Norton’s laughter echoed across the blood-soaked plains as his greatsword pulsed with dark energy. Each swing forced the three opponents to give ground, their coordination strained to the extent.
"Is this the best the three of you can do?" Norton taunted, his eyes gleaming with murderous delight. "Pathetic. I expected to fight warriors... not tired dogs clinging to scraps of courage."
"Oh? What nonsense are you talking about?" Erasmus asked in a teasing tone. "While we are holding you back, our allies have already defeated three Archons. Soon, they will be here, and you will become one of my minions!"
After hearing the Lord of Death’s words, Norton’s smile disappeared from his face.
Right now, less than a handful remained among the High-Ranking fighters of the Artemian Army.
Roen was currently holding the front lines, while Norton protected the rear.
As for Azoh’Karn, he was unable to break past the three Earth Dragons who were keeping him underground.
It was not an exaggeration to say that the Artemian Army was currently on its last legs—unless their King managed to defeat the Honey Badger, who kept him from rejoining the battlefield.
The Artemian General’s grip tightened on his blade, the dark energy swirling around it becoming unstable, lashing out like furious serpents of shadow.
"So what?" Notron growled, voice thick with venom. "Do you think their deaths matter? Do you think your pitiful army of corpses will tip the scales of this war? When this blade sings, the heavens themselves will split open!"
As he raised his greatsword high, a massive shockwave of blackened mana rippled outward and forced Erasmus, Azoh’Dar, and Vannaroth to brace themselves.
The ground cracked beneath their feet, dust and shards of stone whirling into the air.
"You boast of allies," Norton sneered, his once mocking tone hardening into malice. "But allies can be slaughtered. What will you cling to when every name you trust is carved into the soil?"
"Oh, that’s easy," Erasmus replied. "I’ll just reanimate them ."
As if proving his words were true, another combatant joined the battle, which made Norton’s face turn solemn.
Commander Dravon, who had been beheaded by General Grandall, returned to life as a Dullahan.
The former Commander of the Dragonkin held his severed head with his left hand and his sword with his right.
Although his rank had degraded to that of a Pseudo-Majin Prince, he was still a force to be reckoned with as an Undead.
"It’s too bad that General Grandall’s body was burned to ashes," Erasmus said with regret. "I could have put him to good use."
Azoh’Dar glanced at the Lord of Death, feeling happy that they were fighting on the same side. The rightful source is n0velfire.net
No matter how much General Norton tried to downplay the Undead Army’s effectiveness, the morale of the Artemians had already plummeted at the sight of their former dead comrades fighting against them.
It wasn’t that they felt sorry for their dead comrades. They simply feared for themselves—feared that they, too, would join these undead monsters. The mere thought of it was difficult to overcome, and Erasmus was someone who thrived in an environment with such people.
Norton’s eyes narrowed as the headless knight strode forward, the hollow glow in Dravon’s eyes burning with a cruel, unfeeling flame.
"You desecrate the dead..." Norton spat, disgust mixing with rage. "Even your victories are mockeries, Erasmus. What lord of death? You are a mere parasite feeding on corpses."
Erasmus chuckled darkly, spreading his skeletal hands wide. "A parasite? Perhaps. But one who thrives when butchers like you leave so many carcasses lying about."
With a guttural roar, Dravon charged, his blade cleaving downward.
Norton intercepted with his greatsword, the force of their clash sending a thunderclap across the field. Sparks of shadow and necrotic energy sprayed as the undead commander pressed his assault.
Azoh’Dar seized the opening, his claws tearing through the air, while Vannaroth unleashed a breath attack in the hope of dealing as much damage as he could to the cornered Artemian General.
Although the Artemian was stronger than his opponents, their attacks were something he couldn’t shrug off easily. With no other choice but to burn his life force to temporarily boost his strength, General Norton decided to go all out.
Just as he was about to lunge at his nearest opponent, he suddenly lost his footing, taking him by surprise.
A pair of golden clawed hands had emerged from the ground, holding him in place.
’Damn!’ General Norton cursed internally. With his attack delayed, his opponents found an opening to attack him from all directions.
With a roar filled with anger and frustration, the Artemian General did an overhead swing, splitting the Wyvern King’s body into two before slicing sideways to cut off Commander Dravon’s body in half.
But simultaneously, Erasmus’ dark blade and Azoh’Dar’s claws had stabbed into the General’s chest, and blood sprayed from his body.
His armor had prevented the attacks from going too deep, but he was still seriously injured.
After their attacks landed, Erasmus and Azoh’Dar hurriedly backed away to evade Norton’s counterattack.
Knowing that his opponents would back away, the Artemian General pierced the ground under his foot with his sword, stabbing the body of Azoh’Ran, the Golden Azothrall who served Lucan.
Erasmus had made it one of his Undead Minions, which he had used to launch a sneak attack on the unsuspecting General.
The sword sank deep into Azoh’Ran’s chest, pinning the golden undead onto the ground like a broken doll.
Its eerie light flickered as cracks ran along its body, Erasmus’ binding magic unraveling under the sheer force of Norton’s will.
"You think I will be chained by your puppets?" Norton bellowed, yanking his blade free in a spray of blood from the Golden Azothrall’s body. "I’ll cut them down again and again until even your necromancy can’t stitch them back together!"
"Oh really?" Erasmus sneered before he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Azohran, Dravon, and Vannaroth all detonated at once, right beside Norton.
The unleashed power of three Rank 9 Sovereigns’ explosion consumed the Artemian general instantly, denying him even a dying scream.