Chapter 110: Living Fuel

The wing of grey mana collided with Vorgath’s broadsword with a sound that sent stone fragments flying.

It was not the raw physical force of the strike that unsettled the commander, but the sight of Varkhane’s face—his close subordinate—attacking him with an empty, vacant stare.

Vorgath’s mind froze for a split second from the shock, and Varkhane seized that moment instantly.

Pressing down with his extended blade, Varkhane shoved Vorgath backward with tremendous force, driving him several steps back and creating distance between him and Biggie.

In the next instant, shadows pooled across the scorched earth like a patch of black ink.

Darkness gathered at the center, and Malrik stepped out from its heart like a grim reaper; a heavy black coat wrapped around his frame, a polished silver mask concealing his face, while cold emerald light blazed behind its eye slits.

In his grip, he held a massive black scythe, its blade pulsing with an emerald aura.

Right behind him, two summoning circles condensed. Winter materialized with her usual frost, and beside her, Lady Mushroom stood holding her long staff.

With a swift tactical movement, Biggie, Zarvok, and Varkhane shifted, forming a decisive defensive perimeter around Malrik. They stood before him like an impenetrable wall, their eyes all burning with the exact same emerald radiance as their master.

Malrik tilted his head slightly, gazing at the shocked commander from behind his silver mask before speaking in a calm tone:

"I apologize for borrowing your subordinates... but I believe they prefer working under me more than you."

Vorgath’s body went rigid, his crimson eyes blazing with boiling fury. His gaze flicked in disbelief between his three subordinates, who were now protecting this stranger like puppets, before locking onto Malrik.

"So... you are the one responsible for all of this..."

Vorgath tightened his grip on his sword until his knuckles nearly shattered, shouting in a voice dripping with malice and disbelief: "What did you do to them?! What kind of power allows you to control beings vastly stronger than yourself, and in such numbers?"

He stared at Malrik, observing him closely. "You don’t even possess a Law! This is the most absurd, infuriating thing I have ever seen in my life!"

Malrik smiled behind his mask, his emerald eyes gleaming with cold malice as he raised his black scythe firmly:

"Wouldn’t you like to join our little team? Trust me, you’ll love it...At the very least, you’ll be reunited with your old subordinates."

Vorgath stood amidst the wreckage of the camp, his crimson eyes fixed on the silver mask.

His voice resonated, heavy like grinding stone: "You infiltrated the camp and crushed Zarvok... then Varkhane. How?"

"How do you possess all that information about us?"

"Normally, I don’t converse with dead men, but since I’m in a good mood, I’ll tell you something."

Malrik tilted his head and spoke in a calm tone: "Your plan was doomed to fail the moment you decided to send ’Biggie’ alone. You handed him to me on a silver platter."

"If you had pushed with your full strength from the start, the outcome might have been entirely different. But your excessive caution and sacrificing Biggie are what settled this war before it even began."

Silence fell for a second, then a low chuckle erupted from Vorgath’s throat, turning into a mocking laugh that shook the surroundings. "What caution are you talking about?"

Vorgath straightened his posture, looking down at Malrik with blatant condescension.

"Your minds are truly narrow. Do you think I sent him alone because I feared losing the rest of my forces?"

A brief silence followed before a cold smile formed on his face.

"These Morveth aren’t soldiers I fear losing... They are merely weak trash. But I didn’t gather this many just to waste them on you."

"They are simply mobile fuel for me... I use them whenever I need power."

Behind Malrik’s outward composure, his mind raced over Vorgath’s words.

Damn it... What does he mean by ’fuel’?

Biggie’s memories contain no sufficient details about this commander’s abilities... or his Law.

"What do you mean?" Malrik asked, trying to appear unbothered by Vorgath’s revelation.

Vorgath raised his arm toward the sky, speaking in a mocking tone: "Didn’t you see for yourself? They were completely useless when you breached my camp."

His eyes blazed with bright crimson light, a cold smirk spreading across his face. "It is time for them to serve the sole purpose I gathered them for."

The crown rose slowly from Vorgath’s head, detaching completely and hovering in the air above him.

For a moment, the crown hung suspended without change, then slowly began to expand.

The crown swelled in size at a terrifying pace, and the crimson orb at its center expanded, beating like a hellish heart.

The crown spun into a rapid rotation, a sharp hum ringing throughout the forest. Before Malrik could move from his position, the crimson eye in the center of the crown snapped open in a horrifying display!

Suddenly, the stillness of the forest cracked open as screams erupted.

Horrifying shrieks burst from the depths of the woods in every direction, overlapping until it seemed as though the entire forest itself was screaming.

The sounds echoed from all sides; the shrieks of thousands of Morveth creatures sounding as if their very souls were being crushed.

A murky red aura, bordering on pitch black, radiated from the crimson eye, and massive surges of pure energy shot forth from it, traversing the distance in an instant to slam violently into Vorgath’s body.

His veins bulged all at once, his frame trembling beneath the overwhelming influx, while his aura multiplied at an insane rate, layer upon layer.

BOOM!

A shockwave of mana detonated around him, cracking the earth beneath his feet as the soil began to sink downward.

Malrik’s eyes widened behind his silver mask as he watched his opponent’s aura indicators skyrocket to terrifying heights.

Damn it... So that’s what he meant by fuel!

Vorgath was never careful with the lives of his troops, nor was he preserving them out of mercy... He treated his entire army as a raw energy reserve, stockpiling them for emergencies.

Malrik’s gaze hardened.

I completely misunderstood the situation.

Before Malrik’s eyes, Vorgath’s aura continued to surge with no sign of stopping.

I need to move now... before it’s too late.

"You aren’t the only one here capable of raising his power, you bastard."

Malrik gripped the handle of his black scythe, raising it before him, and muttered in a sharp tone from behind his silver mask:

"Reaper’s Blessing."

In the same instant, the scythe unleashed a dense, dark-emerald glow.

The auras of the spirits surrounding him surged simultaneously, the emerald radiance flowing into them, weaving into their distinct elemental colors. The dark-emerald energy fused with their original auras, intertwining around their bodies as their presence grew denser and more powerful by the second.

Not enough yet.

He raised his other hand, which radiated a powerful emerald aura.

"Tyrant’s Command."

The moment the words left Malrik’s mask, a small red seal—roughly the size of his head—appeared directly above Vorgath.

The seal took the form of a sharp-edged runic circle centered around a narrow vertical eye, surrounded by delicate runes rotating slowly. The crimson eye glowed briefly before dimming, leaving the seal hovering over Vorgath.

At the same time, small emerald crests materialized above the heads of the spirits, formed from sharp interlaced points around a luminous central point. The crests rotated slowly, their green light pulsing in rhythm with the spirits’ auras.

The eyes of the spirits shifted instantly. Their heads snapped around, locking their gazes directly onto Vorgath.

"All of you... take him down!"