Ethan swung Warlord's Fang in a wide arc, bones and shadows shattering under the blade's force.
He moved like a blur through the horde of Undead Warriors, weaving left and right, every step
precise, every strike aimed to kill.
But as he ducked behind a toppled column to catch his breath, he flung open his system window,
sweat dripping from his brow.
[Inspecting Target…]
[Target: Lich Archmage Xal'vorr]
[Level: 55]
[HP: ???]
[Mana: ???]
[Race: Undead Lich]
[Attributes: High Dark Magic Mastery, Summoning Mastery, Soul Drain, Curse Affinity]
[Threat Level: Extreme]
Ethan stared at the glowing screen, blinking rapidly.
"Level… fifty-fucking-five?!" he hissed, voice trembling. "In the game, this bastard was level forty
at best. Why is it twenty levels higher in real life?!"
His heart slammed against his ribcage.
But as Undead Warriors lunged at him again, he gritted his teeth and kicked away from the pillar.
"Doesn't matter," he growled. "It's either I kill him… or I'm stuck here forever."
He clenched his sword and launched himself back into the fight.
The chamber erupted into chaos once more. Ethan spun, deflecting swords and claws with rapid
parries. Shadows surged around him as he activated Dark Blade, channeling dark mana into his
strikes. Each blow unleashed trails of slicing shadow energy, severing limbs and cracking bone.
The Lich raised its staff, voice echoing like dry paper burning:
"Arise… my chosen!"
The ground split open, and more skeletal figures clawed their way into the room. Some were taller,
clad in battered armor, others wreathed in green soul fire. Spells flared from the Lich's fingers,
bolts of purple lightning screaming across the chamber.
Ethan ducked under one, then rolled aside, narrowly dodging another blast that vaporized half a
stone column.
He gasped for breath. "Shit… there's no end to these mobs…"
But then the Lich's voice dropped to a low, reverberating growl.
"Now… kneel before true death. Come forth, executioner!"
Darkness twisted into a cyclone beside the throne. The spinning shadows condensed into a
towering figure clad in black, spiked plate armor. A crimson plume flowed from its helmet like
liquid fire. A massive headless form towered over Ethan, gripping a colossal black axe.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
[Summon Detected: Dullahan of the Abyss]
[Level: 45]
[HP: ???]
[Abilities: Decapitation Strike, Aura of Fear, Shadow Rift Walk]
The creature's invisible eyes seemed to burn into Ethan's soul. The air grew heavier until it felt like
iron chains wrapped around his chest.
Ethan fell to one knee, panting.
"This… this pressure…!"
He squeezed his eyes shut. Knight's Aura blazed around him, his body wreathed in silver light as
he forced himself upright. The crushing force pressing on his shoulders faded slightly.
"Come on… Ethan Graves doesn't kneel… not to some… headless freak…"
The Dullahan lunged forward, moving faster than its size should allow. Its axe screamed through
the air. Ethan barely parried the blade, but the force sent him skidding backward, boots digging
trenches into the stone floor. Sparks flew where metal met metal.
He grimaced, arms shaking.
The Dullahan advanced relentlessly, striking in rapid succession. Each swing was like the fall of a
guillotine. Ethan used everything at his disposal—feints, dodges, and his enhanced agility. He
darted around the hulking knight, trying to slip past its defenses.
"Battle Focus… now!"
[Dominion Warlord Trait Active – Battle Focus]
[+20% speed and perception for 10 seconds.]
The world slowed. Ethan watched the Dullahan's movements in meticulous detail—the flexing of
its armored joints, the subtle shift of weight before each strike.
"His left knee locks just before the swing… dodge right, counter low—!"
He stepped inside the arc of the axe and slashed upward with Dark Blade, shadows tearing into
the Dullahan's chest. Blackened armor cracked, shadowy ichor spraying across the chamber.
The Dullahan staggered back, but before Ethan could follow up, it twisted and slammed the butt
of its axe into Ethan's ribs.
"Guh—!"
Pain exploded through his side. Ethan's vision swam as he hit the floor hard. He tried to rise, but
the Dullahan's boot crashed down on his chest, pinning him.
The creature's aura pulsed like a black sun. Ethan felt his strength draining away, darkness
creeping into the edges of his mind.
"No… I'm not… done… yet…!"
He struggled under the crushing weight, gasping for air, sword trembling in his grasp. The
Dullahan raised its axe high overhead.
But before it could fall, a strange phenomenon began to ripple through Ethan's body. A silverblack light, faint at first, started leaking from his skin, swirling around him like ghostly smoke.
"…the hell…?"
The Dullahan hesitated for the first time, stepping back as the aura intensified.
The shadows brightened until the chamber glowed with intermingled silver and darkness. Ethan's
eyes snapped open, burning with the same mixed light.
A deep, echoing voice seemed to reverberate through the air— a voice not entirely Ethan's own:
"This vessel… shall not fall…"
The Dullahan's flaming neck stump flickered, as if in sudden fear.
Ethan's body lifted from the ground, limbs moving as if guided by something older and far more
powerful. His sword rose in a high guard, its edge blazing with silver-black fire.
The Lich hissed from the throne, skeletal fingers tightening around its staff.
"So… the Warlord's soul truly stirs…"
And in that swirling storm of power, Ethan staggered forward, half-conscious, half-possessed.
"I… won't… fall…"