Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Hearing the command, the closest of the bowed zombies turned its head, raised its drooping arm to remove the blood clot from its chest cavity, broke away from the stiff main group, and walked to the chilling high-ranking skeleton.

Without hesitation, the pale blue arm gripped his spine, shattering his bones with a slight force. Frost-covered bone fragments were embedded in a noticeable hole. The frost-covered skeletons released chilling air, completely freezing that area. After a final glance at the area, it continued to release chilling air, freezing the ground it had traversed. More than fifty frost-covered skeletons advanced in parallel, the outermost two groups halting at a distance to maintain their frozen state, carrying the main force deeper into the Black Tide.

The frost skeleton with the number [23] engraved on the back of the skull was still working the ground. He calmly observed his surroundings, not missing a single detail. Two more groups of walkers had just sunk. He stepped forward as ordered, creating new frozen ground. As soon as the cold air was released, the broken skeleton beneath his feet suddenly burst open, and huge tentacles as thick as buckets emerged from the breach, scattering black mud everywhere as the tentacles swayed. Number 23 sprayed cold air at the tentacles, walking straight towards them to amplify the effect. The five-meter-long tentacles swung down, and Number 23 became one of his broken kind. Before the soul flame extinguished, the remaining half of the skull happened to see a pale white meteor falling towards it from above.

A flash of light appeared, followed by a cloud of white mist. A gaunt arm picked up the glowing skull. The skeletal man, now deserted from the army, carried the skull to the frigid area. At its center, the once rampant tentacle had become a cold sculpture. Following the guidance, the walker placed his hand on the ice sculpture. The number 23 on the skull began to glow, transforming into magic that seeped into the walker's skull, naturally absorbing the concentrated cold magic of the area. When everything crumbled, the new number 23, the frost-covered skeleton, began its work anew.

A kilometer later, on the slowly moving flesh and blood monster, two liches were reloading frost bombs. They glanced at the control room below them and stopped only when the loading hole closed on its own.

"Station 23 is operating normally, and roadblocks have been cleared."

"Yay!" The loader happily tossed the Frost Bomb from the Magic Research Society into the horde of zombies beside him. With a loud bang, several new Frost Skeletons stood in the very center of the pile of bones, their icy gazes fixed on the lich who had missed his target.

"What are you looking at! Go help on the front lines!"

“Ankaul!” The frost-covered skeleton departed.

"If you're getting bored, I'll take over controlling the Tractor. You've all graduated with basic necromancy, haven't you?" the lich in the cockpit yelled. The fleshy behemoth known as the Tractor roared back, the tremendous noise causing the liches present to tremble. A thick iron chain with fleshy buds hung taut behind the Tractor, the taut chain tilting upwards, the other end seemingly piercing the clouds.

Similar howls echoed incessantly, the dragging chains rattled, and every short distance traveled, an earthquake would resound, cracking the frozen ice surface—this was the reason Frostbones was constantly at work. All the chains were linked to the same target, the colossal object being pulled along: a three-legged mountain. Its top stretched into the clouds, stirring up the dark clouds as it moved. The three thick legs were purplish-black, and the graveyard stone was stained with skulls resembling those of vengeful spirits. The mountain's outer wall was a ring of tall black crosses, the haphazardly arranged buildings appearing as if forcibly squeezed together. Occasionally, bright red, living monsters would lurk on its surface, and Mr. Crimson's Blood Nest Tree would slither through its web like a diligent spider. Every so often, his forbidden creation seemed to attach living tissue to the outer wall of the moving graveyard, keeping the entire ritual site active without collapsing.

Bones continued to fall from the perimeter of the cursed graveyard. These substances, created through the ritual's absorption of magic, quickly acquired the properties of [remains], rising again in the haunted land to become soldiers at the liches' command. This mobile ritual site was filled with most of the liches from Andre Academy; they loved it here, much like mages favored magic nodes. The headmaster stood at the forefront, delivering his final sermon to his academy. Few liches responded; some played their favorite mournful tunes on instruments, some whispered among themselves, and many others ate.

