Chapter 201: Unbelievable - Continued (Part 3)
The three Necromancers were all silent. Even Norbolin had lost his initial fear and timidity, sinking into this silence, which was brewing with killing intent.
This was truly not the time for courtesy and hypocrisy; strength was more convincing than anything. Although the pressure this being exuded was immense, and the impression he had once left in their hearts was indelible, the three of them were not the kind of people whose thoughts could be swayed by a single impression. They all knew clearly that what this person said was the truth. Although his strength was absolutely among the top on the continent, he could absolutely not be a match for the combined strength of three Necromancers.
The danger of challenging authority was indeed immense, but the temptation was equally irresistible. It meant that once victorious, the shadow hanging over their heads would completely disperse. And the shadow over their heads was already not much; as long as they brushed away this last piece of the sky above, it would undoubtedly be even brighter.
Moreover, to make a move and finish off the opponent in such a situation seemed to be justifiable. Since the other party had broken the agreement first, another, perhaps even more terrifying, shadow would have no reason to loom over their heads.
But in the end, no one made the first move, because they were long past the age where they could put their lives on the line to charge and fight at any moment. Only those with nothing to lose are fearless; only those who haven't lived long don't know how precious life is. And they all had fame, power, and authority. Once a person has many of these things, they naturally would absolutely not be willing to die, and they had far from lived long enough. So they did not want to fight to the death.
Finally, Master Aiden slowly broke the silence: "Let's just forget it. After all, we are still all people of Diya Valley; it seems there's no need to kill each other for an outsider. How about this... shall we make a bet?"
The golden skull mask gave a light laugh: "What do you want to bet on? How do we bet?"
"There are still five gargoyles here." Master Aiden pointed at the flapping-winged puppets in mid-air. "We haven't seen your living corpse art in a long time. Let's bet on this: you create one living corpse to fight these five gargoyles, and none of us will interfere. If you win, we will leave. If we win, then you don't interfere in this matter. How about that?"
The golden mask nodded: "Fine. I didn't expect you to actually enjoy playing these sorts of things now."
"Norbolin. You control the gargoyles." Master Aiden turned his head to glance at Norbolin. In the instant he turned his back on the golden skull mask, the look in his eyes as he glanced at his two companions became very strange. "Be careful. Our victory or defeat rests on you now."
His two companions undoubtedly saw this look, but their expressions and gazes appeared extremely calm, without a trace of inappropriateness or surprise. "I know." The fat Necromancer nimbly jumped and, together with another Necromancer, shared a gargoyle. Following his gestures, the remaining five gargoyles gathered in the air and formed a formation. Their massive obsidian bodies, under the Necromancer's command, made uniform movements, just like soldiers who had drilled for a long time.
The Necromancer under the golden mask sneered. He did not control the great eagle he was riding, but instead raised his hand into the air. A ball of blue light slowly began to shine in his hand. When this light became dazzlingly bright, he flicked his wrist, and the blue light scattered towards the ground like water.
On the ground, far below the high sky, the corpses of the swordsmen, illuminated by this blue light, immediately began to squirm. Those corpses with intact limbs stood up on their own, while the flesh and blood that had been turned into pulp under the iron golems also squirmed ceaselessly, gathering, like a pile of bright red soft mud monsters.
Not just these fresh corpses, the surrounding soil was also constantly churning. Some things like rotten mud and bones emerged from the earth under the illumination of this blue light, like new sprouts in the spring rain. These were clearly corpses that had been buried in this land for who knows how long. Among these corpses, some were as large as rhinos, others were mice or even insects. The vast majority could no longer be distinguished in their original form, being just a shapeless mass of rotten mud or broken bones, but now, as they moved, they all appeared full of vitality.
Under this blue light falling from the sky, the ground, which had been dead silent a moment ago, was now completely full of life. Things were moving everywhere, emerging from the muddy ground. If the scene weren't so bizarre and terrifying, this strange blue light would actually be somewhat like the legendary holy light of salvation that brings everything back to life. The area covered by this blue light was several hundred meters in radius, and now this several hundred meter patch of ground had suddenly become the legendary netherworld hell.
