The sun hung high in the sky, its golden rays casting long, jagged shadows over the desolate battlefield.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of decay, a nauseating reminder of the carnage that had unfolded.
Keiran stood at the center of it all, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the harsh light of the noon sun.
His expression was unreadable, his face a mask of calm indifference. His eyes, cold and devoid of emotion, scanned the sea of undead surrounding him.
They were a grotesque amalgamation of demons and Harengons, their lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead, their movements jerky and unnatural. The once-proud warriors of the Harengon tribe now shuffled mindlessly, their bodies puppeteered by the dark magic of the necromancer.
The ground beneath Keiran's boots was a chaotic mosaic of broken weapons, shattered armor, and the remnants of fallen soldiers.
The earth itself seemed to groan under the weight of the undead, their heavy, dragging footsteps leaving deep gouges in the soil.
The battlefield was eerily silent, save for the occasional guttural moan of the undead and the faint rustle of their tattered clothing in the breeze. The tension in the air was palpable, a suffocating pressure that seemed to press down on everyone present.
Keiran's posture was relaxed, almost casual, as if he were standing in the middle of a quiet field rather than an army of the damned.
His hands hung loosely at his sides, his fingers twitching slightly as if itching for action. Despite the overwhelming numbers of the undead, he looked more bored than afraid.
His gaze drifted lazily over the horde, as though he were counting sheep rather than preparing for a life-or-death battle. The sun's heat bore down on him, but he seemed unaffected, his focus entirely on the task at hand.
At the forefront of the undead army stood Gerlahim.
His handsome face was marred by a sadistic smile, his sharp, glistening teeth bared in a grin that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to look at him. His crimson eyes glowed with malice, their piercing gaze fixed on Keiran.
He exuded an aura of arrogance, his confidence unshaken by the lone human standing before him. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth and mocking, each word dripping with contempt.
"Did you just call yourself a hero?" Gerlahim sneered, his laughter echoing across the battlefield like the tolling of a funeral bell. "A level 10 human calling himself a hero? The title has been thrown around so much these days that it's lost all meaning."
Keiran ignored the demon's taunts, his expression unchanging. His gaze shifted to Ismael, the heir of the Harengon tribe, who stood a short distance away.
Keiran's voice, when he spoke, was calm and respectful.
"I would like to ask for your permission, as the heir of this tribe, to burn your people down," Keiran said, his tone steady and measured. "The consequences will be that there will be no bodies left to bury."
Ismael's eyes widened in shock at Keiran's request. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing as he weighed the options.
The thought of burning his own people, even in their undead state, was a heavy burden to bear. But he knew there was no other way.
Finally, he nodded, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "It's alright. This is how we handle undead. The corpses will turn to ash the moment they die anyway."
Keiran gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Without wasting another moment, he raised his hand, his fingers curling slightly as he activated his Infernal Arcana.
This time, he didn't hold back. A massive wave of fire erupted from his body, the flames roaring to life with a deafening roar.
The inferno spread rapidly, engulfing the entire battlefield in an instant. The heat was intense, the air shimmering with the sheer force of the flames. The ground beneath the undead turned to glass, the grass and dirt incinerated in seconds.
The undead army, caught in the inferno, let out ear-piercing screams as they were consumed by the flames.
Their bodies twisted and writhed, their decaying flesh blackening and crumbling to ash.
The fire spread through the tribe's territory, from the third wall to the first, leaving no undead untouched.
The mana essence that permeated the area amplified Keiran's magic, making the flames even more potent. The screams of the undead echoed through the air, a haunting chorus of agony and despair.
When the flames finally subsided, the battlefield was eerily silent. The undead were gone, reduced to nothing but ash that drifted lazily on the breeze.
Keiran had controlled the fire with precision, ensuring that the buildings and walls remained intact. The living Harengons, who had been spared from the flames, stared at Keiran in disbelief.
Ismael and Felicia were speechless, their eyes wide with awe.
Keiran's gaze turned upward, where Gerlahim hovered in the sky. The demon's expression was one of shock and fury. His once-handsome face was now twisted in rage, his crimson eyes blazing with hatred.
"What just happened?" Gerlahim shouted, his voice trembling with rage. "All of my minions are gone!"
Keiran's response was calm and measured. "You're not afraid to expose yourself. Necromancers don't usually act that way. I suspected you had a healing skill that keeps you alive as long as you have undead around."
Gerlahim's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Keiran continued, his voice steady. "And given that you survived my attack, I was correct."
Gerlahim's jaw dropped in disbelief. Keiran had figured out his secret.
[Rare: Death's Bargain (Passive): When the Necromancer suffers a fatal blow, their minions will perish in their place, absorbing the damage. The number of minions sacrificed depends on the strength of the attack. Stronger attacks will consume more minions to nullify the fatal damage. If enough minions are available, the Necromancer survives unscathed.]
"How did you figure that out so quickly?" Gerlahim demanded, his voice tinged with fear.
Keiran didn't answer. Instead, his hand transformed into a mantis-like scythe, its edge glowing with fiery energy. Wings of flame erupted from his back, their fiery feathers shimmering in the sunlight. With a burst of speed, he shot toward Gerlahim, the air around him crackling with heat.
The demon unleashed a cloud of deadly black smoke, the dark tendrils reaching out to ensnare Keiran.
But the smoke did nothing to slow him down. He cut through it with ease, his fiery wings leaving a trail of embers in his wake.
Closing the distance between them in an instant, Keiran's fist glowed with power as he delivered a devastating punch.
The impact sent Gerlahim plummeting to the ground, his body crashing into the earth with a thunderous boom. The force of the blow created a massive crater, sending shockwaves through the battlefield.
Gerlahim struggled to his feet, his body trembling with pain. The fact that he was still alive meant that he had minions elsewhere, keeping him tethered to life.
But Keiran wasn't done yet. He rushed toward the demon, his movements swift and precise. The ground beneath him cracked and splintered with each step, the sheer force of his presence causing the earth to tremble.
"You puny humans!" Gerlahim screamed, his voice filled with desperation. "Demons are superior! We are the pinnacle of power!"
Black hands emerged from the ground, their shadowy fingers grasping at Keiran's legs. But they were no match for his strength.
He broke free with ease, his focus unwavering. With another powerful punch, he sent Gerlahim crashing into the ground once more, the force of the blow causing an explosion that shook the earth. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring the battlefield for a moment.
Before Gerlahim could utter another word, Keiran aimed his hand at the demon and unleashed a focused blast of Infernal Arcana.
The flames engulfed Gerlahim, his screams of pain echoing across the battlefield. The more Keiran burned him, the more Gerlahim healed, his immortality becoming his own torment.
The demon's body writhed in agony as the flames consumed him, only to regenerate moments later. The cycle continued for what felt like an eternity, Gerlahim's screams growing weaker with each passing second.
Finally, after what seemed like an endless torment, the demon was reduced to ashes. The crater where he had stood was now blackened and lifeless, the ground scorched beyond recognition. The battlefield fell silent once more, the only sound the faint crackling of embers as they drifted to the ground.
[You leveled up 4x.]
[You have received 48 Stat points.]
[Your HP, MP, and SP have been replenished.]
Keiran stood amidst the destruction, his breathing steady and his expression unchanged.
The battle was over, but the weight of what had transpired hung heavy in the air.
The Harengons, though saved, were left to mourn the loss of their fallen kin. Keiran's actions had brought an end to the immediate threat, but the scars of the battle would remain for a long time to come.