Chapter 129: Wild Assassination (Second Last)

“I knew you were the weakest among us three, but I didn’t expect you to be so useless,” the Necromancer said with a stern look. His tone was sharp with mockery and disdain, deliberately meant to wound the Flying Serpent’s pride, and the gaze with which he looked at it was heavy with disappointment.

The Flying Serpent did not feel humiliated upon hearing the Necromancer’s words. There was no reason to feel that way, after all.

’Good,’ it thought quietly, feeling like it had won a small battle. ’The greater his disdain for me, the less chance he’ll suspect something’s wrong. Master will definitely catch him off guard when the times comes. His many trump cards… He won’t get the chance to put them to use before he’s forced into the maws of death. Lord Necro, your end is nigh. What a pity you will not know that until it’s too late.’

The Flying Serpent felt smug. It was acting for the first time, yet it had fooled the greatest master of Dark Arts Veloria had ever known.

Letting its emotions known would render the progress so far useless, so it didn’t let the truth reflect on his face, quickly lowering its head as if crushed by guilt and shame.

Its acting was on point, fooling the Necromancer’s further.

The Necromancer’s heart filled up with a sense of superiority, seeing how meekly a fellow great terror was behaving in his presence as if it was terrified of him.

He couldn’t help but let a smirk pull at his lips.

But this was no time to gloat, and he knew that.

Turning his attention towards the battlefield, he announced, “Garnaga, sound the horns. We are retreating.” His voice was like frost breaking over stone, sharp, unpleasant, heavy, but full of authority.

“Your wish is my command,” Garnaga replied.

A sight many couldn’t bear to look at, he appeared to be a grotesque monster stitched together from the parts of countless creatures found in the Misty Swamp Region.

Half his upper body sported the traits of the Tragodyles while the other half sported the traits of the Serpent Tribe. Crocodilian scales covered one fourth of his body, while the other half of his upper body was wrapped in slick amphibian skin that oozed a greenish slime. Tentacles squirmed underneath the monstrous torso, making up his lower body.

A homunculus. That’s what it was.

A massive, weathered bow was strapped to his back, yet no quiver or arrows were in sight. At his side hung a war horn fashioned from the hollowed tusk of some ancient beast.

At the Necromancer’s command, he lifted the horn and brought it up to his toad-like face to sound the horn.

’It’s happening. It’s really happening. Oh my god.’

Suddenly, the Flying Serpent was in shock.

Its master had predicted this. Ray had predicted the Necromancer would fall back if the Flying Serpent made him believe its army was gone.

’Events are unfolding exactly as he envisioned.’ The Flying Serpent’s thoughts spun. ’Does he have the gift of foresight. Is he a seer? Or is he so terribly wise that he can read others like an open book?’

The Flying Serpent felt that it would’ve re-evaluate the person he was serving. Ray had exceeded its every expectation.

Not only could he shape shift like a terrifying Skin Walker and crush bronze rankers like ants, he even had the strategic foresight to predict how his opponent would behave to a certain scenario.

The Flying Serpent had never met a guy so terrifying. It was in utter awe of his resourceful.

For one person to possess so many abilities and be so capable, just what kind of monster was he really?

’If he really retreats, the first part of master’s plan would be complete,’ the flying serpent felt gleeful internally.

Ray’s plan was divided into two parts.

The first part was to force the Necromancer to retreat, which would open up a path to assassinate him. A path only a creature with the Devour and Mimic skill could walk.

The second part was assassinating him.

While the Flying Serpent was feeling overwhelmed, Garnaga pressed the warhorn against his misshapen mouth and blew into it.

Booooooom!

With the retreat signal echoing throughout the battlefield, the army of the dead stopped what they were doing.

They stopped their relentless assault on the Great Wall and began to fretreat to the mist laden lands of from which they came.

Watching them retreat into the Misty Swamp Regions, the Defenders atop the Great Wall collectively let out a sight of relief.

The Great Wall, once drowning in putrid corpses and hollow skeletons, now stood clear, its battlements drenched in firelight and blood.

They have done it.

They have protected the great wall from being preached.