Grafenhardt XVII's legs at this moment truly began to tremble. If Roland, his guardian deity in his mind, wasn't still standing beside him, he might have already fainted from fright. He clung tightly to Roland's hand, his voice like sifting through a sieve: "...Let's take this chance to run quickly..."
"Your Majesty, please rest assured. With him here, I don't think it's necessary. That Necromancer is here to help us." Roland shook his head.
"Oh? This one is helping us..." Grafenhardt looked up at the sky. The color of fear in his eyes slowly dissipated, replaced entirely by astonishment and shock.
Mid-air, the three Necromancers looked at the blue light that was resurrecting countless corpses, their expressions somewhat ugly. Norbolin said with a hoarse voice and a bitter smile: "It's just a bet, did you really need to use such a grand spectacle, combining a Plague of the Dead with Spirit Conjuring to synthesize a giant corpse puppet?"
"I've only used a small fraction of my strength," the golden skull mask replied lightly. "Did you think I would use the great eagle I'm riding to deal with your gargoyles? Although this thing should be stronger than your gargoyles, I don't want to go underground. In my life, I am only very careful with businessmen. Because I know these people are very treacherous."
Norbolin sighed, shook his head, and said: "You're wrong. Actually, businessmen are the least treacherous. They just like to put all their benefits on the surface. In truth, who doesn't live for benefits? To put it more profoundly, even things like feelings and faith, aren't they also benefits to oneself? Those who harbor unspeakable schemes in their hearts are the truly treacherous ones. Compared to them, don't you think that a straightforward person like me is actually the most frank?"
The golden skull mask smiled and nodded, saying: "Oh? Alright then. Let me see what kind of tricks a most frank person like you will play."
On the ground, all the moving corpses gathered together. These things of various shapes and sizes, some solid, some liquid, constantly overlapped, squeezed, and squirmed, slowly forming a shape similar to a gargoyle.
This monster of flesh and bone stood up, unfurling its huge wings composed of countless clotted blood spots, small limbs, and rotten mud, and rose into the air. A stench of rot and decay instantly filled this region. Even devils from hell could not have such a terrifying aura and presence. Within the range of vision, all birds, beasts, and insects began to desperately flee from this aura.
"This living corpse puppet is probably not something five gargoyles can handle. Perhaps it would take fifty?" Norbolin said with a bitter smile, "Didn't you say it was just one living corpse?"
The golden skull mask sneered: "Is there something wrong with your eyes? Isn't this one, or two? As long as you can make it suffer a heavy injury, you win. Is that okay?"
The fat Necromancer still shook his head: "So I say, the person who schemes in their heart is actually the most treacherous. How do you expect my gargoyles to inflict a heavy injury on this kind of monster? No. I can use spells, how about that? Otherwise, this bet is really not worth fighting."
"One of the reasons I hate businessmen is that they always like to haggle and fuss over every detail. But fine, other than building some scrap metal, I really don't think much of your dabbler's element magic." The golden skull mask snapped his fingers, and the corpse puppet, bringing with it a gust of foul, stinking wind, pounced towards the five gargoyles.
Incongruous with its massive body, the corpse puppet, with a speed more than a level higher than the gargoyles, flew and crashed into the embrace of one gargoyle, its limbs wrapping tightly around it like embracing the most intimate lover. A loud but crisp cracking sound, and the incomparably hard obsidian body shattered like glass within that mass of rotten flesh.
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Just as the Necromancers had expected. With just one blow, this huge stone puppet was completely defeated by the corpse puppet. The difference in strength was indeed not just a little bit. No matter how exquisitely crafted an artifact is, it cannot match the power of life itself. Although this flesh and bone, stimulated by the living corpse art Spirit Conjuring to unleash all its latent and remaining power, would not be active for long, as long as it could still move, it was absolutely not something stone could withstand.
