The armor around him had no particularly striking appearance. Like the Ghost King's Robe before it, it was unremarkable—simple, ancient, its coarse fibers worn and aged, like the handiwork of an old woman, wrapping its wearer completely.
And the man himself was no different. He seemed unchanged, just as he had always been. The same face—plain at first glance, yet upon closer inspection, carrying a quiet heroism and untamed wildness. Even his eyes remained bright and clear.
But his expression was hollow—an emptiness that saw through everything.
He was not tall, not imposing, and exuded no overwhelming presence. Yet, everyone could feel it—he was no longer the same as before.
"This is the end. Everything ends here."
His voice was quiet, barely audible. And yet, every single person, no matter how far they stood, heard him clearly.
A dead silence.
No one could make a sound. They were not afraid, and were not shocked either—though every single person was utterly astounded. It was simply that they were incapable of speaking.
This was indeed the end. Deep in their hearts, everyone knew it. The words from his mouth were not a command, not a declaration, but an undeniable fact.
Only one voice suddenly rang out, jarring against the silence, its sharpness almost painful to the ears. But the one who spoke was not human.
"This aura... This is the true King of the Undead."
Moriel was first stunned—then she laughed, an enraged laugh. "So it's this brat... It's actually this brat..."
Her face, sharper and more defined than any man's, trembled violently, caught between uncontrollable fury and ecstatic delight. Her fiery red hair whipped around madly, just as wild as her laughter and screams.
"Why? So this was how it happened? This is how he became the King of the Undead? That last one was just his stand-in—a fragment of him? No wonder it felt so weak to me!"
A piercing golden light exploded from Moriel's narrow pupils, and at the same time, her body swelled rapidly. In an instant, the red-haired woman in a black bodysuit transformed into an enormous black dragon.
"I actually let this guy slip away from my grasp? And now, I even played a part in the birth of this so-called King of the Undead? How ridiculous."
Moriel's massive roar reverberated through the air, laced with an eerie, discordant undertone. Her speech and the incantations of Dragon Note Magic intertwined, yet remained distinct—spoken simultaneously without interfering with each other.
"Akibard, is this what you meant by an all-encompassing fate? That even you and I are merely parts of this so-called destiny? Nonsense! I reject it once more. And now, I will destroy this thing completely before your eyes."
A tremendous bellow erupted from her massive dragon form as waves of power surged around her.
"Wait!" Grutt roared, snapping out of his shock. Even amidst such an earth-shattering revelation, he remained composed, his voice unwavering. He reached out, gripping Moriel's foot.
"He hasn't lost his consciousness. He's still himself—I can feel it."
"Of course, he still has his own consciousness. Otherwise, how could he be the true King of the Undead?" Moriel's manic laughter and incantations continued without pause. "A mind truly accepted by the Dark Star... Do you really think you can convince him to discard it?"
A harsh, owl-like cackle suddenly pierced through the moment—a frail, grating sound, yet overflowing with an almost unbearable sense of glee, arrogance, and madness.
"So that's how it is… that's how it is…!"
Vadenina's skeletal face trembled uncontrollably, as if the dried, withered flesh clinging to her bones could still express emotion. Her entire body quivered, her bones clattering noisily as she shrieked like a madwoman.
"I was right! I was right all along! Master Sandru, Master Ronis, that old bastard Decken—are you all seeing this? I did it! I succeeded! This is the King of the Undead! He is the true King of the Undead! The one who can rule this world! This is the history I have shaped with my own hands! Inham, you stupid fool, can you still accuse me now? Can your soul see this?"
Screaming wildly, the lich stumbled forward, her excitement so overwhelming that she seemed to have forgotten how to use magic. Her frail, skeletal frame wobbled with each step, as if she might fall apart at any moment. Yet no one paid her any mind. She quickly ran up to Asa.
"O great King of the Undead, surely you know who I am now? It was me who created you—it was me! It was me!"
Her bony hand gripped Asa's shoulder in a fervent, almost reverent grasp. Yet the gesture seemed oddly out of place—this was not how one should touch a sovereign, a ruler, a master of fate itself.
As the lich spoke, strange visions flickered through Asa's mind.
At the peak of a towering black mountain, a half-skeletal woman stood beside an altar shrouded in dark energy. A tall man—his face oddly familiar—approached at a slow, deliberate pace.
These images were not memories of the past but echoes rising from the depths of his soul, intertwined with the pulsing aura of the Black Star. They did not come from his own recollection but from something deeper—memories etched into his very being.