They have safeguarded their kingdoms from the plot of the Bloodsuckers.

Though it was largely due to the unexpected help they have gotten from a Great Terror, their contributions couldn’t be ignored.

It’s worth knowing that the defenders were made of the men from all three kingdoms, and they were strongly united as their sacred duty kept them from getting into petty squibbles.

“Is this our only option?” The Flying Serpent wanted to understand why the Necromancer had behaved as its master had predicted.

So it asked such a question.

“Naturally not,” the Necromancer replied, his tone calm and measured. “But it’s the most reasonable choice.”

“Why is that so?” the Flying Serpent asked, narrowing its eyes.

“Continuing the attack on the Great Wall would only burn through my resources without yielding the results I desire,” the Necromancer said coldly. “But by retreating to my realm, regrouping, and contacting the future masters of our world, a greater assault can be planned.” He spoke with such confidence it felt as if everything would unfold exactly according to his design.

The Flying Serpent tilted its head, “Why are you so sure the Bloodsuckers will provide help? Didn’t we fail them?”

It was genuinely confused.

Logically speaking, the Bloodsuckers should punish them — after all, they had failed to deliver on their promise. Yet, instead of fearing retribution, the Necromancer seemed certain that aid would come.

“They desire the Great Wall’s destruction above all else,” the Necromancer explained. “If I can relay the situation to them, they’ll understand the value in acting swiftly. They’ll send reinforcements instead of wasting time meting out punishment. The pincer movement they’ve planned is the quickest way to end all resistance and bring Veloria under their complete dominion. They won’t abandon that goal without a fight. There’s even a possibility that a Night Prince or two will personally take action to bring down this wall.”

Night Princes were silver ranke fiends. The highest authorities among the Bloodsuckers, second only to the fabled Night King. Their involvement meant danger beyond measure.

The Flying Serpent’s heart tightened with worry.

The bigger picture had become horrifyingly clear. Even if his master succeeded in his plan and assassinated the Necromancer, the danger wouldn’t lessen. Reinforcements from the Bloodsuckers would arrive sooner or later to break down the wall, and anyone that gets in their way would have to silver rankers to answer!

’Even if Master assassinates the Necromancer, more trouble will come knocking. There’s no avoiding a confrontation with the Night Princes… but can he truly hold his own against silver rankers?’

Its thoughts were interrupted by a violent tremor.

Boom!

A thunderous reverberation echoed across the battlefield as a black fireball exploded amidst the retreating undead ranks.

The flames that erupted were pitch black, hotter than 3000° Celcius, and sticky like super glue. And as if it had a will of its own, it jumped from one undead to another, spreading like wildfire through the ranks of the undead.

Armor melted into bubbling slag. Rotting flesh evaporated into greasy smoke. Bones blackened, cracked, and crumbled into fine ash that scattered into the howling wind. The air thickened with the stench of burnt corpses.

“What hell?”

Countless onlookers gasped, watching the devastation caused by the black flames. Wherever they went, all signs of life disappeared. It was like a scene straight out of hell itself.

Even the Necromancer felt a shiver crawl up his spine. A sense of dread gripped his heart.

Even the infernal flames of the ancient demons he’d read about in forbidden grimoires couldn’t compare to the destructive might of this black fire.

“Do you really think you can come and go as you please?”

Ray’s voice boomed across the field like thunder.

He charged through the burning expanse, cutting through the chaos with unstoppable momentum. The black flames parted around him, obeying his will. Any undead that came within arm’s reach was reduced to ash before they could even strike.

The Necromancer’s already pale face drained of all remaining color. “Cover my retreat!” he shrieked, spinning on his heel, retreating with the Flying Serpent.

His minions moved to shield their master’s escape, rushing towards Ray.

Garnaga led the charge, his tentacles thrashing wildly towards Ray. Each tentacle was like a spiked club.

Ray didn’t slow down as he watched them draw close.

He sped up.

His eyes glowed.

Amethyst lights flashed.

Garnaga’s tentacle were chopped apart.

“Die!” Ray said while pointing.

The Amethyst Blades moved again.

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