It's Perfect for Me.
The sword once wielded by the Death Knight fit perfectly in his hand the moment Yoahim gripped the hilt, as if he'd been using it for years. The sharply honed blade had some real weight when held in one hand, but his trained muscles made it feel effortless to wield.
Yoahim swung it through the air a few times with a whoosh before stowing the Fairy Sword in his inventory. The Fairy Sword had served him well up to now, but compared to his level and skill, it was starting to feel inadequate. A well-crafted weapon was excellent on its own, but it truly shone when it met the right master. And the strong could multiply their power several times over with a weapon suited to them.
"Item info."
◈ A sword tainted by death energy. The screams of souls lost to its razor-sharp blade seem to echo from it.
◈ Equip Effect: +30 Strength, +40 Vitality.
◈ Long-term use continuously accumulates 2 Death Energy.
As expected.
He'd known the weapon from a Death Knight would have top-tier options. Seeing the raw numbers confirmed it—the stat boosts from just equipping it were massive. It seemed tailor-made for a close-combat specialist like a Death Knight.
But what's this about Death Energy?
He knew what death energy was: that chilling, eerie aura he felt every time he encountered undead, the instinctive dread that made the living recoil. Equipping the Death Sword would accumulate it? That made sense—it was a Death Knight's blade, tainted by the stuff.
But what happened when it built up? How much before something kicked in? No clue.
Can't exactly ask anyone else.
Necromancers and black mages instinctively sensed death energy, but they couldn't quantify it or see it numerically. Asking around would just get vague answers at best.
Eh, probably just makes you more immersed in Necromancy or something.
Yoahim decided not to overthink it. He was already an apostle of Kakali, goddess of death—the closest thing to death itself. If anything, it might boost his Necromancy level or bring some positive effect.
"Kill the enemy! Assault the inner keep!"
The Death Knights burst out, briefly stalling the momentum, but Haellagos's forces still outnumbered them. Billad's shock troops charged the inner keep with their leader, followed by the other units. Yoahim spun and dashed toward it himself.
The relentless advance soon clashed with the enemies waiting inside. These foes looked far stronger than the outer keep's undead defenders. But the shock troops didn't care—they barreled straight at them.
The two armies collided, metal clashing in a storm of sharp rings.
"Fireball!"
Yoahim held the sword in one hand, staff in the other. He stabbed close enemies with the blade and blasted distant ones with spells. Masterful swordplay fused with potent magic let him rack up EXP at a blistering pace.
"Grraaaah!"
Dozens of Magic Missiles streaked from his fingertips like a dense net, almost perfectly blocking enemy advances. But some slipped through the barrage now and then.
Skeleton Knights. Weaker than Death Knights but leagues above Skeleton Warriors. Using dozens of the weaker skeletons as bait, one closed the gap and swung its death-energy-wreathed flail in a massive arc.
Bam!
A dull thud echoed—not the sound of a flail striking flesh. If the Skeleton Knight could feel shock, its bony face would show it. What it had smashed wasn't a head, but a shield crackling with lightning.
"Grrraaahk!"
It had attacked first—and taken the damage. Electricity coursed through its bones, making it shudder violently. But paralysis didn't faze it. As a skeleton, it was immune to status effects like stun or poison by default.
It could still move, so it kept attacking, loyal to its orders to slaughter the enemy. The flail whipped around for another strike at Yoahim.
"What the—?"
Only then did Yoahim register the attack. Not that his reactions were slow or senses dulled—he'd unconsciously dismissed the Skeleton Knight as harmless. Like no one fears an ant scurrying underfoot.
To him now, skeletons posed zero threat. Proof? His pre-cast shield was intact despite the surprise hit.
"Pathetic thing acting tough."
Shwick.
A blade cloaked in purple sword aura sliced the Skeleton Knight clean in half with ease. Yoahim didn't spare it a glance as it crumbled. His eyes were already hunting the next target, staff unleashing more spells.
"Kiiiaaak!"
A guttural screech came from above—the gargoyles circling overhead. The stone monsters swooped like lightning whenever an opening appeared, snatching lives.
Yoahim had fended off a few on the way here. Their sneaky flights pissed him off. As he raised his staff to blast them—
"Fire—"
"Kiiiaaak! Kiiiaak!"
Before he could finish, the gargoyles shattered into rubble and plummeted. Yoahim narrowed his eyes at the massive demons now dominating the skies.
