How come this arcanist is invincible?

Chapter 244 Stealth Battle in the Dense Fog

Thick fog hung heavy over the royal court of Susas.

The plains, hills, and port ahead were all swallowed up by this boundless white fog, with visibility less than three meters.

I could still faintly hear the battle cries, the sharp whistling of crossbow bolts, the muffled thuds of swords piercing flesh, and the agonizing screams of those dying.

These sounds came in layers, like waves that surged in and receded.

Kane walked at the front of the group, lowering his face armor to cover most of his face.

The team consisted of thirty second-tier professionals, each wearing heavy armor with their helmets and faceplates pulled down, leaving only two narrow slits to reveal pairs of fanatical eyes.

The group advanced in silence, with only the occasional soft clatter of the armor leaves colliding, which was quickly swallowed up by the thick fog.

The origins of this heavily armored soldier squad are quite varied.

Some were from the garrison of Twin Harbor, some were remnants of the Third Army Corps, and some were originally the royal court's security officers.

Many people broke through to the second tier in these continuous battles, but they didn't even master the combat skills.

But the way they looked at Kane's back was without the slightest hesitation, only almost blind loyalty.

"Seven steps to the left front, two people. Four people per group, resolve silently."

Kane's deep voice was completely calm.

Four heavily armored soldiers immediately stepped forward and circled around to the two ducal soldiers.

The two men were looking at the "friendly" figures that had suddenly appeared in the fog with suspicion. Just as they were about to ask a question, their mouths were tightly covered by a pair of iron-like hands.

A flash of cold light, and the scimitar precisely sliced ​​through their throats, leaving only two extremely faint muffled thuds.

Warm blood splattered onto the cold stomach, quickly becoming damp with mist.

All of this was perfectly concealed by the thick fog.

Dozens of meters away, the other teams were still rushing toward the east and west city walls, completely unaware that death had just passed by them.

The entire heavily armored team silently blended into the numerous other teams.

Bypassing the main battlefield through a gap in the city gate, they stealthily made their way along the muddy road towards the Duke's central army camp.

Along the way, the battlefield was littered with scattered weapons and corpses lying in disarray.

The organizational structures of both sides were already in complete disarray.

Many of the Duke's soldiers, seeing Kane's distinctive Nord face, not only did not suspect anything, but also waved to him.

But those who doubted and questioned were either brushed off or became yet another cold corpse on the ground.

The body was dragged to the side and completely obscured by the swirling fog.

They were mixed in with the thousands of corpses on the battlefield and could no longer be distinguished.

Time slipped away little by little as it crept in.

When Kane's troops traversed the most chaotic area and finally approached the Duke's defensive line...

A heart-wrenching scream suddenly came from afar behind me.

"Corpses! There are corpses here! They're all our men! This is our own defensive line!"

The sound, amplified infinitely in the thick fog, carried with extreme terror and traveled from afar.

Kane suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Almost simultaneously, the sound of synchronized footsteps came from the depths of the fog ahead.

The footsteps grew closer and clearer, accompanied by the clatter of armor plates colliding and the officer's impatient shouts, breaking the silence of the thick fog.

Soon, a patrol of two hundred people appeared in the fog.

They carried spears and light shields, marching in a loose formation towards Kane and his men.

At the head of the group was a captain dressed in light silver armor, with an ornately decorated longsword at his waist.

His face showed obvious impatience as he walked and shouted at the soldiers behind him: "What's the panic! This is our defensive line. The rebels are trapped in the royal court and dare not come out. They must be deserters who were executed by the supervisory team!"

Stop making a fuss!

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly froze on the spot.

Because he saw that, less than ten meters ahead in the thick fog, stood more than thirty soldiers in heavy black armor.

They stood there motionless, like thirty black statues forgotten on the battlefield.

The visor was pulled down, revealing only pairs of cold, piercing eyes that were staring intently at them.

Standing at the very front was a Nord with black hair and black eyes, whose gaze beneath his hood was as unfathomable as an abyss.

The captain frowned.

Due to the shortage of troops at the front, the team did indeed recruit a considerable number of Nord mercenaries.

He suppressed a vague unease and snapped, "Which department are you from? Answer the password!"

No one answered. Only the cold wind pierced through the fog.

Upon seeing this, the captain felt a chill run down his spine.

Kane slowly raised his right hand.

The next second, black shadows suddenly began to surge across the ground.

These shadows, like a living tide, spread from Kane's feet, flowing swiftly down the muddy ground towards the thirty heavily armored soldiers behind him.

