In an instant, the five figures split into two precise groups.
Two of the towering undead positioned themselves to block Momonga, their massive forms casting long, ominous shadows across the battered ground. The remaining three advanced to confront Helant, positioning themselves with cold, mechanical discipline.
The three Blade Zombies exuded an aura of razor-sharp menace. Their crimson eyes burned with tyrannical hunger, and they held their enormous blades upright in perfect unison, edges glinting as though thirsting for blood.
These were horrors second only to the most legendary Demon God-class Unded.
As Helant and Momonga found themselves pinned down, the Death Knights abandoned their earlier siege with eerie, synchronized precision. They withdrew from the city walls and reformed ranks, resuming their relentless march toward E-Rantel's gates like an unstoppable tide of black steel and rotting flesh.
From the walls, Ninya watched the scene unfold with wide, worried eyes. "Those undead... they look so strong," she whispered, voice trembling slightly.
Of course they were strong. These Blade Zombies ranked among the elite horrors that even adamantite adventurers would hesitate to face alone.
Quaiesse Hazeia Quintia had long since passed the point where shock could touch him. He simply stared in silence at the endless stream of Death Knights pouring toward the city below, their armored footsteps a low, unending rumble that vibrated through the stone.
After a long moment, he gathered the mana coiled within his weary body and initiated the connection.
A faint ripple of magical energy spread outward like ripples on dark water. Moments later, Zinedine's familiar voice echoed clearly in his mind, carried by the Thousand Leagues Astrologer's spell.
"Quaiesse? Why contact me so late? Has something happened?"
Quaiesse lifted his gaze toward the distant Lich King, its towering form glowing like a ghostly blue torch against the night sky. His voice came out hoarse and cracked. "My Lord… you should see for yourself."
At the Slane Theocracy's Clearwater Scripture headquarters, the Thousand Leagues Astrologer completed her surveillance spell. Within the crystal ball, the images finally resolved for Zinedine.
A colossal lich—easily fifty meters tall—loomed over the human city like an apex predator surveying trapped prey. Between the city walls and the monstrous lich marched countless Death Knights in flawless formation, an army of animated death.
The undead deliberately parted around two distinct zones on the battlefield, leaving open spaces where several figures stood out starkly.
In one area, a fully armored warrior was surrounded by two undead of terrifying power—near Demon God level in raw presence. In the other stood Helant, now confronted by three Blade Zombies whose blades seemed to drink in the moonlight.
The sight struck Zinedine like a physical blow.
His voice sharpened with urgency. "Quaiesse, why has a Demon God-level undead appeared? And why is it attacking a human city?"
"According to what intelligence we have," Quaiesse replied grimly, "Khajiit—a former Zurrernorn operative—used the Crown of Wisdom to forcibly break the seal on this Lich King ahead of our own schedule. That's what triggered this catastrophe."
At the mention of the Crown of Wisdom, the same furious realization flashed through both men's minds: "Clementine… you deserve to die a thousand times over!"
But recriminations could wait. There was no time for personal vendettas.
Quaiesse's voice grew even rougher. "Lord Zinedine, in this desperate situation… can we request Zesshi Zetsumei for support?"
"It's too late," Zinedine answered, his tone as dry and brittle as old parchment. "Even ignoring the vast distance between the Kingdom and the Theocracy, approval would still require the consensus of the other High Priests. You know how they deliberate."
Quaiesse knew it all too well. The Theocracy was no autocracy ruled by a single Scripture's leader. Every major decision demanded a vote among the cardinals and high priests—a process that could drag on for days even in peacetime.
The memory of the failed operation to charm the Catastrophe Dragon Lord with Downfall of Castle and Country surfaced unbidden. Despite clear warnings of powerful enemies lurking in the shadows, the council had pushed forward with blind stubbornness, gambling everything on securing a supreme asset.
The result: the World Item stolen, Lady Kaire dead, and several elite Black Scripture members lost forever.
A bitter thought crystallized in Quaiesse's mind: this Council is becoming a dangerous hindrance to humanity's survival.
Before he could sink deeper into frustration, Zinedine's voice cut through again.
