Michael wanted to let out a curse.
Did that Rank Three have no sha, sneaking up on a harmless Rank Two junior?
However, even after a few seconds passed, the attacker did not reappear.
That did not make Michael feel relieved.
If anything, it made things worse.
After all, he was in the open and they were in the dark.
Compared to them, he was the one exposed.
Michael's grip on his spear tightened.
Without hesitation, he issued a silent command.
Spartan, co.
The undead who looked eerily human was still ahead, locked in combat with two Rank Three demons.
The order reached him instantly.
He disengaged without hesitation.
The two Rank Three demons he had been fighting reacted a heartbeat too late.
Spartan stepped backward in midair, and in that sa motion, the air in front of him ignited in black flas as he used his law.
Mana traced itself in the air, forming a flawless magic circle that burned briefly before collapsing inward.
A fire spell detonated.
One demon crossed its arms to block.
They vaporized at the elbows.
The other demon roared and unleashed its law, hardening its body into jagged crimson armor. Its claws tore forward, carrying corrosi force that warped the air.
Spartan did not move.
Another magic circle ford.
Black flas poured out and clung to the demon's armored flesh like living ink. The demon scread as its energy and flesh were eaten away, peeled from existence layer by layer. Its strength collapsed inward, feeding the fire instead of resisting it.
The remaining demon howled.
Its eyes flared blue and the air around it liquefied.
Water burst into existence from nothingness. It was not simple water either. It shimred with layered pressure, dense enough to bend light, heavy enough to crush steel.
The space around Spartan flooded instantly.
Waves spiraled upward, forming a rotating prison of compressed water that closed in from every direction. Within it, pressure multiplied again and again, seeking to grind everything inside into formless pulp.
A weaker supernatural would have been torn apart in an instant. Spartan did not even slow.
The water touched the edge of his black flas.
And vanished, looking as though it had been consud.
The demon's pupil shrank.
"No!"
It forced more power into the law, veins bulging as the water thickened, turning dark and viscous, carrying crushing force ant to
drown even spiritual bodies.
The black flas flared.
They spread through the water instead of being smothered by it, devouring the law energy itself like fuel. Wherever the flas passed, the water ceased to exist, leaving behind empty pockets of distorted
air.
The demon staggered.
Spartan stepped forward.
Another magic circle traced itself in the air.
A column of black fire descended like judgnt.
It struck the demon from above, piercing through the remaining water defenses as if they were illusions. The demon scread as the flas sank into its chest, spreading inward.
The water prison imploded.
What remained of the demon fell apart midair, its body breaking into fragnts of dissolving ash before being swallowed entirely by the
flas.
The power ranking of Michael's undead legion was a bit crooked, as one could not absolutely say one undead was stronger than another. Surface ranking was possible, but Michael, who knew more about his undead than anyone else, understood that if it ca down to a fight to total destruction, his undead were capable of many surprises.
As for why he did not call any of his other undead imdiately, just because they were strong did not an they were the best at protecting.
At least to Michael's understanding, an undead like Ghost was strong, but it was not exactly versatile while being strong at the sa ti.
In any case, Spartan was not the only undead he had called out imdiately.
The other one was simply sowhere in the dark.
Spartan turned and got ready to appear beside Michael when killing
intent stabbed through the chaos from behind him.
Michael's instincts scread, but fortunately he had already been prepared from the start.
Space folded for an instant.
The assassin struck where Michael had been, a blade of condensed force slicing through empty air with terrifying accuracy. It missed by less than a breath, but was imdiately t by another strike made by a figure in a black coat.
It was Fade, the other undead Michael had called out to protect him, except he had not been as loud about it as he had been with Spartan.
Phase Shift.
Michael reappeared several ters away when a second figure erged from concealnt the mont Michael reford, timing the strike perfectly for the instant his spatial displacent ended.
Michael barely had ti to react.
His spear snapped up.
CLANG.
The impact rang out like a struck bell.
For a fraction of a second, Michael blocked it, but that fraction was all
he got.
The force behind the blow was monstrous. Michael's arms scread,
and the power embedded in the strike detonated outward instead of
dispersing.
BOOM.
Michael was hurled downward.
The air collapsed behind him as he fell like a teor, before slamming
into the ground below.
The earth exploded.
A crater dozens of ters wide blood outward, stone and soil vaporizing instantly as shockwaves rippled through the battlefield. The mont Michael was sent crashing into the ground, every undead within range reacted at once.
The undead that had been locked in combat with demons twisted mid-fight, heads snapping toward the crater, and started moving instinctively, abandoning their current opponents as if drawn by an invisible thread.
But before they could fully converge, a voice echoed inside their
minds.
It was a familiar voice.
Continue fighting, the voice told them.
The undead froze for a fraction of a second, just long enough to
realign, then turned back to the battlefield, fury redirected, violence renewed. Demons who thought they had found an opening were torn apart monts later, punished for the brief lapse.
Only two undead did not go after the other demons.
Spartan. And Fade.
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