Chapter 113: The Lich’s Gambit

The clash began in a storm of steel and fire.

Philip moved like a man reborn—age forgotten in the heat of battle. His longsword sang through the air, each strike a masterpiece of precision: a parry that turned an incoming spear, a riposte that severed a skeletal spine in a single, clean cut. Bones exploded into dust at his feet. When a young farmer faltered against two undead, Philip was there—shielding, shouting, guiding.

“Hold the line! Don’t break! Aim for the neck—shatter the core!”

His voice thundered with authority, steadying the villagers’ terror into resolve.

Ignis laughed wildly as she fought—a joyous, fierce sound that cut through the clatter of bone. Flames licked around her fists, controlled but hungry. She punched through ribcages, kicked skulls into oblivion.

“Too easy!” she cried, spinning to crush another. “This isn’t even a warm-up!”

Lilith was death woven into silk. Invisible threads lashed out like living shadows, snaring entire ranks of skeletons and dragging them into crushing knots. With a flick of her wrist, the bundles imploded—bone dust raining down like macabre snow.

Adam fought beside them, blade flashing. ’At this rate, I won’t even break a sweat,’ he thought, almost amused.

In minutes, the horde lay in shattered heaps. The gate held. The village breathed.

Cheers rose—relieved, triumphant.

Then the armored knight’s voice cracked like a whip through the night.

“Don’t drop your guard! He’s coming—he’s already here!”

All eyes snapped to the two women. The long-haired princess clutched her chest, a guttural cry tearing from her throat. Black veins spider-webbed across her porcelain skin. A vile green-black mist poured from her body, coiling upward like a serpent seeking its master.

The broken bones on the ground began to tremble.

They flew together—faster, hungrier—fusing into a towering abomination. Fifteen feet of jagged bone and tattered robes. A cracked iron crown rested on its skull. In its sockets burned twin emerald infernos. A staff of twisted ebony pulsed in its claw, crowned with a screaming soul-gem.

The villagers staggered back, faces drained of blood.

Philip’s grip on his sword turned iron-hard, knuckles white.

The lich rose higher, its voice a dry, rasping thunder that clawed at their souls.

“Haah… I did not expect to claim you tonight, Princess. Fate smiles upon me at last.”

The knight staggered forward, sword raised despite her wounds, voice raw with fury.

“Silence, you damned lich! Release this curse from Her Highness—NOW!”

The lich tilted its crowned head with mocking leisure.

“Impossible~” it crooned, voice dripping venomous silk. “Even if it could be undone… I would not grant it. Ahahahaha!”

The laugh rolled across the village like a funeral bell—cold, endless, triumphant. Children whimpered. Grown men shivered.

Adam, exhaustion from the late hour tugging at him, rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“Hey, you rotting sack of bones,” he called, voice flat and edged with irritation. “It’s the middle of the night. People are trying to sleep. Take your circus and crawl back to whatever grave you escaped from.”

The lich’s burning gaze snapped to him—then slid to Ignis and Lilith at his sides. Its hollow sockets flared brighter.

“Hmm… more exquisite prizes? Such beauty wasted on this flea-speck village.” Its voice turned oily, hungry. “I shall claim you all—body and soul and paint these streets red with the blood of every living thing here.”

Ignis’s eyes ignited. Heat exploded around her in a visible wave; the amulet at her throat flared white-hot as her draconic aura surged against its bonds.

Adam’s sharp mental command cut through her rage.

’Ignis—hold it. Do NOT break cover.’

She snarled but forced the fire down, trembling with barely contained fury.

Philip stepped forward, sword raised, voice low and iron-hard.

“That curse on the girl… it’s no mere spell. It’s powerful enough to anchor the caster’s manifestation. This is no common necromancer.”

Adam rolled his shoulder, blade resting lightly in his hand, a dangerous smile curving his lips.

“Then we’ll get the full story after we beat an explanation out of this corpse-smelling bastard.”

He glanced at Ignis and Lilith—both met his eyes with predatory anticipation, nodding once.

The lich raised its staff. Viridian lightning crackled along its length.

Philip’s voice rang out, steady as steel.

“For Elden Hollow—hold nothing back!”

Adam’s smile sharpened.

“Round two then.”

