Chapter 107

Chapter 107

“The rocks at your feet, and the rubble buried in the dirt. Everything you see around you— all of it is the phylactery of the First Lich King!”

Tristan Devon exclaimed as he laughed wildly. Then he paused, before coughing up another mouthful of blood. But even with his battered face, he was smiling. And it wasn’t a forced smile either— he was genuinely sneering.The origin of this chapter's debut can be traced to N0v3l--B1n.

And all Garron could do was stare back in horror. The [Necromancer]’s words echoed in his head as the Steel Tank grew numb. He was bleeding— there were dozens of cuts across his body from his suicidal charge just earlier. His left arm was badly burnt from holding up his tower shield and bearing the brunt of the oncoming spells.

But he didn’t feel the stinging pain that pervaded his body. He didn’t even hear the screeching of the ritual in the distance. A powerful explosion reverberated through the area from the other side of the Ruins of Fihla’s Castle, and Garron didn’t even look up.

He just stared at Tristan Devon’s bruised face, before finally moving his mouth.

“You’re... you’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” The [Necromancer] shook his head dismissively. “There’s no reason for me to lie to you. It’s not like you’re trying to kill me or any— urk!”

He yelped as Garron struck him across the face once more.

“Tell me the truth!” the Steel Tank said as he raised a fist. “Where have you hidden the phylactery?

But Tristan Devon gave a bloody smile in return. “I told you the truth. If you want to stop this ritual, you’ll have to destroy the entirety of the Ruins of Fihla’s Castle! Which, by the way, includes every bit of rubble that’s been buried with time, or scattered across Arelioth’s Pass. So even if you manage to level everything you see around you...”

He swept his gaze over his surroundings, and Garron blinked. The [Necromancer] chuckled as his head hung back.

“...you probably still won’t be able to stop the ritual. Not unless you blow up everything in a hundred mile radius, of course.”

“I—” Garron opened his mouth, but stopped himself. He pursed his lips as the realization finally sunk in. “I see.”

There was nothing he could do to stop the ritual. He glanced back as he rose to his feet, letting go of the [Necromancer]. He stared at a tiny figure in the distance, tinkering with a flask in his hand.

It was all up to Saros now.

Garron could only hope that what the Gnome Inventor had planned was enough to save them all.

—--

Noele swung down with both her blades, unleashing a Glorious Noble Slash followed by an Elegant Noble Slash. The first attack missed its target as the wight deftly leapt to the side. But the Noble Spellsword teleported next to it with a flash of light. She thrust forward with the second attack, and the wight howled.

The armor of black flames wreathing its body tore open as she struggled to cut to its skin. However, even as the blade cut through skin, it was lodged in place. Talon screeched in pain, and she tried to pull back.

But she failed. She gritted her teeth, and the wight unleashed a flurry of strikes with its claws.

Noele let go of the stuck blade as she tried to back away. With only her short sword left, she tried to parry the onslaught of attacks from the wight. Unfortunately, it was too much, even for her. She winced as the wight’s claws struck her shoulder, tearing through her [Nobleflame Armor].

She stumbled back, and Talon followed up with another two strikes. The Noble Spellsword cursed, before being consumed by a flash of light.

Once again, she escaped with [Flash Step]. She landed atop a pile of rubble, panting as she clutched at her shoulder. She watched as the wight crashed into a nearby wall in confusion, bringing down a small section of the former Dungeon.

Noele sighed as she straightened. This battle was tough. Not just because the wight was fast, but also because it was incredibly durable too. Certainly, its attacks were far weaker than Odell, and it wasn’t nearly as quick as the teleporting kretus boar.

However, the blonde girl couldn’t just end this fight with a single attack. She needed to whittle down the wight before she could finally finish it off.

And that was the problem.

The Noble Spellsword was only an A-ranked adventurer. That meant that all her defensive Skills were strong enough to protect her from other A-ranks. Even if she could unleash an Elegant Noble Slash or a Glorious Noble Slash to bring down enemies far above her level, she wasn’t able to guard herself from an S-ranked threat— which was evinced by her bleeding shoulder.

Her [Nobleflame Armor] easily caved to one of Talon’s strikes. If the wight had struck her head instead, she would be dead right now.

Noele shook her head as she watched the undead emerge from the rubble. Its body was still burning, and her blade was protruding from its side.

She was hurt. She only had a single weapon left. The next time they clashed, she might actually lose her head. And she hesitated. Because she knew that the wight was going to whittle her down and kill her before she could defeat it herself.

She steeled herself, before searching for her two companions. And she found them soon enough. Garron and Saros.

The gnome was standing right beneath the center of the dome with his head lowered, tinkering with what looked like a small flask. And behind him, Garron was kneeling over a slumped body— the bloodied and battered figure of Tristan Devon.

“You... beat him,” Noele said as she stared at the [Necromancer]’s lolling head.

Tristan Devon was still alive, but he had clearly been defeated. Garron nodded and glanced back towards the blonde girl.

“I did— but it’s not enough to stop the ritual,” the Steel Tank said grimly.

She pursed her lips. “Then how do we stop it?”

“We’re going to try to stop it with that.” He nodded over at Saros.

The gnome rose to his feet as he raised a glass bottle with a piece of paper sticking from its end. He rubbed the tip of the scrunched parchment, and a small fire ignited. The flames quickly burned a green color as he raised his head.

“What’s that?” the blonde girl asked with a frown.

Saros didn’t even look her way as he answered. “Well, it was an Antimagic Vacuum Flask. But I upgraded it with a Greater Scroll of Dispel Magic.”

He paused, staring at the burning green flames. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He looked up at the center of the dome, before aiming carefully.

“So it’s now my makeshift attempt at an Antimagic Bomb.”

“An Antimagic Bomb?” Noele’s eyes grew wide.

She had heard of such things before— but they were said to be able to disable all magic over a certain radius for a period of time. Obviously, it depended on the Antimagic Bomb itself. But if it exploded, the Noble Spellsword wasn’t going to be able to use most of her Skills.

Even Elegant Noble Slash and Glorious Noble Slash would be dispelled if she tried to use them. So if the Antimagic Bomb went off, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop the completion of the ritual... then she wouldn’t be able to put up even a semblance of a fight against Ar’elith.

Which begged the question—

“Will it be enough?” Noele asked as she eyed the makeshift Antimagic Bomb.

“We’ll see,” Saros said simply.

And he tossed the bottle into the air.

The blonde girl watched as it hurtled up towards the eddying purple mist. She sucked in a breath and hoped for the best. Both Garron and Saros looked away, closing their eyes as they waited.

The makeshift Antimagic Bomb was right on target. It tumbled upwards, straight for the very tip of the dome. Noele looked on—

And something shot straight through the flask.

Noele blinked. Garron and Saros raised their heads, hearing the glass smashing against rock. The three adventurers stared at the broken bottle lying right next to Tristan Devon’s unconscious body. And an ornate lance stuck out of the ground, stabbing the piece of parchment into the earth.

The green flames had been snuffed out before the makeshift Antimagic Bomb had a chance to explode. Its effects failed to materialize, and the Gnome Inventor gaped as his artifacts were wasted.

“Who—” he started.

And the lance shot back up to the sky. The three adventurers looked up as a winged figure hovered high above the gnome. It stared back at them with twelve eyes.

No— he stared back at them with twelve eyes.

“That’s...?” Noele looked on in shock.

Guardian Angel Z357 caught his lance with ease, before pointing down at the three adventurers. He spoke with no mouth— his thoughts invading their minds.

Do not interfere, he said simply. The ritual must be seen to completion. Now begone.