The Necromancer's Servant

Asa sensed the dense aura of necromancy ahead. He knew that it had to be Hilika using that scroll—a creation he had crafted alongside Theodorus. To achieve this impressive, awe-inspiring effect, Asa had spent two entire days meditating and infusing the scroll with his less-than-pure necromantic magic, alongside several extremely precious magical items, including a small fragment of a magic gem. Judging by the current results, it seemed that the effort was well worth it.

"That... is necromantic magic?" muttered the old man, Bill, perched on the werewolf's shoulder. He nearly fell off from the sheer impact of the magic's presence, saved only by the werewolf grabbing him just in time. The Druid, now in wolf form, let out a howl—uncertain whether it was due to the clashing magic inherently repelling his nature or the old man tugging too hard on his fur.

Hilika still stood frozen, gripping his massive greatsword, dumbfounded by the sight before him. Those people, who should have been fighting the elves to the death, were now running toward him—and with them, more elves, including elders. It was such a surreal scene that even his battle-hardened mind went blank for a moment. Although the face of the person leading the charge had changed, there was no mistaking who it was. What shocked him even more was how they managed to run through a horde of elves unscathed, with even the elven elders refraining from stopping them.

Despite the strange, viscous nature of the air caused by the scroll's magic slowing everyone's movements, Hilika's stupor gave Asa enough time to charge into the blackened magical zone. As he entered, the white combat aura emanating from Asa's body sparked a new wave of disbelief in Hilika. The Druid, attempting to follow, screamed in pain as he hastily withdrew after just one step. Only Hilton and Jessica, lagging slightly behind, continued to follow Asa into the darkened area.

Seeing Hilika's astonished expression, Asa wasted no time speaking. His voice was deliberate, forceful, and calculated, enunciating each word clearly enough for all the surrounding elves to hear: "Sorry. I'm an infiltrator. I was planted among you. I am a friend to the elves, and I've come to help them take you down."

Hilika's face morphed from shock to fury, his anger building until it erupted into laughter—an unsettling, guttural laugh that reverberated through the thickened air like a lovesick hippo. "Infiltrator? Friend? You were playing me? Fine. Fine. Fine! I'll kill you!" he roared, abruptly stomping down on the belly of a wounded elven mage beneath him. The sickening crunch of ruptured organs blended with the elf's anguished screams, creating a nightmarish cacophony alongside Hilika's maniacal laughter.

As Hilika's blood-red combat aura flared brighter, his body seemed cloaked in an armor of blood. His muscular frame swelled with raw, explosive power, his face twisted with murderous rage. He charged forward, his enormous greatsword tearing through the air with a sound like splintering wood and compressed thunder.

The strike came with overwhelming force—so powerful that no dodge or parry could fully evade its reach. Knowing the strength behind Hilika's aura-infused attacks, Asa understood that even a glancing blow would render his Glory Armor ineffective. With no other choice, he raised his blade to block.

The clash was deafening, a thunderous explosion that sent shockwaves rippling through the air, even reaching the elves on the outskirts of the battlefield. Asa's body was hurled backward like a stone from a slingshot, his flight slowed only by the dense magical air. Without its viscosity, he might have been flung clean out of the blackened zone.

The force of the collision left Asa's arms and shoulders feeling as though they might explode, his bones trembling from the impact. Despite deliberately retreating to dissipate the blow's force, he could not fully nullify its sheer power. The disparity in their raw strength was painfully clear.

Hilika roared again, stepping forward with another devastating thrust. The strike, accompanied by a sound akin to rolling thunder, left Asa no room to evade. Even in technique, Hilika, honed by decades of slaughter and battle, was leagues ahead. This attack was perfectly timed, angled, and executed with supreme efficiency.

Asa could only block once more. Another direct collision sent him staggering backward, his grip on his weapon weakening. Despite having a slight edge in speed and agility, the air's viscous resistance nullified these advantages. In this arena, infused with magical distortions, there was little he could do but endure. Death magic, his usual fallback, was too dangerous to wield with so many elves watching—it could easily provoke further disaster.

For the first time, Asa realized the terrifying nature of Hilika's strength. This wasn't just a man but a beast, a living engine of battle and bloodshed. A beast like Hilika never revealed its full power until cornered or enraged, and once unleashed, it fought with a savage, primal fury. The betrayal had driven Hilika into such a state, turning the thickened magical air into the ideal stage for his wild rampage.

