System's POV

Chapter 1173: The Ways Of The Undead [Part 2]

Just like all the Archons, General Norton had his own life-saving artifacts.

Thirteen knew this and specifically told his allies to do everything in their power to finish off their enemies before they could activate these artifacts.

Erasmus already had a plan in mind from the very start, so he sacrificed the Wyvern King, Vannaroth, Azoh’Ran, and Commander Dravon to ensure his opponent wouldn’t be able to react in time.

And he succeeded.

The Corpse Explosion of three Rank 9 Sovereigns from three directions devoured General Norton before he could even react and scream in pain.

Erasmus and Azoh’Dar had dug a tunnel underground to escape the effect of the explosion, which extended for nearly a mile, annihilating the Artemians who were at the rear of their battle formation.

The earth above trembled violently, soil collapsing and ash raining down into the tunnel where Erasmus and Azoh’Dar crouched.

Even deep underground, the shockwaves of the three Sovereigns’ explosions reached them, and a crushing tide of force pressed down on their bodies.

When the rumbling subsided at last, Azoh’Dar let out a ragged breath. “That… was excessive, even for you, Erasmus.”

Erasmus chuckled, skeletal hands brushing dust from his blackened armor. “Excessive? Perhaps. But necessary. Norton was too dangerous to leave with even a breath in his lungs.”

Azoh’Dar tilted his head, his reptilian eyes narrowing. “And yet… Do you not feel it? That oppressive malice hasn’t vanished. Something still lingers above.”

Erasmus’ empty sockets flared with pale fire. “You’re not wrong. Just like Zion said, killing these Artemian Archons will not be easy.”

The two emerged from the underground passage, climbing through the cracked earth.

What greeted them was devastation.

Thousands of Artemian corpses were strewn across a crater that stretched nearly a mile in every direction. Armor had melted, stone turned to slag, and the very air shimmered with lingering death energy.

In the center of it all, a single figure stood.

General Norton.

His armor was shattered, one arm dangling uselessly, and his face hidden behind a helmet half-melted into his flesh. Black smoke rose from him like the fumes of a dying forge.

Yet his eyes gleamed with feral hate, and in his chest, a dark crystal pulsed—a life-saving artifact consumed to preserve him at the last moment.

“Erasmusssssss!” General Norton growled, voice guttural with a mix of rage and agony. “You think… explosions and corpses can kill me? I’ll carve your bones into dust.”

Erasmus merely smiled thinly at the Artemian’s provocation.

“I was hoping you’d survive,” Erasmus replied. “After all, it would be boring if you died too quickly.”

As the skeletal sorcerer raised his hand, the field of corpses around them began to stir.

Artemian soldiers, once slaughtered by the explosion, twitched as necrotic magic seeped into their flesh.

Broken spears, shattered blades, and sundered armor rattled as an army of fresh undead began to rise.

Norton roared, his greatsword igniting once more with violent dark energy. Once more, the battlefield shook as the duel was reignited.

One man’s stubborn defiance against death itself, and one necromancer’s cruel delight in dragging the living into his domain.

The battlefield became a nightmare of steel and shadows.

Norton swung his greatsword in a brutal arc, cleaving through a dozen freshly risen corpses in a single strike.

The black energy wreathed around his blade carved fissures into the earth, tearing Erasmus’ pawns apart like parchment.

But for every undead that fell, three more crawled out of the wreckage: hands still clutching spears with broken shafts, soldiers missing half their skulls, and an Azothrall with its ribs jutting out, eyes glowing with necrotic fire.

“Parasite!” Norton roared, his battered body trembling with every movement. “I’ll cut you down until nothing remains of your filth!”

Erasmus only laughed, skeletal fingers weaving intricate sigils. “Please do. The more you rage, the more you burn that precious artifact’s power away. Fight me with all your fury, General… because death doesn’t care how loudly you scream.”

Azoh’Dar lunged, his claws swiping in a storm of golden arcs.

Norton met him head-on, the impact shaking the ground as dragon-scale clashed against corrupted steel.

The Golden Azothrall’s strike drew blood from the general’s chest, but Norton retaliated with a savage backhand slash that sent Azoh’Dar skidding across the field, several of his dark obsidian scales shattered.

The undead surged in from all sides, climbing onto Norton like ants upon a wounded beast.

He impaled one, kicked another, and split three more with an explosive whirl of his blade, but the swarm never relented.

More Undead rose to their feet, their hollow eye sockets glowing faintly.

From behind, Erasmus’ voice slithered across the smoke-choked air.

“Do you recognize them, Norton? These are the faces of the soldiers who trusted you to lead them. Every time you strike one down, you kill them a second time. Tell me… how long can you carry that weight before it breaks you?”

“Shut your rotten mouth!” Norton bellowed. “Your words mean nothing to me!”

With a roar of pure rage, he drove his sword into the ground, releasing a violent shockwave of shadow that blew apart hundreds of Undead in a single eruption.

The force knocked Erasmus back a step, dust hissing from the cracks in his bones. “Oh, splendid. A cornered beast with no leash. Yes, Norton—bleed yourself dry for me.”

The crystal embedded in Norton’s chest flickered erratically now, its cracks spreading as it struggled to keep his ruined body alive.

His steps grew heavy, his breathing ragged. But his killing intent had only sharpened.

Azoh’Dar, bloodied yet unbowed, growled low. ’I don’t know what’s worse. Fighting against Norton or fighting alongside Erasmus. This Undead prefers to play with his prey rather than killing them outright.’

As if reading his thoughts, Erasmus chuckled.

“Don’t look at me like that, Azoh’Dar,” Erasmus said. “Just look at this wonderful specimen in front of us. He’s beaten and battered, but still holding strong. Although the loss of three Rank 9 Undead hurts me so much, he will make up for it—he alone is an amazing addition to my corpse collection.”

Norton raised his sword again, and the battlefield shuddered as his last reserves of strength ignited, black fire crawling up his blade.

“I’d rather die than become your slave!” Norton understood that he would not be able to last any longer. Yet, the swarm of Undead was so thick that it was preventing him from charging straight on towards the Lord of Death, who ruled them all.

Although he didn’t want to admit it, the mere thought of becoming one of Erasmus’ pawns after he died was taking a toll on his willpower.

So, with renewed determination, he pooled all of his aura and strength on the blade of his sword for one last strike.

His gaze locked onto the Lord of Death, with one goal, and one goal only.

To bring the Undead Monster with him to the afterlife, so he wouldn’t have to suffer even in death!

Erasmus didn’t know what Norton was thinking about as he manipulated the Sea of the Undead to swarm towards the Artemian General, who was like a candle flame that was about to be snuffed out.

He understood that Norton would soon fall, and with that, he would possess another subordinate, which would be useful for his future plans.