Thanks for the Powerstones everyone, this is the bonus chapter for reaching 400 Powerstones.
--
Zeke watched the last few Battle Brothers vault into cover behind the Curtain Wall just as the Wither descended. Its body hovered above the ground, three pairs of hollow eye sockets surveying the surrounding battlefield.
Its arrival seized the attention of the entire warzone. The Battle Brothers behind the wall felt a suffocating sense of oppression and gripped their weapons tighter. "Are you sure this thing is here to help us?"
Marshal Amalrich climbed to an observation embrasure. His gaze shifted back and forth between the Wither and himself, noting that the creature's color scheme was suspiciously similar to his own Black Templar armor.
On the other side of the field, the cultists grew restless. The hunched figures who had been chanting from their tomes looked up at the three-headed monster.
"Did you summon that?" one whispered.
"I don't know..." the other replied, frantically flipping through his book.
Zeke pulled out several bottles of Splash Potion of Invisibility and doused himself and the people behind him. Under the effect of the invisibility, the Wither's three heads swiveled, and six eyes locked onto the only visible targets: the Word Bearers.
"It's coming for us!" a Word Bearer screamed.
The Wither spat out a skull. The missile of death dragged a pale trail through the air, flying straight toward the densest cluster of cultists.
"Scatter, quick, sca—"
The warning was cut short as the skull landed. Black particles mixed with the shockwave, spreading outward. A cultist at the center, whose leg had been blown off earlier, couldn't crawl away in time and was obliterated instantly.
But death was not the end. His corpse shriveled, and the life force of the land within several meters was drained dry, turning the soil pitch black. An eerie flower burst from the remains—a Wither Rose. Its petals were ink-black and twisted, surrounded by falling dark particles.
A nearby cultist stepped back and accidentally trod on the rose. His companion looked at him in terror.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" The cultist touched his face. His eyes grew hot, and two streams of black, bloody tears flowed down. He began to cough up black fibrous matter, and his skin lost its luster. Life force was rapidly dissipating from his shell—the power of the End.
"Save me..."
He collapsed, and seconds later, another Wither Rose bloomed from his chest.
Who are the real cultists here? The horrific scene left the Word Bearers in a state of panic.
The Wither's slaughter had only just begun. Its body climbed higher into the air, heads rotating like automatic turrets, bombarding the ground with skull after skull. Explosions rang out continuously, creating more zones of death and blooming more roses on the corpses of the enemy.
A black figure appeared among the rabble, standing a head taller than the cowering cultists. It was a Dark Apostle. Twisting his body while reading from a book, he was surrounded by floating tomes that flapped like crows. He chanted, summoning blue fireballs to strike the Wither.
Zeke watched the Wither's health bar drop, but it quickly recovered. Since the Wither Skull attacks dealt area-of-effect damage, killing multiple cultists at once, and each kill restored 5 health points to the boss, the damage dealt by the Dark Apostle was almost instantly negated.
The Wither turned its three heads toward the gnat that dared attack it. It spat a skull, but the Dark Apostle flicked his fingers, and one of his bird-like books blocked the projectile.
"Damn it, you idiots, stop chanting!" the Dark Apostle cursed at the useless cultists. "Chanting works on Cadian minds, but this thing doesn't care! Pick up your weapons and fire!"
The surviving cultists woke as if from a dream, grabbing whatever ranged weapons they had. Modern firepower was reliable, and the hovering Wither was an easy target. Its health quickly dropped from three-quarters to two-thirds.
"The big one is coming," Zeke muttered from his hiding spot, dodging a stray projectile.
When the Wither's health dropped to half, a shield flowing with ghostly blue runes emerged around it—Wither Armor. The cultists watched in despair as their bullets were absorbed by the shield.
Zeke ducked his head. Phase two was starting. The Wither descended slowly and then exploded with a massive boom. The blast created a deep crater, sending nearby cultists flying. From the cracked earth, black skeletal hands burst forth. Three Wither Skeletons climbed out, their bodies made of pitch-black bone, stone swords in hand.
After a moment of confusion, they locked onto their targets and charged. Their stone swords slashed at the cultists, dealing damage and inflicting the Wither effect.
"Can't hold it! We can't hold it!" the survivors cried. They were trapped between the Wither Roses on the ground and the skulls raining from the sky. They were mages, but their magic couldn't break the Wither's immunity shield.
The cultists routed, turning into a field of experience orbs. The Chaos raid ended in a laughable manner.
Zeke felt the Wither looked slightly larger than before. After killing the summoned Wither Skeletons for some coal, he drank a bucket of milk to clear his invisibility, deliberately attracting the boss's attention. With open space to maneuver, the Wither was much harder to deal with, but after some effort, Zeke finished it off.
Marshal Amalrich led the Battle Brothers out to clean up the battlefield. They adjusted their flamers, extremely careful to burn all the Wither Roses, having witnessed the consequences of touching them. The Marshal didn't say much, simply nodding to affirm the victory, though he seemed unsure how to evaluate Zeke's brutal methods.
But Zeke looked at the rose-covered battlefield with satisfaction. The Wither buff had exceeded his expectations. An ordinary cultist taking one explosion and a few seconds of poison had no chance of survival.
It's a pity these Word Bearers aren't followers of Nurgle, Zeke thought with a touch of regret. I wonder how the Plague God would react to encountering the Wither, a creature that represents the absolute end of life.
--
Next Goal: 600 Powerstones
You can also join Patreon.com/AHumanMadeMOFO to read 20+ chapters ahead and support me if you wish.