In Ghislain’s previous life, Helgenique had operated independently.
He didn’t care about the Salvation Order, the Allied Forces, the Rift Beasts, or even ordinary people. He captured anyone he encountered for his experints, driven solely by his own curiosity.
The continent’s chaos provided the perfect playground for him. With his overwhelming power, few dared to stop him.
It was only Saintess Parniel who could stand against him, engaging in a long, grueling battle. Even then, there was no definitive victor.
Though Helgenique was labeled the sixth among the Seven Strongest, rankings among them were aningless—arbitrary titles assigned by onlookers based on their accomplishnts.
Ghislain’s gaze turned icy.
“Well, this works out. I was planning to kill him eventually. I’ll deal with him now.”
Originally, Ghislain had intended to clean up Helgenique after eliminating the Salvation Order. But with Helgenique now aligning himself with the Order, Ghislain could incorporate him into his objectives without delay.
It would be exhausting, but Helgenique was just one more opponent to face.
“We need to move imdiately.”
Helgenique posed the greatest threat on any battlefield. His undead army could fight endlessly without tiring.
Facing such an opponent was grueling, especially since every fight only added more corpses to his ranks.
In his past life, there had been a limit to the number of undead Helgenique could control. However, the swift collapse of Parsali Kingdom suggested that he had surpassed that limit.
“The Orb of Life.”
A relic of the Salvation Order, capable of creating transcendent warriors. Each orb contained the life force of tens of thousands of individuals.
The Salvation Order must have provided it to Helgenique. With such a tool, his ability to control vast numbers of undead had likely beco almost limitless.
The allied forces promptly adjusted their strategy. It was clear this move was a ploy to protect Atrodé Kingdom, but the undead army couldn’t be ignored.
If left unchecked, the number of undead would only continue to grow. While the growing enemy force was an issue, there was a more pressing concern.
“Bring every priest with us, and ensure we’re well-stocked with dicine,” Ghislain ordered.
Undead armies inevitably carried plague. They needed to deal with Helgenique before disease spread.
Ghislain smirked wryly.
“Being in this position is exhausting.”
The larger the army, the more constrained his movents had beco. This ti, the Salvation Order had taken full advantage of that.
The strategy team voiced their concerns.
“This is clearly a diversion to draw our attention.”
“They’ll likely attack other kingdoms with their remaining forces.”
“There are still troops in Atrodé Kingdom.”
Ghislain quickly addressed their worries.
“Recall all allied forces from other regions. Tell them to converge on Atrodé Kingdom and advance as soon as they’re ready. Once Parsali is dealt with, Julien and I will lead a strike force to flank the enemy.”
Julien nodded.
Both sides had amassed forces too large for careless maneuvers. Moving separately would minimize the risk of being overwheld pieceal.
So kingdoms might temporarily fall to the Salvation Order, but that loss was a necessary sacrifice.
Resolving the situation in Parsali Kingdom would be the turning point. Once that was done, the full might of the allied forces could descend on Atrodé Kingdom.
“Let’s move out.”
As always, Ghislain and the Fenris Vanguard led the charge. This ti, however, Julien was part of the vanguard as well.
The sound of hooves thundered across the land as they raced toward Parsali Kingdom, arriving at an impressive speed.
Parsali’s forces welcod them with visible relief. They had been pushed to the brink, holding on only by retreating to the kingdom’s edges.
“You’ve co! Thank the heavens!”
Marquis Suffolk, Parsali’s commander-in-chief, looked ready to cry as he greeted Ghislain. The kingdom was on the verge of annihilation, overwheld by a massive undead army.
In their retreat, they had lost all their strongholds and were nearly out of food. Refugees had flooded the area, amplifying the sense of despair.
Ghislain imdiately asked for an update.
“How many undead are there now?”
“We… we don’t know. The last report estimated over 200,000.”
“Two hundred thousand?”
“They’ve turned everyone into corpses—enemy and ally alike. They massacre indiscriminately, wiping out every village and city in their path. The numbers just keep growing.”
Ghislain nodded grimly. If Helgenique could amass such a force in such a short ti, his power had far surpassed what Ghislain had known in his past life.
The situation was far worse than expected.
“Let’s deploy imdiately. You’ve done well to hold out this long.”
Considering the scale of the enemy, Parsali’s resilience was comndable.
Marquis Suffolk hesitated, then admitted sheepishly, “We… didn’t do it alone. A mage has been helping us….”
“A mage?”
“Yes. Thanks to him, we’ve been able to slow their advance. He’s been fighting alone this whole ti.”
Ghislain froze for a mont. Soone fighting an army of over 200,000 on their own?
“What’s this mage’s na?”
“Jero. He said his na was Jero.”
The familiar na brought a grin to Ghislain’s face.
“We have power, so we have to use it to save people. It’s only right.”
Despite his laziness, Jero had always stood firm in his beliefs.
“Hey, can’t you just help out? Please? Pretty please?”
A mber of the Seven Strongest, yet Jero would cast aside his pride to ask for help if it ant saving lives.
Without a faction to support him, Jero always fought alone.
Ghislain chuckled quietly, struggling to contain his laughter in the somber atmosphere.
As expected, Jero hadn’t changed. Even in the face of such adversity, he was fighting alone against an overwhelming force.
Because of him, the undead’s advance had slowed.
Jero’s unwavering belief in saving lives had left a mark on Ghislain. In his previous life, that belief had occasionally shifted Ghislain’s own path.
