Chapter 88: Brutal

Malum clapped. “Get ready, Riven! I come again!”

And just like before, he disappeared, but this time Riven was ready. Spartacus leaped to his front like a shield of flesh, aura poured down their connection.

His sword glowed red so much that it seemed to lengthen into a spear. He whirled and twirled it. Riven turned his back and stood back to back with Spartacus.

“No matter which way you come, we’ll catch you!” Riven shouted.

He heard a raspy laugh all around. It didn’t come from one place and seemed to surround him from all locations at the same time.

“Oh Riven, how little you know!”

And then Malum made his appearance. He appeared directly in front of Spartacus.

Spartacus waved his spear-sword, but it only hit the afterimage that Malum left behind.

Malum reached out and gripped Spartacus’s right hand by the elbow, then twisted sharply, bending it the wrong way so it wouldn’t lift even as he tried to lift it.

Malum reached out again, but Riven had already whirled into place. His sword was throbbing with restrained green, and he slashed, making a sword arc leap out.

But the bandaged undead ducked underneath with ease, and that small moment of action allowed Spartacus to hold his sword with his left hand. His cutting wasn’t the least bit affected as he slashed down once more.

Black bandages snapped out, withering snakes that blocked the sword, causing such a ripple of shockwave that Riven, caught between them, grunted, and Spartacus was thrown back a few steps.

Malum said, “Time to end this!”

His figure disappeared once again. This time, five shadows appeared around Spartacus at the same time. He didn’t see how Malum punched. He couldn’t keep up with his punch.

But Riven felt its effects. One landed on Spartacus’s other hand and broke the bones, sharp broken bones poking out of his flesh. Two punches hit different shoulders and shattered them with ease.

Another hit the chest, and Spartacus was sent ramming into the wall. When he tried to lift himself up, his legs were shattered, almost twisted away.

Malum then stood above his struggling body. “As a good necromancer, what are you supposed to do now, Riven?”

Undead would get damaged. It’s not an unusual thing. And for the Auracrest-rank and above necromancer, with the power to bind permanent undead, they can heal their undead when injured.

In fact, they could heal the most terrible wounds that no human could survive. Even a cut head would be healed. But it takes energy—large amounts of energy—to heal them.

And sometimes, depending on the type of injury, the undead will go into a deep slumber of healing, where the necromancer will slowly feed it the energy needed.

But all that is for the average necromancer. Not Riven, who has the highest rank Sigil that exists.

He answered Malum’s question. “I should withdraw the undead.”

Malum grunted and turned back to the struggling Spartacus. “At least you are not stupid. Your undead is your power, your assets, and you must take care of them as such. When we are no longer useful, you have to withdraw us. Unless you are sure we can absolutely stall so you can escape…”

Suddenly, he whirled. His hand went up in a blur, and he caught the sword that was meant for his head—but not the kick that slammed into his stomach and sent him tumbling back.

Malum was back on his feet quicker than a feline monster. “Eh? You healed him just like that?”

Riven was breathing hard. Sweat covered his face in beads, but he was smiling. He’d expended almost all of his power to heal him, but he was glad for it.

Malum snorted. “It seems I have underestimated you and the Sigil you carry. That’s quite a neat trick that could have turned devastating for me if I was less powerful.”

“But this just means I have to absolutely destroy your undead so that it can be sent into a deep sleep!”

With a single step, he was suddenly in front of Spartacus. His two hands reached out to grip his head, but Riven was ready for that, and he had already cut the connection between the two of them.

The only thing that Malum caught, with all his speed, was air, as Spartacus had already sunk into the dark shadows.

Riven breathed a sigh of relief. His undead wasn’t harmed. It would have been a different thing if it was the Grave Knight that was harmed—he could just summon another one after a cooldown. But Spartacus? That’s his greatest asset, and he wasn’t willing to let harm come to him.

Malum turned to him. “Well played.”

Riven smiled. “Thank you.”

Malum nodded. “But do you know what happens to necromancers that don’t have any undead to fight with? They will have to get their hands dirty and handle their matters for themselves. Here I come, boy. Get ready!”

“Wait! I’m not rea—!” Riven wasn’t ready, but no amount of preparation could get him ready.

Malum disappeared like the wind and appeared in front of Riven so suddenly that he took a step back. Malum reached for his right hand and gripped it without mercy.

Riven’s eyes widened just before Malum shattered his right hand, the bones turning into splinters. Pain bloated his eyes, and they watered. Reflexively, he reached out for his right hand with his left—and that too was caught by Malum.

And it was shattered as well.

It was then that Riven understood that Malum wasn’t there to play. Both of his hands lay limply. He turned to run, but Malum didn’t let him.

The man punched him in the back so hard there was a wet snapping sound in the room, and he was thrown smack into the wall, where he bounced on the ground.

The pain was so much that Riven seemed to have lost his head. His eyes stared unblinking, and when he tried to move, he realized something.

His spine had been snapped. Malum had snapped his back.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep