Chapter 289: Gagaran's Subtle Move, Khajiit Revisited
Gagaran stared at the "Regeneration Potion" in his palm, his white eyes wide with surprise. He recognized this potion; distinguished from the blue of an ordinary one, it had a deeper, more profound luster.
It had a better healing effect, and most importantly, it was an alchemical potion made from the blood of an ogre, completely different from those made with common herbs.
An image of Tang Zheng surfaced in Gagaran's mind.
*'That "Genius Alchemist" Tang... is he in the Holy Kingdom now?'*
Thinking of this human he wasn't particularly fond of, an inexplicable trace of joy at seeing an "old acquaintance" rose in Gagaran's heart. He had left the Baharuth Empire for the Abelion Hills because of that black-haired kid.
Gagaran was certain that the black-haired kid was in the Holy Kingdom right now, and the reason was the bottle of "Regeneration Potion" in his hand.
Back in the Empire, Gagaran had already learned that this type of alchemical potion, made from the blood of a demi-human, could only be crafted by that black-haired kid. The number of potions he could create in a day was extremely small, which was a major reason why the various herb and potion workshops in the city hadn't completely turned on him and caused trouble.
The few "Regeneration Potions" the black-haired kid made each day were all snatched up by the wealthy humans in the city—nobles, adventurers, and merchants—before they could even circulate.
If the black-haired kid wasn't in the Holy Kingdom, there was no way the people of the Holy Kingdom would have this kind of potion.
Gagaran clenched his fist around the potion, his eyes glinting.
The mysterious man in the red robe was far too dangerous, especially since he seemed to harbor the intention of creating undead. It wouldn't be a bad thing to get humans involved.
However, given his status, it was impossible for humans to trust him. Perhaps he could do it through that black-haired kid.
"I'm going after that fleeing human," Gagaran said, casting a cold glance at the Earth Elemental Ogre beside him, which was currently toying with a corpse. He then turned and strode off in pursuit.
"Oh, okay, okay."
The Earth Elemental Ogre scratched its head with a rough, brown claw, looking somewhat puzzled.
The fleeing human was very weak; the iron ratmen could have handled him. It was unclear why Gagaran would chase after him.
***
Meanwhile, by the time Gagaran arrived, he saw that the young human was already entangled in a fight with several iron ratmen, his clothes soaked red with blood.
*Psh!*
A ferocious-looking iron ratman circled behind the youth and swiped its claw, tearing a large chunk of flesh from his back.
The intense pain made the youth cry out, "You damned demi-humans, let's die together!"
The youth's eyes were bloodshot. Gripping a dagger in each hand, he swung them wildly, no longer caring about his injuries. It was a completely suicidal fighting style.
Upon closer inspection, one could see that the wounds on the youth's body were healing at an astonishing rate—the continuous healing effect of the "Regeneration Potion."
Unfortunately, against the siege of several iron ratmen, the youth's injuries completely surpassed the potion's healing limit.
Weakness.
His vision began to blur...
The web between the youth's thumb and forefinger split open, and the arms holding the daggers were sore and numb. A sense of despair spread through his heart.
*Am I going to die?*
At this moment, the youth felt little fear in his heart, only a sense of powerlessness at being unable to deliver the intelligence he had gathered.
"Oh, Four Great Gods!"
"Please, I pray you ensure that the other teams can get the message back," the youth prayed with a piety he had never felt before.
Suddenly, the youth felt the pressure around him greatly diminish. Even the pain from the continuous attacks on his body lessened significantly.
*A final burst of life?*
No.
The youth's blurry vision looked forward. A massive, superior ogre was walking toward him. The few iron ratmen that had been besieging him had retreated behind it.
"Clearly a rogue, yet you have the spirit of a warrior."
"Human, you have earned the right to die by my hand!"
A steady, firm voice fell upon the youth's ears.
The youth took advantage of the brief lull to take several deep breaths, filling his oxygen-starved lungs. His blurry vision cleared slightly, and he finally got a clear look at the massive, dark-green figure standing over three meters tall before him.
*That appearance... is it a troll?*
The conspicuous white beard and hair caught the youth's eye, causing him to subconsciously analyze the information even in this life-or-death situation.
