Azure Scepter

Page 33

Meanwhile, the survivors of Beaver Town were thrown into terrible chaos by the divine power of the mountain—some threw down their weapons and prostrated themselves on the ground to worship the high-ranking undead; some screamed and broke away from the group to try to escape; and one person rushed headlong into the high-ranking undead.

The high-ranking undead, already enhanced to a terrifying degree by magic, casually deflected Futia's arrows with a flick of its sword, then cleaved through the charging soldiers, their chainmail and flesh ripped apart. Amidst the billowing blood mist, the undead once again vanished into the shadows. The next instant, it leaped from another shadow, its dark green rapier aimed straight for the garrison captain's throat!

The veteran didn't parry, but coldly ducked and thrust his spear at the enemy. But the next moment, his heavy, cold black plate armor boots slammed the spear shaft into the ground. The garrison captain looked up in disbelief, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

"Thud!" The cold steel severed the warm artery, and the veteran fell backward, his scarlet blood spraying into the air, staining the undead's black plate armor red.

Seven or eight spears thrust at the high-ranking undead, who slightly stepped back to avoid the attack. Then it extended a finger and released its next spell.

—The art of terror.

A gray, cone-shaped wave surged from its fingertip, instantly covering nearly half of the crowd. Although they had received the blessing of divine magic beforehand, the people were still greatly shaken by the combined effect of the divine might.

Worse still, as the high-ranking undead suddenly began to exert their power, even more undead suddenly surged out! Dense black shadows, like dark clouds, suddenly swept through the ruins of the buildings. Below them were hordes of ghouls, and among the ghouls, which surged like a rolling wave, there were even a few ghost knights riding ghostly warhorses!

The situation took a sharp turn for the worse in an instant!

At this moment, the number of the dead reached a literal "overwhelming." They covered the entire northern part of the old square like a black, decaying curtain. Against this terrifying backdrop, the desperate and terrified expressions on the faces of the throng of people were the truest testament to the impending doom.

"The fortress of the mind has fallen, and cowardice and weakness have finally seized its prey." The dead began to chant in a low voice, "Old oaks are felled by storms, just as people's minds are like robin's eggs in a storm."

"Weak and pathetic!"

—Apocalyptic dirge!

Under the extremely heavy blows to morale, countless soldiers completely collapsed. They screamed hysterically, threw down their weapons, and fled irrationally.

“Fear is like a festering sore caused by a plague, slowly rotting and spreading…” the high-ranking undead, or rather, the smooth-talker White, whispered. “Run, run, the last to leave will die first, and then be the first to be resurrected.”

As the undead whispered, the garrison captain's corpse suddenly began to tremble, and a wisp of black smoke instantly billowed from the corpse's eye sockets, then transformed into cold, ghostly blue flames.

The guard captain, resurrected as a Boda corpse, stood up silently, but the next moment, a muffled roar suddenly struck!

The newly revived garrison captain instantly exploded into a cloud of blood mist, and the high-ranking undead hurriedly lunged forward to dodge. However, just as it barely managed to avoid the sonic boom arrow, the heavy blade of the Harlan Knight struck its shoulder like lightning.

"More hope, more death, more despair." The undead sang as it cast "Advanced Invisibility." It managed to dodge Harlan's vertical slash by relying on the light distortion brought by the Obscuring spell and at the cost of half an arm. As the Advanced Invisibility took effect, its form gradually became distorted and faded.

"Ignorance of the enemy, ignorance of oneself, defeat is imminent..." The voice of the undead seemed to come from near and far, "What are you waiting for? Attack! They are on the verge of collapse!"

Fythia's heart sank; she could no longer provide remote support—she couldn't see the undead who had cast a high-level invisibility spell on her.

At that moment, Noy suddenly slammed her shield down to her left. With a dull metallic clang, she took a slight step back, then swung her flail at the empty space beside her. Sparks burst forth in the distorted air as she raised the flail high and then brought it crashing down.

"Bang!" The corpse of the high-level undead, its spine completely smashed, suddenly appeared on the ground.

The usually gentle and refined Noy let out a cold laugh for the first time. As if venting her anger, she raised the flail again and slammed it down hard, instantly covering the iron ball with bone fragments and bits of flesh. "Shut up, you incessant idiot! You're as long-winded as a bronze dragon!"

Having said that, the nun raised her shield, and the holy emblem on it once again emitted a soft light. The warm white light swept over the crowd, and the spreading collapse was immediately suppressed.

At this moment, the spinal monsters and ghouls had surged in from all directions. Their orderly formations had been destroyed by the terrifying morale of the high-ranking undead, and the battlefield had degenerated into a primitive and bloody melee.