But at the same time, the claws of the other four gargoyles also struck heavily against the corpse puppet's body. Although rotten flesh splattered, the flying pieces of meat almost immediately reattached themselves to the corpse puppet's body. Seen this way, the effect of this kind of conventional attack was truly pitifully small.
"Boom," a dull sound. A massive ball of flame appeared out of nowhere in the air, enveloping both the gargoyles and the corpse puppet. Norbolin had finally made his move. His first move was the advanced fire spell "Infernal Blaze".
The corpse puppet, carrying sparks and smoke all over its body, burst out of the flames. Along with it came a smell that no one who had never smelled it could possibly imagine: the odor produced by countless rotting corpses being scorched and baked by high temperatures. Even the pure smell of a rotting corpse, compared to this high-temperature-processed version, could be described as elegant by comparison. If this were on a battlefield, this smell alone would be enough to kill a thousand soldiers.
The four gargoyles, however, remained hidden and motionless within the flames; their obsidian bodies were immune to fire. And this seemed to be the reason Norbolin had demanded he could also use spells; only magic combined was the only way to deal with this kind of corpse puppet. Whether it was magic or the gargoyles' attacks, what was actually being consumed was the magical power within this monster's body, and such large-area burning was undoubtedly the most effective.
But the four Necromancers mid-air didn't even furrow their brows; each of them watched the battlefield intently, without looking away. Norbolin, while chanting incantations, also had to control the remaining four gargoyles, appearing somewhat overwhelmed. The Necromancer on the great eagle wearing the golden skull mask, however, appeared much more relaxed.
Of course, this was just an appearance of being much more relaxed. After all, creating such a massive corpse puppet was not an easy task, and although controlling it now was much easier than for Norbolin, it still required energy and concentration. This was clear to everyone, especially to Master Aiden floating mid-air. And this was exactly what he had hoped for.
Master Aiden's face was one of indifference, his gaze calm, but the hand holding a scroll behind his back was already trembling slightly with tension. This scroll was the one the Acting Guild Master had forcibly given him when he left Diya Valley.
Like other top-tier mages, Master Aiden did not usually carry any magic scrolls on his person. Even for a high-level magic like Thunderblast Bomb, the speed at which he could cast it was not much slower than using a scroll. The key was that his pride as one of the continent's top casters would not allow it, just as a master chef would not carry a recipe book with him. But when he left Diya Valley, Inham had insisted he take a few special combat scrolls just in case.
Master Aiden was originally very disdainful. But the Acting Guild Master had said: "Just consider it doing me a favor, Master, and carry it with you." And so Master Aiden could only frown and accept it.
It wasn't until this opponent appeared that Master Aiden thought there might really be a chance to use the scroll, and at the same time, another feeling surfaced: a fear, a fear of the Acting Guild Master. This person's appearance could not have been arranged by him, so it could only mean that he had predicted it. All along, Aiden had not thought much of the Acting Guild Master; in his eyes, he was just a greenhorn. Whether in magical cultivation or in handling matters, he seemed to have no outstanding qualities. His becoming Acting Guild Master was merely good luck in solving the Ronis matter, and this title actually had no real power. But only now did he discover that this person's mind was so good and his considerations so thorough that they reached a level he himself could not have predicted. And the key was that he usually showed no sign of it at all. This depth of cunning, combined with such a mind, truly made one feel a bit horrified.
But these thoughts were just a flash in his mind; after all, the first thing to do was to deal with the opponent before him.
The three of them knew very well that the opponent alone could absolutely not be a match for their combined strength. But they also knew very well that if they were to fight the opponent head-on, even if they could kill him, at least one or two on their side would also die. And no one wanted to be one of them, so none of them dared to make a move, to fight to the death.
But not wanting to fight to the death didn't mean not wanting to do anything. Often, switching to one or more alternative methods is a good, or even more effective, choice. This was also the specialty of old, cunning foxes who had lived a long life. Aiden just turned his mind slightly and immediately proposed such a bet.
