Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The mouse let out a sharp squeak.

"I told you! I'm not from Diduni! I'm Avenrett, the Shadow Rat King!!"

The process of transmutation was restarted, and Andrei's barrier finally shattered. The surging magic transformed into a swirling storm, rushing into the ranks of the Warriors of Light. A meteor shot out, and blinding holy light turned Andrei into daylight. The lich's scream rang out, and panic was once again ignited.

"My spinal wheel has gone out of control!"

"My wall of flesh and blood has crumbled!"

The defensive line on site was breached, and all the artifacts produced by the figure company were shattered, turning into a filthy torrent that surged into the magical eye of the storm that radiated holy light.

Shining open its chin, it stared at Manipulation and Adaptation.

"That, it's that one, isn't it..."

"Yes, it's our Necromancer Gundam..."

"He flew away..."

"Why are they flying? We didn't have any flight equipment installed at all..."

A man's roar erupted from the body of the flying giant of light.

"Lu Xiuxiu's plan, Edward's sacrifice! I, Kururugi Seiryu, swear that their efforts will not be in vain!!!"

"Undead who despise life! Turn to ashes before me, Lancelot Albion!" The colossal machine, composed of bones and flesh, was bathed in golden holy light, with four magical wings unfurling behind it. The hovering necromancer mech resembled a god of judgment.

Law, with a member of the figure company in each hand, roared amidst the terrifying barrage of fire.

"Why are all your spirit summoning equipment malfunctioning?!"

The shimmering scales were illuminated by the incoming artillery fire.

"It's the Death Lord System, the operating system that the Plague Doctor boss loaded into the Necromancer Gundam. Hmm... because of the boss's amazing talent in necromancy, the command sets of all the necromancy creations made by the figure company are now subsystems of the Death Lord System. So the Gundam has the ability to control all the necromancy creations made by the figure company, just like a lord who rules over all death. Pretty cool, right!"

"All of them? All the summoned creatures will be controlled by that undead creature?!"

With a nod of control, the Lyle-level necromancy Gundam possessed absolute dominance over Andrei's necromancy.

"Not only that, it will draw materials from nearby spirit-summoned creations to reconstruct its body and replenish its energy. Based on the level of the spirit-summoning equipment we used before, its weapon system should be able to go berserk indefinitely for an hour."

As is well known, the lich itself is far more fragile than its summoned creatures.

He cleverly broke through the fire line and ran to the two men, who were in front of the law.

"I have brought good news from the Séance Professors' group."

The law breathed a sigh of relief.

"Have they found a way to destroy the creation that the medical brother is most proud of?"

He shook his head.

"The professors have classified Lancelot Albion as a sixth-order level, a super-spirit creation created by the Plague Doctor across two levels. Therefore, they have decided to give the Plague Doctor's final exam score the [Extraordinary] level."

"The professors are counting the number of lich casualties, which is an extra bonus for the leader of the plague healers."

"The super-standard spirit creation Lancelot Albion has been registered."

"Creator: Epidemic Doctor".

"Assistant: Raymond, gentleman".

"User: Delusional."

Chapter 704 The Students' Mischief

"They just watch their students' work cause continuous losses to their academy?!" With his Law Talent fully unleashed, he danced in the land of light and fire, grasping brilliance and manipulation in his hands, hooking them around his neck like a large scarf fluttering in the air.

Andrei's courtyard had changed beyond recognition. The dense craters were filled with bone fragments that made it difficult to walk. When the shockwaves of the explosions swept through, the lich debris, intertwined with each other, was tossed high into the air like stir-fried vegetables, scattering white snowflakes. The liches that had survived the blast had fled into the castle. The few remaining liches struggling to survive in the haphazardly scattered craters could be counted on one hand.

Law's talent was put to excellent use in this bombing zone. The necromancer's attack, which had no concept of "guaranteed hit," left Law unharmed, but the acrid smell in the air reignited Law's inner turmoil.

Frustrated, the law enforcement officer confided in the sycophant who was clinging to him, complaining about the inaction of the Andrei Séance teaching team.

"Our tradition in the séance school is to build a ladder to heaven from decaying bones, withered flesh and blood, and exhausted souls. Every professor is willing to become a stepping stone for his apprentices' advancement. Do you think they would harm the séanced creations of the Plague Doctor, the rising star of séance studies?"

