https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-133-Withered-Wraith-and-Death-Knight/13676286/
Chapter 134: Ascension Rite (I)
The Bone Hawk screamed through the air, its cry sharp and mournful. The Death Knight tore across the ground below, a skeletal specter of wrath. From the creature’s beak, countless Hellfire Beads erupted, detonating across the earth in a relentless barrage. Azure Ghost Flame spread like a creeping curse, devouring everything in its path. The flames pulsed with thick Shadowrot Energy—any touch would drain life, leaving only ash and silence. The land itself had become a wasteland, a living hell.
"This place—no living soul shall pass!"
Above, Old Wode circled the battlefield, his Eagle Cry Silver Sword flashing in the dim light. From the soil, decayed skeletons clawed their way upward, summoned by the Undead Commander’s command. They surged forth from all directions, forming a merciless ring around the intruders.
Meizhuolashi raised his Bloodstained Greatsword high into the sky. His eyes, pure black, glowed with an eerie light.
【Oathbreaker's Divine Guidance: Control Undead】
A thick wave of Dark Mist exploded from the blade, spreading outward in a chilling aura. All skeletons within range fell under his command—turning against their former allies, now serving as twisted weapons in his arsenal.
The Players unleashed their own Luminous and Fire Spells, effortlessly shredding the fragile, decaying corpses. The undead fell like dry leaves in a storm.
Alje fixed his gaze on the hovering Death Knight, his expression sharp and unwavering. The movements—those precise, fluid actions—he knew them too well. Even as Old Wode had transformed into this monstrous form, Alje could still see the ghost of his former self in every gesture.
In his hand, a crimson thread flared to life.
With a thunderous eagle cry, the Dragonvein Eagle Igler materialized from thin air.
This was the new Level 10 Trait of the Crimson Scale Conqueror—【Dragon Vein Bond】. It allowed him to summon his mount at will, tethered by the very essence of Dragon Blood magic.
Alje leapt onto the giant eagle’s back and whispered, voice calm yet fierce:
"Come then, Wode Kris. My old Instructor."
"Let me see if, after becoming this abomination, you’ve lost even a shred of your former skill."
"Kreee-aaaar!"
Another piercing cry split the sky. The Dragonvein Eagle spread its vast wings and shot upward, climbing with ferocious speed. Its aura burned as fiercely as the cursed Bone Hawk above.
The hovering Death Knight sensed the threat immediately. Without hesitation, he turned to meet the challenge head-on.
"Filthy living thing."
His bones cracked and groaned like splintering wood.
Alje and Wode circled each other in the sky, trading blows, probing for weakness. Turns, rolls, sudden climbs, dives—every maneuver was instinctive, born of years of mastery. It was as if they were two halves of the same warrior, forged in the same fire. Yet Alje’s movements were bolder, more reckless—flashes of aura betraying the near-miraculous precision of his control.
Fiery light and ghostly green flames clashed in the air, weaving together in a dazzling storm. The two knights blurred past each other, leaving only streaks of flame and shadow in their wake.
"Not bad," Alje panted, wiping sweat from his brow, voice tinged with exhilaration. "Old Wode… you still got it."
His Half-Dragon form bore fresh wounds—deep gashes that wept black, decaying mist slowly eating into the flesh. But he pressed on.
The Death Knight wasn’t faring much better. His plate armor was shattered and hanging in tatters. Cracks spiderwebbed across his bones. Yet the ghostly flame burned upon him, healing, renewing—feeding on his suffering.
They climbed higher, then locked eyes.
The final charge.
Both gripped their swords tightly, bodies leaning forward, diving at each other in perfect unison—two blades descending from the heavens.
But just as they closed to within ten meters, Alje and his Dragonvein Eagle unleashed a deafening roar.
【Dragon Roar Charge】
The roar carried the raw power of magic itself. Even the undead felt its terror. For a split second, a colossal illusion of a Red Dragon loomed above them—fanged, blazing, ancient.
The Death Knight faltered.
His Bone Hawk froze mid-flight, trembling in fear.
It was the smallest of moments—but Alje seized it.
"Flurry Slash!"
With the momentum of the dive, the Half-Dragon Knight unleashed a storm of slashes. The Everburning Greatsword cut through the air like a blade of fire.
A sharp crack echoed.
The Death Knight’s neck snapped clean. The skull, still glowing with malevolent light, flew upward—then dimmed, shattered, and fell like a broken relic.
The Bone Hawk, deprived of its Undying Essence, lost its ghostly flame. Its form collapsed into a pile of ordinary bones, scattering into the wind as they fell from the sky.
Alje landed lightly on the ground. He knelt, dug a small hole with his boot, and placed the cracked skull inside. He covered it with soil, then stamped down firmly.
"Rest in peace, you pitiful old fool."
He turned toward the massive, ornate gates of Lakanman Castle, his voice low and cold.
"I’ll kill that old vampire."
---
Deep beneath Lakanman Castle, the caverns stretched far beyond imagination. This was no mere dungeon—it was a vast underground world, ancient and alien in scale.
Bats swarmed through the darkness. Rats scurried through the shadows. Blood Slaves screamed in agony from their iron cages, their cries lost in the endless silence.
At the heart of it all stood a massive stone platform, one hundred meters across. Its surface was etched with twisted, alien runes. Around it yawned bottomless abysses, endless voids stretching into the unknown.
Seven towering stone pillars ringed the platform, each carved with demonic motifs. Thick chains—drenched in blood—wrapped around each pillar, binding young Vampire Offspring. They hung there like sacrificial statues, naked, their backs marked with strange, glowing tattoos. Their faces were twisted in ecstatic rapture, chanting in unholy hymns.
Even Alykshia, the eldest daughter of the Lakanman Family, was among them. Her elegant robes stripped away, her pale, flawless body exposed to the cold air. Yet there was no beauty here—only horror. A grotesque, sacred ritual.
She whispered, voice trembling yet reverent:
"Night of the Full Moon…"
"Bats rejoice, rats sing their song."
"Blood Mist veils the sky, shadows overflow."
"Let not the dawn come. Eternal Night descends."
"He shall become the Immortal King of the Night!"
"He shall be the Eternal Master of Darkness!"
"Let our blood boil within His flesh. Let us embrace the Great Ascension!"
Wings flapped in the dark.
Brad Lakanman emerged from the tunnel’s far end—not walking, not climbing stairs, but floating upward through the air, rising slowly toward the stone platform.
His crimson eyes gleamed with hunger, with anticipation. He spoke like a poet, savoring each word.
"Finally…"
"After hiding in darkness for one hundred and seventy-two years—this long, endless torment is over. Now, at last, the reward is within reach."
"Ascension. Once complete, nothing will stand in my way. Not even a Dragon."
He turned to the bound Vampires, his gaze filled with a love so twisted it bordered on madness.
"My children…"
They were his offspring.
They were his fuel.
They were his salvation.
A shadow passed over his face. His brow furrowed.
"Only one regret…"
"Todd… he hasn’t returned."
(End of Chapter)
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