“I should have known; the resurrection effect of the cursed graveyard also works on pork chops,” the lich said, as he was being vengeful by a portion of the undead livestock.

Another lich was taking an apple out of his storage space, watching with surprise as it shriveled at a visible speed. He took a bite and spat out the apple juice. "I still think rotten apples taste better than dead ones."

In a corner, Lyle, completely unaffected by the ritual, is communicating with Helena's stone sculpture.

“We are among the vengeful spirits and ghosts, so don’t worry about us, Lyle.” The stone sculpture blinked. “And don’t worry about home either. Naslan’s alchemical array can be maintained as long as there are materials. Besides the ghost maids left to guard the house, Beatrice also made some gargoyles to watch over the house.”

"Well, I'm doing fine here too," Lyle glanced at the rampaging Death Gundam not far away. Nia was assisting the Andrei Figure Company members with emergency repairs. The Cursed Graveyard had activated the Death Gundam's self-operating program, giving it more sentience. They had to stop it before it executed the self-destruct function according to the operating manual. Watching several missiles blast into the crowd, causing chaos, Lyle felt he was going to be killed soon. "Oh, the Dean wants to see me. I guess he has something to tell me. I'm a key person, so I'll talk to him later. Dear Helena, please give them my regards."

Retrieving the stone sculpture, the Necromancer Gundam finally stopped in front of Lyle. With the broad-bladed bone-chopping knife hanging over his head, Lyle would never admit that his heart was pounding wildly.

"A weapon that dares to kill its master sounds really cool," Omen hummed.

"To understand freedom but not to know reverence—I think that's terrible," another ominous sign said.

[What do you think, Lyle, if we understand creation as another form of offspring?]

"I hope that's just a hypothetical situation, otherwise even demons would have to pray with my name on their lips."

Chapter 837 The Divine Manifestation

The City of Wanderings floats alone in the sky, its former bustling prosperity now silent beneath the veil of dark clouds. Only the Eye of Arcane Arts continues to radiate its light, like a steadfast lighthouse.

In the underground foundation of the Wandering City, Morokui stared at the map model drawn in the magic well. The glaring white was like a sore spreading across the planet. The Andrei Lich's expansion was very successful, but this did not ease the dragon priest's expression.

The dragon priests of Morokui gradually emerged from the shadows, and none of them had brought any followers to this gathering.

“There’s no one here. I still prefer this city as it used to be.” The Elf Queen observed the Flame Agave that she had once nurtured in a glass dome, and with a flick of her finger, she brought the nearly dead plant back to life.

"The evacuation of the citizens was completed long ago; they have been placed in other planes, awaiting our victorious return." Morokui, retaining a final act of humanity, nodded to the approaching white dragon priest. "How are your troops recovering?"

“Excellent, very good, fantastic! Our strikers are outstanding; the Life Overseer is practically on vacation.”

The Black Dragon Priest nodded in agreement, “The main force is being protected so well that it feels like an insult. It’s certainly a good thing to avoid meaningless sacrifices, but we can’t always rely on the dead.”

Andrei's aggressive advance gave the impression that they could sweep everything aside; the undead army and the flesh-and-blood creatures seemed so massive that they were practically unshakeable.

“No, it’s not that easy.” Moroki stared at the magic network model; the frost on the map was almost soaking into the coordinates he knew so well. “They should stop.”

An earthquake struck the entire cursed graveyard, causing the ground to tilt. Explosions and the agonizing wails of the undead echoed from outside. The skeletal reconnaissance force was wiped out before it could report back. The shift in the ground of the cursed graveyard allowed the liches above to witness the enemy's attack.

A dense barrage of light lance bullets rained down, the resulting thunderous roars striking the defensive barrier, evaporating a significant portion of the gathered death aura. Lyle listened to his heartbeat; the other liches, like him, seemed to experience a physiological stiffness. The outer walls of the cursed graveyard's tombstones crumbled, revealing the liches and their enemies to each other.

