Chapter 51: On the Edge Between Life and Death

Signature magic of the Necromancer—Necromantic Summoning!

At this moment, as a third-tier necromancer, the highest-level creature Rowlin could summon was a Light Wolf Chieftain, which surpassed his own rank by one. The forty or fifty light wolves already present on the ground nearly reached the upper limit of undead Rowlin could control.

“Rowlin, do you really think you can stop me with this?” Bob sneered, a glint in his eye.

“Let's see if I can!” Rowlin wasted no words; with a wave of his hand, the wolf pack surged forward. The Light Wolf Chieftain, Little Black, and the skeleton Brian formed a triangular encirclement around Bob from the outer ring of the pack.

A fierce snarl erupted as two ordinary corpse wolves hurled themselves fearlessly at Bob.

“Hmph!” With a slash of his blade, Bob sent the two corpse wolves flying. Their bones cracked and tendons snapped, but such mortal injuries meant nothing to them. The two corpse wolves clambered up once more, their bodies twisted and deformed, yet still, they charged at him without fear of death.

This was the true terror of a necromancer. As long as Rowlin possessed enough mental strength and magical power, these wolf corpses would attack relentlessly unless Bob severed their necks or smashed their skulls.

Within the horde, many corpse wolves began to gather orbs of light, hurling them at Bob. While summoned undead were slightly weaker in attack than they were in life, the sheer volume of these light projectiles was more than enough to trouble Bob.

What vexed Bob the most were Little Black, the Light Wolf Chieftain, and the skeleton Brian—a pair of fourth-tier magical beasts and a third-tier skeleton. Their attacks were far more difficult to deal with than those of the second-tier light wolves. After a prolonged struggle, Bob had already expended more than half his battle energy, but he still couldn't break through this circle of foes.

Apart from Little Black, the rest were undead. Unless their necks were severed or their skulls smashed, they were essentially ‘undying’. Even wolves cut in half would crawl toward him, still attacking. Wolves were famed for their sturdy bones, making it difficult to kill them with a single blow amid such a relentless assault.

Little Black, the Light Wolf Chieftain, and skeleton Brian were even trickier. They mixed with the wolf pack, blocking Bob whenever he tried to decapitate a corpse wolf. When he revealed an opening, they struck hard, and when he tried to retaliate, they would retreat into the pack. Whenever he tried to break through in one direction, the remaining wolves and the three companions would launch a fierce counterattack, forcing him back into defense. Thus, he was utterly unable to break free from the encirclement. Achieving this effect was not only due to Rowlin’s timely casting of dark magic—like the Slowing Spell—but also thanks to the strategic planning of the experienced Cus.

“Damn it! What evil sorcery is Rowlin using to make these wolf corpses fight for him? If this battle drags on much longer, my battle energy will be completely exhausted!” The more Bob fought, the more anxious he became. He never expected that, as a fifth-tier warrior, he would be trapped by a mere third-tier mage like Rowlin.

Bob shot a glance outside the encirclement. Rowlin stood motionless, clad in a white bone armor. Bob’s mind raced—though these creatures were troublesome, Rowlin himself would be much easier to deal with. If he could take Rowlin out, the rest would be of no consequence.

With that thought, Bob slashed furiously at the Light Wolf Chieftain, forcing it to back away. Little Black and skeleton Brian rushed in from the flanks to attack, but at that moment, Bob suddenly changed direction, abandoning the Light Wolf Chieftain and launching a fierce assault on skeleton Brian.

Brian, caught off guard at such close range, hurriedly raised its bony claws to defend itself. However, as a mere third-tier skeleton, its combat strength barely surpassed that of an ordinary third-tier warrior. It was no match for the overwhelming might of a fifth-tier warrior and quickly fell into disarray.

The Light Wolf Chieftain and Little Black tried to intervene, but Bob ignored their attacks, continuing to rain blows on skeleton Brian. With a sharp crack, one of Brian’s bone arms was shattered under the flurry of attacks.

Braving a kick from Little Black and a swipe from the Light Wolf Chieftain, Bob broke through the opening in Brian’s defenses, rushing straight toward Rowlin.

Rowlin hastily cast a Lightning Speed spell upon himself and fled toward the corpse wolves, but even with the aid of magic, as a third-tier mage, he was no match for a fifth-tier warrior’s pursuit.

In the blink of an eye, Bob was less than half a meter from Rowlin, his greatsword arcing down with unstoppable force toward Rowlin’s back. The speed was so great that Rowlin had no chance to dodge.

At that instant, the Light Wolf Chieftain and skeleton Brian attacked from left and right, but Bob paid them no heed. A cruel smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Once I kill you, boy, your creatures will lose their master and be powerless against me!”

The golden energy from his blade pressed so close that Rowlin’s clothing was forced inwards, and a sharp pain flared across his back. Suddenly, a black shadow darted between Rowlin and the sword’s tip, taking the full force of the fifth-tier warrior’s strike.

With a sickening sound, the blade pierced Little Black’s body, and a spray of blood burst forth.

“Little Black!” Rowlin cried out in anguish.

The tremendous force of the blow sent Little Black’s body hurtling through the air. He crashed into Rowlin, then tumbled a further distance before coming to rest on the ground.

“Little Black!” Rowlin’s eyes burned with fury. He unleashed a barrage of necrotic rays at Bob with reckless abandon. Bob, having poured all his energy into the previous attack, had little left for defense and was unable to withstand the corrosive power of the rays.

Deep, bone-revealing wounds burst open across Bob’s body amid a chorus of sizzling sounds, and his screams were inhuman in their agony.

Yet Rowlin heard nothing. Consumed by grief and rage, he could only pour wave after wave of necrotic energy into his foe, avenging Little Black.

Rowlin’s frenzy even terrified the surrounding corpse wolves and skeleton Brian, who dared not approach Bob. They stared wide-eyed at their master, sensing his madness through their faint soul-link.

As the relentless volley of necrotic rays continued, Bob’s screams grew weaker and fainter, his eyes staring wide open in terror until at last, all was silent. Rowlin’s magical and mental strength were utterly spent, yet he continued, draining his very life force to cast more necrotic rays.

“Rowlin! Rowlin!” Cus called desperately in Rowlin’s mind, but Rowlin remained unresponsive, as if turned to stone.

Then, a weak voice called out, “Li… Little Row!”

The faint cry sounded in Rowlin’s ears like thunder. Snapping out of his trance, Rowlin saw Little Black beside him, struggling to lift his massive head.

“Little Black, you’re alive!” Rowlin exclaimed in joy.