No longer caring about revealing her position, Futia suddenly stood up, drew her longbow to its full extent, and then roughly aimed at the area where the number of undead was the most concentrated.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Three sonic boom arrows shot out in quick succession, and the surging horde of undead suddenly came to a halt, with three whole carpets of flesh and blood dividing the horde of undead.

The knight, empowered by divine magic, unleashed a powerful frontal chop followed by a backhand chop, mercilessly and efficiently slaughtering the surging undead as if by some natural law.

The soldiers, who still retained their morale, clung tightly to the two high-ranking professionals, struggling to withstand the overwhelming horde of undead—the undead offensive was narrowly held off.

Futia let out a long sigh of relief. She shook her arm, which ached terribly from the excessive exertion, and gasped as if struck by an electric shock: "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!"

Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye, and her heart sank – at the edge of the old square, the high-ranking undead wearing black plate armor had reappeared among the undead. To make matters worse, it had once again taken out its lute and begun chanting a spell!

"A terrifying undead that can resurrect infinitely, what kind of monster is this?!" Futia couldn't help but say. "Calm down, Futia, calm down. Its existence does not conform to the basic principles of magic. It must have some unknown weakness."

“Think about what Trill would think…” she frowned. “First, look for the illogical parts—why didn’t it just cast those spells in the first place?”

"Because this is its curse." Suddenly, a sharp voice rang in my ears.

The elf, who was deep in thought, was startled. She instinctively dropped her longbow and drew her heavy scimitar: "Who's there?"

"Keep your voice down, young elf, it's me, of course!" The air distorted, and Olius reappeared in front of Fythia.

The elf was startled at first, then felt a surge of intense anger from the betrayal. She grabbed the humanoid bronze dragon by the collar: "You cowardly lizard, why did you run away?!"

The bronze dragon wasn't angry; it just smiled awkwardly.

After a moment, it said, "If you were being relentlessly hunted by such a terrifying, immortal undead, you would also be afraid—but that's not the point. The point is, we need to save ourselves! Right now, only you and I can save us from defeat."

"Trier..."

"That strange paladin is definitely in dire straits right now. He's clearly under far more pressure than we are. After all, you can't expect a bunch of ragtag people who've never fought a war to suddenly become valiant warriors. It's obvious that we can't rely on anyone but ourselves!"

Before Futia could reply, the copper dragon continued, "That undead has a weakness! Its weakness is hidden in that fairy tale—in the fairy tale 'White the Clever Speaker'!"

"This terrifying undead can only be born from oaths, and the lich has clearly exploited and distorted the oaths of the liar who lies and boasts, transforming them into something akin to a death pact. Elf, if you have received more advanced mage training, you should understand that oaths are both a source of supernatural power and a kind of weakness."

"Can't you be more direct?" the elf protested. "The point isn't those boring principles, the point is what we should do now."

Aulis shrugged. “Unfortunately, I don’t know either. I’ve spent centuries trying to solve this seemingly ridiculous puzzle, but I’ve never succeeded.”

"Then what makes you so sure that the monster's weakness lies in the oath it made?"

“First, there are the basic principles of magic, and second…” The copper dragon suddenly lowered its voice, “I received divine revelation—yes, the same god you worship, the Sage of the Sunset. In reality, He directly bestowed knowledge upon me. Uh, elf, do you remember the four oaths that White the Speaker made to that damned lich in the story?”

PS: Updated first, then revised.

Chapter 59 Anchor Point

The muffled crack of bones breaking was mixed with the sharp whistling of air being cut, and the cold sound of clashing weapons seemed to carry a pungent smell of rust. The mournful sobs of those who had been cut in half but were not quite dead yet drew a bloody pause to the distant battlefield.

Frythia forced herself to ignore the sounds, carefully recalling the story the dwarf blacksmith had told her the day before. Although she had only heard the story of "White the Speaker" once, her memory was always excellent, and so in just half a second, she remembered it completely.

“He once spoke with the sun, and the sun granted him the eyesight of an eagle,” Faldia said quickly from memory. “The blood of the frost giant flows in his veins, but his heart cannot bear such power; the Silver Wizard, the guardian of knowledge, once instructed him, letting him know the dragon’s fatal weakness, but this knowledge cannot be spoken; he is willing to pledge allegiance to the king and fight forever to protect the kingdom.”

Olius stroked the staff in his hand and nodded: "That's right, the undead's weakness is hidden in these few lines of poetry that everyone knows. I think the answer lies in the heart, because the other three lines are advantages in a literal sense."

