Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Chapter 349 Fear The Night : Molten Copper

Running, Nosferatu carried Vwoldtnir upon his back, both grabbing upon the other at the last possible moments, launching one another at the living's, or so it appeared for a split instant, they never clashed, the ghoul lord twisting his body as though he was made of papier-mache, destroying his own momentum and dropping to the ground, sinking into the soil like a fish thrown into the water.

As for the vampire lord, he dispersed into a cloud of foetid blood, utterly gone as this mist of crimson washed up against the Bough's shield, leaving small holes against the surface, both of the living's were left momentarily unaware of both of the lord's movements, underground, Vwoldtnir might was well be imperceptible, moving at incredible speeds without causing any disturbance, without sound, but what was stranger was Nosferatu, he was not very big on stealthy tricks, so his sudden and perfect disappearance was a reason to worry.

Their attention naturally diverted to the heretical king, who was standing a fair distance away, he had taken his distances from the livings upon seeing that the undeads were aiming for them, probably hoping that they would destroy one another and ignore him.

A very poor decision, the ghoul lord emerged right behind him, latching upon his back, all fours hands wrapping around the chest, claws digging into the chest area, prying it open from four different directions, simultaneously throwing something from his maw, a piece of pale flesh, which quickly grew fully into Nosferatu, although fully might not be the right term, he did not immediately reform the non-essential parts and did not bother ridding himself of the burns and scars to be as fast as he would usually be. Your journey continues at My Virtual Library Empire@@@@

Appearing right before the nameless one, the heretical king's chest was wide open, revealing the condensed flames within, his chest was like a furnace, it was like the heart, where the fire that animated each of his movements resided.

Focusing all of his strength into his right fist, Nosferatu struck this condensed mass of defilement without fear, trusting in the strength of the undead, and in his king's favour and protection.

The strongest Gravelord's full might forced the condensed heresy to be exploded outward, the pillar of flames blasted away, replaced by a much larger cloud of flames and destruction, swallowing everything within a wide radius, none of the four could escape this raging storm of blaze, scorching all, leaving a wide crater, a playing field for the landscapers of the dead, they would be happy with such empty space.

"Ah! Ouh!

That was strong, stronger than I expected actually" Nosferatu emerged first, burnt all over his body, half his head missing, an arm completely gone as well amidst other small missing parts, the initial blast was so powerful, that the defiling flames themselves hadn't actually touched him that much, the dire heat caused by the blast was what had torn him apart and marked him with dreadful warmth.

A day or two of waiting should prove sufficient to recover, less if he asked the worshippers of death and healers to give a hand, not that it would be necessary, Viridis was theirs now, they probably wouldn't be engaging in such combat for a while.

But he was landing cuts anyways, and making sure that the attacks he endured were never too damaging, only allowing chips upon his bones and nothing more.

Ourlon was playing it slow, Ohrn would eventually start to weaken anyways, better to wait for an opportunity when you knew it would come on its own.

'Slow and steady-' Ourlon inexplicably jumped back, sheathing his sword, Ohrn thought that it was a sign that an art was coming, but no, the minor lord saluted instead.

All three of the elites froze as they glanced behind themselves, black feathers covered in putrescence flew all around, without demonstrating presence or saying a word, the fighting spirits of the two elites were dispersed, leaving only Ohrn.

"General Loimos... I see that you are well" Ourlon spoke with reverence, not having expected the champion to get back on his feet so quickly.

The worshippers of death must have come together to help.

Walking up to the stunned living, Loimos did no movements, but the elder fell to the ground like a stringless puppet.

He had just come over here to help Ourlon out, being that he was the last lord, gravelords and minor lords alike, to still be busy, but it was time to gather before the king.

Tamaris had been subjected to his eternal reign, the continent had finally been secured, an objective that had dated as far back as the first war, a time during which it had failed, now however, the undeads had a promised land of their own, their own continent.

This had been Nitok's first goal in his wish of conquest.