"Sheliu" wore that familiar smile, and behind his slender frame stood a fully-fledged legion. Tentacles sprouted from the gaps in his armor, pustules and sharp-toothed mouths grew from the gaps in his equipment, and there were mutated fire giants, corrupted shield-bearers, and individual eyeballs exceeding double digits, all observing their kind from different perspectives.

"For...the Holy Light..." The hollow cry was merely a repetition of past vows, the only language remaining in the digested spirit. Even a simple gaze could produce a certain mental stimulation. The lich did not have the cerebral cortex of the living to provide mental feedback; all the dead simply breathed in the cold air, and something special arose in their souls.

Holy light and death, justice and evil. They no longer clamor; they gather magic, they chant spells, they roar.

"For...the Holy Light..."

"For Andrei!"

Braving a hail of light and spears, treading the path of death, controlling flesh-and-blood monsters, the liches abandoned their composure, letting their awakened chaotic instincts control their roaring bodies. They were enjoying themselves, rediscovering one of their lost emotions in the conflict, fighting with frenzied rage, clashing fiercely with the corrupted paladins whose flesh had swelled, unleashing magic and spells wherever their vision could reach. The summoned creature charged toward the fire giant, using its four sturdy, modified limbs to control the giant's wrists, its remaining arms gripping its lava-flowing head. However, with the fire giant slightly leaning back, the sudden headbutt attack struck like a cannonball, exploding on the creature's body. This physical blow, clearly imbued with fire enchantment, directly ignited the stitched beast's boiling point, causing its contents to spill from its softened body.

The Firebringer Legion commanders were still of a higher base rank; the fire giants they corrupted were like walking storms of war, scattering bones wherever they went. Only when the leaders or members of large factions joined forces could the decline be halted. The elite forces did not intervene, because they understood that the Sleepers had not yet played their trump card.

The Dean, carrying a scythe, led Lyle and the others across their companions who were piecing their bodies back together. From that spot, the Sleeper happened to be smiling and watching them.

"They are the most outstanding human beings, the leaders of this era."

“They used to be.” The vicious scythe sliced ​​through Terry and the corrupted knight beside him. The Dean extracted their souls from their shattered bodies; their once-pure spirits were now filthy with impurities, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that their mental illness was terminal. This blasphemous hue was something even the most depraved lich could not create. Liches might modify the qualities of a soul for certain purposes, but they would not corrupt for the sake of corruption.

The sleeping being was not killed by the Dean; tentacles emerged from the black mud and dragged it backward at high speed.

"Although your attacks are ineffective against me, being beheaded is never a pleasant thing." With outstretched arms, swarms of tentacles surged from the black mud, not attacking, but spontaneously dancing towards the dark space above. Triton's avatar dissolved like mud, and within the dense ocean of tentacles, a portion of the god's true form was drawn out from the heart of the planet.

A single vertical eye, connected to the end of all the tentacles, easily covered the gap between the clouds and the black mud. A wall, a mountain, a barrier of the world could not compare to its magnificence. Regardless of distance or time, the warriors witnessed their true enemy, and only then did they feel at odds with this world and this planet.

The slumbering one opened its eyes, and an ancient voice resounded in the hearts of all those being watched.

Your struggles are futile.

Your doomsday will be a terrible sight.

[Wail as loudly as you can, for your destiny is the elusive constellation.]

"God's 'immune' response has begun. Immediately assemble the troops and bring all warriors before His 'eyes'."

"Dragon! Yemotar!"

The storm tore everything apart, wings whipping up ashes and lightning, and the enraged Dragonfather charged at the god with murderous intent. The power of the Devourer Yemotar was unofficial; the Dragonfather wouldn't trigger the Sleepers' immune response. The original fragment of the god was too large; if Triton were to split off another fragment to rival it, this newborn split might just rebel on the spot, just like its predecessor.

