Alex clenched his jaw.
The Grim Lords defense was starting to piss him off.
Before he could think of another plan—
CLANG!
The Grim Lord drove both of its massive blades into the ground.
A deep rumble followed.
The battlefield shook.
Then—lava.
It spread out like twisting vines, glowing veins of molten fire crawling across the ground.
And from within the molten depths, figures began to rise.
Undead knights.
Their bodies were charred black, their armor searing hot, their weapons dripping with molten embers.
One by one, they stepped forward, their empty eyes glowing with a burning rage.
Alex's expression darkened as he lowered his hand.
He wasn't worried about the undead knights.
He was worried about the Grim Lord.
As long as the monster remained standing, this battle would never end.
But there was a problem.
If he couldn't land a hit, how was he supposed to win?
Meanwhile
BOOM!
His clones had already engaged the army of undead monsters.
Swords clashed.