Against a mage of the opponent's level, any fluctuation from gathering magical power before a sneak attack with magic could not be hidden from them. In this situation, using a scroll was undoubtedly the best choice. And this scroll was precisely a Paralysis Spell scroll, most effective against a single but exceptionally powerful opponent.
According to the original plan, Master Aiden wanted to force the opponent to control the great eagle he was riding down to the ground, but unexpectedly, the opponent created a giant corpse puppet. However, Norbolin immediately seized the opportunity and proposed the condition that he could also use magic.
Although they didn't have much tacit understanding in the past, Master Aiden believed that the look he gave when he turned back was enough to convey sufficient meaning. This was a mutual understanding between old, cunning veterans who were both deeply scheming. Their interests, thoughts, and plans were all sufficiently conveyed in that look. Master Aiden believed that as long as he made his move, he would absolutely not be alone.
This opponent, right from the start, had actually created such a surprisingly powerful living corpse puppet, which showed that he was probably still somewhat wary. As long as this fellow, comparable to a Behemoth, was around, the three of them would indeed have reservations. Against such a monster, only Master Aiden could completely dominate in terms of agility; the other two would probably be attacked the moment they showed the slightest ill intent. And this kind of monster could not be instantly defeated even by a top-tier single-target attack magic like Blazing Might Shot.
But Master Aiden was still very confident in his own move, because it was a scroll. Even if the opponent was on guard without distraction, as long as he didn't unroll the scroll, the opponent would never detect it, let alone now that he also had to split his attention to control the corpse puppet. This instant-cast white magic spell could be said to be unavoidable, unless a protective spell had been cast in advance, or one relied solely on their own Battle Qi or magical power to break the shackles. And as long as the Paralysis Spell took effect, even if it could only make the opponent completely rigid for a short blink of an eye, it would be enough.
In the blink of an eye, it was enough to die a hundred times. And once the controller was lost, the corpse puppet would collapse without a fight.
The battle in mid-air had reached a white-hot intensity. Although they cooperated seamlessly, and Norbolin had also cast support magic on the gargoyles, the gap in strength was insurmountable. The living corpse puppet struck again, shattering half of the third gargoyle's body. However, Norbolin's three Thunder Frost spells also struck the corpse puppet's body. A large area of the corpse puppet's body was instantly covered in a layer of hard ice and white frost. The claws of the other two gargoyles also struck fiercely against these frozen spots. Immediately, pieces of the frozen black body fell to the ground, unable to reattach to the corpse puppet's body. After this round of fighting, Norbolin seemed to have finally discovered the most effective way to deal with this monster.
However, the Necromancer wearing the golden skull mask showed no sign of tension, instead yawning leisurely. Because the outcome was already obvious. Although the opponent had slowly found the right tactic, only two gargoyles remained, and victory was in sight.
Norbolin seemed unwilling to give up, still commanding the two gargoyles to do their best to harry the corpse puppet. He just no longer dared to let a gargoyle get close to the corpse puppet at the cost of one gargoyle for a chance to attack. The magic in Norbolin's hands was no longer just water-based, but fireballs, lightning, bombarding like a chain cannon. Although these spells constantly blew away pieces of rotten flesh and bone from the corpse puppet's body, it seemed to be just a drop in the bucket.
Magic exploded and bombarded ceaselessly, rotten flesh flying everywhere. The air was full of magical elements and the strange fluctuations bursting from the corpse puppet. The Hasted gargoyles and the corpse puppet flew and turned in mid-air, chasing each other like three giant, bizarre bats, the stirred-up airflow scraping painfully at one's skin.
Master Aiden knew his chance to strike was now. His hand suddenly pulled out from behind his back, the magic scroll already unrolled, and the fluctuation of white magic erupted instantly. Almost simultaneously, Norbolin's hand, which had been casting spells at the corpse puppet, also turned towards the Necromancer wearing the golden skull mask on the great eagle.