"Quaiesse, this is an emergency of the highest order. I need you to persuade Helant not to fight to the death."
Zinedine's judgment was cold and pragmatic. Helant's value—his ability to mass-produce God's Blood—far outweighed the lives of a single city's population.
If he survived, even without immediately joining the Theocracy, his alchemical knowledge could dramatically bolster humanity's overall strength against the encroaching darkness.
"I'll… try," Quaiesse muttered, running a hand through his blond hair in weary frustration. From Helant's unyielding stance, he already knew the outcome. The man would almost certainly fight until his last breath.
He hated people like that—upright, inflexible, stubbornly heroic. No amount of logic or pleading could sway them.
Compared to such resolve, Quaiesse felt painfully… cowardly.
Far in the distance, atop a shadowed bell tower, Clementine's gaze had never wavered from Helant.
"Helant… I thought you were just some minor noble playing at being an Adventurer."
She had been utterly stunned the moment he appeared—wreathed in blinding holy light, rising into the night sky like a second sun, ruthlessly purging more than half the undead horde in an instant.
Yet worry gnawed at her chest. In the heart of the battlefield, Helant now faced three Blade Zombies—monsters she knew all too well were capable of carving through adamantite teams.
"He burned through such a powerful spell right from the start," she murmured. "His stamina must be dangerously low by now."
Her pretty features hardened, crimson eyes narrowing as they locked onto the towering Lich King. She studied it for a long, calculating moment.
"Its body remains partially illusory… which means Khajiit's ritual with the Crown of Wisdom didn't fully succeed. The summoning was incomplete."
Clementine's mind raced.
Since the lich had declared Khajiit responsible for its release, the Crown must have been involved. She didn't know spells to directly disrupt such high-tier magic, but she did know one very specific countermeasure.
Back in the Theocracy, she had personally removed the Crown of Wisdom from the Miko Princess of Earth's head.
"As long as I rip that Crown off Nfirea's head," she thought, lips curving into a cold smile, "even if the Lich King doesn't return to its seal, it will at least be crippled—severely weakened."
With that decision made, Clementine launched forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. She darted along the battlefield's edge, circling wide to approach the Lich King's position undetected.
The focus shifted back to Helant.
A radiant aura of platinum holy light enveloped him, sacred and utterly inviolable. Mana surged outward in a palpable wave as he ascended higher into the air.
"Seventh-Tier Magic: Holy Light Meteor!"
His voice rang across the battlefield like a clarion call. Everyone—living and undead alike—seemed to hear the sharp tear of air splitting apart.
Then, seven colossal meteors, each tens of meters across and trailing blinding white contrails, tore through the black miasma the Lich King had spread to blot out the stars.
Platinum flames roared to life along their undersides from friction with the atmosphere, turning each into a blazing comet of divine wrath.
The entire battlefield ignited with blinding radiance. The seven meteors became the sole focus of every eye, living or hollow.
In sheer destructive spectacle and raw impact, the display surpassed even the Ninth-Tier spell Helant had unleashed at the battle's outset.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The meteors struck in rapid succession. Each impact gouged out craters over a hundred meters wide, the ground heaving violently as shockwaves rippled outward. Dust clouds billowed skyward while countless Death Knights caught in the blasts were obliterated, armor and bone reduced to scattering ash.
As the brilliant light gradually faded and night reclaimed the field, the devastation was far from finished.
From within each of the seven craters, towering pillars of platinum holy flame suddenly erupted skyward like pillars supporting the sky itself.
The battlefield became a surreal mosaic of searing light and encroaching darkness.
From the city walls, the defenders watched in awe as Helant hovered high above, untouched by the chaos. Within three of those blazing pillars, the three Blade Zombies writhed and shrieked in agony, their undead flesh blackening and flaking away.
Moments later, they crumbled entirely into fine ash, scattered on the wind.
"Yes… well done."
A surge of desperate hope swept through the survivors. With a single spell, Helant had annihilated more than half the Death Knight horde and eradicated the three most terrifying threats among them.
As long as Helant stood, they had a real chance of winning this impossible battle.
________
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