In the span of a thousand meters, with Lancelote fully unleashing his Holy Light Cross Sword, the massive sword energy and holy light surged into the sky. The giant body of the corpse monster barely had time to move before it was cleaved in half by the holy sword.
The sky was filled with flying chunks of the corpse, and the corpse monster was first split into two, then completely disintegrated. The body, which had just been more flexible and agile than any living creature, immediately collapsed. The power of this sword not only shattered the corpse monster's form, but even the necromantic magic within it was dispersed by the holy sword's energy.
"Stupid!" Sandru remained calm, sneering as he watched the holy sword fly past him. No matter how fast or powerful the sword was, it couldn't harm him from this distance. The shattered corpse fragments automatically reformed at his feet, becoming a small corpse creature that caught him. He casually grabbed a lump of corpse flesh, squeezed it, and threw it—sending a mass of blackness hurtling toward Lancelote.
With one successful strike, Lancelote's figure gradually emerged from the scattered sword energy. In this high-altitude fight, there was no room for further evasive action. No matter how powerful a warrior was, in such a scenario against a mage, he could only become a living target. However, as Sandru was attacking, he quickly said to Asa, "Run!!"
Lancelote was a seasoned and ruthless swordsman. He was not merely risking his own safety with his all-out strike; his goal was far more than just shattering the corpse monster.
All the ordinary elves on the Ancient War Tree had already evacuated. Elder Lloyd was standing beside the Pope, with the two Tower Masters of the Tooth Tower, as well as the Church's last Temple Knights, Cervantes and Archmage Caitlyn. Just as Sandru threw the magic he was wielding toward Lancelote, the Pope raised his hand toward the sky and began chanting, "In the name of the Lord. Purify."
A burst of white light erupted in front of the piece of rotten flesh that Sandru had casually thrown. The flesh, along with the necromantic magic that had gathered on it, was completely eradicated in the white light, as though the brilliant sun had melted the snow. Purification magic, though a minor spell in white magic, could still be flawlessly performed over a distance of a thousand meters, especially when it came from the Pope's hand. This magic was enough to help Lancelote withstand what would have otherwise been a fatal blow.
"Women are just women; they are not fit for strategy," Elder Lloyd shook his head lightly.
After the meeting at the Magic Academy, both he and the Pope had already noticed the unusual look in the Prime Minister's eyes. Just in case, there were numerous secret scouts around the Prime Minister's residence, and naturally, there were also people from Captain Roland's unit among the guards. Sandru and Inham's visit couldn't be hidden from them. They then casually tested the situation and, from the Prime Minister's expression, they could tell that the secret had already been leaked. They immediately used teleportation scrolls to rush over.
Lord Borugan had also arrived, but he was too preoccupied with the situation around the altar to pay attention to the battle above. Like a restless ant on a hot pan, he paced around the altar, shouting at the unconscious Grutt and reaching out as if to touch him, but hesitating.
"What exactly happened to Lord Grutt? Hey, someone come over and check on him!"
Elder Lloyd glanced briefly before shaking his head lightly and saying, "No need to worry about it. Creatures corrupted by the aura of the Black Star, even dragons and titans, can only be destroyed. The only reason he's lasted this long is because of the power of the World Tree leaf. The remaining bit of Sunwell water can at most dispel the aura and allow him to continue living. It's impossible for him to recover his original state. He's no longer of any use to us."
"No use? You old fool. If any orc heard you say that, you would be swallowed whole and digested into a pile of crap..." Lord Borugan glared at the elven elder but soon found himself sinking into a somber silence, letting out a heavy sigh.
"We cannot let them escape," Elder Lloyd continued, ignoring Lord Borugan's outburst, his words coming out with effort. The wrinkles on his face seemed more pronounced, and he appeared so frail it looked like he might collapse into a pile of broken flesh at any moment.
"Wait, Elder," Ruya spoke, her shock finally starting to wear off as she looked at the Pope and then the distant Lancelote above. "How did you suddenly start working with the Church? You forgot what that Temple Knight did last time? How can we help the Church against Asa? He's the one who's saved us from many disasters..."
"There are no permanent enemies, and of course, there are no permanent friends either. Situations change, so do alliances. Now, our friends are them, not him," Elder Lloyd slowly rasped from his mouth, nearly swallowed by the deep wrinkles, his voice laced with resignation and sorrow. "Forget it, you don't need to understand. The only one who needs to understand is me..."
"That's right. Originally, I didn't want to make a move on this kid either," Edwina sighed slightly and nodded. From the very beginning, she had been muttering incantations, and now she raised her hand toward the sky.
