Chapter 266: Volume 7 Chapter 1: The Overlord Return
Volume 7 Chapter 1: The Overlord Return
On a desolate desert, black sand was swept up by the wind.
Due to the contamination of filthy blood, this desert had now turned into a dead zone.
Several terrifying undead creatures wandered aimlessly.
A giant lizard, its body covered in decaying flesh and shattered bones, exhaled a foul stench of corpses from its mouth.
It lifted its head, sniffing the air.
Suddenly, it let out a rough, hoarse roar and turned to glare angrily behind it.
There stood a young man, leaning on a cane, with a slight limp.
Trembling, he raised the object in his hand and took a step forward.
The lizard roared in anger but did not dare to attack.
A sharp, short sound emitted from the object in the young man’s hand.
In the next moment, the giant lizard, as if struck by overwhelming fear, turned and fled.
With the crisis averted, the young man lowered the object in his hand.
Then, as if remembering something, he lifted it again for a closer look.
It was a charred skull!
"Thank you, little Skull," the man, White, said.
The blackened skull trembled slightly, the red soul flames flickering weakly in its eye sockets, like a candle in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.
"You are all Lady Lori’s followers. When Lady Lori awakens, you will surely return to your original forms. Whether it’s you or the already slumbering Skelle." White spoke softly.
The skull weakly responded with a faint sound.
Finally, White hung the skull back at his waist.
Beside it, another charred skull dangled, but unlike the first, its soul flames had already been extinguished completely.
Skelle had exhausted its soul fire to cast a long-distance teleportation spell that brought White here, while Skull, after protecting him, was also nearing the end of its power.
Two loyal undead followers... If he told this story to others, those in the village would only find it odd, wouldn’t they?
But how about changing the story?
A summoner girl had two demon dogs.
One day, the girl was gravely injured.
One of the dogs sacrificed its life to cast a teleportation spell to bring someone to help, while the other dog nearly died protecting that person.
Haha, change the species, and the story becomes much more heartwarming. White thought with a hint of self-mockery.
With the cane for support, White continued limping forward, hoping he wouldn’t encounter any more undead.
Skull’s remaining strength couldn’t endure any further consumption... Ah, if only he weren’t just a [Villager].
If he weren’t a [Villager], he wouldn’t seem so powerless in this situation.
If he weren’t a [Villager], he could better assist the person who saved his life.
If he weren’t a [Villager], perhaps Krya wouldn’t have... wouldn’t have... Ah, best not to dwell on that any longer.
White limped along until he reached a foreboding place.
It was a swamp-like area, but the vast pools weren’t filled with water; instead, they emitted a sinister aura of tainted magic.
At the center was a sand pit, where black magic continuously flowed out, as though something terrifying and beyond comprehension lurked inside.
The dark hole seemed capable of devouring everything, giving an overwhelming sense of unease.
Just looking at it made one want to flee.
Yet, White did not run.
He walked calmly into the sand pit, believing that whatever was inside wouldn’t harm him.
Or rather, it no longer had the ability to harm him.
The cave was pitch-black.
White set down the bamboo basket from his back, pulled out some chopped, withered cactus, and threw it into the fire pit.
Within minutes, the campfire lit up, illuminating the cave.
"Lady Lori," White said, gazing into the depths of the cave where a small figure lay on the ground.
Her body was in shambles, with a massive wound in her chest.
Holy light radiated from the wound, relentlessly corroding it, making a hissing sound.
Black blood seeped out, and as soon as it touched the ground, it transformed into filthy magic.
Such an injury would have killed even a necromancer long ago.
White recalled the hero stories he had once heard.
In the past, the nun at the orphanage had told him about the undead.
One thing she mentioned was that higher-tier undead, when suffering catastrophic damage, would sometimes hide away and enter a long period of near-death slumber, waiting for the chance to revive.
Lady Lori’s current state was exactly as described in those stories.
It turned out that Lady Lori was never a necromancer... but...
No, so what if she’s undead?
Did she go around turning people into zombies?
Did she study inhumane magic?
No, she never did that.
When he was on the brink of death, it was Lady Lori who found him, took him back, cared for him, and gave him encouragement when he was lost and helpless.
She was his savior, the only person who was willing to encourage someone as powerless as him, a mere [Villager].
He finally understood why Lady Lori had always lived in isolation.
She deeply loved her foster mother, deeply loved the village she grew up in, but feared that one day, she might harm these people.
So, no matter how lonely she was, she chose to live alone.
Big sister Angi once said that she wasn’t even seventeen yet!
Lady Lori was so kind, yet she was a high-tier undead... What a tragedy.
Looking at Lady Lori’s wounds and the lingering holy light... Was she injured by a paladin or a priest? Or perhaps... by the legendary Hero?
With that thought, White suddenly lost all affection for the protagonists of those stories.
Someone who could mercilessly strike down a kind-hearted girl—how were they any different from scum?
White sat down, pulling a small cage from his basket, inside of which was a mouse-like creature with a twisted neck.
"I’m sorry, Lady Lori. This is the best I could catch with my abilities..." White apologized as he used his hand axe to bleed the small beast.
Soon, the bowl was filled with one-third of its blood.
It wasn’t enough.
This was far too little.
Steeling himself, White tore off a piece of his shirt, wrapped it around his arm, and sliced his wrist with the axe.
Blood gushed out like a fountain, quickly filling the bowl.
Looking at the unconscious Lori, White inched closer, the bowl of crimson liquid in hand.
To awaken the sleeping Overlord with fresh blood... Who would have thought that one day, he’d find himself in a situation right out of a hero’s tale?
Except he wasn’t the hero.
Not only was he not the hero, but he was likely to be one of those evil cultists devoted to reviving the Demon Lord, only to be slain by the hero in the end.
...
...
...
In the desert, a massive surge of black magic erupted, shooting into the sky.
White was thrown into the air.
Suddenly, pain tore through his arm, and a strong stench of blood filled the air as White crashed to the ground.
His right arm, along with his sleeve, had disappeared.
Blood spurted from the cleanly severed stump as White howled in agony, trying to prop himself up, but a crushing pressure enveloped him.
In an instant, White was frozen, unable to move, staring in terror at the figure before him.
It was the embodiment of death...
A small figure crouched atop a towering rock, her back to White.
Her black hair glowed faintly like molten lava.
Her shoulders trembled with intense excitement.
The sound of gnawing echoed through the night, as if she were devouring something.
The figure shuddered, slightly turning her head.
In the blinding moonlight, White could barely make out what she was eating... a bloody, mutilated arm, and a pair of blood-red eyes.
Summoned by the offering of fresh blood, something that had long been suppressed was now unleashed.
"I’m... so hungry..."
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