Chapter 218: Chapter 108: A Resounding Victory! Lynch, the Devilish Strategist
"Aah, there are monsters in the water~!"
"My leg! Help!"
"Fall back! Fall back!"
The bandits at the very front were instantly devastated. Some were pierced by the Fishmen’s Bone Forks and stone spears, while others were smashed into a bloody pulp by the Fish Giants’ heavy bone clubs. Scarlet blood spread through the lake, quickly staining the entire shallows red.
"No—!"
Scar-faced Craig’s eyes burned with fury as he watched his men being cut down like wheat.
He realized the waterway was completely sealed off. The only path to survival, perhaps, was to throw everything he had into crushing the enemy on one front and carving out a bloody escape.
"Follow me! We’re fighting our way back! Kill those Skeletons and break out of here!"
Left with no other choice, he wheeled around and, swinging his heavy axe, led the charge toward the cannon fodder Skeletons commanded by Bone Valor.
Admittedly, Craig’s choice was the right one for such a desperate situation.
While Bone Valor’s Skeletons were numerous, they were the weakest individually, making them the most vulnerable point in the Sea of Skulls’ encirclement.
"CRACK! CRASH!"
Craig swung his heavy axe in a wild frenzy. The radiant aura of a Tier Three Warrior swirled around the blade, imbuing it with astonishing power. In a single sweep, he shattered three Skeletons blocking his path.
Seeing this, the dozens of his most ferocious loyalists charged after him with bloodshot eyes. They actually managed to tear a small opening in the Skeletons’ formation.
"There’s hope! Charge!" A jolt of hope shot through Craig.
However, just as he was preparing to break through in one final push, a sudden, unexpected wave of weakness washed over him.
It felt as if half his strength had been instantly siphoned away. His arms grew heavy, his footing became unsteady, and even swinging his axe required immense effort.
"Damn it, it’s a goddamn Curse!" Craig’s face paled in horror.
He desperately tried to channel his battle aura to resist, but the weakness clung to him like a disease in his very bones.
On Lake Heart Island, Lynch’s Magic Staff was aimed in his direction. A faint, eerie light still flickered in the eyes of the raven perched atop it.
Clearly, the Weakness Curse had been his doing.
And in the brief moment that Craig’s movements faltered...
"ROAR—"
The colossal figure of the Corpse Demon charged in like a war chariot. Its massive, deep-purple hand sliced through the air, bringing with it a foul wind as it swatted viciously at his head!
Craig barely managed to raise his axe to parry.
"CLANG—!!!"
Amid the tremendous clang of metal, Craig was sent flying, axe and all. He coughed up a mouthful of blood in mid-air before crashing heavily onto the pebble beach.
For a moment, he felt as if his insides had been rearranged. A searing pain shot through his arm, and he nearly dropped his axe.
While under the effects of the Weakness Curse, he was no match for the raw power of a Tier Four Purple Zombie.
He struggled to get up, but his vision began to blur.
He glanced around. His loyalists were being torn to shreds by zombies, swallowed by hordes of Skeletons, or dragged into the shallows by the Fishmen. Of his two hundred-plus men, fewer than a third remained on their feet. Every one of them was wounded, and they had been completely cut off and surrounded.
Their defeat was sealed.
Despair washed over him like the icy water of the lake.
"I surrender! I surrender! Don’t kill me!" Craig screamed, his pride forgotten.
He tossed his heavy axe aside and raised his hands. "I’m a Tier Three Warrior! I know a lot of intel! I can be useful to you!"
His only answer was the steady advance of the surrounding Undead and the cold, indifferent gaze of Lynch from Lake Heart Island.
Just as an icy chill filled Craig’s heart, a shadow, so fast it was nearly invisible, darted toward him like a phantom.
It was a petite figure in a black, lace-trimmed gothic dress. With a single flutter of the membranous bat wings on her back, she moved so fast she left a trail of afterimages in her wake.
Esther had now successfully advanced to a Tier Four Vampire. However, the promotion had exhausted her energy, and she was ravenous. Her crimson eyes burned with a desperate thirst for blood.
Before Craig could react, she pounced on him. Her mouth opened to reveal two sharp, almost cute, little fangs, and then—
"CHOMP!"
She sank them into the major artery in Craig’s neck.
"Urk—"
Craig’s body convulsed. He tried to struggle, but the Weakness Curse was still in effect, and he couldn’t break free. As he lost blood at an alarming rate, his strength rapidly faded away.
Moreover, the paralyzing venom from Esther’s bite began to spread rapidly through his system, stiffening his limbs until he couldn’t even muster the strength to fight back.
In just a few moments, his vision grew dim, and the chaotic sounds of battle seemed to fade into the distance.
His sinful, greedy life flashed before his eyes.
At eight, he’d bludgeoned another street urchin unconscious with a rock for a piece of dark bread...
At thirteen, he joined a band of thieves and plunged a dagger into a caravan guard’s stomach for the first time...
At twenty, a full-fledged bandit, he robbed villages, murdered, and burned, earning the iconic scar on his face...
At thirty, he joined the Blue Scarves. Thanks to his ruthlessness and daring, he quickly climbed to the position of a minor leader...
At forty... he heard Lakefront Town was prosperous and came with dreams of striking it rich...
And then, he met that terrifying Necromancer...
Theft... robbery... His whole life, it seemed, was nothing but taking. Taking money, taking food, taking land, taking the lives of others...
And in the end, his own life was stolen from him.
Just before his consciousness sank into eternal darkness, he thought he heard the little Vampire let out a soft, contented coo.
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