In the high sky, the air around Sandru and Asa suddenly dropped in temperature. Water vapor gathered into countless large snowflakes, and a violent wind began to blow. The sky in this area suddenly turned into a polar storm, with a massive blizzard raging. Countless palm-sized snowflakes shredded the scattered body parts into smaller fragments, which were then all frozen into ice shards.
The power of this blizzard magic was worthy of its master-level status. If used against a large army, such a vast area of intense freezing winds and blizzards would be enough to tear apart thousands of ordinary soldiers. However, for individuals like Asa and Sandru, it had little effect. Their energy subtly gathered, and the snowflakes formed by the water vapor shattered immediately upon touching Asa, while around Sandru, a faint black aura formed. All the snowflakes that came near him were silently and effortlessly dissolved.
However, the true purpose of this magic was never to cause harm. Sandru was relatively fine, but the living corpse under Asa's feet immediately shattered into countless ice shards under the blizzard, and Asa himself staggered downward. With a muffled grunt, Sandru couldn't throw the newly formed magic at Lancelote in time, and the living corpse turned to catch Asa as he fell.
"Come down," Tower Master Granden also raised his hand, pointing at the living corpse and the two of them from a distance of a thousand meters.
As the living corpse caught Asa, its body suddenly sank, seemingly unable to bear the weight of the two individuals. It then dropped straight toward the ancient elven tree. The speed of its fall grew faster and faster, even surpassing the speed at which Lancelote had already fallen. Finally, the two above had no choice but to leap away from the living corpse simultaneously, using the Feather Fall spell to slow their descent. However, the living corpse's fall continued without slowing down, and within just a hundred meters, its speed became so fast that it began to ignite due to the friction with the air.
With a loud bang, the rapidly falling living corpse crashed into the Ancient War Tree, sending wood chips and body parts flying in all directions. The ancient tree, which was supposed to be tough, was deeply dented by the impact, and the entire tree seemed to shake. This small living corpse fell with such force, resembling a meteor falling from the sky, weighing tens of thousands of pounds.
The living corpse in the crater continued to twitch, like a cockroach that had been stomped on but was still struggling to get up. However, the once agile monster now moved so slowly that each of its motions seemed to take ages, like a snail. A cold wind blew past, and the remnants of the corpse instantly froze into a pale white block of ice. After a series of crisp cracking sounds, the completely frozen remains were subjected to gravity increased by dozens of times, tearing the body into fragments.
Only then did Edwina and Granden stop. Under the combined efforts of these two top-tier elemental mages, the living corpse was utterly destroyed in an instant. Even if Sandru's magical power were ten times greater, it would still be impossible for him to manipulate a body that had been shattered to the point where even its most minute parts were frozen and destroyed.
Except for Lancelote, everyone else had left plenty of room in their attacks to deal with any unexpected situations. But each of them was already a top-tier expert in their respective fields. Even though they hadn't discussed their actions in advance, the timing and methods of their attacks were perfectly coordinated. Now, the two individuals in the air could only rely on the Feather Fall spell to slowly descend.
"That young man seems to have an anti-magic barrier?" Granden frowned. He had originally intended to pull Asa down with him.
"He's wearing the robe of Ghost King. That makes things much more difficult," Magnus squinted as he looked on.
In midair, Asa had already donned the robe of Ghost King. Otherwise, that small-scale gravity field from earlier would have been enough to send both him and Sandru plummeting to their deaths.
It had been a long time since he had last worn the robe, and it now felt completely different from before. It seemed as though the robe had become an extension of his own body. His energy circulated through the fibers of the robe, gradually increasing, and then emanated outward in a strange way, forming a force field around him that was attuned to his presence.
"Hey, old man, this seems bad. I don't have any teleportation scrolls. Do you?" Asa shouted in midair.
"No. Even if I did, they'd never give you the chance to use it." Sandru's expression was grim.
"Then it looks like we really won't be able to run." Asa said, his voice tinged with resignation.
Sandru's eyes were bloodshot, but what was even more intense was the killing intent and death aura that filled his gaze. He briefly glanced at the ground before turning to face Lancelote, who was also in midair. Compared to the leisurely opponents on the ground, Lancelote was the easiest target to kill now, and also the most obstructive one.
"If we can't escape, we'll kill our way out," Sandru muttered, his hand reaching into his mouth. With a slight tug, he pulled out one of his molars, still stained with blood—his own tooth. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and the air around him was thick with the stench of blood, like a ferocious beast that had been hiding for millennia, finally revealing its long-forgotten fangs.
