Among the Six Arms, only one had managed to completely evade Sakeer's relentless attacks—the 'Undead King' Davernoch.
Sakeer's gaze lifted, locking onto Davernoch, who hovered in mid-air through his flight ability.
"The undead race…"
His voice carried a trace of intrigue.
Among all alien species, the undead possessed some of the most formidable racial traits.
Immunity to critical strikes, spiritual magic, instant death effects, and negative status ailments—such passives were enough to make Sakeer envious.
It was clear now.
The reason Davernoch had effortlessly dodged his attacks was simple—his debuffs had no effect on the undead.
Sakeer clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
"Of all opponents, it had to be you."
His expression darkened.
"Your title and your very existence as an undead are nothing but a nuisance."
"Bastard!"
Davernoch's voice echoed from above, laced with both rage and fear.
"You—a mere necromancer—think you can lecture me?!"
His fiery red eyes flickered with unmistakable terror as he took in the devastation below.
This wasn't just a setback—this was a massacre!
He had to escape.
In a desperate attempt to stall for time, Davernoch raised his hands.
"Fireball!"
A blazing orb, the size of a basin, materialized mid-air, then hurtled toward Sakeer.
But even as the spell was unleashed—
He turned and fled.
He had no choice.
This battlefield was no longer one he could afford to stay on.
Even Eight Fingers, an underground powerhouse, would be shaken by this.
A force as renowned as Six Arms had been crushed in an instant.
Damn it!
Who the hell provoked this monster of a human?!
Sakeer's gaze remained calm as the fireball descended.
Without hesitation, he reached into his black robe, retrieving a small artifact.
The Orb of Death.
His fingers tightened around it as he murmured to himself:
"This might be overkill… but I'm not letting you escape."
BANG!
A massive magic array burst to life beneath his feet, ancient glyphs glowing with eerie brilliance.
Then—
"ROOOOAR!!"
A deafening, bone-chilling roar filled the courtyard.
The ground trembled as a massive skeletal dragon emerged from the summoning circle.
Its body, composed of countless fused bones, radiated an aura of pure death.
Its hollow eye sockets glowed with a sinister light as it reared its skull to the heavens, letting out a roar that shook the very air.
The fireball descended, aimed directly at Sakeer—
But in its path stood the Bone Dragon.
The moment the spell made contact—
It vanished.
Like a drop of water meeting a vast ocean, the flames were snuffed out instantly.
Not even an explosion.
Just… erased from existence.
Sakeer's lips curled slightly.
"Catch him."
With a single command, the Bone Dragon's massive, tattered wings unfurled—
WHOOSH!
A violent gust of wind erupted as the bonedragon took flight, launching itself after the fleeing Undead King.
Davernoch barely had time to react before a shadow loomed over him.
There was no escape.
Back on the battlefield—
A suffocating silence settled over the remnants of Six Arms.
The three who lay paralyzed on the ground—
'Phantom Devil' Succulent.
'Thousand Kills' Malmvist.
'Dancing Scimitar' Edström.
Their last shred of hope had been pinned on the Undead King.
But the sight of the Bone Dragon, a creature of legend, appearing at Sakeer's command—
Shattered them.
Succulent's lips trembled as he watched.
His eyes, wide with terror, reflected only despair.
Even Zero, standing some distance away, his chest still bleeding, remained deathly silent.
His face had paled.
This wasn't just a battle lost.
This was annihilation.
A thought suddenly clawed at Zero's mind.
For five years, the notorious necromancer Khajiit had toiled within the Necropolis.
Five years—just to accumulate enough negative energy to summon two Bone Dragons.
With two such beasts, Khajiit had dared to threaten an entire city—the border fortress of E-Rantel.
And yet—
Here stood Sakeer, casually summoning a Bone Dragon without a second thought.
In their eyes, this was a terror beyond imagination.
The truth was, the Bone Dragon's raw power wasn't as overwhelming as it seemed.
If Sakeer had summoned it at the start, the Six Arms could have banded together to defeat it.
But they had made two fatal mistakes:
They lacked resistance to curses.
They had been too arrogant—staying close together rather than spreading out.
And because of that—
The battle had ended before it had even truly begun.
Sakeer exhaled softly, his fingers flexing.
Summoning the Bone Dragon had drained 100 magic points—a painful cost.
Normally, the Orb of Death would require 100 negative energy to summon such a creature.
But by infusing it with magic, Sakeer had altered the conditions.
Even so…
It was worth it.
If he was going to send a message, it had to be one that Six Arms would never forget.
A message written in blood and fear.
At first glance, it seemed as though Sakeer had overwhelmed the Six Arms.
But in reality, the true cause of their downfall was poor intelligence—one miscalculation that set off a catastrophic chain reaction.