"Ha! Weren't you toying with me all this time? Weren't you trying to stop me? Then why are you running? If you run, how am I supposed to stop?" Hilika taunted, striding toward Asa. Along the way, he stomped on the head of a crawling elven archer, crushing her face, skull, and hair into an unrecognizable mess of gore.

Seeing Asa struggle, Hilton and Jessica rushed in to provide backup.

"Hahaha! So, you're infiltrators too? Who would've thought there'd be so many infiltrators!" Hilika's laughter was deranged, his tone that of a madman reveling in chaos. His greatsword swept through the air in a broad arc, its sheer momentum creating booming wind currents. In the magical air, only Hilika's monstrous strength could overcome the resistance, enabling his greatsword to maintain its usual deadly speed.

Hilton and Jessica dared not block the attack directly, knowing they couldn't withstand it. Instead, they dodged, narrowly avoiding the devastating sweep.

In such an oppressive atmosphere, the two combatants, already dizzy from the necromantic magic surrounding them, could not fully evade the attacks. Hilton had no choice but to brace his arm blades against his forearms, trying to deflect the force at an angle. To his credit, his skill and judgment were indeed top-notch, but the force was simply too overwhelming to redirect.

The two forged steel arm blades were anything but fragile, having severed countless arms, legs, and heads in the past. Yet, under the impact of that massive greatsword, they might as well have been glass shards, shattering and embedding themselves into Hilton's arms. Hilton let out a scream that should have been bloodcurdling but instead sounded muffled, as though he were being smothered under a blanket. It wasn't just the fragments causing his agony—his bones had been pulverized to match the shattered blades.

Jessica, shielded by Hilton's interception, only received a glancing blow on her shoulder from the greatsword. Although the blunt edge of the sword wasn't sharp, the immense force still tore a chunk of flesh and blood from her shoulder. At the same time, her two blue daggers were flung forward.

Even in this anti-projectile field, the short distance was enough for the daggers to hit their target. However, they only left two shallow cuts on Hilika's chest and abdomen. Beneath the blood-red battle aura lay muscles as solid as granite fortresses. The thin blood trails on Hilika's body were testament to the extraordinary sharpness of the daggers.

The blood oozing from the wounds was blue. Hilika froze for a moment, then let out a deafening roar. His blood-red battle aura flared brightly, and the blue blood spraying from his wounds quickly turned red again.

Jessica didn't take advantage of the opportunity to attack. It seemed as though the thought never crossed her mind; she immediately turned and fled. She knew better than anyone that even an elephant couldn't withstand the poison coursing through Hilika's veins for long. But Hilika had managed to force the poison out—proof enough that he was far stronger than any elephant.

Hilton, too, crawled away in a panic. The two had fulfilled their roles. By now, Asa had regained his composure and dove into the range of Hilika's greatsword, slashing out with his blade.

Hilika promptly swung his sword in return. Asa narrowly dodged, the tip of his blade grazing Hilika's arm, leaving only a shallow cut.

Hilika howled like a bull being castrated. The cut was no larger than the earlier poisoned wounds and didn't even draw a single drop of blood. The wound merely turned slightly gray. Yet Hilika's reaction was far more intense, his red battle aura dimming slightly.

The two separated briefly before clashing again, but this time, there were no thunderous collisions. Inside Hilika's greatsword range, Asa no longer blocked attacks outright; he only shifted slightly to move his vital areas out of harm's way, all while furiously stabbing, slashing, and chopping at Hilika. Meanwhile, Hilika grew more cautious. Even when opportunities arose to sever Asa's limbs, he hesitated, unwilling to risk another solid hit from Asa's blade.

While the two leaders fought fiercely, the rest of the battlefield was far from idle. Hilton and Jessica, having escaped the black necromantic field, were quickly healed by a group of elven mages. The elves' healing spells were no less effective than white magic.

Esis, busy sustaining the necromantic zone with a scroll, couldn't spare the effort to cast additional spells. This left Old Bill as the only one capable of launching attacks outside. He had already been shouting and gesturing with his strange, feather-duster-like staff toward Hilika for some time, but to no avail. Hilika remained unharmed, swinging his massive greatsword with unrelenting force. The surrounding elves cast puzzled glances at Old Bill as he jumped, shouted, and flailed his staff.

Embarrassed, Old Bill finally redirected his efforts toward the other thieves who were binding elven captives. Waving his staff and pointing at a thief, he shouted a single word. The effect was immediate: the thief's body convulsed, blood gushing from his nose, mouth, and ears, his eyeballs nearly popping out before he collapsed.

