Chapter 92: Chapter 83: This Necromancer Is Too Strong
It roared in anger, its heavy hammer swinging into a blur of afterimages. With every smash, at least one Skeleton was pulverized, and even the Bone Jades and Black Corpses were occasionally knocked back.
But two fists are no match for four, and a lone tiger can’t fend off a pack of wolves.
Trapped within the dense encirclement, the strength and charging advantage it took such pride in were rendered useless.
To its immense frustration...
Whenever it felt the weakness and pain subsiding, just as it prepared to unleash its power to break through or grievously wound a target, the damned Necromancer in the distance—and the Skeleton Mage beside him—would cast another Curse.
That vile Curse clung to it like a festering disease, continuously draining its stamina and patience.
"ROOOOAR~~~!!!"
The longer Bloodfang fought, the more frenzied he became, gradually falling into a berserk rage. His eyes turned a deeper shade of red and his attacks grew more ferocious, but they also became more reckless, causing his stamina to deplete rapidly.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, the panicked goblins’ morale plummeted. They were being overwhelmed by the ever-growing numbers of the Undead, whose ranks swelled with every casualty.
The Skeleton Mage was like a tireless production line for the undead. Besides occasionally finding a moment to recast the Pain Curse on Chieftain Bloodfang, it focused all its attention on the Skeleton Resurrection Skill.
With every wave of its Magic Staff, a pile of fallen goblins would rise as Skeleton Servants, picking up their former weapons and turning on their old comrades.
This was what made fighting a Necromancer’s army so hopeless.
As long as the Caster had enough Mana and a steady supply of corpses, their army would only grow larger the longer the battle raged.
Furthermore, the Undead feel no fear and no pain. Morale is a foreign concept to them; no matter how high the casualties, they will fight to the very last.
On the goblin side, however, it was a different story. Their Chieftain was trapped, their casualties were mounting, and they were forced to watch the horrifying spectacle of their fallen comrades rising to fight against them. The last vestiges of their will to fight quickly crumbled.
"Ch-chk~ Run! We can’t beat ’em!"
"Grak! Monsters! They’re all monsters!"
"Gurgle... The Chieftain... he can’t save us!"
A cacophony of cries and screams erupted as the remaining goblins abandoned all resistance. They scattered, desperately trying to scramble over the walls or find any other way out.
But in doing so, they exposed their backs to the pursuing Skeletons, which only accelerated their demise.
The scales of victory had tipped completely in Lynch’s favor.
However, just as Lynch was focused on directing the annihilation of Chieftain Bloodfang, disaster struck.
"BOOM~~!!!"
A large hovel, only about thirty meters from where Lynch stood, suddenly blew apart.
Amidst a shower of splintered wood, a behemoth emerged, its steps heavy and thunderous as it charged forward.
It was a siege behemoth, standing over five meters tall—a veritable moving mountain!
Its body was plated in iron Armor, leaving only its ferocious head and massive limbs exposed. Each step it took sent a faint tremor through the ground.
Even more alarmingly...
A large howdah, woven from thick branches and vines, was strapped to the siege behemoth’s broad back.
And standing within this howdah was none other than a goblin Shaman.
Unlike a normal goblin Shaman, this Shaman was clearly ancient.
Its wrinkled face was smeared with thick layers of war paint. It wore a vibrant feather headdress and was draped in a feathered cloak.
Judging by the aura it exuded, this was a Shaman whose power had reached Tier Two at the very least.
The old Shaman’s eyes burned with hatred as it stared intently at Lynch, who sat atop Red Rabbit.
It had been waiting, waiting for an opportunity.
Now, seizing the opportunity while the detestable Necromancer’s attention was fixed on Chieftain Bloodfang, it launched a deadly decapitation strike.
"GUL’RAGA! You death-defiling maggot! Feel the fury of the Blazing Flame!" the old Shaman shrieked, its voice sharp and piercing. It raised its wooden staff high, and the red Gemstone at its tip erupted with a blinding light.
In the blink of an eye, Fire Elements swarmed toward it, and the air temperature skyrocketed.
Clearly, it had been charging this spell for a long time.
In a mere moment, a massive Fireball, more than half a meter in diameter, hurtled toward Lynch and the core of his formation, radiating destructive heat and letting out a deafening roar.
Even before the Fireball arrived, a scorching heatwave washed over them, hot enough to steal the breath from their lungs.
A savage and triumphant grin spread across the old Shaman’s face.
It could already picture the damned Necromancer being incinerated into ash by the Blazing Flame.
But Lynch’s expression remained perfectly calm. He didn’t even shift his grip on the mermaid in his arms.
It was as if the projectile hurtling toward him wasn’t a massive Fireball capable of blasting him to smithereens, but a cozy bonfire.
Suddenly.
Lynch’s left hand, which had been dangling at his side, rose slightly. Clutched in his palm was the Tide’s Tear he had just received from Sea Song!
With a flicker of thought, he injected his Spiritual Power into the pendant, which instantly erupted in a brilliant, aquamarine light.
"HUMMM~~"
A pale blue Water Curtain Shield, shimmering with a watery halo, instantly materialized before Lynch. It enveloped him, his mount Red Rabbit, and all the elite Guard Skeletons within a ten-meter radius.
At almost the same instant, the Fish Priest, which had been cautiously hiding in a safe spot at the rear, also raised its Magic Staff and ’thoughtfully’ cast a smaller water shield over Lynch.
’Huh?’
Lynch noticed the extra water shield and shot the Fish Priest a surprised glance.
