Chapter 33: Underworld Wraith King

Leon raised Stormcaller’s Conduit to the sky.

"Alpha’s Roar!"

A concussive blast of pure intimidation erupted from Leon’s chest. Even though constructs couldn’t feel fear, the sheer physical pressure of the roar disrupted the ambient mana in the room, staggering the giants and breaking their gravity field.

Leon vanished from his spot, his 35 Agility pushing him to the absolute limit. He reappeared at the base of the nearest Colossus.

Slash! Crack!

Bloodfang Edge severed the giant’s ankle tendons, corrosion and decay rapidly eating through the stone. As the colossus fell to one knee, Leon pointed his staff directly at its visor.

Arcane Requiem blasted point-blank into the giant’s face, the lightning and decay obliterating its core.

Ding!

[You have killed "Royal Obsidian Colossus (Level 26, Elite)" and gained 1,600 experience points.]

He didn’t stop to admire the kill. Two left, plus the one missing an arm.

He swept his gaze across the room, Gorgon’s Decree flaring again. The Deathless petrification washed over the legs of the remaining two healthy giants, locking them in place. Unable to move, they became massive, helpless targets.

Leon systematically dismantled them. He moved with a ruthless, practiced efficiency, alternating between the armor-melting strikes of the Bloodfang Edge, the shockwaves of Verlimon’s Judgment, and the devastating blasts of Arcane Requiem.

The leeching effect of his magic kept his HP completely topped off, draining whatever residual vitality the constructs possessed to fuel his relentless assault.

Ding!

[You have killed "Royal Obsidian Colossus (Level 26, Elite)" and gained 1,600 experience points.]

[You have killed "Royal Obsidian Colossus (Level 26, Elite)" and gained 1,600 experience points.]

[You have killed "Royal Obsidian Colossus (Level 26, Elite)" and gained 1,600 experience points.]

The final giant crumbled into a mountain of broken stone.

Leon exhaled a long breath, allowing Obsidian Carapace to fade from his skin. The throne room was a disaster area, the polished floor cratered and ruined, covered in the massive remains of the four guards.

Ding!

[Lucky Fate has activated!]

[Rare Drop Probability significantly increased.]

[Royal Obsidian Colossi have dropped: 110,000 Eternal Coins, 4 Cores of the Guardian, 1 Colossus Pauldron (Gold-Rank).]

[Talent Devourer: Residual Talent Energy Detected: "Resonant Armor" (Fragments Available: 8)]

Leon mentally stored the fragments, unwilling to waste time fusing them right now.

Because the fight wasn’t over.

The moment the last piece of loot materialized in his inventory, the braziers lining the massive throne room suddenly extinguished themselves. The entire chamber was plunged into pitch darkness.

The temperature plummeted. The air grew so cold that Leon’s breath began to materialize as thick, white clouds in front of his face.

From the far end of the room, atop the jagged dais of black glass, a slow, rhythmic clapping echoed through the darkness.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Impressive," a voice rasped. It sounded like two stones grinding against each other at the bottom of a dry well. "It has been an eternity since a living soul possessed the strength to shatter my royal guard. But you are far from home, mortal. And you shall travel no further."

A single brazier flared back to life behind the throne, casting a long, ominous shadow across the room.

Sitting on the obsidian throne was a figure draped in tattered, spectral robes. He was at least nine feet tall, wearing a jagged crown of wrought iron that seemed fused directly to his pale, hairless skull. His eyes were twin voids of swirling purple energy, and in his right hand, he held a massive scythe whose blade seemed to be forged from compressed starlight and shadow.

Ding!

[Monster Detected: Malakor, Sovereign of the Ash]

[Level: 30]

[Type: Underworld Wraith King - Zone Boss]

[Innate Talents: Domain of the Dead, Soul Severance]

[Threat Assessment: Fatal. Recommended Action: Flee.]

Leon read the notification, his eyes lingering on the Level 30 marker.

Level 30. The threshold. The exact level he needed to reach to survive the first hundred days of the Elimination Cycle. Standing before him was the physical embodiment of the milestone he had been chasing since the moment the God of Transmigration dropped him into this world.

"Flee?" Leon whispered, a sharp, feral grin spreading across his face. "Not a chance."

Malakor slowly stood from his throne. As he did, a wave of suffocating, necrotic energy blasted outward, instantly swallowing the entire room.

Ding!

[Domain of the Dead has activated!]

[You are within the Sovereign’s Domain. All base attributes reduced by 30%. HP regeneration nullified. Constant necrotic damage applied over time.]

Leon felt the weight of the domain instantly. His limbs grew heavy, his reactions slowing as a chilling numbness spread through his veins. His HP bar immediately began ticking downward, the necrotic energy actively trying to rot his flesh from the inside out.

But Leon wasn’t an ordinary player.

Ding!

[Absolute Adaptation has activated!]

[Your body has begun rapidly adapting to Domain-class necrotic suppression.]

[Attribute suppression reduced to 15%. Resistance to necrotic decay increased by 60%.]

The suffocating weight lifted significantly. The numbness faded, replaced by the familiar, comfortable heat of his own mana fighting back against the intrusion.

Malakor’s purple eyes narrowed. "You resist the ash? Interesting. But futile."

The Sovereign didn’t walk down the steps of the dais. He simply vanished.

Leon’s Origin Eyes flared violently, screaming a warning directly into his brain.

Above!

Leon didn’t look up. He instantly triggered Gale Weaver, throwing himself backward with a blast of wind just as Malakor materialized in the air where Leon had been standing, his massive shadow-scythe swinging in a horizontal arc designed to sever Leon in half.

The blade missed Leon’s stomach by less than an inch, but the sheer force of the swing unleashed a wave of dark energy that slammed into his chest.

Obsidian Carapace absorbed the brunt of it, but the kinetic force lifted Leon off his feet, sending him flying backward. He crashed through one of the massive stone pillars, tumbling across the ground before stabbing Bloodfang Edge into the floor to arrest his momentum.

Ding!

[HP: 710/1,020]

A single glancing blow from a shockwave had ripped away three hundred health points, even through his B-Rank defensive talent and 50 Constitution. Level 30 was a completely different tier of existence.

"Vitalis Mend," Leon commanded.

A golden, runic projectile fired from his left hand, curving through the air and striking his own chest. The S-Rank healing talent instantly flooded his body with pure vitality, erasing the internal bruising and simultaneously granting him the Partial Runification physical defense buff.

Ding!

[HP: 1,020/1,020]

Malakor drifted forward, his tattered robes floating unnaturally around him. "Healing magic. A rare comfort. But it only prolongs your suffering."

"We’ll see about that," Leon replied.