Chapter 656: Lich's Phylactery
Fortunately, Leon had his Arcane Power Armor. The moment magical backlash occurred, the armor spun into action, instantly suppressing that surge of wild magic.
Leon’s expression darkened.
That was just a test—a quick cast of a third-level spell, Fire Dragon, which Leon could already unleash instantly...
He’d mastered Fire Dragon long ago; it could be cast in a blink. Using the incantation only made it slightly stronger, but that tiny boost hardly mattered in a real fight.
At Leon’s level, even reciting the full incantation would take less than half a second.
But even so, Garcia interrupted him before he could finish...
Which meant that even if Garcia didn’t use any other spells, just a single Silence would be enough to stop all of them from casting high-level magic.
Any spell at level seven or higher would be completely impossible to cast.
And Garcia’s arsenal was hardly limited to just Silence.
The tide of battle had shifted completely—all because Garcia had joined the fray...
The gap was so wide, it was almost hopeless...
Four Death Vortexes had opened, like gates to the underworld, spewing out endless undead creatures. Even the weakest cannon fodder were at least level fifteen to twenty!
With such overwhelming numbers, Anderson and the Alchemical Golems could only hold the undead at bay for a while with their furious spell barrage.
Leon kept his face grim, unleashing instant-cast spells while scanning his surroundings for any opening.
Five minutes later, Leon and his team were forced to keep retreating, hounded by the undead horde and unable to hold their ground.
It was then that Kirk, the Frost Emissary, finally made his move.
With a wave of Kirk’s hand, a head-sized ice orb appeared before Huber. In an instant, the orb exploded.
A surge of frost and death magic tangled together, splitting into six pure shockwaves that rippled outward.
The blue-gray energy rippled like waves, layer upon layer. When all six layers stacked, they detonated in an instant.
The air froze into massive chunks of ice, swarming together and smashing Hubert, sending him flying.
Hubert's agonized scream echoed in midair, but was instantly drowned out by the roars of countless undead.
Not only was Hubert blasted away, but every undead within ten meters was forcibly annihilated. Only the skeletons left a few shattered bones—ghosts and other spirits vanished without a trace.
"Damn, since when was Frost Nova this strong?" Anderson cursed, his face twisted in a mix of fear and frustration.
One Frost Nova had blasted Hubert out of the undead mob, and Kirk was already casting again. Shards of snow, each gleaming with a deadly chill, began to drift down from above.
Each snowflake was over ten centimeters wide, its edge shining with a blade-like, icy brilliance.
The snow blades drifted down, covering more than ten meters. Everything they touched—undead or otherwise—was shredded to pieces.
Leon and the others hurried out of the spell’s range—only to be met by an attack from Hall, the Dark Left Hand...
A barrage of Dark Arrows flew in from afar, each one forged from pure darkness and packed with terrifying piercing power...
Leon unleashed a flurry of instant-cast spells, but in the blink of an eye, a dozen Dark Arrows punched through them. Even after summoning a Fire Elemental Avatar, one of Hall’s arrows pierced right through it.
Where the Fire Elemental Avatar was pierced, darkness surged in like a swarm of ravenous ants, gnawing away at it. Leon hurriedly dismissed the avatar before it was completely corrupted.
Legend had it that anyone slain by a Dark Arrow would have their bones rise from their own body and become jet-black skeletal warriors, bound to the will of the spellcaster.
"Merlin, what the hell are you doing...?"
Anderson cursed at Leon, panicked to see even his Fire Elemental Avatar pierced by a Dark Arrow.
Leon didn’t respond, summoning another Fire Elemental Avatar and unleashing a barrage of fire spells, continuing to cut down the undead.
But none of the spells could land within fifty meters of the four Half-Liches...
The battle raged on, with Leon and his party fighting and retreating, weaving through the captain’s cabin.
Suddenly, Garcia, who hadn’t acted for a while, let out a low roar, raising both hands in apparent fury.