Gargoyles mimicked demons or dragons, but fakes were fakes. Real demons whipped up gales with enormous wings, battering the gargoyles off-balance, then shredded them mid-air with black magic.
The gargoyles fled like prey before a predator. The aerial chase evoked eagles hunting sparrows.
We're winning up there. For now, Yoahim muttered quietly.
The battlefield favored Haellagos overall. They had the numbers—it was inevitable. But numerical superiority was temporary.
The dead are reviving.
Biljera Castle was Alzahar's domain. The lich's power peaked here, and the fallen rose as undead soon after.
The gap's closing.
Alzahar's undead revived endlessly. Haellagos's troops? They joined the enemy upon death. No matter the initial advantage, the sides would equalize over time—then flip.
Got to kill Alzahar fast.
The undead horde relied on the lich alone. Minion skirmishes didn't matter. It boiled down to how long Alzahar held out versus how quickly Haellagos took him down.
Time limit for Haellagos—the longer it dragged, the slimmer the odds. He and his lieutenants had to ignore the fodder and hunt the head.
So was Yoahim diligently searching? Not really.
Does it have to be me?
He knew it was selfish. But he had no choice. Suppose he busted his ass and found Alzahar first. Then what? Fight him one-on-one? He'd die for sure.
Yoahim coldly assessed himself. Level 78—effective combat power over 90 with buffs. Alzahar? 150+. Only Haellagos could match him. Not Yoahim, not the other lieutenants.
Not like I'm trying to run.
It sounded like an excuse, but he had zero intention of fleeing. He'd come to aid Haellagos's victory. He just dreaded a solo showdown—pointless death.
First, thin the herd. Level up more.
Reviving enemies? Kill more, faster. That would buy Haellagos and the lieutenants breathing room to focus on the lich. Sword and staff in hand, Yoahim cleaved through.
Spells incinerated foes; the blade laid them low. EXP poured in as a bonus.
"Push a bit harder and we win! Charge! Don't fall back!"
Gellios rallied the cavalry atop his phantom steed, their ghostly mounts trampling enemies in chunks. Billad, Tilia, and Jeron led their units toward the inner keep's heart.
"Left flank's in trouble! Reinforce left!"
But the counterattack was fierce. More Death Knights poured out, overwhelming the troops. Yoahim sprinted to assist—not just for them, but because Death Knights gave fat EXP.
"Hah!"
No matter how strong, they'd proven no match for him. Yoahim pressured one with swift sword strikes, mixing in spells. Magic Missiles didn't hit hard but slowed it just enough.
He lunged into the opening. The Death Knight's left shoulder exploded in smoke—no blood.
"It's over!"
Quicker the kill, more kills. No dragging it out. He swung wide, expecting a counter—
"Huh?"
The blade whistled through empty air. No retaliation. The Death Knight turned tail and bolted.
A knight—undead or not—fleeing mid-battle? Unthinkable.
Yoahim shook off his daze. "You coward! Don't run!"
He bellowed and gave chase. Letting prey escape? Infuriating.
He cleaved blocking skeletons and rounded a corner—
"Gah!"
Bam!
Sudden impact hurled him back with a scream. A hidden Death Knight had tackled him. He tumbled across the ground; the pursuer leaped to stomp him flat.
Yoahim rolled instinctively—the foot cratered the floor harmlessly. He surged up for a counter, but—
Crack!
An ominous rumble. Half-risen, the floor collapsed beneath him. He plummeted.
"Ngh…."
No time to scout—the glowing eyes of a charging Death Knight forced another roll. This time, Yoahim rose fast, impaling its chest. As it staggered, he bashed its shoulder with his staff and finished with sword aura.
"Whew…."
Relief washed over him. Only now did he look around.
"Can't see shit."
No echoes in the fight meant a vast space. He conjured a small flame with mana, revealing a plaza-like area.
"What's this place?"
He tilted his head and took a step—
"A reckless intruder, I see."
Someone was here. Yoahim whipped toward the voice.
"Who the hell are you?!"
"Who am I?"
Whoosh—flames erupted. From Yoahim's position to the unseen far end. They ignited in sequence, illuminating the plaza. At its edge loomed impenetrable darkness, defying the light.
"Guardian of Death, rightful lord of the Withered Land, saint of Kakali, ringer of the Evening Bell. Many names call me, but that suffices. I am Alzahar. Intruder—who are you?"
Fuck, who?