Azure Scepter

Page 51

“The attire of the Broken Desert region shows that the Shadowless Man is indeed not a necromancer from the Great Swamp.” Trier moved forward slowly like a shadow. “The attackers are mainly composed of specially treated mummies, and the craftsmanship looks quite good.”

The next moment, a blood-curdling scream suddenly rang out in the passageway.

Trier didn't turn his head to look; he knew it was the Muscle Demon hiding in the crowd who had appeared.

Muscle Demon has no skin of its own; it can disguise itself as a victim by stealing the skin of others. This monster can be roughly understood as an extremely enhanced version of a shapeshifter.

Trier estimated that this thing must have been encountered after the temple guards entered the lab, but before he could track it down; it must have attacked and replaced one of the temple guards. The recent mass Poisonous Polymorph spell had made it impossible for this thing to hide anymore.

Amidst hysterical screams, a temple guard suddenly exploded into a cloud of blood mist. Fragments of his blood-soaked plate armor flew like axes. From within the blood mist, a blood-stained giant suddenly reached out and grabbed a guard who was unable to dodge in time.

The Muscle Demon has no skin. Its exposed biceps twitch wildly as if electrocuted. The flesh and blood, which are attached to the white fascia, swell and undulate morbidly. With just a light pinch, the skull of the guard who is grabbed will instantly explode!

Blood and flesh flew everywhere, brains splattered, and an eyeball, still attached to the white optic nerve bundle, splattered with blood among the Dalmatians.

The dogs scattered and fled, their barking turning into terrified whimpers.

The whimpers of dogs, the screams of men, and the clanging of weapons mingled together, creating a chaotic and bloody symphony. In just a dozen seconds, it seemed that this seemingly shrewd and capable team was about to collapse.

"Aaaaaah!" A powerful roar suddenly rang out.

Trier looked up.

The female barbarian, Galber, suddenly swung her greatsword, cleaving a dead creature in two. Then, like a wild beast, she dragged her sword and charged toward the muscular demon.

As the sword dragged along the ground, bursting forth with a series of blazing flames, Jia Erbei's already extremely well-developed muscles expanded even further as if inflated, and an explosive sense of power almost surged out with the rise and fall of her muscles.

violent.

From a distance, she looked almost like a miniature version of a muscle monster.

The next moment, she leaped up, swinging her heavy greatsword behind her, and then resolutely slashed at the muscular demon's bulging, demonic eyes.

—A leaping strike!

The heavy sword light almost transformed into a silver moon.

The Muscle Demon casually tossed aside the headless corpse, then suddenly pushed off the ground and twisted its waist, its exposed muscles surging like waves. Then, it slapped Galbee, who was in mid-air, straight down to the ground with ease, as if it were swatting a fly.

"boom!"

The earth is shaking!

The ground seemed to have been struck by a meteorite, with debris and blood splattering everywhere. The Muscle Demon raised his hand, and the dust turned into a thick cloud of smoke.

From within the smoke, the figure of the barbarian woman, Galbee, reappeared. Leaning on her sword, she swayed unsteadily. The skin on her neck had completely disappeared, revealing muscles like those of a muscular demon beneath the blood-red magical wound.

—The Muscle Demon has the ability to peel off skin; once it hits you, your skin will be taken away.

Jiaerbei neither wailed nor roared; she hurled the greatsword as if it were an axe.

The greatsword spun and cleaved into the chest of the muscular demon, but the muscles, covered with whitish fascia, only twitched slightly, and the sharp greatsword bounced weakly to the ground.

Jiaerbei's desperate attack didn't even break through the defense, but she still didn't despair. She seized the opportunity when the Muscle Demon was in a daze and suddenly pressed against the white tendon on the Muscle Demon's heel.

"Quick! Storage Stone! Yöler! Quick!"

The female barbarian's eyes widened in horror, her bulging veins contracting like pythons, and large beads of sweat mixed with blood flowed down her skinless muscles. She desperately resisted the muscular demon, dust billowing from the ground beneath her feet, and exaggerated cracks appeared beneath her feet along with the falling stones.

“Their combat strength is only at the level of normal adventurers, completely incomparable to Harlan or Futia. If it were Futia, this muscle demon probably wouldn't last ten seconds. This time, the temple guards are completely unable to hold on,” Trier thought. “I can take action first to stabilize the situation, and then Noy can seize the opportunity to launch a sneak attack…”

Noi's soft call interrupted his thoughts: "Master, they're here, at the spiral staircase."

they?

