At this moment, Nolan’s tone sounded less like a request and more like a command.
“Leave this to me!”
Hank Corot, a hero of the First Mandala War, almost acted on instinct to carry out the arrangement of a new adjutant he had only met two days ago. He turned his head and saw Nolan’s green eyes, shining with an almost frightening brightness in the night. There was not the slightest trace of recklessness in that gaze; only absolute confidence.
In a flash, scenes of Nolan’s uncanny predictions and masterful command from earlier flickered through Hank’s mind. The veteran’s instincts once again overruled reason.
He clenched his teeth hard and yanked the reins. “All of you! With me! Break through on the right flank!”
The iron-blooded captain chose to trust. With a roar, he led the remaining twenty-odd riders behind him, cutting toward the right edge of the Deathly Miasma.
At the same moment Hank changed direction, Nolan subtly guided his horse to the left. One man, one horse. Without the slightest hesitation, he charged straight into the dense fog that spelled death.
“Damn it!”
The moment he plunged into the mist, Nolan’s vision was swallowed by a murky green so thick he could not see his own hand before his face. Then came an indescribable pain that surged through his entire body in an instant. It felt as though he had been thrown into a pool of acid, his skin, flesh, and even bones being frantically corroded. The chainmail on his body visibly pitted and warped.
Damn it, it didn’t hurt like this in the game!
Across Nolan’s vision, a cascade of crimson damage indicators refreshed like a waterfall.
【-4】
【-4】
【-4】
…
This was the damage-over-time effect of Deathly Miasma, ticking every half second. Fortunately, his boss template granted him a larger health pool than players of the same level. At total level 18, his health had reached 540, but even so, he could not endure this rate of loss for long. The searing, bone-deep agony nearly forced a scream from his throat. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Yet he swallowed the cry, along with the surge of blood in his chest, and clenched his teeth tight. He could not cry out, and he could not stop.
This spell was a favorite tool of undead and death-aligned mage players, a battlefield disruptor with wide range and long duration, designed to force enemies out of position. Once driven into a range comfortable for the casters, cavalry would be at a severe disadvantage. The shortest distance between two points was a straight line. This was the fastest path to the source of the spell—the only true chance of survival carved from certain death.
Watching the cavalry detour, the great lich-corpse’s soul fire flickered with disdain and mockery.
They had nearly allowed the cavalry to break through the mage formation, but in the end, he had proven superior. The ambush had been creative, but these frail humans were ultimately nothing more than that.
After the brief panic, he began to reassert control over the battlefield. Under his command, the skeleton reserve that had just been pierced regrouped and turned, joining with another unit of skeleton warriors rushing back. Together, they spread out into a deadly net, closing in on Hank’s flanking force. Once that cavalry unit was pinned down and bogged in infantry encirclement, it would lose all threat. The moment their speed dropped, area spells could lock onto them and annihilate them.
On the main battlefield, the guard formation had indeed gained a moment’s respite with pressure lifted from two directions. But this, too, was within his calculations. Once this troublesome cavalry unit was dealt with, he would have ample time to slowly grind down the already exhausted infantry. Everything was back under control.
And yet, just as that thought had formed—
Whoosh!
A figure tore straight through the dense fog of death, ripping it open as he burst out.
One man. One horse. The armor on his body had been corroded into tatters, dark red blood seeping continuously from the gaps. Even his mount was covered in wounds. But his eyes…were blazing with light.
That ruthless ferocity, that fearless resolve in the face of death, sent a chill through even the great lich-corpse.
The red banner with a golden lion strapped to Nolan’s back, though corroded and riddled with holes, still snapped loudly in the raging wind.
“This… how is this possible?!”
For the first time in ages, shock showed on the great lich-corpse’s already pallid face. A human had charged straight through the full corrosive force of Deathly Miasma? Was this man insane?!
Yet he was a battle-hardened spellcaster. The shock lasted only an instant. Without hesitation, the obsidian-inlaid ring on his hand burst into a dim glow.
Third-circle shadow spell, Dark Torrent. It was a trump card he had stored in advance, meant to save his life in a crisis. Though using it now made his soul fire twitch with reluctance, he had to eliminate this rider who filled him with unease.
Boom! A massive surge of pure darkness magic erupted forth, blasting straight toward Nolan’s face.
But Nolan’s experience against undead far exceeded even the great lich-corpse’s wildest expectations. Faced with this lethal strike, his expression did not change in the slightest.
He braced his feet in the stirrups, and atop the galloping horse, snapped his wrist sharply. The Darkpiercer sword in his hand traced a swift arc. At a precise and cunning angle, the blade struck head-on against the incoming torrent of darkness. Like raging waves crashing against a reef, the thick current of magic was split cleanly in two by the tip of his blade. It shot past Nolan on either side, tearing through the ground behind him and gouging two charred trenches into the earth.
For a moment, the great lich-corpse wondered if he was dreaming.
An unstoppable surge of dark magic… had been cut apart?
Bang!! The tremendous impact exploded outward.
Nolan felt a violent force surge through his sword. The web of his hand split open instantly, blood pouring forth, yet he did not yield an inch. The force of the deflected torrent was still immense. Though he had split it apart, both he and his warhorse were hurled violently to the side, carrying them past the great lich-corpse.
If the great lich-corpse still had a beating heart, it would have been racing uncontrollably. He had never seen such masterful swordsmanship. Deflecting a spell with a blade? If Nolan’s strike had been off by even the slightest fraction, the torrent would have pierced straight through his chest. Just what kind of man was he?
Enduring the searing pain in his arm, Nolan forced his mount under control and yanked the reins, turning it sharply around.
At the very moment he pivoted, a pale Bone Spear came screaming toward him!
Nolan threw his upper body backward, nearly flat against the horse’s back, narrowly evading the deadly ambush. In that backward lean, the corner of his eye caught a faint, inconspicuous shadow on the battlefield.
He adjusted his posture, pressed his heels into the horse’s flanks, and with a sharp neigh the warhorse reared its forelegs high. Without the slightest pause, it surged forward once more into a charge.
Seeing Nolan refuse to give up and wheel around for another assault, the battle-hardened great lich-corpse seized the opening. A horse accelerating from a standstill was slow at first—perfect casting window.
Power surged once more at the tip of his bone staff.
This rider, in his impatience, had finally made a fatal mistake.
Trying the same move twice?
So he could dodge, could he? Skilled with the sword? Under the area effect of Death Shockburst, none of that would matter. Magic was supreme. Even if it meant collateral damage to his own lich coven, so be it. Die! This time, no swordsmanship would save him.
Yet just as the incantation reached its midpoint, a cold, swift flash of steel lit up behind him without warning.
Slash!
Before the great lich-corpse could react at all, he saw in shock that his right arm—the one gripping the bone staff—had been severed cleanly at the shoulder.
The spell collapsed instantly. The uncontrolled dark magic detonated at the site of his severed shoulder.
Boom!
The violent explosion hurled him straight off his skeletal warhorse.
“Aaaah!”
For the first time, a shrill scream tore from the mouth of this high-ranking undead. He slammed heavily onto the ground and rolled a long distance before bracing himself up with his remaining left hand, turning back in disbelief.
At last, he understood what had happened.
Behind him, at some unknown moment, a second rider had appeared.
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