Old Bill immediately targeted another thief. After a similar sequence of gestures and shouts, the thief collapsed, bleeding from every orifice. The spell, "Soul Strike," was a rare and unconventional magic. It had little effect on those with strong wills or deeply rooted convictions, but ordinary people—especially thieves, whose minds were scattered and devoid of faith or resolve—were its ideal targets. One strike, one kill.

However, there were still over two hundred thieves remaining. Even if Old Bill continued casting spells until his arm was sore and voice hoarse, it would take time to make a dent.

The thieves, clearly unnerved, began hesitating. None of them knew who the staff's next target would be. Having finished binding their elven captives, a few thieves drew hand crossbows and started toward Asa, who was locked in combat with Hilika. Although ranged weapons were less effective in the dense atmosphere, they could still function over short distances. A well-placed shot, even if not fatal, might distract Asa enough to tip the scales.

It was a reasonable plan. However, before they could act, Hilika roared at the thieves approaching him, "Stay out of this!"

But before the thieves could withdraw, Asa leaped backward, out of Hilika's range, and shouted, "Perfect timing!" He plunged his blade into one of the thieves.

The thief's body convulsed violently, rapidly shriveling as if drained of life. The other thieves abandoned their crossbows and fled.

Ignoring Hilika's furious roar, Asa turned to pursue another thief, driving his blood-soaked blade into his victim. This time, the thief's body withered even faster, accompanied by a disturbing sucking noise as if the blade itself were feasting on the blood.

Hilika halted mid-charge. He recalled vividly how, in the underground chamber, this very blade had severed two enormous magical elements in a single strike.

As Asa withdrew his blade, the blood clinging to it coalesced into a massive, sword-like form, pulsating as though alive. It glowed a shade of red even darker than Hilika's battle aura—fresh, vibrant, and brimming with life.

Hilika froze, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the blade and its wielder, as though about to spill tears of blood.

The surrounding elves gasped in unison, their shock palpable. The air, already thick, became saturated with the stench of blood, as if everyone were submerged in a vast pool of it. Many elves retched.

"What a heavy evil presence. Everyone, fall back!" A clear, commanding voice pierced the oppressive atmosphere. The elves immediately parted, creating a wide path. From the center of the elven city, two striking female elves approached, led by their kin. Each carried an object radiating light.

"It's Elder Ruya and Ranger Kaylin!" Several elves cheered.

The elder, Ruya, stood out even among her beautiful kin. Graceful and unparalleled in elegance, she held a fragment of the World Tree's Leaf, exuding endless vitality.

Beside her, the taller, sturdier Kaylin radiated strength and determination, her features imbued with a heroic spirit. She wielded a massive black bow, emitting a faint, ominous glow.

The two women took in the scene: the necromantic zone, the field strewn with elf corpses, and the two combatants radiating an overwhelming stench of blood. Both gasped audibly.

Kaylin, in particular, seemed on the verge of exploding with fury. Planting her feet firmly, she raised her enormous black bow.

Elven bows were usually simple, wooden, and unadorned. But this bow, much larger than any standard elven weapon, gleamed with a peculiar luster, its surface etched with intricate magical runes. Its ends curved sharply inward, converging at the grip. The string seemed not tied but fused with the bow, exuding a faint magical aura, entirely distinct from ordinary enchanted equipment.

Kaylin drew her bow, though no arrow was nocked. A faint green glow surrounded her. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and her arms bulged with muscle and veins as she strained, yet the bow only drew halfway.

Even halfway was enough.

Neither Hilika nor Asa paid any attention to the unfolding scene. Hilika's battle aura had reached its peak, his muscles swollen to grotesque proportions, transforming him into a monstrous hulk.

Asa, meanwhile, inhaled deeply, the air thick with the stench of blood. He leaped into the air, raising his sinister, crimson blade high. Locking eyes with Hilika, he spat two words: "Go die."

Confident in his strike, Asa leaped from above, aiming a devastating blow at Hilika that left no room to dodge or block. But just as he swung, his body jerked violently. Acting on pure instinct, he altered his motion, pulling the blade up to shield his face.

A sound louder and more explosive than any clash of swords erupted. A streak of green light, faster than the eye could follow, struck Asa's blade. The blood-red aura surrounding it shattered into a rain of blood.

The blade flew from his hand, and his body tumbled through the air, flailing helplessly as he was sent hurtling away by the strike. He landed heavily on the ground, motionless and seemingly lifeless.

Hilika, who had been on full alert, froze for just a moment before immediately charging toward the fallen Asa. His massive two-handed greatsword was raised high above his head as he let out a crazed laugh, roaring, "You go die!"