A large group of the dead appeared silently.

Trier turned his head and saw a faint green shadow flash by in the darkness where the rainbow stone could not reach. It was a ball of flickering green flame, burning very fiercely. Through the sparks, a beautiful girl could be vaguely seen floating inside the fireball.

— It is a witch flame transformed from an evil witch.

Within the eerie green flames, shadows shifted—a bizarre ghoul gliding silently, its armor changing color with its movement; a skeleton with a spirit-like spine, its body riddled with gears and machinery; a tomb knight advancing silently, wielding a translucent greatsword engraved with runes...

These undead are nothing like the undead born from the rampant blood plague. Their orderly movements are far more disciplined than those of well-trained soldiers. They are also unlike the undead of the shattered desert. They look more like the strange experiments of a skilled mage under the influence of his wildest imagination.

Without a doubt, this horde of undead is far more terrifying than the undead horde in Beaver Town, or the mummies currently locked in fierce combat with the temple guards.

"These must be the undead I left in the lab..." Trier thought to himself as he looked at the oppressive horde of undead. "These shadowy figures not only robbed my grave and destroyed my phylactery, but they're even planning to seize my lab with weapons? This is outrageous."

Behind the horde of undead followed a hunched old man dressed in a black robe with a white beard. He carried a pale green lantern in his hand, a faint smile on his face, and his indifferent eyes reflected the temple guards fighting to the death.

“Make your move,” Trier whispered to himself. “You kill the old man, and I’ll try to regain control of the undead.”

Chapter 94 Extreme Cold Rays

"Ho...ho..."

The earth spirit clutched his neck artery tightly, his hands covered in thick, tar-like blood. He stared at the approaching, desiccated undead, and a hideous smile suddenly appeared on his gray-green face.

"He escaped the farm, but never expected to die at the hands of a necromancer..."

The wound on his neck burned with pain. A shard of the broken scimitar was lodged near his carotid artery. Although it hadn't damaged his spine or nerves, the bleeding from the near-severed neck made everything in front of him appear dizzyingly bloody.

The cold flash disappeared in an instant.

The mummified corpse, which had just been forced back, raised its hands high and delivered a vicious diagonal slash from top to bottom with its long-handled cleaver. Its dehydrated and shriveled arms bulged with purplish-black tendons, and the soul fire in its empty eye sockets suddenly flickered.

There is no way to avoid it!

Driven by its fighting instincts, the goblin slammed its axe handle against the side of the machete. The clash between the ash wood and the rusty steel produced a sharp, resounding clang. The desiccated corpse's shriveled body was instantly pulled to the side by its own powerful chop. The axe swung back, its sharp blade transforming into a chilling whirlwind that swiftly severed the corpse's head.

The goblin stomped on the skull, smashing it open, sending dust and bone fragments flying.

He looked up into the distance, where more and more mummies surged like a tide; and further away, eerie green flames flickered, and countless grotesque ghostly figures with indistinct faces were slowly approaching.

In the very center of the undead horde, an old man with a white beard, holding a dim yellow lantern, was coldly watching them.

Jörle had met this old man, who claimed to be the apprentice of the Shadowless Man—the Shadowless Man never negotiated with the judges; it was always this old man who conveyed the Shadowless Man's opinions to the judges.

“What are we even tracking? These mummies are far more powerful than the plague-infected!” Da Di thought to himself, a wave of indescribable weariness and despair washing over him. “Perhaps I really should die here.”

New mummies are surging up!

Suddenly, a temple guard wielding a halberd appeared out of the corner of his eye. Amidst the cracking sound of dehydrated limbs being sliced ​​by metal, a furious shout erupted: "Goblin, storage stone! Quick! Garbe can't hold on much longer!"

Storage stone?

The goblin Yorle was momentarily dazed, then realized that the other person was referring to the magic storage stone he had obtained after dismantling the trap. He abruptly pulled out the magic storage stone, the cold, sharp edges of the crystal stinging his palm.

A ghostly green light refracted from the sharp edges, and Jörg saw his own reflection reflected in it—a blood-soaked, cold-faced image. In a daze, the blurry reflection seemed to transform into his mother, who, too, had died covered in blood, her expression numb...