Angels, show me your glory!

The lightning that the giant claws had seized and the raging flames that roared from its mouth vanished in an instant. An angel emerged from the black mud, and its three heads responded in their own way. Although the corrupted angel appeared to be mentally divided and non-aggressive, it easily extinguished the dragon's fire.

[Leader of Light, Legion Angel, Dragonbane, First Divergent, Perfect Sacrifice, Avatar of Heaven...]

A multitude of traits overlapped on the body of the corrupted angel, and the mere feeling of its lingering power was enough to induce nausea. He was an unnatural creation of the greatest natural creation, a desecrated holiness, and was corrupted after being captured by the Sleepers. These forces, which should have been in conflict with each other, were transformed into a somber terror through a bizarre reconciliation.

The corrupted angels are no less divine than the Creator.

One represents the will of the planet.

One is a mistake that originated from the planet.

Without any psychological burden, the Andrei Lich chose to swarm forward, fearing that if they were a little late, the corrupted angel, whose mind was not clear and whose spirit was split, might accidentally find [Dragon's Bane] in his own trash heap of traits and put on another show of slaying the dragon king in public.

Chapter 838 Survivors of the Swarm

"Release your breath, my children!" The dragon restrained the corrupted angel, using its massive size to forcefully twist and bring the angel into the path of the dragon's breath. The tangled energy exploded in its arms, and without flinching from the force of the explosion, Yemotar opened its massive jaws and bit into its own palm.

"I don't need your orders, you old fool!" The eldest son of the black dragon glided through the sky, the joy of his successful attack making him, already somewhat arrogant, immediately retort to his father. Before he could even rejoice for a few seconds, a twisted figure suddenly appeared before him, and then, the giant dragon, several meters long, was swatted from the sky into the black mud by a one-meter-long, seemingly soft wing.

Taking advantage of the gap in the breath attack, the angel slipped out of the dragon father's palm and pursued the black dragon that had contributed the most to the breath. In less than a second, Yemotar reattached the angel, and the black dragon, its left wing broken, crawled out of the black mud in fury.

"I'm fine! It's nothing!" the black dragon roared madly, displaying a ferocity uncommon in its near-death rage. The dragon father said nothing more, focusing even more intently on the angel who continued to emit noise. He couldn't afford to attack with force, and whether he could even injure the angel was uncertain, but if the angel were to free up his hands and harm his own offspring, the old father would be heartbroken.

A dangerous aura emanated from overhead. The Corrupted Angel's light shifted, its original characteristics transforming into a terrifying aura that terrified reptiles. Activating its special attack against dragons—the "Dragon Calamity"—it grabbed its massive Dragon-Slaying Thunder Spear, causing the dragon, still soaring in the air, to stumble and swiftly return to its starting position.

"Watch out! He's changed his traits again!" The others felt a little less pressure, but when they saw the dragon family gathered together, they clearly understood what was going on.

"Switch!"

Without participating in the battle, the blue dragon Kristor, stationed in the City of Wanderings, used the power of the magic network before the lightning spear fell. As the embodiment of the magic network, he manipulated the warriors' positions like a chess player controlling a chessboard. With the help of the mage towers built by Morokoi, he could move his members to any location he wanted.

For example, like now, helping your family escape the deadly Dragon Slayer Thunder Spear.

As the lightning dissipated, only a lich holding a massive skeletal shield remained where the dragons had once gathered. White smoke billowed from the gleaming shield before it shattered, along with the right arm that had been supporting it. Several liches suddenly appeared beside the one-armed lich, pressing and squeezing a brand-new skeletal arm against his joints. He flexed his wrist and apologized to the headmaster, who was flying through the air on his spirit horse.

"The divine artifact you created is gone."

Slicing through the launched light feathers, the dust-covered dean, under the cover of his companions, roared, "I have plenty of divine weapons! Don't hold back, you must stop this bastard!"