If he had seen all of this before, Asa might have sighed heavily. But now, he felt nothing. Only endless emptiness. No ripples, no waves—just a void.
"Come," the lich urged excitedly, "let's turn this rabble into our undead servants, then march to Dehya Valley to claim the Black Star! Finally, we shall ascend to the summit of Saundfest Mountain and plunge the Black Star into the earth's final leyline! Then, our new world will—"
Her voice suddenly broke off. She looked down in confusion.
The hilt of the Black Star had already pierced halfway into her chest. Around it, her ancient bones and withered flesh were dissolving into black smoke.
"No," Asa said calmly. "You were wrong from the very beginning."
His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "And you were wrong by a long shot."
"You… you… I… I… am…" Vadenina trembled, unable to finish her sentence. An overwhelming tide of fear, loss, and disbelief consumed her, filling every corner of her soul. Then, absolute nothingness.
She could feel it—her soul vanishing alongside her decaying body. She had already obtained her life-bound Phylactery; as long as that hidden box remained intact, she could truly claim to be immortal.
But unfortunately for her, she was not merely "dying" now. She was not being shattered, nor destroyed—she was simply being erased into nothingness.
As her body and limbs vanished, only her skull remained suspended in the air. But the soul fire within her eye sockets had finally extinguished. Soon, even that shriveled, mummified skull completely disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
The one called Vadenina had ceased to exist.
Only nothingness is truly eternal, truly immortal—exactly what she had sought all along.
At some point, the vast ocean of undead had fallen into absolute silence.
Every monstrous undead had collapsed. Countless skeletal creatures and zombies had piled upon the ground in thick layers of fragmented remains, turning to dust. No more ghosts or wraiths drifted in the sky. Even the black haze that had shrouded the world seemed to have dissipated.
Sunlight broke through. Yet, for some reason, it looked strangely out of place.
Asa's expression remained as vacant as ever. Without hesitation, he stepped forward—toward Dehya Valley.
"Wake up, Lad!"
A sudden roar erupted, nearly causing everyone's eardrums and hearts to ache.
"You forgot who you are? You forgot why you came here?"
It was Grutt shouting, his eyes already bloodshot, his muscles tensed to the point that his veins and tendons seemed ready to burst from his skin. The glow of battle energy pulsed brightly with his voice.
Yet Asa's steps did not stop. He continued walking, one step after another, toward Dehya Valley.
Moriel's voice rang out softly, "He hasn't forgotten. This is simply his own will leading him forward. That substitute may have changed him somewhat, but I can guarantee this isn't the work of any magic or mind control trick."
"Is that so? Then I have no choice but to beat some sense into you." Grutt glared at Asa, speaking each word with deliberate intensity.
"Talking with fists has always been the most effective way."
Moriel seemed to have completely calmed down from her earlier excitement. The strange dual-toned syllables in her voice had vanished—her Dragon Magic was finally complete.
Despite taking so long to cast, the spell did not trigger any earth-shattering explosion. Instead, a strange blue glow began to emanate from Moriel's body. Her scales gradually faded, transforming into transparent, crystal-like blue plates.
In mere moments, the entire black dragon had turned into what looked like a massive, living sculpture of blue crystal. Yet she was still moving, the eerie blue radiance pulsing from deep within her body.
This was merely a transformation of her body, yet in everyone's perception, this blue crystal dragon appeared ten times larger than the black dragon from before.
The black dragon's presence was that of an ancient beast—its aura instilled fear through the sheer difference in power, something that all living creatures could instinctively sense. However, the presence of this blue crystal dragon did not just signify a gap in strength; rather, it felt like facing something fundamentally different, something so overwhelming that despair gripped one's very soul.
A great clamor erupted. Surprisingly, the biggest reaction came from the coalition forces at the rear—over ten thousand surviving warriors collapsed in unison. Even the mightiest orc warriors scrambled backward, rolling and crawling in sheer panic.
Only Grutt remained unaffected. Even Lancelote and Roland found themselves half-kneeling on the ground, drenched in cold sweat. This dragon's presence was ten times stronger than before, yet it did not seem like Moriel was even intentionally exerting it.
"Holy Crystal Dragon... The pinnacle secret art of the ancient dragon race."
Even Asa's footsteps came to a halt. His hollow, vacant eyes fixated on the enormous crystal dragon.
Flashes of memory surged before him—fragments of the Black Star's recollections. Five hundred years ago, atop the peak of Spiral Shadow Mountains, it was this very blue crystal dragon that had charged toward the altar.