In an instant, blood-red light exploded between Garcia’s hands, sweeping outward for hundreds of meters from his position.
Every undead creature touched by the crimson light let out a furious howl.
In an instant, the soul flames of every undead creature turned blood-red. The flames blazed fiercely, no longer the steady burn they once were—like someone had poured new fuel onto the fire.
The change was most obvious in undead with physical bodies: zombies, vampires, dark warriors, death knights...
Every corporeal undead seemed to swell in size, their bodies shrouded in a thin mist of blood-red vapor.
In the blink of an eye, most of the undead went berserk, charging at Leon and the others like mad beasts.
These undead, utterly heedless of life and death, hurled themselves forward, their bodies absorbing the brunt of the spell barrage and forcing it back.
"Damn, Bloodlust! A spell this widespread, and Garcia isn’t even suffering any backlash—he’s nastier than he was alive..."
Anderson cursed through gritted teeth, then glanced back to see Leon’s gaze drifting elsewhere—instantly, his anger flared again.
From the very start of the fight, Leon had been zoning out, barely paying attention to the battle. He’d nearly gotten himself killed several times, and now, even with Garcia unleashing Bloodlust, he was still distracted. Damn it, this guy’s going to get me killed...
Before Anderson could curse Leon again, Leon’s face lit up with excitement: "Finally found it!"
Anderson swallowed his words and quickly asked, "Found what?"
Leon’s tense expression eased a little as he muttered, "Follow me."
He led the group, fighting and retreating, moving to the left.
After shifting left for over a hundred meters, Leon suddenly smiled again. "Feel it? The pressure just dropped a ton!"
Anderson was taken aback. At Leon’s words, he noticed the change—the spell barrage they’d needed just to barely hold the line was suddenly pushing back the undead instead...
"What’s going on?" Anderson demanded.
Leon fought while explaining, "All four Half-Liches have awakened, but they’re not attacking very often—especially Garcia, who’s only cast two spells so far. The four of them have never attacked at the same time. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?"
Anderson nodded. He’d sensed something was off, but with so much pressure, he was happy to see the Half-Liches holding back.
Now, hearing Leon’s theory, Anderson grew anxious. "So what’s going on? Spit it out!"
Leon nodded toward the distance. "See that Crystal Wheel? We’ve been forced to keep moving, but every time we get close to it, the pressure ramps up—a lot. In fact, the one time Kirk, Hall, and Arnold attacked together, we were right by that Crystal Wheel."
Anderson’s eyes widened in realization. "Shit, you mean the four Half-Liches..."
Leon nodded, his tone certain: "Exactly. These four maniacs have been here for who knows how many years. Judging by the way they act, they started turning into liches long before they died. After all these years, they still haven’t finished the transformation. They’re clearly trying to become liches while keeping their full consciousness."
"And from the look of them, they’re almost done—already showing the traits of liches. Their eyes lack soul flames, but the transformation isn’t complete. That means their souls must be inside their lich phylacteries!"
"I’ve tested it several times. Whenever I, the four Half-Liches, and the Crystal Wheel line up, I deliberately leave an opening. With their power, they could easily take me out, but they barely react. So I’m sure—their phylacteries are at the Crystal Wheel!"
A look of regret crossed Anderson’s face. "Damn it, how did I forget? They’ve got lich traits but aren’t full liches yet—their phylacteries must be close by, probably in the captain’s quarters! And if the transformation isn’t finished, those phylacteries are way more fragile..."
He cursed again, his face falling as he stared at the distant Crystal Wheel, blocked by hordes of undead—and the four Half-Liches holding back. Hope seemed out of reach.
"Even if we know where their phylacteries are, what’s the point? We don’t have the strength to break through, and besides, we don’t even know what the phylacteries look like..."
Leon shook his head. "At first I thought these four Half-Liches wanted to wipe us out as intruders. But haven’t you noticed? Compared to them, we’re nothing. They don’t even see us as opponents—their attention is almost entirely on protecting their phylacteries..."