They climbed up the cold armored stomach, merging with the black steel, slowly flowing between the plates, gleaming with an eerie light.

"A spellcaster?!"

Upon witnessing this bizarre scene, the patrol soldiers finally reacted, screaming in terror as they raised their shields.

But the next moment, their voices stopped abruptly.

Countless shadows surged from the ground and suddenly coalesced into sharp blades, stabbing out from all angles like venomous snakes, instantly piercing their throats, hearts, and chests.

The first to be hit was the second-tier captain in silver light armor.

He reacted extremely quickly, leaping backward and drawing his longsword to deflect a shadowy blade that was thrusting towards him.

But in that instant, he glanced behind him out of the corner of his eye.

His teammates had fallen in droves, like wheat being harvested.

The dark, shadowy blades easily cleaved through their leather armor and shields, splitting them in two.

Warm blood splattered everywhere, mixing with the muddy ground dampened by the thick fog, turning into dark brown mud.

Warm blood and entrails were spilled all over the ground, and a strong stench of blood filled the air.

The captain's pupils contracted sharply. Just as he was about to shout "Enemy attack!", a cold, shadowy blade suddenly pierced the ground behind him, precisely piercing his throat.

He clutched his neck and collapsed to the ground, blood gushing out from between his fingers.

He could only stare in vain as the group of black figures passed over his corpse and walked away step by step in the direction of the Duke's tent.

"keep going."

Kane said casually, as if he had just stepped on a group of ants.

He turned around and continued walking towards the central army camp.

Thirty heavily armored soldiers followed silently behind him, like a group of loyal shadows, disappearing into the depths of the thick fog.

Central Army Camp.

Duke Eisenberg sat in a luxurious chair covered with silk, his fingers tapping casually on the armrest.

He appeared to be in his fifties, but his pure-blooded elf blood made him look much younger than a human, with fair skin and meticulously combed blond hair.

He wore a confident smile as he looked at the group of advisors and generals standing inside the tent.

"What's the situation at the front?"

"Your Grace," an advisor hurriedly stepped forward and said respectfully.

"According to the latest battle report, two sections of the city wall, one on the east and one on the west, have been breached by magic-powered cannons. Two teams of Tier 3 professionals have led their vanguard troops across the city wall and are advancing towards the inner court."

-

The enemy's resistance was extremely weak and utterly incapable of halting our offensive.

"The battle for the other city walls remains fierce, but the rebels are on their last legs."

Another staff officer added.

"But—this fog is really strange. Our accompanying mage has tried every method, but he can't dispel even a little bit of it."

Upon hearing this, Eisenberg chuckled dismissively, his eyes filled with disdain.

"It's just a desperate struggle. They're definitely trying to use the mist to confuse our Tier 3 professionals and buy us time."

His tone carried an undeniable confidence.

"But this gives us an opportunity. Pass down the order: under the cover of the fog, transport all the magic cannons to the front line and bombard the city walls with all our might."

"Even if those two teams of Tier 3 professionals fail their mission, we can simply blast open the gates of the royal court with artillery fire!"

Before the words were finished, a shrill scream suddenly came from outside the tent, followed by the sound of clashing weapons and terrified cries, which clearly entered the tent.

Eisenberg's smile froze on his face instantly.

"No—where is that sound of fighting coming from?"

One of the staff officers turned pale and exclaimed in a trembling voice.

"This is the central command camp, the very rear of the army!"

Just then, the tent flap was flung open, and a blood-soaked messenger scrambled in, his voice trembling with tears: "Your Grace! Enemy attack! The enemy has broken in!"

Eisenberg stood up abruptly, his face instantly turning ashen.

The staff officers and generals inside the tent looked at each other in disbelief.

This is the heart of the army's territory; how could an enemy possibly sneak in unnoticed?

He glanced sharply at the defense map on the table, and a terrifying thought instantly flooded his mind.

His face turned extremely ugly. He shoved aside the staff officer blocking his way, strode to the tent entrance, and abruptly pulled open the heavy curtain.

The four hooded sorcerers inside the tent immediately stepped forward, formed hand seals, and began chanting incantations to dispel the evil spirits.

As the obscure incantations began, the thick fog surrounding the tent finally began to dissipate.

When everyone saw what was happening outside, they all gasped in horror, their faces showing a fear they would never forget.

On an open ground a hundred meters away, the Duke's personal guard was frantically assembling.

Thousands of well-equipped soldiers swarmed forward, launching an attack like a tidal wave on the thirty-odd soldiers in black heavy armor.