“But I’ve shot its heart out more than once, and it keeps coming back to life. The heart isn’t its weakness. There are just too many possible weaknesses behind these vows. It’s unrealistic to just guess,” Futia retorted. “Instead of considering these mystical prophecies, let’s try to cripple that undead and capture it—first, we need to create a bright, shadowless environment to prevent it from traversing shadows, and then we’ll find an opportunity to crush its limbs.”

"That won't work at all! That undead is more cunning than you can imagine!" the bronze dragon screamed.

We have to give it a try!

Futia suddenly drew her bowstring taut, and the sharp arrow slashed across the battlefield, the metal arrow reflecting the tide of undead.

A ghoul crashed into the tip of the spear and was then cleaved in two by the greatsword. Amidst the crimson sky, countless dark shadows flew in like dark clouds.

The soldier who had stabbed the ghoul to death looked up in surprise. A shadowy, ferocious face flashed in his pupils. He quickly dodged, but the next moment, a silver spear radiating a chilling aura suddenly lashed through the air. The soldier couldn't dodge in time, and his head exploded.

Blood mist filled the air as the silver spear slowly retracted. In the dark, surging shadows, the translucent ghost knight silently shook the tip of its silver spear, red, pink, and white blood dripping down the spear tip and onto the ground. With a flick of its spear, it charged forward through the gap created by the shadows.

"Bang!" Golden lightning suddenly exploded on the Ghost Knight, and the transparent white ghost, along with the surrounding shadows, turned to ashes in the burst of lightning.

"This is the last divine spell!" Noi shouted, casually smashing a ghoul that was charging nearby. "There are too many of them!"

Before she finished speaking, the high-ranking undead clad in black plate armor emerged from the shadows once more, its flail whistling through the air. However, amplified by the spell, the undead abruptly dodged the nun's heavy blow, and a chilling, unclean red light surged from its helmet.

—The death stare.

Noi and the front-line soldiers, who had set up an anti-death barrier in advance, were unaffected. In an instant, four spears pierced towards the undead, but Harlan's greatsword was faster. Before the undead could disappear into the shadows, it was instantly beheaded.

"That was a golden opportunity! We can't let it revive any longer!" Sister Noy said anxiously. "If it casts another high-level spell, we're all doomed!"

Harlan silently wielded his greatsword, the remaining force of the blade sweeping away a swarm of undead. In the midst of the mechanical hacking and slashing, his martial arts seemed to have improved dramatically.

Suddenly, a multi-segmented black worm, resembling a centipede, sprang out from the spine of the high-ranking undead. The centipede-like spine clamped its mandibles onto a soldier's head, instantly crushing his sealed helmet. The fine, wriggling tentacles covering the "spine," like the tentacles of a mind flayer, pierced the soldier's eye sockets, nasal cavity, and ears. Before the soldier could even let out a hysterical scream, he was instantly reduced to a shriveled corpse.

The high-ranking undead stood up again, its head fully restored. The resurrected undead silently raised its head and looked in the direction where Futia was.

It met Fati's gaze.

"Run! It's got its eyes on us!" the bronze dragon said timidly. "It's a monster, we have to get out of here!"

Futia lowered her longbow and drew her heavy scimitar: "This is a good opportunity to subdue it. It has no other undead to protect it. You just need to cast a few Flash spells. I can handle it by myself."

"You don't understand. Without solving the riddle beneath the oath, it is invincible. This is what the Sage of Sunset told me personally!" the dragon screamed.

"If you want to solve the puzzle, why don't you ask Trill?"

"What kind of wisdom could a human who has lived for less than twenty years possibly have?! Believe me, run! Those it hunts will become its treasures! You don't want to become a monster with only a head and a spine left, right?"

"Shut up," the elf said coldly. "I choose to fight."

She looked up into the distance. The crumbling tower on the north side of the old square stood like a tombstone, the midday sun casting a scorching shadow upon it. From within that shadow, an endless stream of spirits continued to surge forth...

She couldn't help but feel a bitter sense of powerlessness.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to get revenge," Futia said in a low voice.

Suddenly, a dazzling white light slowly rose from the top of the tower, a light bright enough to blind someone briefly—the ritual placed at the top of the tower to deal with any possible spellcasters had been activated!

Amidst the overwhelming white light, the sky and the ground roared as if enraged giants. The intense, earthquake-like tremors made Futia feel as if she had been thrown into the sky, a literal sense of dizziness washing over her.

"boom!!!"

"Help!" the bronze dragon cried out, "What is that?"

“It must be Trier!” Futia shouted at the top of her lungs, but her voice sounded particularly soft amidst the muffled explosion. “He activated our pre-set explosive ritual array!”

The temperature continued to rise, and eerie heat waves surged in like a storm. Futia forced herself to adapt to the dazzling light and tried to look at the crumbling tower—in this terrible explosion, the undead were still pouring in.

