novelzi Chapter 149 Blood Slave
Chapter 149 Blood Slave
According to the information provided by Boss Luis, there are only two fourth-level knights in this city.
Don't underestimate the fourth level. Compared to the third level, the fourth level represents a significant leap—a qualitative transformation.
Professions in this world are divided into nine levels of strength, but every three levels mark a major threshold.
For example, breaking through the sixth level elevates a person to the holy realm, and it's said that reaching the ninth level allows one to ascend to godhood.
Similarly, surpassing the third level earns the title "supernormal," as the professional's strength undergoes a fundamental change.
As the name implies, professionals above the third level are no longer ordinary mortals.
Before the third level, crossing tiers in combat is possible, though rare. But after reaching the fourth level—a significant milestone—such feats become nearly impossible.
Despite this, when Asmon scanned the battlefield, he noticed that none of the half-elf guards appeared to be fourth-level knights.
Disappointed, he began to think that his search might be futile. But just then, his instincts flared—he felt an overwhelming sense of danger.
Without hesitation, he hurled the coffin in his hands forward and rolled to the ground.
Boom!
A deafening explosion tore through the air. The spot where Asmon had been standing just moments ago was obliterated by a burst of golden light.
Emerging from the smoke and debris was a massive white figure, clad in heavy armor. It wielded a shield in its left hand and a lance in its right, charging toward Asmon like an unstoppable tank.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The ground trembled under the weight of its thunderous footsteps.
Asmon glanced back, his face paling in terror. The creature's hulking, beast-like frame loomed over him, blotting out everything else.
Reacting instinctively, Asmon swung his sword, aiming for the gap in the armored knight's neck.
Clang!
The blade struck, but it glanced off the armor harmlessly.
A massive force surged through the sword, sending Asmon flying. He crashed hard into the stone wall by the palace gate.
Despite the impact, Asmon seemed relatively unharmed. He quickly scrambled to his feet and dashed toward the coffin.
While running, he stole a glance at the armored knight. Its body was completely encased in armor, making it impossible to determine if it was a half-elf or another race entirely.
However, judging by the scent, it was undoubtedly a Half-Elf.
Hearing this, Asmon seemed to find peace. A faint, fleeting smile appeared on his lips before his eyes closed, and his body went limp.
Silence.
Knight Telde and the soldiers stood still, their faces heavy with sorrow. Then, as one, they saluted Asmon, honoring his sacrifice.
Without a word, they turned to the coffin. Together, they hoisted it onto their shoulders and resumed their journey, their resolve unshaken despite the tragedy.
----
After everyone left, the battlefield fell silent once more.
Occasionally, curious passersby would approach, but upon seeing the horrific carnage, they quickly backed away, unable to endure the overpowering stench of blood.
Beneath the glow of the silver moon, one of the corpses suddenly twitched.
Moments later, the "resurrected" corpse began crawling slowly toward the body of a fallen Half-Elf.
"Gulp... Gulp..."
The eerie sound of sucking echoed softly across the desolate battlefield, unsettling in the grim silence.
A few black crows, scavenging for food, landed nearby. But almost immediately, they flapped their wings and took flight, as if sensing something profoundly unnatural.
The reanimated figure moved from one corpse to the next, sinking its fangs into the flesh and draining them of blood and again injecting with special blood through the fangs.
Then, a grotesque transformation began.
The hearts of the drained corpses started to beat once more, slow and faint at first, but gradually accelerating.
Their pale, lifeless skin turned flushed, dotted with tiny crimson spots, as if the excess blood inside was struggling to escape.
The rapid blood flow seemed to push their bodies to their limits. Their muscles swelled grotesquely, tearing apart the armor they once wore.
Their eyes opened, glowing a sinister scarlet, devoid of any trace of humanity. Their exposed flesh was soon marked with intricate, blood-red patterns, as though carved by some dark force.
On their backs, the muscles bulged unnaturally, as if something was trying to force its way out.
Chi!
With a sickening rip, the bulges burst, revealing a pair of black, leathery bat wings that unfolded to their full span, each extending over ten meters.
These once-human figures now stood as monstrous creations, their forms grotesque and inhuman.
The Blood Slaves, devoid of emotion or reason, had been born.