Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Chapter 324 Fear The Night : Those Before

The battle raged on, as the struggle grew more and more desperate, life grew restless, swirling like like a vortex, and it upon being faced with traitors to life that the first miracle occurred, the commandant grasped upon the true essence of her talent, chaos reigned all around her, blades encroached upon her life, having already claimed her left eye, a deep gash left right across the face, bloody and gruesome, she ignored it, the adrenaline pumping through, bloodstream infused with it, making Antieeld utterly oblivious to the agony she was supposed to be experiencing.

Instead, she was absolutely ecstatic, maybe the gods were not completely gone after all! Perhaps there was justice in this world, some sort of esoteric circle manifested below her feet, onto the ground, casting some sort of quickly disappearing mist.

Like a tide of glory and bravour, translucent silhouettes stepped out from the circular formation, a handful, a dozen, a hundred, more and more charged out fearlessly, soldiers and warriors that had once fallen in combat manifested into existence, their transparent blades lashing out.

"What in the-?!" the soldiers afflicted with Alizée's drug were cut down, Antieeld's ghostly forces quickly moving on toward the four treacherous woman, slashing forth, Three cleaved through their ranks, physical strikes were effective somehow, but it did not matter, when one was dissipated, two took up the empty spot, the summoned soldiers flooded the area in mere seconds, turning the situation right around.

Most were put regular soldiers, the design of their armours from all over the continent, those were not simply Tamarisian soldiers lending their aid, the proud warriors that had suffered the ultimate defeat, no matter who or what had delivered the final blow, in defence of what was most sacred, all answered the call, enemies fought alongside one another, attacking right through one another, the main issue of fighting as a group was nullified here, they were incapable of harming their allies, be they translucent like them, or very much physically present still.

As per the will of their commandant, only the enemy shall be felled by their blades, howling their war cries, filling the air with their fearless shouts, they spread in all directions, a sandstorm rose, a humanoid figure propped by four spider legs rose above the mass, blades of blood scoured the ranks of the phantomatic force, and green flashes danced forth, the swordmaster homing right into Antieeld herself, the rule of fighting a summons was always to take out the summoner, especially with such a quantity.

Slashing down, the commandant didn't even put up a defence, the green blade was stopped in its momentum by a greatsword, its wielder had just appeared there, Three stared right into the visor, a barred helm reminiscent of a certain undead.

'Is the situation that desperate on certain fronts?' if so, then even her soldiers might not be able of doing anything, they were numerous and fearless, but the same could be said about the enemy, and there was only so much damage they could endure before being dispelled.

The barrier cracked loudly, a massive dragon used it to push itself upward, soon followed by another falling down from the sky, back first and right into the very top of the pyramid, impaling it.

"It might be time to consider the other option" frost still clung to Dracula's scales, quickly melted away as his hide erupted with dark red flames, digging his front paws into Svaltimas's flesh, pushing him deeper into the pyramid, claws drawing blood, tearing into the hide and flesh, the frost dragon was covered in burns, a great portion of his blood had been consumed by the flames.

His wrath however, was at its highest.

"Curse you! Never will I surrender to your foul king!" roaring at the dark sky, his scream imbued with deeply cold frost, spheres of freezing manifesting all around him, shooting out chilling blasts, jumping off, Dracula replied with his own roar, erupting with burning blood, becoming much like the moon representing him, a sanguine infernal flame.

Tearing himself from the impalement, the old lord of the mountains ignored his grievous injuries, every fibre of his being became one with the cold, freezing mist emanated from Svaltimas's hide, clouds of frost were brought into existence with every swing of the wings, wounded neck extending, breathing out a dense fog, meeting with a stream of boiling blood, carrying a hellish fire upon its back.

Moments later, the barrier once again cracked, louder than before. Your next read is at My Virtual Library Empire