vindication against their ancient enemies.
"Why did I treat him so poorly in the palace that day?"
Turgon rubbed his weathered face, his heart aching with genuine remorse.
Someone else would be sleepless tonight, haunted by missed opportunities and words that could never be taken back.