Chapter 457: Simulacrum Puppet
"Lord Barton, I believe there's been a misunderstanding—a serious misunderstanding..." At this moment, Weiss stepped forward from the group. "We did not mean to intrude here, and we would never disturb His Highness Barris's eternal rest..."
If he had a choice, Weiss would rather face a massive army of skeletons than confront a Lich.
No one present understood the terror of a Lich better than him.
Back when he was just a newly minted Title Archmage, fighting in the Azure Plane, Weiss had already encountered a Lich. Normally, places like the Azure Plane would rarely produce undead creatures, but that time, he ran into one—and it was a powerful Lich at that.
The Lich's precise spellcasting, mastery over magic, and ability to time magical depletion—all these details remained vivid in Weiss's memory. And that was just a Lich of a few hundred years, whereas the one before him, Barton, had existed for thousands...
Even at his peak, Weiss would have had no choice but to flee from a being of such terrifying strength.
Besides, they never intended to provoke Barris. All they wanted was to quickly locate the teleportation array to the next floor—ideally, to leave this cursed magical tower as soon as possible...
That was why he spoke up to explain, addressing the Lich as "Lord Barton."
"Oh?"
Twin wisps of phosphorescent flame flickered in the Lich’s hollow sockets, its gaze chilling as it fixed on Weiss. Suddenly, a sharp, grating laugh echoed through the chamber. "Humans are truly naive..."
"You... Lord Barton, what do you mean by that?"
Weiss’s face turned pale, beads of sweat gathering on his brow. Barton's words sent a wave of dread through him; standing before a Level 37 Lich, he couldn't help but feel his confidence waver.
"This is the realm of His Highness Barris. For thousands of years, no human has set foot here. You are the first—and you will also be the first to become grave companions for His Highness Barris..." Barton's voice was cold, utterly devoid of emotion. With a sudden twitch of his bone staff, a ghastly white light erupted, unleashing a torrent of necromancy that filled the air.
At the same time, several ice walls burst forth, radiating a chilling aura and blocking the group's path. Leon's expression hardened as he shot Weiss a fierce glare. "Talking to it is pointless. If we want to leave alive, we’ll have to kill it..."
Without waiting for Weiss’s response, Leon summoned his fire elemental avatar, his figure blazing forward like a meteor. The Doombringer Staff lifted in his grasp, channeling a surge of magic that exploded in dazzling light.
A cast of Starlight Firestorm ignited the sky above the Lich, each blazing fireball trailing a tail of flame as it plummeted down, engulfing Barton in a torrent of searing heat.
This was Leon's most advanced fire magic at his current rank—a sixth-tier Starlight Firestorm. Its destructive force blanketed the area, the void itself warping from the heat. In seconds, the once-black earth was scorched to ash, and the drifting black mist in the air was utterly vaporized.
Leon knew well: Barton, Ragulin, and the others must have been transformed into undead by the influence of Barris. It reminded him of what he’d seen in Prince Barov’s tomb.
Ah!
The Lich let out a piercing scream, caught off guard as countless fireballs struck him, scattering sparks in all directions. Yet, these attacks alone were far from enough to truly harm Barton. Though hit by a high-tier fire spell, his skeletal body bore only a few blackened scorch marks from the flames.
This ancient Lich, sustained for thousands of years, possessed bones of extraordinary toughness. Wreathed in necrotic power, his defenses were vastly enhanced—so much so that even most newly ascended Title Archmages would struggle to leave a mark.
"Human, you have angered me..."
As the twin soul flames in Barton’s sockets flared violently, the Lich roared, locking his gaze onto Leon’s fiery form. Though Leon was shrouded in flames, Barton could tell he was a shockingly young mage. The very moment Leon appeared, Barton felt a tremor of fear—a sensation he hadn’t experienced in millennia, not since standing before His Highness Barris.
Normally, Barton’s casting speed and reflexes would have let him dodge Starlight Firestorm with ease. But just now, he’d felt himself suppressed by a mysterious force, unable to unleash his full strength—so he’d been struck.