He recalled the information he and Kaleb had extracted from the captured iron ratman. The figure's appearance was very similar to the "King" the iron ratman had mentioned, the one who ruled the ogre tribes.
"Who are you?"
The youth's weak body swayed as he spoke, his throat dry.
Based on the limited information, he and Kaleb had come to a startling conclusion: the one ruling these demi-human races and conducting transactions with their Holy Kingdom was no native of the hills. It was an outsider, and an outsider who understood them humans very well!
"My name is—Gagaran, the 「Warrior King」!"
"To die by my hand is your honor," Gagaran said calmly, raising the spiked club in his hand and swinging it upward from below.
According to rumor, time slows down when a person faces death.
The youth didn't know if it was true, but he found that the opponent's attack speed was not fast; he could track the trajectory of the weapon.
"Fortress!" The youth summoned all his strength, raising the daggers in his hands to block in front of his chest.
A faint white light flashed on the daggers.
The heavy spiked club struck the daggers. The little strength he had left could only deflect a portion of the force; the rest of it exploded.
"Ah!"
The youth spat out a mouthful of blood and was sent flying uncontrollably.
Coincidentally, the youth was flung toward a nearby flowing river, which led to the great sea south of the Abelion Hills.
*Plop.*
Water splashed, and the youth's figure disappeared into the river.
Gagaran calmly watched the figure disappear into the current, then turned to the few iron ratmen behind him and swung his spiked club.
*Splat—Splat!*
Without even a chance to scream, the few iron ratmen were smashed into a meat paste on the spot. After a brief cleanup, Gagaran left the area.
Not long after, two figures appeared by the riverbank.
"Master, Gagaran held back just now!"
"That human definitely isn't dead," the White Mist Witch said huffily, her bright yellow pupils glaring in the direction the river flowed.
She had long suspected that something was off with Gagaran. She never expected him to actually dare to help a human escape and ruin her Master's plan.
"I'll go after him right now and take care of that human."
As the White Mist Witch said this, she prepared to move.
"There's no need to chase."
Tang Zheng raised a hand to stop the White Mist Witch's actions. Meeting her puzzled gaze, a smile appeared on his face behind the black mask.
"How are you so sure this isn't part of my plan?"
"Master..." The White Mist Witch was stunned.
Tang Zheng gazed toward the distant river, saying no more.
If that young man didn't deliver the message alive, how could the Free Will Adventurer Team reasonably intervene in this incident?
"It's about time for some new characters to enter the stage," Tang Zheng said, turning. He and the White Mist Witch vanished together.
***
In E-Rantel, within the massive Common Cemetery that occupied a huge area on the west side of the outer wall, a strange, beast-like roar had been heard every night recently.
This made the guards and adventurer teams stationed outside the Common Cemetery tense, fearing that some terrifying undead had been born in the graveyard.
They didn't dare to enter rashly at night. When they went in to search during the day, they found nothing.
This situation continued for several days, raising the concern and vigilance of the Adventurer's Guild and the mayor of E-Rantel.
The two parties immediately formed a Joint Squad of elite soldiers and adventurers to enter the Common Cemetery at night to subjugate any powerful undead that might have emerged.
The result!
Other than slaying some ordinary undead, they found nothing. Several days of searching yielded no results.
The only reassuring thing was that after this subjugation, the strange sound completely disappeared.
This led many adventurers to suspect it was either a prank or the sound of some special, low-tier undead that had been eliminated along with the common ones during the subjugation effort.
Night fell once more.
The soldiers and adventurers guarding the city wall outside the Common Cemetery, whose nerves had been stretched taut for some time, finally relaxed. Cheerful laughter could be heard from time to time from the high platform.
However, no one noticed that someone had already secretly infiltrated the Common Cemetery.
A gaunt, pale-faced figure draped entirely in a black magic robe was walking through the dark and gloomy graveyard.
Looking at the familiar graveyard environment, Khajiit's sunken eye sockets were filled with gloom. No one would have good memories or be in a good mood returning to the place where they had died.
A cold wind blew.
