Chapter 644: Lucky You Survived
"Archmage Leon, what is that? Can I take a look?" Hubert's face immediately showed a hint of curiosity.
Leon heard this and was slightly moved: "I just found an ordinary necklace. I don't know exactly what it is. What, are you suddenly interested in jewelry now?"
Hubert didn't seem suspicious at all, just looked disappointed: "I just wanted to see. After searching for so long, all we found was this ordinary thing. What a letdown."
"Alright, if you want to see it, go ahead..." Leon smiled slightly, holding a diary in one hand while reaching into his pocket with the other. He took out a ruby necklace and casually tossed it to the eagerly waiting Hubert.
But unexpectedly, as soon as the Dragonblood Orc caught the necklace, a strange grin appeared on his face, and he immediately turned to run.
Unfortunately...
Before the Dragonblood Orc could finish turning around, the ruby suddenly exploded. A surge of force slammed into Hubert's chest, sending him flying with a miserable scream.
Hubert lay on the ground, looking utterly wretched. His chest had caved in, and he stared at the necklace in horror.
"Archmage Leon, this..."
Leon’s expression didn’t change. He glanced at Hubert, who had fallen to the ground, and raised his hand—six spears of flame materialized, pinning Hubert’s limbs and torso to the floor. Leon swiftly began chanting, and the Doombringer Staff appeared in his grasp.
A blazing tail of fire erupted as Leon’s Explosive Blast struck Hubert—two consecutive detonations ripped through him, nearly severing his body at the waist.
Hubert lay prone, his body split in two, but the cautious, fearful look he’d worn—afraid to anger Leon—vanished. Instead, he stared at Leon in shock and terror.
“How did you figure it out?”
Leon sneered coldly.
“I told you before—Hubert would never be that reckless. Even I don’t know what this necklace is, and you think Hubert would dare touch it?”
Before the words left his mouth, Leon conjured an ice wall behind “Hubert,” then unleashed two Fire Dragon spells from either side, trapping the imposter.
“Hubert” glared at Leon, gritting his teeth and coughing up blood in fury. He hadn’t expected to be exposed twice—both times for the same reason.
The defensive magic that should have protected him now blocked his escape, while the twin Fire Dragons closed off both flanks.
With a furious roar, “Hubert’s” shattered body turned into a blur and lunged at Leon head-on.
But Leon simply swung the Doombringer Staff—he’d already cast a Dimensional Blade in advance, and it sliced outwards.
A dark blue wind blade swept through, splitting the phantom’s body in two.
A shrill scream echoed as the severed part of the phantom dissolved into mist. The remainder rushed for the window, tanking a Fire Dragon spell, and leapt outside.
The phantom dove out the window, chanting a rapid incantation as it fell.
Leon rushed to the window and swung the Doombringer Staff, conjuring twelve flaming spears that hurtled after the phantom. But just then, a massive fifteen-meter-long wyvern soared past, catching the phantom midair. With a single beat of its wings, it blocked all twelve spears.
The wyvern roared and spat a jet of green, flaming acid straight at Leon.
Leon frowned and hurled five Ice Wall spells in quick succession, blocking the stream of burning acid.
As expected, those few seconds of delay let the wyvern and the phantom put thousands of meters between themselves and Leon—vanishing from his sight in the blink of an eye.
"Damn it..." Leon muttered, cursing under his breath. "Lucky bastard."
It hadn’t been hard to see through the fake Hubert—he was a terrible actor, riddled with flaws. Leon had already said he didn’t even know what that necklace was, yet the imposter dared ask to see it? The real Hubert would never have that kind of nerve.
Besides, Hubert’s skin is thick as armor—never mind Explosive Blast, even the flaming spears shouldn’t pierce him. How could a few fire spells almost blow his guts out?
Still, Leon couldn’t figure out where this fake Hubert came from. Was it searching for something too?
And that wyvern...
That was no ordinary wyvern. On the lands of the Ember Plane, this particular beast was infamous.
Yes, that wyvern was none other than the mount of the Ember Emperor!
Leon was still stunned—why would the Ember Emperor’s mount show up in this hellhole?
But the surge of death energy was already rising, and the unique howls of undead creatures echoed in Leon’s ears...
