Wes hadn't expected Imhotep to flee so quickly. Truly, he was a high priest from three thousand years ago—soone who had mastered the essence of battle.
But Wes didn't care in the slightest. He knew very well that, with his understanding of the key events, he could easily predict Imhotep's next move.
"As long as I find the Aricans, I'll find Imhotep."
At that mont, a sudden, miserable scream gave Wes the direction he needed.
The desperate cries echoed through the tomb, filled with tornt beyond endurance. The sound bounced between the walls, spreading throughout the corridors of the underground chambers. Wes imdiately rushed toward it.
When he finally found Imhotep, he saw several dried corpses strewn around him.
Their life force had been completely drained, leaving nothing but shriveled husks.
anwhile, Imhotep's skeletal fra had begun to regrow flesh. His body was becoming fuller, his skin taking on a faint bluish hue—the mark of newly restored flesh.
Upon spotting Wes, Imhotep began chanting. In an instant, countless scarabs sward out of every corner of the tomb, surging toward Wes like a tidal wave.
The sight of the writhing mass of scarabs was enough to make anyone's scalp prickle in terror. Yet, when the swarm ca within a ter of Wes, they suddenly stopped. Then, as if commanded, they turned around and charged straight at Imhotep instead.
Watching his supposed servants rushing to devour him, Imhotep stared at Wes with hollow, disbelieving sockets. He had thought these scarabs would remain his loyal minions—he couldn't comprehend why they had suddenly betrayed him.
"The spells in the Book of Amun-Ra really are useful. Taking control of your scarabs was effortless."
Wes's voice carried a touch of ease and triumph, a declaration that Imhotep's understanding of Egypt's ancient powers was far from complete.
Imhotep opened his mouth wide—unnaturally wide. His jaw stretched downward until it nearly detached, hanging grotesquely against his chest. The terrifying sight was enough to chill the blood.
From that gaping maw poured forth a torrent of locusts, a black flood that surged into the chamber, filling the air like a living storm.
The two swarms of insects collided instantly, erupting into a frenzied slaughter.
Scarabs tore into locusts with their powerful mandibles, while locusts struck back with sharp claws and teeth. Carcasses of insects rained down the walls, forming a sickening carpet on the floor. The air thickened with the nauseating stench of ichor and decay.
Wes raised his wand and incanted:
"Engorgio!"
The nearest dozens of scarabs suddenly expanded to the size of automobiles. Their armored shells glead with a tallic luster in the dim light, their surfaces flashing with a cold, lethal brilliance.
With these giants leading the charge, the balance of the battle shifted at once.
The massive scarabs barreled forward like armored tanks, their enormous jaws snapping locusts in half, swallowing them whole. The rest of the swarm followed in perfect formation, encircling the locusts and trapping them in a deadly ring.
Under the lead of those giant scarabs, the locusts were soon devoured completely.
The scarabs crawled all over Imhotep's body, yet he didn't appear panicked. Instead, he gazed at Wes with an almost playful look, as if provoking this powerful opponent.
Monts later, the scarabs transford into wisps of black smoke and quickly drilled into Imhotep's nostrils. Drawn by an unseen force, they rushed into his body.
Imhotep's face showed a look of satisfaction, as though he had just consud so great tonic. His body seed to swell with fullness, his strength quietly increasing.
Wes observed this and realized that Imhotep could absorb energy from the scarabs.
He imdiately stopped controlling the others.
"Fiendfyre!" Wes shouted, and roaring black flas burst from the tip of his wand. That blazing fire seed like the fury of hell itself, carrying the power to annihilate everything.
The flas surged forward like a rampaging black dragon, twisting violently as they struck toward Imhotep. The air grew scorching hot.
Nearby rocks were instantly lted, turning into molten lava.
Where the fire swept past, everything was burned into nothing, leaving only scorched earth behind.
Imhotep, startled by the sudden attack, quickly dodged, but the lingering heat still scorched him. The inferno raged all around, turning part of the underground chamber into a sea of fire.
His expression grew grim—he felt the threat carried by this power.
He summoned up yellow sand, trying to block the black flas, but the sand proved too fragile. It lasted less than three seconds before being incinerated, crumbling into drifting ash.
Under Wes's command, the fiendfyre split into drops the size of raindrops, falling like a torrential storm and enveloping Imhotep.
Imhotep spat out black mist, which quickly spread and ford a massive umbrella-shaped shield to block the deadly rain of fire.
But under the fiendfyre's erosion, the black mist was burned away swiftly, unable to withstand such destruction.
The black "raindrops" struck the ground, burning small holes into it like pools of magma, each radiating searing heat.
Wes cast spell after spell, summoning invisible walls one after another.
Imhotep's movents slowed drastically under the enchantnts, as if trapped in a bog—every motion beca a laborious struggle.
Wes aid his wand directly at him. "Avada Kedavra." A jet of green light struck Imhotep once again.
Yet even under Wes's overwhelming assault, Imhotep did not fall. His body dissolved into a heap of yellow sand once more.
"A clone? As expected of a high priest." Wes wasn't angry at being tricked. On the contrary, he grew even more excited, delighted to have found such a worthy opponent.
"This makes it interesting."
He imdiately used a detection spell, but interference filled the underground chamber. Mysterious runes were etched everywhere, still retaining their strange power even after three thousand years.
[This isn't much of a problem for .]
From Wes's sleeve flew out over a dozen golden orbs, scattering in different directions.
They were alchemical tools he had forged for searching and tracking. The spheres darted through the underground palace, seeking out any trace of a clue.
But the chamber was vast. They searched corner to corner, yet in the end returned with nothing useful.
°°°
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