Sakeer turned his gaze toward "Battle Demon" Zero, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"It's best not to be too arrogant before speaking, Your Excellency Zero."
Zero's expression was grim, his breathing shallow and labored.
Yet, despite his weakened state, his gaze remained locked onto Sakeer with unwavering intensity.
"Who the hell are you?" he rasped.
Sakeer didn't answer. Instead, his voice remained steady, indifferent.
"You have one more chance to make a move."
Unlike the others, Zero had endured.
His injuries were far less severe than those of his fallen comrades, a testament to his position as the leader of Six Arms.
Sakeer had noticed it during their clash—Zero's skin had an unnatural toughness, absorbing blows that would have torn through lesser men.
The same attacks that had left deep wounds on the others had only resulted in shallow cuts on Zero's body.
That wasn't all.
If Sakeer's memory served him correctly, Zero's fists carried a power on par with Ordreich's, allowing him to clash directly against Brain's weapon.
Brain's sword was no ordinary blade—yet Zero, a Monk, had pushed his physical body beyond its natural limits.
There was more to this.
He recalled the beast-like patterns that flashed across Zero's body whenever he unleashed his special moves.
Sakeer wasn't convinced that ordinary beast blessings could allow a fighter to break through their own level cap and unleash attacks with the intensity of a Level 40 combatant.
And this was precisely why he had taken such an interest in the profession of "Shamanic Adept."
A chance to make a move?
Zero's eyes burned with fury.
Without hesitation, he let out a guttural roar.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
Power erupted from within him.
His already bulging muscles expanded further, veins pulsating beneath his skin as a surge of explosive force condensed within him.
"Leopard's Foot!"
"Rhino Arm!"
"Bison's Chest!"
Zero bellowed each ability as his tattoo-like markings ignited, flickering across his body in a cascade of mystical energy.
Sakeer's attribute panel displayed the names of his abilities, confirming what he already suspected.
His expression remained calm.
He stomped the ground—
And in the next instant, vanished.
Poof!
Zero's mighty roar cut off abruptly.
Blood sprayed into the air.
His head, still frozen in shock, detached from his neck and tumbled to the ground—bouncing twice before rolling to a stop.
His lifeless body collapsed with a dull thud.
Behind him, Sakeer stood motionless, a newly forged iron sword in his grip, blood droplets sliding off its pristine blade.
He exhaled softly.
"Sorry."
His voice was devoid of emotion.
"Your ultimate move took too long. I really couldn't wait."
With a flick of his wrist, he shook the blood from the blade and cast a final glance at Zero's lifeless corpse.
[XP Gained: 3653][XP Gauge: 24,636 / 10,000]
At that moment—
Boom—
A powerful gust rippled through the battlefield as massive wings beat against the air.
The Bone Dragon descended from the sky, its enormous skeletal frame casting an ominous shadow over the ground.
Clutched within its bony forelimbs was a struggling figure—
The "Undead King" Davernoch.
"H-Human! Wait, please—!"
Davernoch thrashed desperately against the dragon's grip, his voice hoarse and trembling.
"I… I can't die yet! I still have magic to master! Knowledge to obtain—!"
His panic intensified.
"I can serve you! I'll be your subordinate!"
Sakeer didn't even glance at him.
He simply raised his arm.
Click!
The Bone Dragon's claws tightened.
A sickening crack filled the air as Davernoch's body was crushed instantly.
The dark negative energy that had once surged within him pulsed violently, trying to resist—
But under the Bone Dragon's dominance, it shattered and dissipated into nothingness.
[XP Gained: 3,251][XP Gauge: 27,877 / 10,000]
Sakeer stepped forward, his gaze landing on a barely-breathing figure sprawled on the ground—
"Thousand Kills" Malmvist.
His voice was gentle.
"Do you know the half-elves?"
A violent shudder coursed through Malmvist's broken body.
His lips parted weakly, as though he wanted to explain something—
Poof!
The iron sword flashed.
The air grew heavier with the scent of blood.
Malmvist's crimson head rolled to a stop between "Phantom Devil" Succulent and "Dancing Scimitar" Edström.
Both men froze, their pupils constricting in sheer terror.
[XP Gained: 3,121][XP Gauge: 30,998 / 10,000]
Sakeer studied the numbers on his attribute panel—
His experience points had exceeded 30,000.
A hunger stirred within him.
The desire to kill again.
But he reined it in, forcing himself to pause.
Instead, his gaze shifted to the two remaining survivors.
At that moment—
Whoosh!
The Bone Dragon suddenly soared into the air, vanishing into the depths of the mansion.
Moments later—
It returned, clutching "Spatial Slash" Peshurian within its massive grasp.
The Bone Dragon released its grip, hurling the struggling man to the ground at Sakeer's feet.
Three remained.
Sakeer's voice was calm.
"Do you want to live… or do you want to die?"
(End of Chapter)