Chapter 431: Archmage [13]
I stood atop the massive undead.
The broken remains of the other undead knights littered the battlefield around me, shattered armor and splintered bones scattered in every direction.
The ground was carved apart from our clash, marked by scorched craters, deep gouges, and countless fractures left behind by attacks powerful enough to tear through stone.
The massive undead beneath my feet was the last one still standing.
Or rather...the last one still functioning.
Its body had long since been reduced to little more than a mangled heap.
Both arms were gone, one leg had been crushed beyond recognition, and its ribcage had collapsed inward from the repeated blows I’d hammered into it.
The only reason it continued to move at all was that Mordra was speaking through it, using it as nothing more than a vessel.
Now, only its head remained intact.
I tightened my grip around my weapon, ready to end it.
"You are making a huge mistake, goblin," Mordra said through the undead’s mouth, her voice carrying none of the damage its ruined body had suffered. "You cannot defy Drugar on your own terms. You would only waste the power that lies within you."
"That’s not something you would know."
A hollow laugh escaped the undead.
"If an Archmage couldn’t do it, what makes you think you can?" she asked, her tone almost pitying. "You’re a naive goblin. You cannot protect everyone. You cannot have everything. Sacrifices must be made."
"And what sacrifice are you demanding from me right now?" I asked, my voice turning colder with every word. "My body? My mind? My consciousness? You want all of it because you’re afraid I’ll go against the Order?"
The undead stared back at me.
It said nothing.
Not a single word.
Its silence told me everything I needed to know.
"Don’t bullshit me."
The words had barely left my mouth before my fist came crashing down.
BOOM!
The undead’s skull exploded beneath the impact, fragments of bone scattering across the shattered ground as the last traces of violet energy dissipated into the air. Whatever connection Mordra had been maintaining through it was severed instantly.
A series of familiar notifications appeared before me.
[You have killed Undead Knight Level 101]
[You have levelled up]
[You have levelled up]
[You have levelled up]
I let out a long, exhausted breath.
That brought me to level seventy.
[Status Window]
Name: Eli Cross
Race: Goblin
Title (V): Drugar’s Chosen
Class: Dimensional Sovereign
Level: 70
HP: 2918 / 2918
MP: 2843 / 2843
Five more levels.
Just five more levels, and I’d unlock a new set of class skills.
A quick glance toward Ariel told me she wasn’t far behind either.
The little fox had grown tremendously as well, and now she stood only three levels away from reaching level fifty.
One more evolution.
I couldn’t help but wonder what she would become once she crossed that threshold.
"So what do we do now?" Ariel asked as she walked over to me, her tails swaying behind her. "We still have no idea how the Archmage is tracking us. If we head back to the clan, she’ll just send more of her undead."
I gave a slow nod.
She was right.
Somehow, Mordra was able to pinpoint my location with unsettling accuracy, and every time she did, another group of undead would emerge from those spatial portals as though the distance between us meant nothing.
I still hadn’t figured out how she was doing it, and until I did, there was no guarantee she couldn’t find me again no matter where I went.
That left me with a problem I couldn’t simply fight my way through.
I folded my arms and stared at the ruined battlefield, my mind running through every option I could think of.
The most straightforward solution was obvious.
Kill Mordra.
The problem was that it wasn’t actually a solution.
If Lord Drugar himself had been unable to kill her and had instead been forced to seal her away inside that tomb, then what chance did I honestly have? I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe I could accomplish something an existence like Drugar couldn’t.
I let out a weary sigh.
"I guess..." I muttered, more to myself than to Ariel. "I’d have to reason with her once more."
Ariel looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.
"After she calms down," I added.
As for her attacking again, I doubted she would be able to do so anytime soon. A large part of her strength had come from those undead constructs, and I had destroyed nearly all of them.
Earlier, I had learned that simply breaking them apart accomplished nothing. No matter how badly I damaged their bodies, Mordra could restore them as though nothing had happened. But divine energy was different.
[Hands of the Raging Sun] hadn’t merely destroyed the undead.
It had erased them.
The divine energy lingering within each strike had completely unraveled whatever magic was sustaining their existence, leaving nothing for Mordra to repair even if she wanted to. Those undead were gone for good.
That meant she had lost not only a significant portion of her fighting force, but also many of the vessels she used to project her will beyond the tomb.
Since every conversation I’d had with her outside her prison had been through one of those undead, rebuilding that network wouldn’t be something she could accomplish overnight.
Launching another assault on the same scale would be far more difficult.
On top of that, there was still Drugar.
Whether she admitted it or not, she clearly feared drawing his attention. If she began throwing her power around recklessly, there was always the possibility that the seal imprisoning her—or Drugar himself—would react.
She would have to be careful.
That didn’t mean I was about to let my guard down or pretend she was no longer a threat.
Far from it.
I intended to remain vigilant every step of the way.
What I was going to do was give her time to cool off before trying to speak with her again.
Despite everything that had happened between us, there was still an enormous amount she knew about this world, the Order, Drugar, the Eternal Assembly, and countless other things I had yet to understand.
Right now, that knowledge was worth far more to me than trying to force another fight.
As I stood there thinking, something caught my attention.
A faint trail of crimson smoke drifted upward in front of me.
My body tensed immediately.
For a brief moment, I thought it was some kind of attack, my eyes instinctively sweeping the surroundings for any trace of danger. Then I realized the smoke wasn’t coming from the battlefield at all.
It was coming from my waist pouch.
I reached for it without hesitation and pulled out a small carved sigil.
Thin streams of red smoke continued to seep from its surface as the runes engraved into it glowed with a dim crimson light.
The moment I saw it, my heart sank.
Narg’s emergency sigil.
There was only one reason it would trigger.