With a furious dragon’s roar, Leon saw Reina already transformed into her Frost Dragon form, bursting from the castle and soaring into the sky.
Behind Reina, over fifty skeletal warlords surged upward, led by a Skeleton King.
Anderson, controlling the Arcane Wheel, followed them out of the castle.
If Reina could take flight, that meant there was no anti-flight field suppressing the first mate’s room.
But before Leon could unfurl his flaming wings, a low snarl sounded from behind. An undead creature, shrouded in black mist and its face hidden by a helmet, raised a massive sword and swung at Leon.
Leon’s face changed dramatically—without thinking, he leapt out the window.
A cross-shaped slash of black death energy grazed Leon’s scalp as it flew past.
"Damn it, a Dark Knight..."
That bastard—summoning a squad of skeletal warlords was bad enough, but now a Dark Knight, and a level thirty-eight one at that!
Dark Knights are rare zombie-type undead—thirty is the minimum level! That means every Dark Knight was at least a Sword Saint in life.
Not only do they retain all their combat instincts from life, they keep their skills too—the higher the level, the more skills they retain.
This Dark Knight was level thirty-eight; odds are, he’d been a level thirty-nine Sword Saint before death.
Leon’s face was turning green.
Damn—a tireless, never-exhausted, always-at-full-strength Dark Knight with Sword Saint instincts and skills!
And that’s not even counting the squad of skeletal warlords below...
This fight was nothing like the last. Back then, Winchester was just unkillable—if he wanted to take Leon down, he had to wear him out. But this time, things were different...
A Dark Knight with a squad of level thirty skeletal warlords, a level thirty-five Skeleton King, and himself—he could easily overpower Leon’s group with brute force.
Things were looking grim...
Leon shot out of the castle and landed on the ground, transforming into a fire elemental and blinking away in bursts of flame. Fighting a Dark Knight with Sword Saint skills and instincts in midair was suicide.
When Leon rejoined Reina and the others, Hubert had already joined the battle.
Hubert led the charge, slaughtering through the heavy air with explosive force. Lone skeletal warlords were no match for him, but the ones led by the Skeleton King were tougher—Hubert had only smashed one so far.
Reina unleashed frost magic while fighting with her mighty dragon body.
Anderson wielded the Arcane Wheel, pouring out torrents of fire spells.
Even so, they could only barely suppress the undead.
Seeing the Dark Knight relentlessly pursuing Leon, Anderson’s face twisted: "Damn it, Merlin, didn’t you say there were no undead? How did this thing show up?"
Leon’s expression was grim. Only after regrouping did he summon his Alchemical Golem to help hold back the tide, and things finally improved a little.
Ragulin and Barton were summoned too—Ragulin cast an Evil Aura to empower the group, then joined the fight against the skeletal warlords. But when it came to the Dark Knight, Ragulin and Barton, both undead, would just be cannon fodder.
The Arcane Wheel, Alchemical Golem, and Leon with his Doombringer Staff—three walking spell batteries—unleashed a torrent of magic that finally managed to hold back the undead assault.
But it was barely enough.
As time passed, most of the skeletal warlords were destroyed, but the Dark Knight had only suffered minor wounds. Agile and equipped with Sword Saint instincts, he shrugged off the spell barrage with minimal effort.
The Dark Knight’s cross-shaped death slashes kept everyone gasping for breath, the pressure unrelenting...
This was where the difference between a Death Knight and a Dark Knight became clear—their strength was similar, but the Dark Knight seized every opportunity, always attacking the group’s weakest points.
Whenever Hubert struck at the Skeleton King, the Dark Knight would send a cross-shaped slash to rescue him. That’s the difference—Death Knights are brute force, but Dark Knights inherit true combat instincts, knowing exactly how to maximize their power...
After ten minutes, the skeletal warlords were wiped out. Without their commander, the Skeleton King’s strength plummeted.
Ragulin quickly cast Corpse Summon—using the shattered skeletal warlords as raw material, thirty of them rose again to attack the Skeleton King.
With Ragulin at level thirty-seven, Barton at thirty-five, plus Hubert and thirty skeletal warlords, taking down the Skeleton King was easy.
But on the other side, things weren’t so optimistic...