"It was you who defeated Akibard and the others... and shattered the Black Star."
"You two, step up as well," Moriel commanded without even turning her head. "If you can withstand my current aura, you should be able to contribute at least a little. As for the rest of the worthless ones, get lost. The farther, the better—you're of no use here anymore."
As she spoke, she chanted a few syllables of Dragon Note magic. Behind her, Lancelote and Roland were suddenly enveloped in a green glow. Their bodies immediately began to swell—muscles bulging, their very forms expanding to the point where even their clothes and armor seemed on the verge of bursting.
Just moments ago, they had been struggling against Moriel's overwhelming dragon aura. Now, they stood tall with ease. Their eyes met in silent shock. They weren't ignorant warriors unfamiliar with enhancement magic, yet the effects of this spell surpassed all known magic in both potency and perfection.
The power coursing through their bodies felt completely harmonious, their movements effortless. Their reaction speed, physiological functions, and combat instincts had all multiplied exponentially, yet nothing felt unnatural—it was as if they had always been meant to exist in this state.
Roland slowly raised his sword toward the sky. The surging energy from his blade was far more focused and intense than the combined attack he had unleashed earlier with the entire Holy Knights' sword formation.
Lancelote, on the other hand, merely pointed a finger in Asa's direction. The air around him crackled softly, splitting apart with faint snapping sounds. The moment he moved, a Holy Light Cross Sword, dozens of times more powerful than before, would be unleashed.
Strength, fight spirit, constitution, reflexes—all of these had multiplied exponentially, and not only that, they were in perfect harmony with one another. The resulting combat power wasn't just doubled or increased by several times—it was multiplied by an untold factor.
Yet Asa didn't spare Lancelote or Roland a single glance. His eyes remained fixed on Moriel and Grutt. Moriel hadn't cast any enhancement spells on Grutt—perhaps she deemed it unnecessary, or perhaps even she couldn't apply magic to him in his current state. Unlike Roland and Lancelote, whose auras now radiated overwhelming might, Grutt didn't seem as outwardly imposing. And yet, Asa only watched him.
In the distance, many soldiers of the allied forces were beginning to rise. The dragon's oppressive aura was rapidly weakening, even dissipating entirely. Meanwhile, the blue glow around Moriel intensified, growing stronger and more concentrated. It wasn't blinding, yet it had completely replaced the dark energy that had previously dominated the battlefield.
"Perhaps this time, the Black Star has absorbed the darkness of you humans," Moriel mused, her voice devoid of the earlier fanaticism. Instead, she now spoke with an icy calm that mirrored her crystalline body. "It's different from our time. This one… feels strange. His power isn't the same as the Elven King's—it's not just raw strength, but something else entirely. And I don't like it."
The more power she gathered, the calmer she became, the madness giving way to pure, calculating clarity.
"You two, test him first."
But before she even finished speaking, someone else had already made their move.
It was not Roland or Lancelote, or Grutt, but two individuals from the allied army behind them.
The dragon's aura had already dissipated, and as Moriel had just said, the allied army was retreating. The remaining leaders of the army were well aware that such a level of battle was something they could no longer participate in. However, two of the leaders had not left. They stayed behind and were the first to make a move.
The ones who made their move were Granden and Edwina. Though both elemental magic masters had also been knocked down by the divine crystal dragon's aura earlier, they knew that this was the moment for mages to play their role at such a distance. They were confident that with their peak-level elemental magic, even if they could not defeat this death lord, they could definitely create an opportunity for those in front of them.
The two of them had long been preparing, and as they recited their incantations, the two elements of water and earth surged wildly toward Asa.
Asa himself showed no reaction. However, the sand beneath his feet suddenly solidified into a yellow-white, crystalline ice surface. At the same time, the surrounding sand in the distance began to rise and swirl into the air, only to quickly condense above his head along with a rush of cold air, forming a massive yellow-white ice pillar. The ice pillar, with an enormous whoosh, pressed down toward him.
The ice pillar was ten meters in diameter and nearly a hundred meters tall, already large enough on its own. Yet, the sound of its descent was a hundred times louder, as if it had fallen from an altitude of ten thousand meters, accumulating speed and power during its descent. Despite the sand mixed within, the color of the ice revealed that it was not just ordinary crystal-clear ice, but the kind of ancient, impenetrable ice that could only be found at the peaks of ten-thousand-meter mountains or the centers of polar regions—ice that no axe or sword could ever scar.