She was captured by the necromancer in order to save herself.

"Tick."

Thick blood dripped onto the magic storage stone, but Yoler suddenly felt that the blood was gushing from inside the stone. A dull, damp, nauseating feeling exploded in his mind with his drum-like heartbeat. At this moment, the black crystal seemed to transform into the limbs of countless goblins, and the unique oily smell of the magic storage stone became the screams of the goblins as they were slaughtered.

Blood seemed to transform into writhing tentacles, gripping Jörg's mind. Countless past hallucinations, accompanied by the smell of blood and the dying cries of his comrades, assaulted his brain like a saw, filling him with panic and terror that clung to his limbs like threads.

He opened his mouth and screamed silently.

"Joler! Hurry!" the barbarian woman, Galbee, roared hoarsely, "That white-bearded bastard has cast a terror spell! Defeat it!"

"I...I..." The goblin tried to control his fingers, but the cold, slippery touch kept stimulating his nerves, and memories kept flashing before his eyes.

Goblins being bled by hooks, goblins in cauldrons of boiling oil, blood, the comforting warmth of words spoken in the cold night, the indifferent yet focused gazes of necromancers... chaos, fear, bloodshed, screams...

A tremendous force suddenly overturned Jörg!

"Mmm! Ahh!"

The judge, now transformed into a donkey, snatched the magic stone from the ingot, then, after a quick aim, crushed it in his teeth.

"Crack!"

Time seemed to stand still.

At this moment, the Muscle Demon was still wrestling with the female barbarian, and Galbee's eyes and ears were bleeding; while the remaining temple guards were still fighting hard, the mummies and the few remaining living people were locked in a fierce battle; the earth goblin sat slumped on the ground, staring blankly at the donkey, the blood on his neck almost turning him into a blood-soaked figure, while the donkey's eyes gleamed with ferocity, and it raised its front hooves with extreme ferocity.

The white-bearded old man, who had been wearing a calm smile, suddenly opened his eyes wide, his expression of complete control freezing.

In his vision, the usually thin wind of death suddenly burst forth from the wound on the storage stone, and the surging power gushed out like a flood that had breached a dam.

"This is the power that a magic storage stone can store? How is that possible!?" He stared in disbelief as the surging power was instantly bound by precise lines, transforming into complex and logical spells.

The fine, pricking and cutting sensations constantly irritated the old man's skin. He suppressed his horror and tried his best to read the complex, dizzying lines. In a few breaths, he deciphered the seemingly magical spell—the Extreme Cold Ray.

He took out his staff and tried his best to feel the raging winds of death, attempting to reverse the direction of the spell. However, the malicious winds of death, like a laughing abyss demon, suddenly seized his soul and then easily broke free of their restraints.

"Bang!" The putrid wind of death grabbed his eyeballs like a hook from a Frankenstein's monster, and the next instant, the backlash from the failed spell struck him hard.

The old man's cloudy left eye ruptured instantly, blood and fragments of the eyeball splattering onto his boots. He clenched his teeth and abruptly severed his mysterious connection with the Storage Stone.

"This donkey can control the winds of death? My spellcasting abilities are actually inferior to a vampire turned into a donkey by a malicious polymorph spell?" The old man's blood-stained, hollow eye sockets stared at the inquisitor. "Are you kidding me!?"

—The storage stone can store the winds of death and constraints, but even if someone with no spellcasting ability crushes the storage stone, the spellcaster can use it against them. At this moment, if he fails to influence the spellcasting, it means that his spellcasting ability is far weaker than the opponent's!

In fact, he was wrong.

The person who influenced his spellcasting was not the Inquisitor, but Trier, who was hiding in the shadows.

Theoretically speaking, Trier does not currently possess the ability to counter or influence spellcasting, but the spells in that spell-storing stone were stored by him, so he merely affected the constraints, and the wild winds of death changed according to his will.

At this moment, the judge was also bewildered, his heart filled with intense resentment. The old man's final influence caused the direction of the magic stone's shot to shift; the spell originally aimed at the muscular demon was deflected towards the ceiling.

He saw a mass of extremely cold frost, which surged like mud and compressed like a spring. The frost grew smaller and smaller, and its white outline gradually turned into a chilling azure.