She squinted and began to observe carefully—

"It's illusion magic! There aren't that many undead at all!" Faldia shouted. "Look, those undead are still moving! Their movements are fixed!"

"I'm blind!" the bronze dragon roared hysterically. "I can't see anything! I'm blind! Help me!"

The next moment, the tower ruins, which were enormous to ordinary people, shattered into pieces. Broken stones, wood, and molten glass, burning with cold cobalt blue flames, shot out like crossbow bolts. A two-story building next to the tower, which was about to collapse, suddenly vanished.

"Boom!" A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and dark clouds once again obscured the sun, as a torrential downpour arrived in the blink of an eye.

Against a backdrop of a sky as gloomy as the end of the world, a blood-stained golden flag flutters in the howling wind, its lance tip gleaming in the chaotic flashes of lightning.

Beneath the glorious banner, Trier held his longsword high, with militia marching in perfect unison behind him. The militiamen, spears held level, their various shoes swiftly treading across the cobalt blue flames burning on the ground, charged headlong into the surging undead—the banner seemed to possess magic; the moment they collided, the undead began to twist and deform, and then, under the torrential rain, the almost endless undead instantly turned into bubbles—those undead were indeed just illusions summoned by illusion magic.

On the battlefield, only a small fraction of the undead remained. Aside from the constantly resurrecting Spine-Bound Spirits, only about a dozen ghouls were left!

"Forward!" shouted the paladin, who was carrying a strangely shaped spinal monster. "We're behind them! Kill them all!"

"How is this possible!?" The bronze dragon opened its eyes in disbelief. "What happened?"

“It’s Trier,” Faudia replied succinctly. “It’s a miracle.”

"How can it be!?"

At this moment, the high-ranking undead looked back in despair. Its carefully designed morale-boosting illusion ritual had been completely destroyed, and the fact that the militia had still survived meant that the fool Caster had definitely failed.

"Hovering on the precipitous edge of annihilation," it murmured to itself. "To hold on, or to give up?"

The next moment, it saw the spirit-binding monster in Trier's hand.

The high-level undead paused slightly, then immediately withdrew its attack and turned to run away.

"It's trying to escape!" White heard a soft female voice behind him. "Catch it! Be careful, it might use the shadows to jump."

White mentally commanded his remaining collection to hold off the pursuers, then frantically ran westward—as long as he could escape today's pursuit, there was still hope! He ran through the ruins as if walking on flat ground, but the cold, burning cobalt blue flames seemed to scorch his soul's fire.

The cries of agony from behind as the artifacts were destroyed grew louder, and the pursuers drew ever closer.

"Darkness is approaching, enveloping people's hearts," it murmured to itself.

Under the pitch-black rain, it could barely see anything and could only stumble and run wildly, relying on its memory and intuition.

The next moment, a cold and deep male voice suddenly came from in front of me: "Good afternoon, you smooth talker."

It raised its head in disbelief, and in the dim light, it vaguely saw a figure wearing tattered chainmail—it was the paladin!

“Death, my old friend. I can return from death.” The spirit, clinging to a last shred of hope, tried to intimidate the other.

“You have at least one day before you change your anchor point again,” the paladin said. “Now, take a look at what I have in my hand—if you can see it.”

Chapter 60 Shock

The gale whipped up rainwater that lashed against the undead's mask. In the dark and chaotic rain, everything became indistinct and blurry, but it could still make out what the paladin held in his hand—the head of a young woman, with a slender spine trailing beneath it.

White knew that the owner of that head seemed to be named Martha.

Its heart is hidden inside Martha's empty skull. As long as the paladin destroys the collectible's head and pierces the still-beating heart inside, it will be doomed! What's worse, the paladin on the other side must have already obtained this important information, otherwise he wouldn't have brought the collectible here specifically to find him.

However, he was not entirely without a chance—as long as he could kill the paladin before he could react and retrieve his heart, there was still hope.

After a moment of silence, the spirit raised its head and praised in the humble tone characteristic of a bard: "Incredible! It seems you have completely solved the riddle in the oath. That dragon spent hundreds of years trying to solve it, but you did it in just one day—may I have the honor of hearing your wisdom before I crumble into dust?"

Cold, black rainwater streamed into its eyes through the gaps, making the undead's vision even more blurred. As it spoke, it slowly approached the paladin.

However, the paladin's next answer took it by surprise.

“I haven’t heard of any riddles in the oath.” The paladin slowly retreated, but he did not go any further away. On the contrary, he always kept a certain distance from the undead. “But I think you are referring to the four oaths in the fairy tale ‘White the Clever Speaker,’ because your weaknesses and abilities, as well as those of your creations, seem to correspond one-to-one with them.”