Along with the ice pillar, four such ice walls also formed, surrounding Asa on all sides. Combined with the solidified ground beneath his feet, he was now like a turtle in a jar, with no escape but to watch as the massive ice pillar above him prepared to smash him into paste.
No mage would ever use such a clumsy method to attack, but these two Elemental Magic Grandmasters did. They hadn't forgotten that Asa was still wearing the Ghost King's Robe, an item that could make him immune to all magical effects. Therefore, they had no choice but to turn elegance into clumsiness. Both of their magical powers were fully unleashed, especially Edwina, who poured out all of his master-level magical essence without any finesse.
No magical attack had ever been as clumsy as this, but no magical attack was as difficult to resist or resolve. Because "elegance," though dazzling and powerful, can be countered. Just like no matter how intricately designed something is, it will always have weak points, and even the most delicate silk fabric will have gaps. But "clumsiness" can never be broken—it can only be forced through, collided with, and endured. It's like no matter how skilled an engineer is, facing a rock, they will have to hammer away at it one blow at a time.
This was the power of clumsiness. Even the Ghost King's Robe, which granted total magic immunity, had no defense against this kind of attack. Even if Asa could break through one ice wall, the opportunity left for Lancelote and the others would still be more than enough.
After delivering this joint attack, the two mages experienced a faint sense of enlightenment. They both vaguely felt that they had reached a new realm. With time, their magical abilities would undoubtedly reach new heights.
Unfortunately, that time was already destined to never come the moment they cast this magic.
The ice pillar continued to fall, its enormous speed and pressure compressing the air below, causing it to whirl like a typhoon. As master Granden was manipulating the gravity field to pull the ice pillar down, he suddenly saw Asa glance up at him.
Granden, whose eyesight was not particularly good, was still nearly a thousand meters away from Asa. There was also a not-so-transparent ice wall in front of Asa. Yet, he could clearly see Asa's gaze, clearer than if he were using a magnifying lens to read close up. He could even see his own reflection in Asa's pupils, perfectly clear.
It was a pair of eyes that were incomprehensibly hollow and dead, and as he looked into them, he saw his own reflection—empty, like a phantom, hollow and void. All sensations, powers, emotions, desires, and even the magic flowing through his own body were nothing but illusions, illusions, emptiness—nothing at all. Disappearing. Void…
With a loud crash, Edwina saw Granden suddenly freeze, then stand dazed, and in an instant, his whole body collapsed. The magic grandmaster, who had just been maintaining top-level magic, instantly disintegrated into a pile of scattered limbs and organs. However, there was no sense of bloodiness or cruelty; it was as if a very delicate puppet had its most important part drained and simply fell apart.
Edwina didn't have time to scream; her woman's intuition sensed something wrong. She turned and jumped to run. She didn't know how Granden had ended up like this, but she knew she would be next.
Just as she turned, the corner of her eye caught that vacant, deathly still gaze. Inertia made her keep turning, and the gaze slipped out of her line of sight. She could feel that hollow gaze slide from her jaw down her neck, across her chest and abdomen, and finally reach her waist. She ran a few steps and then seemed to suddenly remember something. She reached into her chest and pulled out a teleportation scroll, but before she could unroll it, a mouthful of blood spewed out.
This wasn't just a mouthful of blood; she kept vomiting, her mouth like a burst water pipe. The blood was mixed with large chunks of internal organs, muscles, and even some white bones. She almost expelled her entire chest and abdominal cavity.
She barely managed to unroll the scroll halfway when all her awareness was overwhelmed by the emptiness, excruciating pain, and fear emanating from her own body. She could only slowly kneel and fall to the ground.
As Edwina collapsed, the four surrounding ice walls shattered with a loud crash. Without the support of the mage, the ice walls couldn't even withstand the pressure coming from above.
With a booming sound, shards of ice scattered and shot in all directions. The massive ice pillar crashed into the frozen, hard ground, creating a huge crater. The loud noise and tremor seemed as if the very heavens and earth were shaking. The ice pillar cracked at an angle, and its upper half, like a mountain, slowly slid down with a grinding noise. The shattered ice rained down like hail.
Asa stepped forward, his pace neither fast nor slow, his posture unchanged. The mountain-like ice pillar merely grazed his back before crashing to the ground. The flying ice chunks and the icy shards splintering around him rained down like a storm but none struck him. He seemed like a tangible yet unreal shadow, walking steadily in the midst of the chaos, as if nothing could touch him, no matter how the world around him collapsed.
At that moment, two sword strikes, powerful enough to tear apart the entire world and shred everything in their path, slashed right toward him.