115 064. Angel of Death -4 Part One

The great hero responsible for killing Necromancer King Amon, Kelt Olfolse, had personally entered the battlefield.

Step by step, he walked on the dry and barren landscape, slowly approaching the huge army of Aslan.

This sight pushed Aslan’s Field Marshal Gallas even further into the pit of confusion.

Their opponent was the ruler of the Theocratic Empire. The Holy Emperor himself.

However, someone like that was on the forefront? Not only that, all by himself too?!

On top of that, look at his attire, look at his posture. That was not how one should look when one was about to enter a battle.

His only weapon was a massive golden warhammer.

Was he taking the great army of Aslan lightly? Or maybe he had finally gone senile? If neither of those were true, then maybe he felt confident of facing the army of a hundred thousand combatants all by himself?

Gallas yanked out his sword and pointed it towards Kelt Olfolse, who was still walking closer to his army in the distance. “Kill that fool! I shall handsomely reward anyone who manages to kill that man. I shall bestow freedom to the slave, peerage to the soldier, or one hundred slaves and a territory to the Necromancer!”

3

Gallan’s roar loudly resounded out.

His adjutant next to him raised a red flag as soon as the Field Marshal bellowed out.

Drum beats began booming out from Aslan’s formation.

The undead howled and screeched out as the slaves raucously cheered on.

Their eyes could see it. They could see a lone defenceless old man within the desert winds walking towards them.

1

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Killing someone like that should be incredibly easy!

“Go! Go and take the head of that old man!”

Vu-wuuuuuuu-!

The mace-wielding slave’s head at the front of the pack simply ‘vanished’. Not even ashes remained where his head used to be. The headless body simply flopped and fell to the ground.

“…!”

The slaves rushing in flinched and immediately stopped running altogether. But by then, they had already arrived in Kelt Olfolse’s range.

He raised his head and glared at the slaves.

“If you’re guilty of something, then that would be…” He raised the warhammer in his right hand high up in the air. “…Foolishly standing in my path.”

2

The warhammer slammed down.

…And the ground below exploded.

With him at the centre, blinding light flashed. The barren land was dyed pitch-black in an instant while the arcs of lightning currents danced and flowed within the scorched earth.

What would’ve happened if he failed to withstand Kelt Olfolse’s lightning? Never mind just the hand, his whole body would’ve vaporised out of existence instead.

He grasped his sword’s hilt.

‘Should we retreat?’

No, not yet.

If he retreated too quickly from here, then he’d have to shoulder all of the blame.

The death knights were still tying up Kelt Olfolse over there.

Gallas simply had to seize this opportunity.

“Necromancy Corps, cover me! I, Gallas Iram, one of the twelve honourable feudal lords of Aslan, shall personally take the head of the Holy Emperor!”

Numerous Necromancers quickly stood behind Gallas. Their demonic energy was delivered to him.

His body was reinforced once more, while his sword thickly permeated with demonic energy. All of his senses were focused on the blade.

‘With this one strike…!’

Gallas would take Kelt Olfolse’s head with this attack and end this war with a resounding victory!

2

He sucked in a deep breath before quickly dashing towards the Holy Emperor, who was still occupied by the platoon of death knights.