The lich’s emerald eyes flared as it surveyed the defenders—Philip’s steady sword, the villagers’ desperate resolve, and the three strangers who radiated far more danger than their human forms suggested.

“I did not expect so many fighters in this forgotten speck,” it rasped, voice dripping with contempt. “No matter. I will grind you all to dust.”

The ground shuddered.

Skeletal hands erupted from the earth like twisted roots—dozens, hundreds—clawing at ankles and legs, trying to drag everyone down into a paralyzing grip.

Adam slammed his foot into the dirt.

Seismic Shatter exploded outward in a controlled ring. The shockwave pulverized the emerging arms into powder and staggered the lich mid-cast.

Without hesitation, Adam kicked off the ground—launching himself high toward the floating undead lord.

The lich’s sockets widened in genuine surprise. It twisted aside in a blur of tattered robes—

Only to jerk to a halt mid-air, bony limbs straining against invisible bonds.

“Nice one, Lilith!” Ignis shouted, already airborne in a blazing leap.

Her fist, wreathed in golden-white flame, smashed into the lich’s hastily raised barrier. The shield cracked like glass under the intensity of true draconic heat; the impact hurled the lich backward through the night sky, trailing shards of necrotic energy.

Adam landed lightly, already channeling.

Ember Shard Shot—superheated obsidian shards erupted from his palms in rapid succession, streaking like comets. Each struck true, punching smoking holes through robe and bone.

The lich snarled, voice no longer amused.

“You dare ruin my perfect night?!”

The air grew heavy with rot. A massive shadow rose behind it—an undead behemoth twice the height of the village gate, stitched from dozens of corpses, wielding a tree-trunk club wrapped in rusted chains.

Villagers cried out in terror. Even Philip’s face tightened.

Adam clicked his tongue. “Tch.”

“Ignis—handle the big one.”

“With pleasure!” Ignis grinned savagely and charged, flames roaring around her like wings.

The lich began a new incantation, staff glowing with virulent green runes.

Adam wasn’t waiting.

Mirage Cascade activated—three instantaneous teleports in a blur of afterimages. He materialized directly in front of the lich, fist already cocked.

The lich’s spellcut off abruptly. Its true attack came from nowhere: an invisible necrotic claw raking across Adam’s chest, sharp enough to shred steel.

Adam grunted but held position.

From the lich’s ribs, sharpened bone spears erupted—dozens of them—lancing toward him in a deadly storm.

“Weak,” the lich sneered.

The spears struck home.

And shattered against Monarch’s Aegis like icicles on dragon scale. Adam felt only dull impacts—bruises at worst—across his torso.

He smirked.

“Your turn.”

More Ember Shards blasted forth in a relentless barrage.

The lich twisted and darted through the air, evading most but still taking glancing hits that chipped away at its form. It raised its staff for another strike—

And froze.

Invisible threads—hundreds of them—had woven a perfect cage around its limbs and torso. Lilith stood below, one hand raised, crimson eyes cold.

The lich thrashed, soul-gem flaring as it tried to tear free.

Adam teleported once more—directly in front of its face.

“Weak,” he echoed calmly.

Fury exploded from the lich in a wave of necrotic aura that withered grass and cracked stone.

Too late.

Tempest Sovereign roared to life.

A vortex of cutting wind and violet lightning erupted around Adam’s blade, expanding into a howling maelstrom that swallowed the lich whole. Bone shattered. Robes shredded. The soul-gem screamed as cracks spider-webbed across its surface.

The lich’s final, venomous shriek echoed through the night.

“Damn you… you’ve ruined everything! I will mark you, bastard—I will remember you!”

Green fire imploded inward. The skeletal form collapsed into swirling ash and vanished—fleeing back to whatever dark place it had come from, leaving only the fading echo of its curse.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

The massive undead behemoth crumbled into lifeless pieces under Ignis’s relentless flames.

Philip lowered his sword slowly, staring at Adam with a mixture of awe and deep respect.

The villagers—shaken, but alive—began to cheer, voices hoarse with relief and gratitude.

Adam exhaled, sheathing his blade, the adrenaline slowly fading.

The princess still knelt on the ground, breathing ragged, the curse’s dark veins receding but not gone.

The knight staggered to her side, face grim.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep