The Executed Sage Reincarnates as a Lich and Begins a War of Aggression

Having metastasized, I decided to go after John first.

I want to finish him off, the pilot, before they use the weapons group behind him.

Fortunately, John is not an excellent person in melee combat.

An inventor who demonstrates true value with weapons and armaments.

Bulk is also bad at melee combat.

It was therefore best to pack and fold the distance at once.

I strengthen my own senses and observe the two of them in my extended time.

John has not been able to detect this one.

He kept his gun up and exposed his reckless back.

I still haven't chased you to my move.

I stepped in and flashed my magic sword.

Try to squeeze it up and snap John's neck.

A blood splash was about to erupt from the cross section.

John with an iron cannon collapses from his knee.

When I turned myself from there, I aimed for the bulk with a blade to return.

But he realizes the bulk is leaking a strange groan and stops his leg.

There was black mucus coming out of his mouth.

It drips to its feet and evaporates, drifting around the bulk.

It was a super concentrated curse.

It is a defensive wall to all directions.

The curse was about to push towards us.

Bulk hasn't seen this one.

(Did you decide you couldn't see through the metastasis and make it an automatic defensive technique?)

Touch it and you'll be cursed instantly.

The bulk release, it's very harmful.

You shouldn't inhale into the breadth.

When I exercised anti-magic and held the curse, I took a distance at once with the metastasis.

From there release a fireball with a cane.

However, it is an enhanced version with mixed feelings.

The black-dyed fireball enveloped and burned up the bulk as it proceeded straight to determine the curse wall.

In an instant the bulk becomes like a shadow and falls into the desert.

He never got up, and he went ash.

"... cum"

It smells like human burning disgust.

It's something you can't feel in an immortal who doesn't have a sense of smell.

Sometimes for a long time, it is a strong odor.

Driving the smell out of my consciousness, I glance at the wand.

There is a crack in the tip.

Immediately the damage spread from there, shattered and scattered.

I can't seem to stand the magic of temper.

Probably the natural result.

The common cane does not envisage the use of qi.

It was an old habit, and I used a stick.

I didn't think it would be the only illusion in the spiritual world, nor would it break it.

Though I have no grief, I feel something ironic somewhere.

When I let go of the crushed wand, I look at Fufu Gwen.

She was still sleeping and had a mean grin.

Says the two of her callers are dead, but she hasn't lost her spare time.

I have a bad feeling about the way it looks.

"Don't look at me, motherfucker."

John's voice came from the rear.

At the same time, the shooting sounds.

I aggressively use defensive magic to create thick, glassy barriers.

A bullet pierced him there.

Bullets engulfed in defensive magic spin fast around the axis.

Momentum was accelerating rather than stopping.

Scattered with black tears, he goes on to sharpen his defensive witchcraft.

It was going to break through now.

(Characteristics of artillery in different worlds...... no, no)

I keep an eye on the bullet and acknowledge the grant of the spell.

It was quite powerful.

I was trying to eat defensive magic and give propulsion to bullets.

(Trying to forcibly prevent it is not a good idea)

I jumped sideways and strayed from the bullet's orbit.

The bullet that broke through the defensive magic flies to the other side.

There was no way I was coming back.

…………

I see where the bullet came from.

There John stood with an iron cannon.

Bulk is next door.

We were both out of wounds.

The body does not exist, only two intact people exist there.

I check my own body, but there are no signs of strange surgery.

John and Bulk definitely seem to be back.

(Is that the hallmark of the spiritual world?

I don't know the law of this space, so I can't deny it as a possibility.

Unlike the real world, resuscitation of the dead may have been easy.

That's when Gwen starts explaining it out loud.

"You two are immortal! As long as the spirit has it, it can be played again and again! They both have extraordinary spiritual powers, so they won't completely perish!

Hearing her winning voice, I'm sure.

I see why Gwen chose these two.

They are invincible in the spiritual world.

He must have recruited from among a few strong men because he decided that he would never beat me, too, the Demon King.

Certainly unusual, such as someone with as much tough mental power as the two in front.

Gwen's candidacy was appropriate.

"Look, let's just go with the second round"

"Did you realize I was scared? If we were to call ourselves the immortal Demon King, we'd get through this, wouldn't we?

The two speak of provocation with exasperation.

You must remember me killing you, but you don't try to leave at all.

They are overcoming the fear of death.

He seemed to be standing here, solidifying his readiness to be killed as many times as he could.

(... I have no choice. There are no other useful measures)

I rebuild my magic sword.

A Gentile named Gwen gave me a whole lot of trouble.

I just want to say one of my complaints, but raw hate and it's hard too.

Looks like we're gonna have to do this anyway.