Chapter 39: You Have Reached Level 5!

The Mutated Undead turned around and threw its long arm, aiming to slash Master Abraham, but he was no longer there.

But then, he came down from the sky and cleaved the Elder Weredeer’s arm right off!

As an undead, they never felt pain unless what was being struck was directly connected to their energy crystal, like its massive antlers. So, it didn’t scream or flinch this time and just threw its other arm at the C-Class Executioner again.

The Nightwraiths, White Ghouls, and numerous other undead targeted him, but he was far too fast for them. Only a Fallen Undead would start to give Master Abraham a proper challenge.

He dodged the incoming multiple attacks, manoeuvring through by running, ricocheting off his circles, and decapitating some.

Even the Gate Boss didn’t know when he cleaved its other arm clean off, too!

The sound of growing flesh came quickly, and the armless Mutated Undead had regrown the limbs it had just lost.

However, Master Abraham knew it could do that, as that was a signature feature of all Mutated Undead. But then, he had already acquired what he wanted.

Landing a small distance away from the raging horde, he looked at the black fingernail and grey fur in his hand.

In a black flash, the C-Class Executioner disappeared back into the chaos of the battlefield.

Back at the defensive position, Roy’s face was covered in dark, decayed blood after blasting the head of an approaching Homunculi.

“Urgh,” he groaned in disgust and cleaned his face.

A few seconds later, Master Abraham landed beside him and erected a multi-layered cube wall around them, but left his clone outside it.

“Here,” the executioner said, pressing the clump of grey fur and long, black fingernail into Roy’s hand.

Roy didn’t waste a second. He pulled out the second Cursed Ragdoll and began frantically tying the fur and fingernails around the doll’s body.

“Come on, come on…” he muttered, his fingers working as fast as they could.

Donald watched Roy’s movements with unease and asked, “Are you sure that thing is going to work on a Mutated Undead?”

“No! But it should, I guess,” Roy answered.

“You guess?!”

“Hey, it’s my first time cursing a Mutated Undead, okay?”

“There’s no time for argument.” Master Abe butted in, “His skill is multiplying the effect of a tier-2 item, making it as potent as a tier-4. In theory, it should work on a Mutated. If it doesn’t, we’ll go in and finish the job.”

Hearing Master Abe’s words, Roy began praying earnestly for it to work.

The undead were closing in from all sides. The three Nightwraiths had coordinated perfectly, herding them into an inescapable killbox. Master Abraham’s clone fought like a demon, his chainsword whirring as it cut through White Ghouls and weak undead, but even he was being pushed back step by step.

A Fleshwalker’s grotesque arm slammed into the cube, drawing Roy’s attention.

“Focus,” Master Abraham said.

“I’m trying!” Roy shouted back, finally fastening the fingernail and hair to the doll. He held the Cursed Ragdoll in both hands and activated [2x Multiplier].

The ethereal light flowed from his palms and settled on the doll.

And then Roy snapped it in half.

“…”

As expected, nothing happened.

The undead banged and broke through the multi-layered cube, and it became smaller and smaller as Master Abraham kept on erecting replacements from the inside.

“Roy, did it work?!” Donald screamed, fear evident in his voice.

“Give it time! Something should happen!” Roy shouted.

Master Abraham’s Binary Clone was suddenly overwhelmed. Three White Ghouls tackled him simultaneously, their combined weight bringing him down. The clone struggled, his chainsword still whirring, but more undead piled on him.

Due to the original’s focus on repeatedly erecting twelve-edged cubes, it didn’t have enough energy to allocate to its speedy movement and calculations. It was hence overtaken by the unfavourable variables.

“Master, your clone!” Roy called out in alarm.

The original’s jaw clenched slightly. He raised his scythe smoothly, preparing to charge back into the fray to support his clone, when—

The sun became brighter.

At first, it was subtle. The early morning light that had been dim and overcast suddenly intensified, as if someone had turned up the brightness of the world itself.

Roy squinted, raising his hand to shield his eyes. “What the…”

And then, with a flash that burned white-hot across the battlefield, the light became blinding.

FWOOOOSH!

The undead surrounding Roy, Donald, and Master Abraham simply evaporated. Their bodies turned to ash in an instant, disintegrating into grey particles that were carried by the wind. The Homunculi mid-chant, the White Ghouls mid-lunge, the Reanimated Weredeer mid-charge, all of them reduced to nothing.

Every single one of them. A cacophony of shrieks, wails, and inhuman cries filled the air as the light touched them.

Far across the battlefield, the three Nightwraiths tried to retreat into shadow, but there were no shadows. The light was everywhere. They shrieked their horrible, layered screams as they dissolved into nothing, their dark cloaks burning away like paper in a furnace.

The Elder Weredeer stood its ground longer than the rest, its Mutated nature giving it more resistance. But even it couldn’t withstand the purifying light. It let out one final, gurgling wail before its massive body crumbled to ash.

The monotone voice sang in Roy’s mind:

[You have slain the mutated undead, Reanimated Elder Weredeer.]

[+6,000 EXP.]

And immediately after:

[Congratulations! You have reached Level 5!]

Roy stood frozen, his mouth agape, staring at the now-clear battlefield. Where moments ago there had been an overwhelming horde of undead, there was now only ash drifting in the morning breeze.

Even the corpses from the previous battle were gone, all in less than thirty seconds!

Master Abraham undid his protective cube.

“What… what just happened?” Roy breathed, the air smelled like burned coal and sulphur.

Donald lowered his shotgun slowly, letting out a sigh of relief. He already knew what had happened.

Master Abraham’s clone dissipated, having served its purpose. And the original executioner straightened his back and looked up at the sky, his expression unreadable.

“She’s here,” he said quietly.

Before Roy could ask, “Who is?”

Thud.

A figure descended from above, landing with grace. The impact sent a small shockwave through the ground, but the figure remained perfectly balanced.

Roy unconsciously took a step back.

The figure was a woman in majestic gold-and-white knightly armor, highly decorated yet functional, with intricate sun-and-flame engravings etched into the metal. Her dark skin contrasted beautifully with the bright armor, and her hands were covered in distinctive white gloves.

She was tall, imposing, and overly confident, looking like an Amazonian from Themiscyra. A white cape hung from her shoulders, somehow spotless despite the ash-covered battlefield.

“B-Class Executioner, Tamara Dozie. Also known as, Sunfire,” Master Abraham said, his tone neutral with a hint of annoyance.

The weaponless woman looked at the gate, which was finally beginning to close, then at the trio.

“Well,” she said, her voice rich and confident, “that was messier than expected.”

She walked toward them with measured steps, her steel boots crunching on the concrete ground.

As she got closer, Roy saw her face properly. She was somewhere in her early thirties, with high cheekbones and brown eyes. Her bright, golden hair cascaded smoothly past her shoulders, too.

How was everything about her so… divine? Roy wondered.

Sunfire’s expression was warm despite the carnage around them.

“Abraham Goodwill. Black Zero. It’s been a while,” she said with amusement. “Fancy seeing you on the battlefield.”

“Things happen,” Master Abraham coldly said. Whereas, Donald was taken by her beauty and gulped at least three times.

Sunfire stepped closer to Master Abraham, her stern gaze scanning him from head to toe.

“Abraham,” she said softly. “You’re covered in blood.”

Master Abraham met her gaze steadily. “Not mine.”

Sunfire grinned, almost mockingly. “How the mighty have fallen.”

Master Abraham scoffed.

“I was never mighty.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep