Chapter 424: One Commander Down, Two to Go.
Alone, the undead Kharv battled the General’s elite squad in a display of brutality and savagery. Every swing of its axe was meant to reap lives.
None could survive its single strike.
No matter how sturdy their armor was.
No matter how powerful their bodies were.
The outcome remained the same.
Death.
Greater Dune Scorpions were split into two.
Their stingers were reduced to nothing like dry tree roots, snapped at will. Their thick pincers shattered into countless fragments.
Their hard carapaces failed to withstand the terrifying Peak Bronze Grade axe. Even the desert beneath them split apart from the tremendous force.
Like a god of death, the undead Kharv moved between the elite squad, harvesting their souls with terrifying efficiency.
Every leap carried it several meters forward.
Every landing shook the battlefield.
Its soul fire flickered endlessly within its hollow eye sockets.
No grace.
No finesse.
Direct.
Savage.
Gory.
It was a style born purely for slaughter.
The General’s elite squad enjoyed the best treatment and weapons. Every one of them had survived countless battles.
Every one of them had earned their position through blood and merit. Their equipment represented the pride of the Scorpion Clan.
But now, against the undead Kharv, their most prized weapons and armor were nothing but fragile paper.
Many shattered to pieces.
Shields exploded apart upon contact.
Swords snapped cleanly in half.
Spears were split before they could even land a strike.
Their breastplates failed to protect them.
The thick metal caved inward under the terrifying impact.
Bones shattered beneath the armor.
Blood sprayed through the broken gaps.
Their sturdy muscles, their pride, failed them.
Their years of training became meaningless.
Everything they relied upon crumbled before absolute strength.
Their worst nightmare appeared before them.
Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!
Their miserable screams echoed throughout the battlefield. Many desperately surrounded the undead Kharv.
Others attacked from behind. Some even abandoned defense entirely in hopes of trading their lives for a single decisive wound. They struggled helplessly, unleashing everything they could muster.
Unfortunately, everything failed.
It failed miserably.
The undead Kharv neither retreated nor defended. It simply continued advancing.
Its terrifying axe rose and fell repeatedly.
Each swing claimed another life.
Each step left another corpse behind.
Their few attacks that landed on the undead Kharv only left shallow cuts that did not stop the killing machine.
Some chipped away dried flesh.
Others left cracks across its scales. One spear even pierced halfway through its shoulder.
Yet... The undead Kharv showed no sign of pain.
It did not hesitate.
It did not slow.
It simply pulled the weapon free and continued slaughtering. The sight alone caused many elite soldiers to despair.
In less than five minutes, half of the thousand elite squad had been decimated. Hundreds of corpses lay scattered across the battlefield.
Broken weapons.
Shattered armor.
Severed limbs.
Everything mixed together upon the crimson sand. Their corpses lay scattered on the ground, their blood still warm, flowing across the desert.
The scent of fresh blood became increasingly suffocating.
Everywhere it turned, death followed.
Nothing could stop it.
Its axe cleaved through both the living and weapons alike.
Even Greater Dune Scorpions instinctively attempted to retreat whenever the undead Kharv approached.
Unfortunately, their massive bodies only made them easier targets.
The General watched as his elite squad were being killed like fish on a chopping board, and he couldn’t help but tremble.
His expression grew uglier with every passing second.
His confidence slowly disappeared. Many times, he thought he was dreaming, but he knew better.
Everything before him was real. All of it was happening before his very eyes.
’When did he become this strong?’ This was the question that kept tolling in his mind.
Even though Kharv had become a Level 38 fighter while alive. Strong, yes, but not this terrifying.
The General had personally trained him. He knew Kharv’s limits better than anyone. This overwhelming strength simply should not exist.
Even with his current strength, if he were to confront the elite squad, he would be injured grievously, if not killed.
No matter how powerful he was, facing hundreds of elite warriors simultaneously would still come at a heavy price.
Yet, the undead Kharv, who was supposed to be weaker than him, was trampling them with ease.
Every law of battle he understood was being overturned. Every bit of common sense was being shattered.
How could this be?
For the first time since this war had begun, uncertainty appeared deep within the General’s heart. And that uncertainty slowly began turning into fear.
While the General was filled with intense nervousness and a growing sense of uneasiness, he heard a miserable cry.
"Ahhhhh.... General..." one of the Commanders screamed. His voice was filled with agony and desperation.
It echoed throughout the chaotic battlefield.
Sharply, the General turned his eyes in the direction of the sound.
"What!" His expression changed drastically.
His heart skipped a beat.
Most of the battalion soldiers had been slaughtered, with their heads separated from their necks.
The corpses lay scattered across the battlefield.
Many had been cut cleanly in half.
Others had lost their limbs.
Broken weapons and shattered armor littered the crimson desert. Just from their bodies alone, their blood formed a strong flowing stream, flowing down the dune.
The crimson sand gradually turned darker.
The metallic scent of blood filled the air.
However, what left him shocked was that the Commander had lost his stinger. The pride of every Scorpion Man.
The symbol of their strength.
Seeing it lying broken on the desert floor made the General’s eyes twitch violently. Surrounding the Commander were dozens of undead Scorpion Men, and among them were Level 37 undead.
Each one radiated overwhelming undead energy.
Their yellow soul fire burned fiercely.
But the most troubling thing was the figures covered in black cloaks. Their presence alone made the surrounding undead seem ordinary.
Their movements were entirely different from the other undead.
Fluid.
Precise.
Unlike the ordinary undead that only charged forward relentlessly, these cloaked figures observed, waited, and struck at the perfect opportunity.
Anyone familiar would know what these cloaks represented and who they were.
They were harbingers of death.
Enders of All.
Every battlefield they appeared upon eventually turned into a graveyard.
The General narrowed his eyes. His instincts screamed louder than ever before.
Those cloaked figures, they were far more dangerous than the surrounding undead.
From the left, the undead Guild Captain moved swiftly, striking the Commander with horrifying power.
Its massive sword blurred through the air. The pressure from the strike alone caused the surrounding sand to explode outward.
From the right, the undead Royalty Stonewall swung its terrifying blade in a wide arc. The dark blade carried an unstoppable momentum.
Two attacks at the same time.
Perfect coordination.
No hesitation.
The Scorpion Commander tried to defend against the two strikes, pushing his strength to the limit.
His muscles bulged violently.
Veins protruded across his thick arms.
He roared while pouring every remaining ounce of strength into his weapon. Unfortunately, these were undead with unmatched power.
Clank!
The Commander clashed with the undead Royalty Stonewall’s blade, and his weapon shattered to pieces while the blade continued on its path.
Fragments of metal scattered everywhere.
The impact alone numbed his entire body. His remaining hand trembled uncontrollably.
His eyes widened with disbelief.
"Noooooo!"
Slash!
The Commander’s hard scales, the source of their pride and defense, welcomed the massive undead Guild Captain broadsword.
The terrifying weapon sliced through the scales as though they did not exist.
Ahhhhhh!
A miserable scream escaped from the Commander as everything from his left arm down to his waist was cut off.
Blood splattered onto the ground.
His severed arm flew dozens of meters away.
It was brutal.
It was horrifying.
Right now, he wanted nothing but to escape from the battlefield.
He no longer cared about victory.
He no longer cared about pride.
Survival was the only thing left in his mind.
However, before he could take another step backward, a cold, terrifying blade flashed before his eyes.
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