The branches of the withered trees in the graveyard swayed under the pale moonlight like grasping claws. The few undead that had been in the graveyard had already been cleared out by the joint forces during this period.
The entire Common Cemetery now seemed exceptionally quiet.
Only the sound of Khajiit's footsteps echoed ceaselessly between the empty grounds and tombstones, making it all the more terrifying.
*Tap—Tap—*
With a sullen face, Khajiit gripped a staff, using it as a cane as he walked, its end striking the path.
As if on purpose, the bottom of the staff struck the ground heavily with every step.
"I suppose the Alliance Leader sent me back here because of the recent rumors," Khajiit mused silently.
Although more than half a year had passed since his death and resurrection, his power had not yet fully recovered.
For a while, he had been accompanying the Alliance Leader in the undead nation of "Terror," the Shadow King, one of the three legendary Night Liches.
From Khajiit's observations, the Alliance Leader seemed to want to reach some kind of cooperation with that legendary existence, but judging from the results so far, it had not been very successful.
Recalling the scene he had witnessed, Khajiit's heart pounded with excitement. Only a being as powerful as the Shadow King, capable of easily destroying a country and even occupying it as his domain, could truly be called the "King of the Undead."
If he himself possessed such immense power, he would surely be able to develop a powerful resurrection magic to revive his mother.
In the depths of the Common Cemetery, a Ruinous Temple appeared before him.
Khajiit's gaze turned cold, his expression growing even more somber. He walked toward the temple, exuding a chilling aura.
This was the very place where he had died!
In a daze, he could almost still feel the burning pain of the Flame Archangel's flaming longsword piercing his chest.
Khajiit reached up to touch his chest as he walked up the cracked, weed-covered steps. Standing on the temple platform, he raised his head, his cold gaze sweeping over the surroundings.
There was nothing.
"Bastard, get out here!"
Suppressing the rage in his heart, Khajiit slammed his magic staff on the ground and roared.
The furious voice echoed through the graveyard, traveling far into the distance, startling the sleeping crows, birds, and chirping insects.
After waiting for a moment and seeing no one appear, Khajiit snorted coldly. "You coward who hides in the shadows! You resorted to petty tricks from the background last time. What are you planning to pull this time?"
The air remained silent.
It was as if Khajiit was talking to himself like a lunatic in the graveyard.
"It's been so long, yet you're still so hot-tempered," a sinister, soft chuckle suddenly came from ahead.
Khajiit quickly raised his head and looked forward.
He saw a figure completely wrapped in a red robe, its face covered by a black mask. Even the eyes, the only part exposed, were obscured by a red hood.
Their positions were just as they had been back then. Khajiit still stood on the steps of the Ruinous Temple, while Tang Zheng stood about a hundred meters directly in front of it.
The only difference was that back then, Khajiit was surrounded by a horde of undead, while Tang Zheng was surrounded by the Flame Archangel.
"You know, the two of us can be considered old friends," Tang Zheng said with a low laugh. "I was going to keep your corpse as a souvenir, but then it just vanished with a 'pop'."
"How magical."
"From that moment, I knew that we two old friends would definitely meet again. See? Just like this reunion."
Although Tang Zheng's attire was different from before, the instant Khajiit saw him, he was certain that this was the man who had killed him.
As the saying goes, "When enemies meet, their eyes blaze with hatred."
Khajiit's eyes turned crimson with rage as he raised his hand. "Go to hell!"
"Negative Ray!"
A dark gray beam of light shot out from Khajiit's palm, streaking through the dark night and flying rapidly toward Tang Zheng.
Faced with this extremely fast beam attack, Tang Zheng's figure flickered.
"Dimensional Shift."
He vanished from his spot and reappeared a short distance away.
*Boom!*
The negative ray struck the spot where Tang Zheng had just been, blasting a pit into the ground with a tremendous roar.
"Dimensional Shift? Arcane magic? Why not use Angel Summoning?" Khajiit demanded, his eyes bloodshot with fury as he stared at Tang Zheng.
After his resurrection, and with a reminder from the Alliance Leader, he now knew that the only reason this bastard had been able to summon so many angels at once was through the use of scrolls.
(end of chapter)