Master Aiden could feel the white magic Paralysis Spell in his hand had fully formed and was about to rush out. But just at this moment, he also felt a strange sense of horror. It was the kind of horror one feels when a knife is pressed to their back from behind, and they can feel the muscles of the hand holding the knife contracting and tightening, about to thrust forward.
Perhaps it was the several life-and-death battles he had experienced in this past year or so that had restored his intuition, long buried by the years, to the sharpness of his youth when he was still on battlefields and journeys, that intuition for battle and death. That was why he was the first of the three to sense that something was wrong. He didn't even have time to complete the scroll, which was only a tenth of a blink away from being released, but instead abruptly spun and shifted to dodge while conjuring a wall of wind to block behind him. At the same time, he shouted: "Be careful."
Even the swiftest falcon could not change its form from complete stillness to high-speed dodging as he could, and the wall of wind he sent from his hand could block the strongest crossbow bolts. Fortunately, the small black shadow slowed down slightly after breaking through the wall of wind, passing just in front of his nose.
At such a close distance, Aiden saw clearly that this small black shadow was a hummingbird. But it was obviously not an ordinary hummingbird, because a hummingbird could not fly this high, nor could it have such a fast speed or such a deadly momentum, and most importantly, it could not have such a strong smell of rotting corpses. The smell was so strong, as if a bucket of stinking sludge from a sewer had been poured into his nose.
The missed hummingbird swiftly drew an arc in mid-air, then turned back to continue charging towards Mage Aiden, but this time, what met it halfway were countless small but precise wind blades, like a meat grinder, which instantly cut it into countless fragments, and then a strong gust of wind blew the minced flesh away without a trace. Only then did the still-shaken Master Aiden have time to look at his two companions, because he knew there was no reason for such an attack to be aimed at him alone.
The Necromancer who used Soul Magic reacted a bit more slowly. He didn't snap out of it until Master Aiden's warning shout. But his luck was also the best. Another black shadow flying towards him from behind was slightly slower than the one that attacked Master Aiden, and the magic he had gathered in his hand seemed to hesitate, not attacking the opposing Necromancer at the same time, just in time to use it for self-defense.
With Master Aiden's shout, the Necromancer's body had no time to move. He didn't even turn his head, just gave a furious roar, and the small black dot that had already reached less than a meter behind him immediately shattered.
Soul Magic had almost no physical attack power, but this surging, most pure magical fluctuation still shredded the originally very fragile small black dot. Only the sharp senses and attack method of Soul Magic could have sniped this strike in such a way.
But although his luck was good, it was not good enough. The black dot did not shatter finely enough, and a small fragment was carried by inertia and crashed into his arm.
It was just a hit, and it didn't seem to break the skin, but the Necromancer screamed as if bitten by the most venomous cobra. With a wave of his hand, a blade of ice condensed from water magic appeared in his other hand, and he chopped down at the arm hit by the small fragment. Without the slightest hesitation, the arm fell, blood splashed, only the blood gushing from his severed shoulder was red, while what flowed from the fallen arm was a kind of dark, viscous sauce.
At this moment, Norbolin, who was next to him sharing a gargoyle, had already silently collapsed. There was a large hole in his back, and the foot of a crow or some other bird was still sticking out, but no blood was flowing. If one looked closely, one could see that the Necromancer, who was just moments ago white, fat, and casting magic, had now become a zombie.
The one that came for him was the largest and fastest. The moment he just heard Master Aiden's shout, he had already felt something open a hole in his back.
There was no scream, not even a hum, before all his sensation and life force were completely consumed by the crazy toxins and corrosive magical power brought by the thing that had rushed into his body. His outstretched fingers drooped down. The magical power he had gathered but had not used produced a small explosion that blew his hand apart, but no blood or other fluid flowed out. The limb, which had been full of life just a few blinks ago, was now no different from a specimen.
"You were right. Those who don't speak and harbor all their schemes in their hearts are the most despicable and treacherous, just like me, aren't they?" The Necromancer sitting on the great eagle laughed smugly. "Oh, you frank people. Your plans were really too frank."
