Chapter 157: Wraith King
Leon was still airborne when countless wraiths surged toward him.
Ghostriver is infamous for its sheer number of wraiths—far more than anywhere else in Northend. In fact, nearly every restless spirit in the Bone Plane has been drawn here. Just look at this current wave: Leon was still hundreds of meters above Ghostriver, yet already at least several hundred wraiths were rushing up to meet him...
Wraiths are a peculiar breed of undead—creatures formed entirely from negative emotions and shattered souls. They lack physical bodies, real strength, or even independent thought. Forever drifting in the same place, they radiate death and resentment. Unless the terrain is especially unique, a dense gathering of wraiths will always create a sinister, death-choked zone, much like the ghost city born from the Flame Tyrant.
Truth be told, wraiths aren’t much of a threat in combat—most are barely at level five. With no minds of their own, their tactics are simple; at best, they just tear and bite like wild beasts.
But now, Leon faced hundreds of wraiths all at once...
Even a level five Archmage would be nervous facing so many.
Leon didn’t even spare them a glance. He just kept pushing his Mana Harness, calculating at an astonishing speed.
What Leon needed now was a brand new psychic shield.
There was no other way. The sheer number of wraiths in Ghostriver was overwhelming—even his psychic shield couldn’t handle it. If hundreds of wraiths already induced hallucinations, what would happen when thousands or tens of thousands attacked at once? Would he go mad in an instant?