For the first time in thousands of years, Barton was wounded. His fury was unimaginable. With a flick of his bone staff, necrotic power surged forth, twisting into a dozen bone spears. Each spear radiated lethal force, their tips cloaked in pure darkness—the essence of death itself.
For the undead, necrotic power is nourishment; for humans, it’s poison. Even the slightest wound tainted by it will spread rapidly, eroding vitality and causing swift, unnatural aging.
With a sharp whoosh, the bone spears tore through the air, slicing the black mist. Just before they struck, Leon blinked away in a flash of fire—but the moment he landed, a relentless barrage of undead spells rained down upon him.
The bone spears were a feint, baiting Leon into using his flame blink. Realizing this, Leon shot the Lich a cold glance and frowned. With a deft motion of the Doombringer Staff, he conjured a Rune Shield just before the undead spells hit. The shield absorbed the barrage, but its glow quickly faded under the assault.
Fortunately, the Rune Shield held. Leon raised his hand, unleashing five Fireballs, each trailing flames as they tore toward Barton. A slot in the Death Tome dimmed as Leon summoned a massive rocket, which crashed into Barton with a dull boom, forcing him back several steps. A section of bone on his chest blackened and caved in.
That was the devastation of Meteor Barrage.
In mere seconds, Leon and Barton were evenly matched. Weiss and the others watched in shock—they had clearly underestimated the young mage’s strength.
What they didn’t know was that Leon possessed the Bane of the Undead talent, suppressing part of the Lich’s power. If Barton were at full strength, Leon wouldn’t last long before being overwhelmed.
After all, Barton was a Lich nearing Level 37!
And in life, he had been a peak Ninth Rank Title Archmage...
Even with Bane of the Undead, Leon alone stood little chance of defeating such a terrifying foe.
But now, seeing Barton wounded, Weiss and the others were emboldened. Incantations rang out, and fire spells flew one after another. Inspired by Leon’s display, Weiss cast aside his earlier worries, summoning his wind elemental avatar and vanishing in a gust—wind spells materializing around Barton in an instant.
"Humans, you will pay the price..."
For a moment, Barton roared continuously, struggling against the attacks of more than a dozen mages. His soul flames darted toward Leon, eyes burning with venomous hatred. Most of the wounds he’d suffered in this ten-minute clash had come from the young mage—small injuries, perhaps, but enough to stoke his fury.
Everyone but the young mage focused on distracting Barton, buying Leon precious openings to strike.
As the seconds ticked by, Barton’s injuries multiplied—even his bone staff now showed a faint crack.
But just then, as the Lich was forced onto the defensive, a sinister grin spread across his face. A wave of bone-chilling cold swept through the room as ghostly white flames erupted from his body, enveloping him completely. Incoming spells vanished into the flames, unable to harm him at all.
That ghostly white flame seemed to possess immense magical resistance...
In that moment, Barton looked truly uncanny...
The white flame radiated not heat, but a biting chill. Everyone felt their bodies go cold; Ross Merlin and the younger mages had to constantly channel magic just to stave off the freezing air.
With a sudden blur, Barton vanished—only to reappear behind Leon, his bone-white hands gripping the staff. A long, guttural incantation rang out as he summoned a dozen bone spears. With a crack, the spears pierced Leon’s body... but no blood flowed. Barton was stunned: the young mage’s body was nothing but a magical decoy.
"Simulacrum... Impossible!" Barton shrieked, his voice edged with terror. Just this one mistake could spell his utter ruin.
A wave of scorching heat surged forth. Barton whirled around to see an endless barrage of spells sweeping toward him, each packing the force of a third-tier spell. A handful might be manageable—but hundreds, even thousands, all at once? If he still had a scalp, it would be crawling with dread.
A gray, misty barrier unfurled like a shroud, saturated with necrotic power. As it appeared, the surrounding black mist was sealed away, and a tide of undead energy surged into Barton’s body. The soul flames in his eye sockets blazed with wild intensity.