"Attack that necromancer!" Elder Lloyd commanded the elven patrol soldiers. The black battle bow in Kailyn's hands let out a thunderous roar as a thick green beam of light shot toward Sandru in midair.
"I can't stop that," Asa shouted as he saw the elven maiden drawing her bow. He knew the power of that black battle bow. It was a weapon left behind by Queen Isabella of the Turaleone Forest, who had once used it to guard the Whispering Forest. It was said to be a phantom bow capable of immense power.
Even without Asa shouting, Sandru understood. He turned, channeling all his anger and killing intent into the oncoming green arrow. With a sharp cry, the tooth he had gripped in his fingers transformed into a blinding white streak of death, colliding with the green light just as it was about to hit him.
The green arrow's beam of light was as thick as a barrel. This arrow had once instantly killed several grandmasters, and even Asa, now wearing the Ghost King's robe, might not have been able to withstand it. Yet the tooth that flew out was incredibly thin in comparison, almost absurdly so next to the sharp, powerful green beam of light. Its screeching trajectory sounded like the desperate struggle of something about to die, screaming its last breath before the inevitable end. But when the tooth collided with the green arrow, the beam suddenly shattered, as if it were nothing but a mere illusion. The green light dissolved into nothing, while the tooth remained unharmed. It continued on its original path, screeching with a deathly, suffocating sound, heading straight for the elven archers below.
Master Caitlyn had been preparing for this moment. She raised her hands outward, and a massive ice wall began to form in midair. At the same time, Cervantes pushed Caitlyn aside, her actions swift and decisive.
The elven archer was clearly the most dangerous and vulnerable point in the battlefield. The two temple knights had not participated in the offensive; instead, they were always ready to defend others. Despite being surrounded by top-tier warriors, they had no intention of lowering their guard when facing the necromancer in the air.
At this moment, Asa also made his move. Two necromantic fireballs collided in midair, scattering into a storm of green fire raining down. Unfortunately, with his half-baked magical skills, Asa's efforts were ineffective in this high-level magical confrontation. Edwina just waved her hand casually, and a massive blue water curtain surged into the air, dissolving all the fire rain into nothingness.
But it was Sandru's move that truly drew the attention of everyone else.
The ice wall in mid-air was wide and thick enough to withstand thunderous explosions, yet it seemed completely ineffective now. The tooth passed through it without any obstruction, leaving behind only a small hole. At this point, the elven patrol soldier had been pushed aside, but the tooth curved in a strange arc and continued toward her.
Dodging such a bizarre magic was not the best option. Cervantes quickly formed a small, diamond-shaped Sacred Guardian Shield in front of him, positioning it directly in the path of the white tooth's lingering afterimage.
There was no sound of collision. The piercing screech of the tooth, sounded like a mournful wail of a dying old woman, abruptly stopped. Then Cervantes collapsed to his knees.
The so-called Sacred Guardian Shield, which was said to be able to withstand any attack, remained intact, still wrapped around the knight's arm, but it too now had a tiny hole, just like the ice wall. Likewise, a small hole appeared in Cervantes's chest—so small that no blood flowed out, and he remained kneeling, frozen in place. His facial expression was entirely stiff and immobile.
The ice wall that had been forming in mid-air shattered with a loud crash. In that moment, the kneeling temple knight also crumbled, as if he were nothing more than a pile of dust. The once agile and powerful figure suddenly disintegrated, as if his body had been merely a collection of flour barely held together in shape.
The armor and clothing on his body remained, but all of his limbs, organs, bones, and even his teeth and hair had scattered and shattered. Everything had collapsed into a strange, mushy heap, slowly oozing out in all directions.
The elven patrol soldier was frozen in fear, unable to even scream. If Cervantes hadn't blocked that attack for her, she would be this mass of mush.
Lancelote had already landed quickly with the help of Granden, and he had clearly witnessed the scene. The muscles in his face twitched, and his eyes were filled with bloodshot anger.
However, no one, including him, moved. They simply watched as both Sandru and Asa descended slowly, using their Feather Fall. Everyone knew that if the powerful protective ice wall and the Sacred Guardian Shield of the Grand Mage couldn't withstand this attack, they had no confidence in stopping it either. Moreover, Sandru's actions now indicated that the next thing he threw would be even harder to block.
Instead of reaching for another tooth, he gripped his left pinky with his right hand. With a quick twist, he pulled the finger off like a bottle cap. Blood erupted from the severed finger, blending with the finger itself to form a dazzling, eerie ball of blood light that pulsed in his palm.
