Chapter 1033: The Tide
And killing the undead—letting their Soul Flames go to waste would be a shame. There was no time to collect them, but Barton and Ragulin didn’t need to; by instinct, they devoured the Soul Flames, forcibly absorbing and consuming them all.
Meanwhile, Leon gripped the Death Tome, flipped to the Sage’s Chapter, and activated its power, endlessly devouring the undead essence falling around him.
The Sage’s Chapter hadn’t been used in ages—now it was almost obsolete. It could only imprint Limit Spells up to Tier Four, and a Tier Four Limit Spell was barely as powerful as a Tier Six spell. Even if Limit Spells were a bit stronger, they weren’t much help anymore.
But the Sage’s Chapter consumed so much undead essence. If Leon wanted to raise the level of Limit Spells it could imprint, he’d have to visit the infamous Undead Plane—only there would he find enough undead to hunt.
Now, the number of undead here was overwhelming, rivaling the remote corners of the Undead Plane. No matter how many he killed, there were always more—plenty for the Sage’s Chapter to level up.
Everyone from the Andalusia Kingdom clustered around Leon—even the usually wild Hubert kept himself within thirty meters of Leon’s side.
The undead appearing now were weak. Hubert could smash them all to bone fragments with brute force, but his strength had its limits. If he paused for even a moment, the endless undead would overwhelm him. They lined up to be slaughtered—he could literally drop dead from exhaustion…
Suddenly, the ground trembled—a prelude to a volcanic eruption. Thick columns of black smoke, each over ten meters wide, burst from below, spreading a sinister darkness. Vast clouds of smoke rapidly condensed, forming a massive spirit over a hundred meters tall.
The spirit was entirely black and gray, shrouded in smoky haze. Its shape resembled a typical orc, but its massive arms hung down past its knees, and four tusks jutted from its mouth—each over ten meters long. Its joints bristled with terrifying barbs.
Those barbs, almost translucent, were impaled with countless undead bodies—these were the ones crammed together on the ground before the spirit burst through.
Dozens of undead hung from those massive spikes. Normally, this kind of damage would mean nothing to orc skeleton soldiers—just bones, after all. But in less than two seconds, their Soul Flames were devoured by the Dark Ancestral Spirit, their bones reduced to shattered fragments.
Not only were their Soul Flames consumed—even the essence of their undead bodies was devoured. After absorbing that essence, the barbs on the Dark Ancestral Spirit grew even sharper.
The Dark Ancestral Spirit’s face twisted with a vicious grin, eyes burning with a crazed lust for slaughter. Its massive hand swung down at Hubert.
The sheer force shattered the air itself. Before the pressure even hit, the Dark Ancestral Spirit’s enormous hand was already upon him.
Hubert swung Slaughter, meeting the spirit’s giant hand head-on. Instantly, black-and-white currents sliced out like blades, a shockwave less than half a meter wide blasting out for hundreds of meters—every orc skeleton soldier in its path exploded into fragments…
Hubert roared, his whole body turning blood-red. The ground beneath his feet erupted, the earth for more than twenty meters around collapsing as if struck by an invisible hammer.
The giant Dark Ancestral Spirit staggered, its massive arm seeming to rebound as if forced away.
Hubert’s eyes burned scarlet, steam rising off him and turning to white smoke that shot skyward. Blue currents rippled across his skin, a yellow halo spun around Slaughter, and a streak of blood-red light appeared. Suddenly, his body swelled larger—nearly three meters tall, veins bulging, his forearms now thicker than Leon’s waist.
The wind made him nimbler, earth’s power made Slaughter heavier, and the Bloodlust Spell boosted his speed by at least thirty or forty percent. And that wasn’t all—Hubert roared again, his Spellmarks flared, and a mass of golden-green fire suddenly wrapped around Slaughter.
Hubert charged forward, leaping up and smashing the Dark Ancestral Spirit’s shin with terrifying force, flames swirling around him—the power of the Golden Three-Headed Dragon and the Primordial Venom Dragon.
But the Primordial Venom Dragon’s power was clearly stronger—the flames were ghostly green, tinged with just a hint of gold.
A simple flame enhancement, but thanks to Hubert’s shifting bloodline, it mutated dramatically. His monstrous strength only made the Dark Ancestral Spirit stagger slightly, but the attached flames burned with strange power and poison. A chunk of its shin, two or three meters across, caved in—covered in ghostly green fire, still burning.
Stunned by the blow, the madness in the Dark Ancestral Spirit’s eyes burned even hotter—like a wild fire flickering out of control.
Its massive palm, covering more than ten meters, slammed down on Hubert, sending him flying and blasting a huge crater in the ground where he landed.
Leon’s face remained expressionless. For Hubert, that kind of hit was just pain—no real injury.
"Take down the Dark Ancestral Spirit first!"
If they didn’t kill the Dark Ancestral Spirit, they’d be dragged to their deaths here. If the undead behind caught up, they’d have to keep fighting endlessly. Unless they wiped out every last undead, there’d be no end to it.
The undead here were packed so densely you couldn’t see the ground—it was like the earth itself was carpeted with them. Wiping them all out was impossible. Leon roughly estimated at least two or three hundred thousand undead…
This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^, please click next page to continue reading!
Even a Sky Rank powerhouse—if trapped—could be killed here…
Everyone understood this. They turned their attacks toward the peak level 39 Dark Ancestral Spirit. Corrupted, it now possessed darkness and undead power—making it even stronger, fighting well above its level.
Ragulin and Barton held back the undead army, while the other nine—including the Patchwork Golem—unleashed everything they had, desperate to take down the Dark Ancestral Spirit as quickly as possible.
Leon transformed into his Flame Elemental Avatar, eight flaming vortexes spinning around him. Endless fire spells twisted together into a torrent, forming a storm dozens of meters wide that crashed down on the Dark Ancestral Spirit.
Anderson and the Patchwork Golem both unleashed firestorm spells—the golem’s thigh split open, revealing two weapons that blasted searing red-gold beams straight through the spirit’s body.
Reina’s frost spells weren’t as effective against these undead, but she blasted a wave of zero-degree dragonbreath, freezing the Dark Ancestral Spirit’s legs in place and constantly casting frost weakening spells to slow it down.
Joey, Heron, and the Skyborne Sword Saint each unleashed their own powers—Starstorm, Dark Corrosion, and the Sword of the Sky erupted forth.
Like a river of stars, the Starstorm shredded every barb on the spirit’s body. Darkness swept over it, devils howling and shrieking as they corroded its flesh, while the righteous Sword of the Sky slashed through—severing one of its arms as easily as slicing butter.
Everyone unleashed their full power, giving the spirit no time to cast spells. In an instant, it was toppled, a torrent of magic crushing down as if to bury it alive. No matter how it struggled, it couldn’t escape the onslaught.
Hubert, eyes blazing red, leapt onto the spirit’s head—hammering it again and again with Slaughter, each blow shaking the earth itself.