The lich and the angels fought in the air, and Principes took the opportunity to appear beside the dragon father.

"The angel has entered the [Dragon's Bane] state, which is sure to kill us in a short time. Go with your children to the rear battlefield to escort reinforcements. You can't help on the front lines."

“Just let Alcaron take them back,” the Father of Dragons said. His body was covered in wounds from the Holy Light, and his exposed bones were grotesque from the scorching Holy Flame. His flesh was growing back, and Yemotar could feel his body gradually developing resistance and weakening the effects of his dragon traits. “I can hold on. None of those present can stand a chance against that monstrous angel.”

What's truly deadly isn't the lethal special attack traits, but rather the Corrupted Angel's absurd physical abilities and domineering holy light. A casual strike can bring someone to the brink of death. Only the [immortal] Dragonfather can truly withstand the iron fist and holy flames. The area around that angel is far too dangerous; even liches become fragile as bones.

"What's worse is that this isn't even the final boss."

Ahead, amidst the raging fire and constant battles, the true Creator silently watches over everyone from the sidelines. His tentacles are sculpting new human forms, and the immune system is producing antibodies. Soon, the corrupted angels will bring these life-defying antibodies to annihilate everyone.

"Where are the reserves? Quickly send those living people up! We've already held off the Holy Light Legion and the angels' attack!!" The lich, with two light guns stuck in his ribs, hid behind the barrier of the tombstone, clutching the communication crystal and shouting.

The situation for the survivors is also not optimistic.

Carlos regrouped his troops, maintaining formation to face the monsters that had suddenly appeared before them. Just moments ago, they had burst from the ground, their grotesque chitinous blades catching the troops off guard. Now, they were licking the blood clinging to their razors with their mouthparts, these insect-like raiders leisurely waiting for their enemies to recover, as if toying with their prey.

"Mantis Demon".

The insect warrior's antennae twitched, its compound eyes rotated, and a hoarse voice came from its distinctly different vocal cords.

"I will never forget your scent, Blue Dragon Blood. Your people are all cowardly cowards who fear death. Damn arcane sorcerers, you have turned my clan's mission into a joke. I will devour your flesh and blood bit by bit, arcane sorcerer, to avenge the hatred that has gnawed at my heart for a thousand years."

The Mantid, one of the swarms subjugated by the Sleepers. They are the arcane wielders corresponding to the Blue Dragon Priests; however, in the last war against the gods, this swarm had no chance to spread their terror to the Dragonkin. While other swarms fought the Dragon Priests to a bloody pulp, the Mantid killed zero mages.

They are the race with the most outstanding evolutionary talent, the best physical templates, the richest evolutionary pathways, and the most developed minds. They are entrusted with the expectations of the gods and are tasked with dealing with the most comprehensive enemies. Although their initial physique is not outstanding, they can grow rapidly in battle and under external pressure. Mantid are the best among the insect swarms; their superiority is truly etched into their genes.

The person who reversed the status and identity of the mantids was their enemy.

Blue Dragon Priest, Moroki.

A mage, a sage, a monarch. He discovered the enemy before anyone else, and his solution to this group of seemingly weak but terrifyingly powerful mantid was... endless exile.

By controlling the magic network and mastering all the intricacies of this planet, he directly teleported the entire swarm of mantid to the farthest point on Earth from the capital city of Morokyi.

Born from an egg, receiving divine instructions from their genes, they journey with joy, with silence, with depression. Most mantises reach adulthood during this expedition, without battle or food, only able to smell the scent of blue dragon blood, braving wind and rain.

Persistence pays off, and the Mantid finally succeeded! They saw the borders of the arcane kingdom, and the bewildered mages. Imagining blood, hearing screams, the swarm of insects charged towards the barrier.

A familiar magical power suddenly enveloped their bodies. The mantis stared wide-eyed at the mage floating in the air, the sworn enemy they had vowed to etch into their race and into their blood.