Sandru didn't throw the ball of bloodlight, knowing that the power of the necromantic magic from self-inflicted harm could only take down one person at a time. The others who were ready wouldn't give him a third chance to strike.
The two of them slowly descended on Feather Fall, landing atop the Ancient War Tree.
"Be careful. You only have one chance to act," the Pope suddenly spoke, directing his words at Sandru.
"One is enough," Sandru laughed, his mouth revealing blood-stained teeth. Even Asa, standing beside him, felt the hairs on his body stand on end.
"Not enough. We outnumber you," the Pope shook his head. "You can only target one. If it's me and the two tower masters, you have an 80 percent chance. If it's Lancelote, you only have 40 percent, and at least I will do everything I can to defend him. If two others help him, you won't even have a 20 percent chance. And against the full force of everyone else, how much of a chance do you have?"
"And, your attack might not even be effective," the Pope paused, then added. "Your real goal is to let this kid run, right? But if we subdue you, do you think he is able to run? Even if he does, even if he has the Ghost King's Robe, do you think he'll have any chance of escaping when surrounded by Lancelote and tens of thousands of elves? Wearing that robe doesn't mean he's invincible. You should know that."
The Pope turned to Asa and said, "Even if you can escape, can anyone else on this continent? Your family, your friends—will they be able to escape? If you run now, they will all die."
"Stop acting so noble. Why don't you just die instead?" Sandru sneered.
The Pope's voice rang out, filled with resolute determination. "If my death would make a difference, I wouldn't hesitate to die." His face, once soft and feminine as Adra's, now bore the mark of firm resolve. "Life is about responsibility. Don't be selfish and only think of yourself. Don't run away from your duties. If you're a man, then take responsibility for your actions."
Sandru sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "Stop preaching. You're nothing more than a pathetic shell wearing someone else's body. What responsibility does he have?"
"I'm talking about your responsibility!" The Pope turned sharply to face Sandru, his voice a thunderous roar. "If it weren't for your reckless actions twenty years ago, if it weren't for your constant evasion, none of this would have happened. You knew about this kid's origins all along, but didn't say anything and do anything. What were you afraid of? Now you feel guilty? You think you owe him? Want to exchange your life for his? You're no better than Vadenina, all you see is yourself..."
"Shut up!" Sandru shouted, lifting his hand, the bloodlight pulsing wildly between his fingers like a bloodthirsty demon. His eyes burned even brighter than the light itself.
The tension in the air skyrocketed, the magic energy surging between the top-tier mages. It was like a silent, invisible volcano on the verge of erupting, the atmosphere thick with impending danger.
"Enough," Asa said quietly, placing a hand on Sandru's shoulder. "He's right. I won't run. Doing so won't solve anything."
Sandru's bloodshot eyes turned to glare at Asa, the fury in them momentarily replaced with anger. Asa's face remained calm, and with a small shake of his head, he nodded. "Thank you."
"Everyone, there's no need to panic. I already knew what you were planning. If I wanted to escape, I would have done that by now." Asa sighed as he looked at the Pope and Lancelote. "Although you all are my enemies, I have at least a hundred reasons to kill you. But I have to admit that what you're saying is reasonable. I can't escape, and I won't."
With his words, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
Edwina took a look at Asa with her peach blossom-like eyes, then turned to Ruya. She shrugged slightly and said. "He's a good man."
The Pope and Lancelote both nodded. Their expressions were complex. They all knew, if Asa had really chosen to abandon Sandru and escape on his own, they would have had little chance to stop him.
Beyond the relief and the easing of tension, there was a sense of respect and admiration. An enemy who could evoke such feelings was often more worthy of respect than a friend. And the decision Asa had made was certainly the most respectable one. The Pope sighed. "Your parents should be proud to have a son like you."
Sandru had already retracted the magic in his hands, his expression strangely uncertain. His lips trembled, but he couldn't find the words to speak.
"Since you're not going to escape, then we must face it and resolve it. I hope you'll all help me," Asa said.
"Of course, that's exactly what our plan is. As long as you follow our arrangement..."
"I'm sorry, but I think you've misunderstood." Asa waved his hand. "Not escaping doesn't mean I'm going to do what you've arranged for me. Although this situation must be resolved, I don't want to die... or rather, I hope to avoid death as much as possible."
"You won't die, because I'm still alive," a voice suddenly echoed.
"As long as I'm alive, I don't allow you to die."
"Did you hear that? I said he can't die." The person stood up, staring at the stunned faces around him. "So, it's not him following your plans—it's you all following ours."