Andrei's spiritualism, the most fundamental discipline concerning the existence of liches, is the oldest branch of mysticism in the lich academy.

Souls rising from the bones of those who are unwilling to accept their fate will initially pour their unquenchable confusion and resentment into this discipline.

Spiritualism developed rapidly, and three major schools of thought were established: bone, flesh and blood, and soul.

Advanced professors began to emerge, with the leading professors of each school rising from the ruins of forbidden creations. Freed from the various constraints of their previous lives, there was only one criterion for selecting a leading professor: absolute power. Thus, a group of the most talented liches spent countless years in this academic pursuit of mutual competition.

They are arrogant, wise, and indifferent monsters. They stand at the pinnacle of death and knowledge.

Then they realized they had miscalculated. The Conjuration Professorship was the most stable group, with very little turnover. The fact that liches were immortal, a characteristic of liches, made these solitary beings a terrifying truth.

If one's students possess the same talent as oneself, then given the same infinite time for both teacher and student, the students will never catch up to the teacher's pace. One will forever be a solitary pioneer on the path of spiritualism, with no one to walk alongside, let alone admire the shadows of others. New ideas will never offer a fresh perspective, because all apprentices will be submerged in one's own shadow.

The lack of an end brought the professors any sense of security, nor did the novelty soothe the numbness creeping up their fingertips. The séance professors, without prior agreement, shifted their educational approach. They became more focused on nurturing apprentices, enabling them to surpass them—no, simply to reach their level.

However, these exceptional individuals, who had distinguished themselves from their peers, underestimated the pressure their own excellence placed on their apprentices. Their talent stood like a towering mountain before every séance apprentice. Those without talent could not overcome it, while those with even a little talent had already seen the gap between them and hesitated to even begin.

There are already outstanding pioneers on this path; why should I waste my energy becoming an even worse version of them? Andrei has many disciplines, not just necromancy. The number of students in the necromancy school is decreasing year by year, and more emerging disciplines are attracting the attention of novice liches, while necromancy… sorry, the imposing figures of those professors have already extinguished what little enthusiasm they have left.

The professors were desperate, and they began to devote even more effort to training their apprentices.

But... these freshmen are really rubbish, each generation is worse than the last.

The confidence of necromancy professors and their admission standards declined year by year, and they even increased necromancy teaching resources in an attempt to attract newcomers. The Bone School built a spirit tower and refined countless deformed skeletons in the Bone Forest, allowing apprentices to freely use high-grade materials to create creations that surpassed their own level; the Flesh and Blood School dug underground reservoirs and poured countless created lives into the deep sea; the Soul School rented the Soul Tower in Naslan.

The most powerful group of professors, with the most abundant teaching resources, educates the fewest students, and the quality of these new students is getting worse and worse. In Mr. Dragon's words, twenty years ago, these students would only appear in my class if there was one possibility: as inferior teaching materials.

Until the supernova, the Plague Doctor, suddenly appeared.

That day, the séance professors wept with joy; a promising student had finally arrived. All the professors were watching this apprentice who had repeatedly broken séance traditions, vying to help him achieve even greater things. The professors secretly vied for Lyle's teaching slots, and the outcome was obvious.

The three chief professors of necromancy are truly deserving of their titles.

The professors were not discouraged by their inability to teach Lyle as they had hoped; they continued to pay attention to this good student. Embracing the idea that teaching assistants are teachers, and stepmothers are mothers, those professors who had never taught Lyle, or even spoken a word to him, harbored a affection for him that was closer than that for their own sons.

Therefore, when these protective liches faced Lyle's summoned creations, their gazes were like those of children looking at a birthday card given by their children on Father's/Mother's Day, their hearts filled with emotion and warmth.

When Lancelot Albion unleashed his barrage of attacks on the Andrei lich, the professors were overjoyed, almost fainting with happiness.

"If it weren't for the loss of face and the necessity of someone recording the Plague Doctor's shining moments, our professors would love to be beaten to death by Lancelot Arubian and become part of the Plague Doctor students' scores."

"..." Law deftly leaped back to dodge the explosive impact of a bone missile, letting out a sigh that had been repeated countless times, "Should I be glad that my scholar teacher didn't become such a doting professor..." As a student of the scholar, Law could only recall the scholar's dignified, solemn, and impartial demeanor.

I remained flexible, kept smiling, and didn't answer.

