Chapter 92: Battle Over

Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Battle Over

Please add this to your collection, recommend it, vote with your monthly tickets, and offer any other support!

————————————

Fire!

Red Ice and Flame Bone gave the order to attack almost simultaneously. The Magic sigils between their brows glowed faintly, their sharp gazes locked onto the target ahead. The magical aura surrounding them instantly turned fierce.

All the Magic Skeletons under their command raised their hands in unison. Eerie blue frost and murky gray gas instantly gathered between their bony fingers as each unleashed their most practiced Magic.

Streaks of interwoven eerie blue and murky gray light tore through the air, whistling like powerful arrows as they shot straight toward the Kobold Leader on his throne.

The Magic Skeletons were mostly casting Poison Gas Bombs and Frost Arrows.

After all, these two basic forms of Magic had been taught personally by Red Ice and the Corpse Witch, guaranteeing that every Magic Skeleton could learn them, unlike other spells for which they had no instruction.

The Corpse Witch itself specialized in poison, so the Poison Gas Bomb had been standard issue for the Magic Skeletons from the start.

As for Red Ice, no one was fooled by his name. This Magic Series Minion might have "Red" in his name, but a bone-chilling frost emanated from him. He followed the purest path of ice, able to conjure impressively powerful Frost Arrows with a mere flick of his wrist.

So, since he was willing to teach, the Magic Skeletons were naturally willing to learn.

Because of this, the Magic Skeletons had developed a highly methodical combat rhythm.

First, they would shoot a dense volley of Frost Arrows with precision to instantly freeze their enemies stiff and slow their movement. Then, they would immediately follow up with Poison Gas Bombs, causing the target to continuously lose health. Trapped in the toxic zone, the enemy would be worn down to death.

It was, one might say, a rather seamless method of attack.

But such a large-scale magical volley was too blinding and its aura too intense. It ultimately exposed their hiding place.

The Kobold Warlocks beside the throne instantly sensed that something was wrong. Their lowered heads snapped up, a vicious glint flashing in their murky eyes as their gazes locked onto the distant Magic Skeleton squad.

Almost simultaneously, several scorching Fireballs erupted from their hands, hurtling toward the targets on a wave of searing heat.

As the Kobold Leader’s most trusted personal guards, the strength of these Warlocks far surpassed that of ordinary grunts, and their Cultivation was much deeper. The Fireballs they unleashed were as large as human heads, their flames scorching and blinding, wreathed in tiny, crackling sparks. Their power was already approaching that of a Low Tier Flame Burst Technique. Wherever such an attack landed, it was sure to leave behind a scene of charred devastation.

At this critical juncture, nearby Skeletons took the initiative and charged out.

They leaped into the air one after another, their gaunt yet tough skeletal frames extending as they unhesitatingly threw themselves directly into the path of the incoming Fireballs.

One Skeleton for each Fireball. The crisp crack of splintering bone and the roar of exploding Fireballs instantly intertwined, echoing across the battlefield. Through this decisive act of self-sacrifice, they shielded their magic-wielding comrades behind them, forging a barrier with their very bodies to prevent even a single lick of flame from reaching the casters.

Amid the chaos and raging fires of war, Bone Forest used his keen battlefield insight to instantly identify a breakthrough. He raised his hand, pointed toward the Kobold Warlocks, and yelled, "Suburban Wolf!"

When fighting magic-users, flanking them for close-quarters combat was undoubtedly the optimal strategy.

This was an ironclad rule gleaned from countless battles. Magic-users had weak Defense; once you closed the distance, they found it nearly impossible to cast their Magic and were left as lambs to the slaughter.

Among all the Skeleton Squads under Bone Forest’s command, only the Suburban Wolf Squad, with its innate sprinting Talent, possessed a movement speed far exceeding its peers. They were the best choice to execute this raid.

The moment he received the order, Suburban Wolf shot forward. He led the charge, his twenty-odd Skeleton Warriors streaking behind him like arrows loosed from a bow.

Their speed was double that of an Ordinary Skeleton, and dirt flew from beneath their feet. Before the Kobold Warlocks could react, shift their Attack, and gather their Magic, the squad had already charged silently up behind them.

Boosted by Bone Forest’s Assassination Talent, and coupled with melee’s natural advantage over magic-users, Suburban Wolf’s Skeleton Warriors struck with vicious precision. Their sharp Bone Blades sliced through the air with a piercing whistle. With a few flashes of cold steel, a wave of Kobold Warlocks collapsed, powerless to resist and without even time to scream.

Without its Warlock bodyguards, the Kobold Leader—so fat it could no longer stand, its blubbery body slumped on a wide throne—was instantly left isolated and defenseless. It had lost all protection and was completely exposed to the Undead Team’s attack range.

Seeing this, the two Corpse Witches in the distance seized the golden opportunity. Without a shred of hesitation, their withered hands flew through a series of seals. Two dense, pitch-black Poison Gas Bombs reeking of a foul stench instantly formed. Pulsing with deadly pressure, they flew with precision toward the helpless Kobold Leader.

By this point, the Kobold Leader had already lost most of its Life Force from the earlier barrage of Magic. Its aura was faint, and it was already a spent force, with barely enough strength left to even lift a hand.

The two Poison Gas Bombs slammed into its obese body and exploded. Black Poisonous Qi billowed out. The leader’s body twitched stiffly, its flesh quivering violently, before it spewed a large mouthful of black blood. Foul-smelling, bloody foam splattered onto the ornate armrest of the throne, instantly corroding small black holes into the surface, a testament to the potency of the Poisonous Qi.

Immediately after, a strange and sinister chuckle echoed from behind the Kobold Leader. The sound was sharp and piercing, filled with an indescribable eeriness and malice, as if some long-imprisoned evil had finally broken its chains and was about to burst forth from the body to descend upon the battlefield.

The Kobold Leader was still struggling in pain, a hoarse rattling sound gurgling in its throat. The comical clown makeup painted on its face began to run like melted wax down its greasy cheeks, revealing the hideous bones and rotting, blackened flesh underneath. The sight was absolutely terrifying, enough to make one’s blood run cold.

But at that moment, it made a move that none of the Undead Warriors had anticipated.

Using its last ounce of strength, it swung its hand back, unhesitatingly plunging the rusty, chipped dagger it held into some hidden spot on its own back. The motion was decisive, without a hint of hesitation.

The next second, the sinister, piercing laughter stopped abruptly, as if forcibly choked off, and instantly vanished from the battlefield.

The Kobold Leader had exhausted the last of its strength. Its massive body slumped forward slightly, its head drooping limply. But because its frame was so corpulent, it remained firmly wedged in the wide throne, unable to fall. Its breathing ceased entirely, its eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace.

Almost at the instant it breathed its last, the red balloons hanging from the backs of all the living Kobolds on the battlefield burst in unison. A continuous series of loud pops echoed as blood-red fragments filled the air, raining down like a crimson storm and signaling the final end to the brutal battle.