Chapter 31

Far away, Phelin saw the demon skimming along the ground and instantly turned pale: “Bad! It’s the high-rank demon Turus the Magma! My lord, be careful!”

“Lord Phelin, do you know this demon?” Aske asked.

“Who among the powerful in this world wouldn’t I know? Hmm, well, the two siblings from the Lofen family—I don’t know them. Humans evolve too fast; they’re barely twenty, yet one’s a low-rank Sword Saint and the other a high-rank Sword Master. True geniuses.” Phelin sighed.

Anna of the Lofen family had already been met this time, returning with Lisha, but Phelin had never met Anna’s brother, Lu Se Lofen—a rare low-rank Sword Saint in recent years.

“Is this demon that strong? Even my lord can’t beat it?” Aske exclaimed. If this had been a few hours ago, Aske wouldn’t have asked such a question—but after witnessing Ang’s four-hour endurance, he now held blind worship for Ang.

Phelin shook his head: “You can’t judge it that way. If my lord were in his true body, there’d be no worry—but now he’s a Warden. Do you know what a Warden…?”

Mid-sentence, Phelin suddenly realized he’d slipped up and gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth.

The two stared at each other for a moment, then Aske quickly said: “Uh, that thing… what does it mean?”

Since he’d already slipped up, Phelin had no choice but to pretend ignorance: “That thing? It means ‘guard’ and ‘watch.’ My lord can project into any vessel, but his strength depends mostly on the vessel he inhabits. For example, right now he’s projected into a Grey Bone Skeleton—so his power is only at the level of a Grey Bone Skeleton. Facing a high-rank demon? It’s very difficult.”

Aske clenched his fists: “Then let’s go help! Together, we’ll kill him—he dared burn our grain!”

Phelin rubbed his hands awkwardly: “I… I can’t beat him either. I have to wait for my children to arrive.”

Many believed Lord Phelin was the strongest in the Undercity, but Phelin knew his limits. Even as a human, he’d had no talent—he struggled painfully to learn magic.

His current strength came purely from centuries of accumulation. In terms of magical skill, he couldn’t even match his wife, Lisha.

Yet no one had ever dared attack the Undercity—not the Demon Valley, not even the Ice City. Though Ice City’s population far exceeded the Undercity’s, no force could defeat ten thousand skeletons within the Undercity, and Phelin could summon thousands at will—or even tens of thousands if necessary.

But now the chase had moved too fast; his skeleton soldiers hadn’t caught up. He could only offer distant support and dared not approach. As a mage, if a magma demon got close, he was dead.

“Huh? You can’t beat him either? Then… let’s cheer for my lord!” Aske immediately changed his mind.

Ang, who had charged after the demon in fury, also changed his mind. Originally, he’d planned to catch the bastards who burned the farmland and cut them down like weeds—but now that he’d caught up, he saw… hmm, maybe he couldn’t cut it…

Yet as he looked at the magma oozing from the demon’s body, Ang suddenly had an idea.

Turus also sensed Ang’s approach, turned, and hovered midair. His gaze swept over Ang—startled, for he’d never seen a skeleton with a flaming skull. Then he looked at the angelic skeleton—startled again: a Battle Angel?

How many years had it been since a Battle Angel appeared in this world? Was the Church of Light preparing to invade again? Why was it allied with skeletons?

Then his gaze fell on the little zombie—Zombie? Ignore it. Finally, it landed on Phelin far away.

“Hahahaha! Lord Phelin, have you come to see me off?” Turus laughed loudly.

Phelin smiled awkwardly but said nothing—because the one in charge here wasn’t him.

This awkward expression struck Turus’s eyes, causing him to frown slightly—when suddenly, the skeleton with the flaming head emitted a faint magical fluctuation. Before he could process what was happening, a stream of water droplets splashed onto him.

The molten lava flowing over his body hissed, rising into white steam.

Turus froze, bewildered. What? Water droplets? Not even a water ball—just droplets? Was this mockery?

Before Turus could comprehend it, another wave of water droplets splashed onto him, again sending up white steam.

“Aaaah! Die!” Turus grabbed a ball of flame and hurled it with all his strength.

Though it was the most basic Fireball spell, Turus’s casual throw gave it the power of a third-rank spell—no wonder he was a magma demon of the fire element.

But Ang, watching the fireball hurtle toward him, merely ducked his head—and didn’t dodge.

The fireball struck him, exploding into roaring flames that fully engulfed him.

The little zombie shrieked “Aaaah!” and rushed forward to rescue Ang—but before it took two steps, Ang’s soul rippled with a cry from within the flames: “Aaaah!”

With that roar, Ang burst out unharmed, his magical aura pulsing as another wave of water droplets splashed onto Turus.

Skeletons were naturally immune to magic, but Tough-Skin Zombies weren’t. Though the little zombie had thick skin and flesh, it was vulnerable to both fire and water—charging into flames wouldn’t save Ang; it would only burn itself.

Only when a zombie reached Copper-Skin or Iron-Skin level would its fire resistance dramatically improve.

“Oh, I forgot—skeletons are fire-immune. Then, taste my Magma Inferno!” Turus raised his hand, paused briefly, and a molten fireball the size of a human head rapidly formed.

Summoning the molten fireball was clearly far more taxing than a third-rank fireball. During this time, another wave of water droplets splashed onto him, sending up more white steam.

The damage was minimal—but the insult was extreme. Turus felt deeply humiliated. What? Couldn’t even bother with a water ball? Trying to drown me with droplets?