He hadn’t been solely driven by revenge. Sowhere along the way, he had begun helping others, hunting Rift creatures to protect people.
And it hadn’t been an entirely unpleasant experience.
With a smile, Ghislain raised his spear.
“Well, shall the third-ranked warrior go save the seventh-ranked one?”
Of course, the rankings might shift this ti around.
***
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The battlefield was a cacophony of explosions as Jero’s magic decimated the undead hordes.
“Damn, this is insane,” Jero muttered, crouching with one hand on his knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The Parsali Kingdom’s forces had suffered significant losses, overwheld by the relentless onslaught of undead. Those who feared becoming part of the undead army fought recklessly, their desperation leading to even greater casualties.
Thanks to Jero’s intervention, the kingdom's forces managed to hold their ground and retreat in relative order. However, every dead soldier, enemy or ally, ended up as another addition to Helgenique’s growing undead army.
“Ugh, there are just too many,” Jero groaned.
No matter how many he obliterated, the undead rose again. Even ancient corpses buried deep beneath the battlefield clawed their way to the surface.
He had tried incinerating them to ash and scattering their remains, but the numbers only kept growing. For every undead he destroyed, more took their place—fresh casualties from the battle.
To make matters worse, even fragnts of obliterated bodies reassembled themselves into grotesque, unrecognizable forms that still moved and attacked.
“Even for a necromancer, this shouldn’t be possible. That bastard must have pulled off so truly insane trick.”
Jero had encountered Helgenique briefly and knew he was strong, but the scale and speed at which this undead army was created far exceeded normal capabilities.
“Must be the Salvation Order’s black arts,” Jero murmured, frowning. “They’re definitely using sothing like those life-siphoning rituals.”
Boom!
A surge of mana surged from Jero’s hands, obliterating the undead that had surrounded him. Yet, the empty space they left behind was imdiately filled by two familiar figures.
“They’re back again? Damn it.”
These weren’t ordinary undead—they were the reanimated corpses of high-ranking priests from the Salvation Order, slain just days before.
Zap!
Jero thrust his hands forward, and a brilliant light pierced through the torsos of the undead priests, sending them flying.
But even as their bodies were blown apart, they imdiately rose again, completely unfazed.
Screech!
The undead priests let out guttural howls, their inhuman speed allowing them to close the gap in the blink of an eye. They swung their claws at Jero with the strength of near-transcendent beings.
“Damn it all!”
Jero gritted his teeth and summoned the last vestiges of his mana.
Whoosh!
A massive mana blade erupted from his hands, slicing cleanly through the necks of the undead priests. Their heads hit the ground with a sickening thud.
But even decapitated, the severed heads snarled and snapped their jaws, while the dismbered bodies continued twitching.
“Just die already,” Jero muttered, splitting the bodies further until they were reduced to writhing chunks incapable of movent.
“These two are... different,” he noted grimly.
He had already reduced them to ash and scattered their remains before, but the undead priests always reappeared in so new form, their strength undiminished.
“Helgenique’s using sothing big,” Jero muttered, retreating cautiously as another wave of undead surged toward him.
The sheer numbers were overwhelming. Despite obliterating waves of enemies with his full power, the battlefield was a relentless tide of death, and Jero’s mana reserves were dangerously low.
anwhile, Helgenique observed the battlefield with a rare scowl.
“That man... is truly sothing else.”
Gone was the amused grin he had worn earlier. Jero had singlehandedly slowed the advance of his massive undead army, an army Helgenique had believed to be unstoppable.
Hundreds of thousands of undead had fallen to Jero’s spells. It was no exaggeration to call him a one-man army.
“Damn it,” Helgenique growled, grinding his teeth.
The Salvation Order had provided him with 20 Orbs of Life, artifacts filled with the life force of tens of thousands. These relics had enabled him to create an undead army of unprecedented scale.
Yet, Jero had forced Helgenique to consu 15 of the 20 orbs already.
Each orb was precious, containing the power to reanimate legions of undead or resurrect powerful corpses. But to counter Jero’s relentless assault, Helgenique had been forced to expend them at an alarming rate.
“This isn’t just an annoyance—it’s humiliating,” Helgenique muttered.
If he had faced Jero without the Orbs of Life, he might have been in real danger. The realization made his blood boil.
Snap!
Another orb shattered in Helgenique’s hands, releasing a surge of malevolent energy. The dark aura enveloped him, seeping into his body.
“Such fascinating power,” he murmured.
The energy of the orb resonated with his own dark magic, though it refused to fully integrate with his essence. Even so, it allowed him to bolster his undead army further.
Raising his arms, Helgenique unleashed the orb’s energy into the battlefield.
Whoosh!
Dark tendrils spread across the land, infusing shattered corpses with unholy vitality. Pulverized remains coalesced into malford monstrosities, and fallen undead rose again, their bodies grotesquely reford.
Jero, watching the spectacle from the battlefield, muttered, “This bastard really is a devil.”
No soul could rest in peace. Every fallen body was dragged back into the battle, enslaved by Helgenique’s will.
“All that talent... wasted on sothing so vile,” Jero growled, gripping his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.
Nearby, Helgenique’s frustration matched Jero’s determination.
“The next ti we et,” Helgenique promised with a twisted grin, “I’ll make sure you never interfere again.”
Jero might have been fatigued, his spells weakening with each passing mont, but Helgenique had only four orbs left.
Their next encounter would determine everything.
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