Necrogod stared at the demon with a bitter smile. So many things had happened, and in the end, Blood God even somehow saved him from the brink of death, pulling a miracle out of his ass, and yet… he was once again going to die.
If only his legendary staff hadn't crapped out on him… That staff was his anchor. His crown. His greatest trump card. Without it, he was just another fragile necromancer standing on cursed ground.
Was there any way he could still come out of this alive… somehow? His vision blurred. His chest burned. His mana pool felt like a cracked vessel leaking faster than he could refill it. And yet…
Necrogod clenched his teeth. He was not willing to give up. He slammed the butt of his staff into the dry ground. Darkness surged. One by one, necromantic sigils ignited around him. From beneath the sands, skeletal hands clawed their way upward.