But what happened next completely overturned their understanding.

The armor of those heavily armored soldiers was covered with a flowing black shadow.

Arrows shot at it are like stones sinking into the sea, silently swallowed by the shadows; swords and knives strike it, producing only dull sounds, unable to cause the slightest harm.

The scimitars in the hands of those heavily armored soldiers easily tore through the enemy's armor and shields as if slicing through tofu.

Even more terrifying is that those eerie shadows seem to extend indefinitely.

Emerging from the ground, from the walls, from any place with shadows, they transform into sharp blades, slicing through the soldiers blocking their path.

In those few short seconds, Eisenberg saw it clearly.

His most capable lieutenant, a captain who was only one step away from the third rank, was simultaneously entangled by several shadows attacking from all directions. He was instantly cut into several pieces, fell to the ground, twitched a few times, and then stopped moving.

Watching that heavily armored troop, surrounded by thousands of men, yet still resembling a black dagger, steadily approaching the central army camp.

Looking at the black-haired, black-eyed Nord man at the front, who raised his head and revealed a pair of eyes filled with icy killing intent from a distance of a hundred meters, Eisenberg felt a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

His face was filled with horror, and a flash of fear crossed his eyes, which was then replaced by a frenzied look.

"Useless! They're all useless!"

He roared, "There are only thirty-odd of them! Kill them! Whoever cuts off that Nord's head will receive a title and ten thousand gold coins!"

Upon receiving the order, the dozen or so second-rank personal guards standing outside the tent immediately drew their weapons and rushed forward like madmen.

Immediately afterwards, more soldiers surged in from all directions, completely surrounding the thirty heavily armored soldiers.

But the screams continued to rise and fall.

The third-tier guard captain, a swordsman renowned for his speed and skill, used all his strength to assassinate a heavily armored soldier with a fluid and graceful sword technique.

But before he could catch his breath, a black figure appeared in front of him.

It's Kane.

The swordsman roared and unleashed his ultimate combat technique.

Countless slender sword shadows rained down on Kane like a storm, tearing the air apart and emitting a sharp whistling sound.

But Kane just stood there, motionless.

All the sword shadows were blocked by the shadows surging around him, unable to get even a fraction closer.

The next moment, Kane reached out and easily caught the thrusting longsword.

With a "crack," the longsword made of fine iron was snapped in two by his bare hands.

Sword Dancer's pupils constricted, and he turned to run away.

But a shadow had already wrapped around his ankle, completely binding him.

He struggled to escape, while the other guards and soldiers around him intensified their attack, but Kane still slowly raised his hand.

The surrounding shadows began to surge wildly, transforming into all sorts of weapons.

Sharp shadow blades, heavy shadow spears, and curved shadow scimitars roared out from every corner.

Each time the spell is cast, it takes the lives of more than a dozen people.

Blood gushed out like a fountain, and severed limbs flew everywhere, turning the entire battlefield into a living hell.

The third-tier swordsman's movements became increasingly sluggish after he had blocked dozens of shadow attacks.

Finally, a shadowy spear thrust out from beneath his feet, piercing his heart with pinpoint accuracy. He fell to the ground, eyes wide, an expression of disbelief on his face.

Seeing even a third-tier guard captain meet such a fate, the remaining soldiers completely broke down.

They screamed and tried to escape, but were slashed to the ground by the supervising squad behind them.

Kane, however, continued to lead his heavily armored guard, which had already suffered several casualties, steadily advancing through the chaos of battle.

The wide-area shadow spells were like the Grim Reaper's scythe, reaping lives with madness.

Blood flowed across the ground, forming rivers that stained every inch of the land red.

His gaze passed over the layers of soldiers and locked onto the pure-blooded elf dressed in luxurious clothes at the tent entrance.

Having used large-scale shadow spells multiple times, the ether within him had long been exhausted.

He is now slowly recovering his strength solely by relying on his immortality.

Each activation of the immortality trait requires experience points.

And these endless streams of soldiers rushing up in front of him are his best "nourishment".

But he didn't have time to waste here.

The royal court's defenses may not be secure; he must kill Eisenberg as soon as possible and then return to reinforce the city.

"Use your death to end this war!"

Kane said in a low voice, his tone icy and chilling.

As Eisenberg watched the soldiers fall like wheat being harvested, and as the black figure drew ever closer, a mad, ruthless glint flashed in his eyes.

He whirled around and roared at the messenger behind him, "Send word! Have the magic artillery battalion aim here immediately! Fire! Fire now!"

