Chapter 1443
The battlefield grew even more chaotic. Gimble personally led his team, darting around like a madman, scavenging Necrotic Essence that no one else wanted. The odds of low-level undead dropping Necrotic Essence weren't high, but there were so many of them.
Gimble's intention was clear: with battles raging everywhere across the Blighted Domain, and so much Necrotic Essence left unclaimed, why not just scoop it up directly? It was much faster and yielded far more than endless fighting.
Unfortunately, the other Undead Lords didn't see it that way. To them, Gimble was a territorial invader—like a rabid dog trespassing on their turf. There was no room for negotiation, only war.
The battlefield descended into utter chaos. Where once the Undead Lords fought in pairs, within days it became a wild melee of seven or eight factions. Even a lone army of dark creatures was reduced to cannon fodder—wiped out first by a mob of undead.
In the chaos of seven or eight lords clashing, someone suddenly noticed a Dark Lord among them. Damn it, the Dark Lord must be behind this—deal with him first, then sort out the rest...
Days passed, and Leon did nothing but watch as piles of Necrotic Essence grew into small mountains before his eyes. More and more Necrotic Essence kept arriving. In Northend, Necrotic Essence was sold by the piece; here, the smallest unit was by the kilogram. Each little mountain weighed four or five tons...
The Sage's Chapter kept devouring Necrotic Essence. Gradually, the second and third spell imprint slots for eighth-level spells emerged. But even after all three slots appeared, and the Sage's Chapter went wild consuming Necrotic Essence, no slot for a ninth-level spell showed up. The Sage's Chapter just kept swallowing essence, like an endless abyss.
Leon was prepared for this, and wasn't too disappointed. Every spell imprinted by the Sage's Chapter was an extreme spell, and the basic trait of extreme spells was that their power jumped two levels. An eighth-level extreme spell had the strength of a tenth-level spell. Extreme spells also pushed certain spell properties to their absolute limit—something even tenth-level spells couldn't do. That trait was the real powerhouse.
If he could imprint a ninth-level spell, there'd be no need for all this trouble. Gather every troublesome Undead Lord in one place, unleash a ninth-level extreme spell—with eleventh-level force and maxed-out properties—and he'd wipe out every undead creature in an entire territory.
If Leon could truly grasp the Law of Light and unleash a ninth-level Light Spell, it would be perfection. Imagine imprinting a ninth-level Radiance of Light onto the Sage's Chapter, amplifying it to its extreme state—when cast, it would become an eleventh-level spell, flooding thousands of kilometers of the entire passage with pure light. The undead wouldn't stand a chance—any who entered would be annihilated.
But such perfection was only a fantasy. After days spent devouring at least dozens of tons of Necrotic Essence, the Sage's Chapter still failed to reveal a slot for a ninth-level spell. Yet it kept consuming Necrotic Essence with ravenous hunger—clearly the slot existed, but coaxing it out wouldn't be so easy...
After turning the Blighted Domain into a chaotic mess, Leon quietly slipped away. Gimble, whose ancient wish had finally come true, was now working himself to the bone helping Leon gather Necrotic Essence. That had become his greatest desire.
Leon slipped back into his demi-plane, imprinted three eighth-level spells onto the Sage's Chapter, and transformed once again into a skeleton undead to reappear in the Undead Plane. He crafted a tattered cloak to drape over his shoulders and slung the Reaper's Scythe—stolen from a Skeleton King—on his back. A fresh Skeleton King was born.
Disguised as a Skeleton King, Leon wandered the Undead Plane. Instantly, the number of undead creatures bold enough to provoke him dropped by half. The lowest skeleton undead held little status here—wisdom or memory made no difference, they remained at the bottom.
Any undead who fancied themselves strong enough to rip off a skeleton's head wouldn't hesitate for a second. A solitary Sky Rank skeleton undead was practically fresh meat.
Left with no choice, Leon had to unleash his true aura, transforming into a forty-sixth rank skeleton undead. But this only brought more trouble—other forty-sixth rank undead, and even forty-fifth rank undead of different types, rushed in hoping to destroy Leon and devour his Soul Fire.
Unfortunately for these fools, their Soul Fire was devoured by Leon's undead form.
After swallowing his first Sky Rank undead, Leon discovered their Soul Fire contained not only purer soul power and greater Death Marks, but—most importantly—their memories.
It was like watching a movie—Leon relived all those undead memories, and suddenly he stumbled upon the perfect method to search for Agalon.