Chapter 1426
For those Title Archmages who have no hope of breaking through to Sky Rank, these notes are nothing short of their last shred of hope. Not everyone can resist such temptation, but among the Ninth-Rank Title Archmages who have lost all hope, at least half would attempt to study it, and a third would even try to experiment...
Sky Rank mages are extremely rare in Northend World, but the number of Ninth-Rank Title Archmages unable to break through is at least a hundred times greater than that of Sky Rank powerhouses.
And for those who, after advancing to Sky Rank, have exhausted their potential and remain stagnant for hundreds or even thousands of years, this might also be a very good opportunity...
With the Undead Plane now connected to the Leviathan Realm, transforming into a lich at this moment would make it easy to enter the Undead Plane. You could even help the undead directly attack the Leviathan Realm, and then naturally carve out a territory for yourself there, becoming a lich with land of your own.
An immortal lich, flawless and without any defects—who could resist such temptation?
Just think about it. Of course, plenty of people will try...
And once those people's rituals succeed, they'll be transformed into liches, becoming avatars of Dekrise. Dekrise himself won't even need to descend; separated by tens of thousands of kilometers and countless undead territories, he can easily gather a massive army of liches.
A legion of powerful liches—forming a vast undead army is almost as easy as waving a hand. Cast a Ninth-Rank spell, Undead Plague, in a city, and every living thing inside will be turned into undead...
Just imagining it makes Leon Merlin break out in a cold sweat. If the war in the Blighted Domain grows even more intense and most of our forces are committed there, then suddenly, hundreds of liches leading tides of undead appear in the rear... Well, no need to imagine how that ends.
Leon Merlin frowned, penned a magic letter, and wrote down everything. He sent it off with a magic seal—Agalon is in the Undead Plane right now, and who knows how things are going there. Leon Merlin didn't dare send the letter directly to Agalon; it might get intercepted by some powerful entity in the Undead Plane.
The magic letter was sent to Dean Gandalf. Using Gandalf's authority to expose this conspiracy and issue a warning—he'd be thorough enough for everyone to stay vigilant.
While the Blood Lich stirs up trouble in secret, the Sanctum of Light is sabotaging things from behind. No word from Agalon yet. As for how to set up the Hexagram Formation and repel the undead, none of these questions have answers yet.
Leon Merlin put away Edgar's alchemy notes, thinking about how to speed up his recovery. Even half a month feels too long to wait.
While Leon Merlin stayed here, waiting for news from Hubert and Reina, and for Gandalf's reply, continuing his research, elsewhere, several Sky Rank mages were already flying toward Leon Merlin's floating island.
"Edgar has fallen. That detestable bastard—ever since he took over that small city, he never returned. Now he's suddenly dead. Who knows which family managed to take that city by force?
Edgar still had control over the resources our Sinclair Family acquired here, and his alchemy notes—we have to get them. The things he found in that ruin, Edgar was the one researching them. He must've finally discovered something important..."
A frost mage with blue eyes spoke his speculation with a grim face. Beside him, another mage with the same Northston racial features nodded in agreement.
"That's right. Edgar must've found something crucial, then got discovered by those people in the desert. Maybe they've already taken it. We need to get there immediately—Edgar's dead, and that small city must've been taken over too..."
"No matter who it is, anyone who dares insult the Sinclair Family must pay a terrible price!"
Meanwhile, Leon hadn't bothered to investigate Edgar's background or the Sinclair Family. He'd never even heard of them—a family from the Stoneland Kingdom, not qualified to be anywhere near the Blighted Domain. That alone proved they were just a minor clan picking up scraps. Even now, gravely wounded and his power diminished a dozenfold, Leon couldn't bring himself to care.
But news finally came from Hubert and Reina. The Elderwood Ladder clans are spread all across the Leviathan Realm—finding anyone is ridiculously easy for them. It took less than two days to locate Hubert and Reina, and according to the Elderwood Ladder, all the messages had already been delivered.
Thousands of kilometers from Leon's city, in a sprawling mountain range, Hubert hauled Slaughter over his shoulder, clutching a half-roasted magical beast in one hand, chewing furiously as he stared at a giant tree hundreds of meters tall.
Around the giant tree, countless other trees crowded together—every single one sprouted from the roots of that central titan. This forest, stretching at least thirty or forty kilometers, was, in truth, all one tree...
On the surface of one tree, an ancient face slowly emerged, staring motionless at Hubert.
Hubert raised Slaughter with his right hand and smashed the tree before him, shattering the ancient face carved into its trunk.
After smashing the tree, Hubert continued scanning the area, biting savagely into his roast meat and cursing under his breath.
"Damn bastard, you can't scare me! Come out, just come out!"
Seconds later, an identical ancient face appeared on the trunk of another nearby tree, still staring at Hubert like a wooden statue.
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