Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Chapter 205 The Strongest

After learning much under the tutelage of Dracula, Son Of Dragon, even if many things were still to be mastered, Loimos was taught much through the specialties of the noble gravelord, Unacunerra had praised the vampire lord on many things, but there had still been things Loimos had not known about him.

Such as his immaculate skill with the sword, it was not the preferred method of combat of Dracula, but it was a skill he had learned and perfected during his time as a living noble.

In any case, Loimos had immediately gone for the sunken monument, afterwards, treading through the frozen mountain tops once more, not meeting with the frost dragon again, the path to here had been much less tumultuous, the terrain and inhabitants much more agreeable, his time spent travelling the outrageous distance separating the two places, as well as trying to locate the old crypt amidst the bustling vegetation, Loimos had not gotten much luck in this second endeavour.

Thankfully, the very nice death hunters had assisted him in this mission, something for which they would receive no compensation, the undead stepped into the resting room of a gravelord, Nosferatu, Of The Foetid Blood.

Nosferatu was neither famed for his military mind, for his cunning or for ethereal abilities that none could counter, it was much simpler than that.

Amongst all of the gravelords, he alone stands at the top, as the strongest, even said to stand on the same level as the king himself, it was all by himself that he once fought and pushed back The First Death Hunter and a following of many heroes and champions of life, it ended into a stalemate between the two powerhouses, neither managing to put the other down.

Without hesitation, Loimos pushed the lid of the coffin away, even with his enhanced strength, finding it difficult to do so, it was unclear what this had been made off, but this rock was especially dense and heavy, but once it was halfway pushed, gravity aided the undead, the lid falling the ground with resounding thud.

Inside, laying cross armed, the gravelord was unmoving, still stuck in a state of dormancy, Dracula had called Nosferatu a meathead, although this was an insult to his honed battle intelligence, it seemed true that the strongest gravelord sought battles after battles without stop, endlessly growing stronger, overcoming the dire limitations the foetid blood imposed upon those in possession of it.

So, upon receiving the order of laying low, rather than standing around, he retreated to this grand tomb, alongside many undeads, entered a deep sleep in wait for the return of the undead king, awakening him should be rather simple.

Loimos had prepared for it, with the assistance of One, who had been on cloud nine the entire time, he had devised a specific way of transforming his putrid blood, in a way that it could be consumed by vampires, those efforts had been looked over by Dracula as well, allowing for the creation of a very nourishing blood.

The creation of a single drop of it took a while, but the five scouts were a bit busy struggling against the crushing weight of the fear of death right now, even without even being aware of it, without even meaning to, their sheer proximity to Nosferatu was making them instinctively submit, one could wonder if the gravelord could kill them with just a look.

Grinning mockingly, a sassy expression formed on the monstrous vampire's face, the living trembled, as though the temperature had suddenly dropped well below zero.

The fangs to be found inside of the gravelord's maw were also singular in appearance, all sharp and pointy, more than two of them being longer than the rest.

Dropping down the floor, appearing like nothing but a tall shadow, garbed in a dark mantle sewn together especially for him, the hunters could not be called as such any longer, teeths chattering, legs weak.

"Stand up" speaking in the pale tongue, he beamed a bright smile at them, which could not be pleasant no matter the intention.

"Hunters must hunt, right? Well, am I not your prey? Come on, attack, I am wide open" releasing his crushing presence, he walked up to the closest hunter, arms stretched to the side, leaving a clear path straight to his heart.

And this vampire hunter, with nothing else to grasp onto, steeled his resolve for one strike, an easy strike, his target was not even a meter away from him, he did not even have to move.

It was an easy strike.

Experience tales with empire

It was an easy strike.

It was an easy strike.

'This is an easy strike!'