The tide was rising—but not with water.
From the distance, along the wet sands and jagged rocks of the northern coast, the sea itself seemed to ripple as dozens—no, hundreds—of creatures advanced. The worms moved like a carpet of scales and muscle, their bodies coiling and slithering with a sick rhythm. Behind them stood the blue, hulking figure with fins sharpened like blades and muscles carved like coral stone. He stood a head taller than the rest, his trident crackling faintly with energy drawn from the ocean's depth.
Vanthelis stood calmly on the edge of the hill, arms behind his back, flanked by Ishlar and two Spirit Towers that glowed with dark power.
"Let me meet your queen," Vanthelis called out, voice cold, yet clear enough to reach the shore.
A hush fell over the naga horde. The bulky blue-scaled leader stepped forward with a thud, each footfall splashing into the shallow water. His jaw clenched, gills flaring.
"Why should we let you meet our queen?" he bellowed. "And don't you dare use your filthy mouth to speak of our queen again."
Vanthelis raised an eyebrow. "You can try to kill me… or you can listen. Call her. I think we can work together."
The naga laughed, but it sounded like a deep, guttural gurgle. "Work together? You wish. Today, you'll die here, and no one will remember your name. And remember—I will be the one who kills you. I am Ragnar."
Vanthelis didn't respond.
He just narrowed his eyes, expression unreadable.
That was enough for Ragnar, who turned and raised his trident with a loud screeching cry. The swarm responded instantly. Hundreds of worms surged forward, their bodies flailing and sliding over each other in a disgusting wave of muscle and snapping jaws.
Vanthelis stepped back.
"Ishlar. Hold."
The worms surged forward. The Spirit Towers buzzed, their runes glowing bright crimson. The dark energy lanced out like lightning bolts, ripping into the first wave of worms. Their bodies exploded in bursts of blue blood, shrieking in pain—but more came behind them, undeterred.
Dorothy rolled her wheelchair back toward the Necropolis, ghouls snarling as they spread into formation.
Vanthelis lifted a hand, revealing a glowing scroll. With a voice filled with quiet power, he spoke a single word. "Now."
The scroll burned in his hand, and a wave of light swept across Ishlar and the ten ghouls around him. Their flesh glowed with white fire for a moment—then turned opaque and shimmering.
Invulnerability for seven seconds.
"Go."
Ishlar leapt first, his black armor leaving a streak behind him as he charged into the mass of worms. The moment he landed, he slammed his blade down with a dark pulse—Death Coil crackling from his hand into a worm, melting it in a burst of necrotic energy.
Around him, the ghouls screamed in laughter and bloodlust, tearing through flesh without mercy. Unholy energy pulsed from Ishlar's feet—his Unholy Aura surged stronger than before, and each ghoul struck faster, harder, refusing to slow down.
Worms lunged, but their fangs passed through the ghouls. No wounds formed. No blood spilled from the undead. Invincible. Untouchable.
Ishlar slashed a worm in half with one swing, then turned and impaled another. His movements were too fast, his presence too overwhelming.
More worms died.
Then more.
"Three seconds!" Vanthelis shouted, watching the system timer tick in his mind.
Ishlar turned and raised his sword. "Death… is only the beginning!" he roared.
A massive Death Coil burst from his hand, arcing through five worms in a row, burning their insides out and causing a chain of death that left them twitching on the dirt.
The aura pulsed again. The ghouls howled.
Then, the timer faded.
Invulnerability ended.
Now the battle was real.
A worm latched onto a ghoul's leg, tearing into its bones. Another wrapped around one's neck, trying to choke it out. Yet the ghouls didn't retreat. With Ishlar nearby, his aura made them stronger, their limbs moving even when torn, their wounds seeming to close from sheer unnatural energy.
Vanthelis stepped forward, raising his hand. Black magic shimmered around his fingertips. "Do not stop. Keep killing."
The Spirit Towers fired again. More worms exploded. But there were still too many.
Then—
Ding!
The system's notification rang out in Vanthelis's mind.
Ishlar the Death Knight
Level 10
Death Coil (Level 4)
Death Pact (Level 1)
Unholy Aura (Level 4)
Animate Dead (Level 1)
Ding!
Your hero Death Knight has reached Level 10. You will receive a random item and a random ultimate skill.
Generating…
But Vanthelis didn't wait.
"Move!" he shouted, charging into the field alongside the ghouls.
He unsheathed his rusted sword and moved with practiced steps. Every strike aimed for weakness. Every slash cut through limbs and bone. His body glowed faintly from the dark energy that pulsed from the nearby towers.
Together, Ishlar and Vanthelis cut their way through the remaining worms.
Ragnar, watching from the coast, slammed his trident into the wet ground with a furious roar. "Come back here!" he bellowed.
The worms hissed, breaking away and slithering back toward the coast, their blood trailing behind them.
The battlefield fell into silence, broken only by the low moans of dying worms and the panting breath of ghouls still standing.
Ragnar stood still, chest heaving.
"Human," he finally said. "I will tell the Queen… of your so-called proposal."
Vanthelis didn't speak. He only smirked, watching the bulky naga turn and vanish into the sea, dragging the survivors with him.
A plan was forming in his head. The scroll was gone. The bluff was spent. But Ragnar didn't know that.
He thought Vanthelis had a power to make his allies invincible.
And if the naga queen believed that Vanthelis was strong enough to cost her more troops… she would come carefully. Perhaps even… negotiate.
"Either we fight… or they'll join me," he muttered to himself. "Your Queen will come. And when she does—"
He turned back toward the Necropolis, the mist swirling behind him.
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