Lyle was a nascent evil god nurtured by the dragon priest scholar, and the cause of this lich calamity was the green dragon's dream game. The scholar was indeed not a doting bystander; he was the instigator of the chaos.

"Are we just supposed to watch that golden undead creature vent its fury for an hour...?"

The arm that manipulates the law is not meant to comfort, but rather the law enforcer's subconscious clenching of his fist, as if he heard the sound of his own bones cracking.

"So what if it's only been an hour? That summoned creature, these heroes of light, only grasp the priority of the Holy Light, not its power. It won't kill the lich, so neither the professors, the members of the Salvation Society, nor the Dean have intervened. This lich calamity is harmless to the lich."

"Although these unlucky guys will spend hours or even days afterward collecting their own pieces."

Chapter 705 A Sacrificial Strike

An hour of intense firepower wouldn't yield much effective results, a fact clear to all the liches present, and also understood by Lancelot's pilot, Kururugi Seiryu. With its magic wings, their light slightly diminished, Lancelot flapped its wings vigorously, ascending to the spire above Andre Castle, where it stood in stark contrast to the blood-red moon.

The defensive barrier had long since been dispelled, and the surviving Warriors of Light escaped its range under the cover of Lancelot's fire. They believed that leaving Andrei's controlled area would greatly increase their chances of survival.

The fire coverage didn't last the expected hour. Law stopped, looked up at the point of light illuminating the night sky, and silently counted down—only fifteen minutes had passed. This wasn't a good thing.

The light spots on the glowing necromancer mech began to coalesce, and the four magical wings scattered into lines of magic, transforming into a scorching ball of light in Lancelot's hand. The brilliance subsided, and Lancelot held an exaggeratedly designed, large-caliber gun in his hand. The exposed bullets, in his magical perception, presented a dangerous pressure like nodes in a magic network.

Kururugi Seiryu's furious roar echoed in Andrei's bright night sky.

"May the wicked turn to dust!"

"Freyja!"

A bullet the size of a person left the barrel and hurtled towards Andrei's castle, towards the lich crowd who were watching with their heads raised. The liches knew all too well how terrifying that weapon was; even if they had no concept of nuclear bombs, the pressure from the concentrated magic was already pressing down on them.

It felt like a scholar about to fly into a rage was about to strike him.

The surface of the not-so-fragile Goddess of Love warhead had begun to crumble, and the particles containing terrifying power inside were bursting out with intense light, no less powerful than the full-force attack of an Eight-Chain Spellcaster, and were devouring everything Andrei had.

The dean looked up at the impending apocalypse and sighed.

A somewhat disappointed sigh.

"With such strange and wonderful abilities, your ultimate trump card... subconsciously you still think the strongest thing is... advanced physics?" The founder of Andrei did not deny the power of nuclear weapons, but this power was not new.

"It's up to you now, Advanced Magic Research Institute."

Two figures emerged from behind the dean without any warning, as if they appeared out of thin air and fell out of an invisible gap.

Advanced Magic Research Society, Professor of Black Hole Studies, Death Star II.

Advanced Magic Research Society, Professor of Static Mechanics, Mr. Static.

Mr. Stasis stood frozen in place for about a second before patting Death Star on the shoulder to indicate that his work was done.

"I have already inscribed the Singularity Rune on it."

"When?"

"When time stands still."

Death Star II was somewhat lazy and reluctant about this task. Because he was the protector, he had to control the yield of the black hole. He couldn't allow any of his comrades to be injured or killed under his control; this feeling of constraint was unbearable, but Death Star II wasn't incapable of it. As a professor of advanced magical research, he knew how to prioritize.

"About this amount..."

Death Star II snapped his fingers.

Time and space seemed to freeze for a moment, especially around the destructive warhead, where the pause was particularly noticeable. Kururugi Seiryu stared at the warhead in front of him; the delay in its explosion had exceeded his expectations.

A deep black rune is etched on the surface of the twisted warhead.

The energy burst forth, then collapsed into a pitch-black sphere, forming a dazzling halo above Andrei. At its center was an invisible, dense darkness, as the void energy devoured the sky and the light.

The Death Star's masterpiece made its presence felt in the sky, as if a huge chunk of land had collapsed, and the surrounding air rushed into deep space. The sudden appearance of gravity captured everything around it, including Lancelot, who was desperately trying to escape.