"Thump thump... thump thump..." The frost was compressed to its limit, even making a sound like a heart pumping.

"What kind of magic is this?" the judge asked, his mouth agape.

The next moment, the frost erupted like a volcano, and the intense cold instantly crept into everyone's hearts. The thick frost pillar, as wide as several people could hug, suddenly shot towards the ceiling.

"It's over, it's all over..." the goblin muttered to himself.

The muscle demon clenched his five fingers together abruptly, and the tendons in his wrist twitched like explosives. The female barbarian's resistance vanished instantly. Before she could even let out a roar, the hand gripping her neck turned her into a low whimper.

"Thank goodness, thank goodness." The white-bearded old man smiled again. "Everything is still under control."

However, before he could finish speaking, the old man's pupils in his remaining eyeballs suddenly contracted, and the thick frost pillar spun more than 130 degrees like a train that had suddenly derailed while traveling at high speed. A pile of ice shards suddenly burst out at the corner, and the scattered ice shards swept over the mummies like a storm of sharp blades, instantly scattering the dense array of mummies into pieces.

a mess.

Then, the almost completely redirected, frigid ray, like a long, azure spear piercing the sky, instantly blasted through the massive chest of the muscular demon. A gaping hole suddenly appeared in the muscles that even a greatsword couldn't penetrate; the torn flesh writhed like worms, then rained down a shower of blood.

Moments later, the ice, burning with a ghostly blue flame, crawled out of the wound like a spider, its chilling body spreading rapidly like fire. Wherever the frost touched, layers of muscle ruptured, and the foul-smelling blood froze into sharp ice crystals before it could even flow. In less than half a second, the powerful muscle demon was completely incapacitated and then collapsed with a bang.

"boom!"

Jiaerbei fell heavily to the ground, spitting out a mouthful of blood. She then slowly propped herself up, blankly surveying the chaotic scene. After a moment, she burst into unrestrained laughter—the deadly frost had stopped at the very last moment on the edge of the muscle demon's fingers, getting stuck right near her neck.

The chill was biting, and she thought she was going to die, but in fact she survived!

"Still alive!?"

The female barbarian took a deep breath, drew a dagger from her waist, and then coldly swept it towards the white-bearded mage in the distance.

Whitebeard felt like he was suffocating. Under the light of the rainbow stone, his face was even paler than his beard, and he felt a heavy chill from the bottom of his heart.

If someone unfamiliar with magic saw this scene, they might simply find it unbelievable; but as an excellent spellcaster, the white-bearded old man saw it as a miracle, because he witnessed the astonishing changes that had just occurred in the wind of death.

He saw an extremely simple external influence, so simple that it could be accomplished with just a gesture and a single syllable of incantation. But it was precisely this simple influence, which any talented beginner could easily master, that coincidentally occurred at the coincident location.

The effects projected onto the "Sylmu Transformation Node" lasted for less than a moment, but that weak external force directly caused a complete transformation of the complex and constantly operating constraints.

Like a gentle tap on a domino. Simple, direct, and accurate.

He wasn't stupid. This level of spellcasting ability was far beyond what that vampire could possibly possess. Even his teacher, the Shadowless One, couldn't reach such a level; it had, to some extent, transcended the realm of spellcasting...

This falls into the category of miracles.

At this moment, he already knew that there was an unknown third party on the battlefield in front of him, a third party that was unimaginably powerful.

Suddenly, a terrifying hypothesis popped into his mind—the owner of this laboratory had returned, the terrifying legendary mage who had risen rapidly in the past but disappeared in an instant.

Chapter 95 The End of the Journey

The white-bearded monk had been traveling with his mentor, the Shadowless One, for a very, very long time.

His footsteps measured the long journey from the Burial Tower in the Shattered Desert to the Frostcrown at the North Pole of the planet; he also traversed the idyllic countryside of Gordeland to the magically prosperous Great Swamp, where almost everyone was equipped with necromancy. He had entered the Abyss in his mortal body and visited the Elysium, a place of endless revelry and perpetual feasting.

He thought he would keep walking until his life ended, but he didn't expect that even the longest journey has an end.

A year ago, his mentor, the Shadowless One, paid an extremely heavy price to obtain a dubious message from a messenger of a newly ascended deity in the Radiant Pantheon—that the Kingdom of Orko contained something his mentor had been longing for.