The next moment, Kane, who was reaping lives, suddenly felt an unprecedented and intense sense of crisis.

He suddenly looked up at the artillery positions in the distance.

Suddenly, several blinding white lights appeared there, brighter than the sun.

The alarm bells in my heart were ringing wildly!

"Shadow Shield".

Kane shouted sternly.

The next second, a huge shadow suddenly rose from the ground.

Centered on him, they quickly formed an airtight spherical shield, enveloping him and the remaining heavily armored soldiers.

At the same time, several magic-powered cannons emitted deafening roars.

A dazzling beam of magical energy pierced through the thick fog, striking the spherical shadow shield like the wrath of a god.

A deafening explosion rang out, and the Shadow Shield was instantly pierced!

A terrifying shockwave spread outwards, igniting the air and producing a hissing sound.

Soldiers, corpses, tents, and trees within hundreds of meters were all instantly vaporized by the high temperature, leaving not a trace of ash.

Only a few soldiers who were further away survived, staring blankly at the huge, still-smoking crater before them, gripped by extreme panic.

Thick smoke, dust, and lingering fog mingled together, filling the air with a pungent, acrid smell. The whole world seemed to fall silent.

Eisenberg stared intently at the massive crater, watching the heavily armored black team disappear completely into the artillery fire, before his tense nerves finally relaxed.

He let out a long sigh of relief, a smile of relief spreading across his face.

"Hmph—even if you are a strange spellcaster, you are nothing but cannon fodder in front of the magic cannon."

The staff officers around them also breathed a sigh of relief, their faces showing relieved smiles.

But soon, someone's smile froze on their face, their finger trembled as they pointed towards the deep pit, their voice filled with uncontrollable fear.

"Your Grace—what is that?"

Eisenberg turned his head sharply to look.

In the center of the deep pit, the thick smoke slowly dissipated.

A figure emerged step by step from the billowing smoke and dust.

The footsteps were slow and heavy, each step feeling like it was pounding on everyone's heart.

His black heavy armor had been mostly melted by the high temperature of the magic energy, hanging twisted and deformed on his body, revealing large areas of carbonized skin underneath.

His hair was burned off, his scalp was charred black, his face was covered with hideous scars, one eye was a hollow bloody hole, while the other eye remained cold, like a poisoned dagger.

His left arm hung limply, the bones broken into several pieces, and several ribs were visibly collapsed. There was a huge penetrating wound in his chest, and you could even see his heart slowly beating inside.

But everyone held their breath, staring blankly at the monster that had crawled out of hell.

Then, something even more terrifying happened.

Pieces of his carbonized skin began to peel off, revealing pink new flesh underneath.

The granulation tissue grew and wriggled at a visible rate, covering the exposed wound.

The broken bones made soft "crackling" sounds as they rejoined and healed.

The scars on his face slowly healed, and eyeballs grew back in the empty eye sockets.

In just over ten seconds, all of his fatal wounds miraculously healed.

Apart from his tattered heavy armor and a few faint scars on his face, he looked exactly the same as before.

He raised his head, his cold gaze once again fixed on Eisenberg.

"Damn it—you're one of those undead monsters too—"

Eisenberg's face was extremely pale, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.

He staggered back a step, his voice filled with hysterical madness.

"Charge! Kill him! Everyone, charge!"

Although the soldiers were filled with unspeakable fear, they could only roar and charge forward under the executioner's blade.

Other corps that had received orders from the surrounding area also rushed over, and the densely packed soldiers surged in like a tide, surrounding Kane once again.

Kane, facing an army of over a thousand men surging in from all directions, did not flinch in the slightest.

He gripped the Super Dark Blade tightly, and with a flash, Pingci rushed into the crowd.

One person, having undergone a super-yin transformation, blossomed into the most dazzling and bloodthirsty super-blood flower amidst tens of thousands of troops.

Eisenberg watched as the black-clad figure swept through the chaotic battlefield, and his own soldiers fell like ants in droves, his face growing paler and paler.

Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, soaking his luxurious robes.

At that moment, a cold, hoarse voice suddenly resounded deep within his heart.

"Susas's super offspring—you see? Your super power is utterly insignificant—"

"Give me your superhuman body—I can help you deal with him—I can give you eternal superhuman power—"

Eisenberg shuddered and suddenly covered his head.

As he watched the approaching, deathly darkness grow ever stronger, and those icy eyes closed, his inner defenses finally began to crumble, bit by bit.