The green lightning grazed his hair in midair, bending and arcing toward the distance.
It aimed directly at the unlucky Fifth-Tier casualty they had eliminated earlier.
Just as the green lightning was about to strike the corpse—a body already as dead as could be—an eerie aura of corruption began to emanate from it.
The corrupted energy quickly wove itself together, forming a massive shield that completely enveloped the corpse.
Crackle…
The sound resembled butter sizzling in a hot pan. The green lightning collided with the purple-black shield, slowly carving a deep groove into its surface.
But after all, it was only a high-level spell, with limited death-element energy inside.
Soon, the green lightning weakened, dissipating into a thin arc before vanishing entirely.
In the next moment, the shield reached its limit and shattered into countless fragments. Before they could even fall to the ground, the shards transformed back into streams of pure corrupt energy, wrapping around a delicate hand.
As the last tendrils of corruption were grasped, the true figure behind the shield finally appeared.
It was a mage girl of unremarkable appearance, yet her presence radiated an aura so repulsive that all living beings instinctively recoiled.
"I didn't expect someone would discover me… this is truly surprising."
The girl slowly dispersed the corrupted energy in her hand, swaying forward step by step toward Helm.
Every movement, every smile carried an intoxicating charm. It was as if her soul was not that of a young girl but of a stunning, mature woman.
"Under the command of the Underworld Witches? That fool didn't have subordinates this powerful. Even at peak Sixth-Tier, she can effortlessly crush those of equal rank.
Such terrifying mastery of death magic can only remind me of one person.
Would you agree, Death Witch Umbran?"
She blinked, staring unwaveringly into Morrigan's eyes, as if trying to pierce her very thoughts.
For a moment, the two sides fell into an eerie silence.
After a long pause, a cold female voice suddenly spoke.
"I didn't expect that, on only our second meeting, you would already guess my identity."
"Second meeting?"
The girl froze, feeling as if Morrigan's icy gaze had seen straight through her.
"You mean I should address you as Morrigan, the Third Bloodclad Archbishop of the Welcoming God Church…"
Morrigan's lips curved with disdain, mocking the girl's timidity as she slowly replied:
"Or perhaps you are the unknown witch hiding in the shadows… Imshi."
The instant Morrigan spoke the name, the atmosphere plummeted to a freezing point.
Then, Imshi erupted into hysterical laughter, wild and unrestrained, as if she had been suppressing herself for ages and finally had the chance to vent.
She bent over laughing, showing no concern for Morrigan nearby, nor fear of a sudden lethal strike.
After laughing her fill, Imshi slowly straightened and regarded Morrigan anew.
Her expression had grown more complex, and her voice shifted from exaggerated to a calm, almost indifferent tone:
"How did you know my identity? My status as a witch, my name Imshi—none of that should be known to a young witch like you, barely fifty years old.
Let me guess… Fate's little bitch told you, didn't she? The holder of the Supreme Divine, the Death Mistress, would so easily become her pawn?
This is the funniest joke I've heard in thousands of years.
Death Witch… have you heard this saying?
The Grim Reaper who brings death will also meet her own demise.
This is the first prophecy before the judgment day foreseen by Fate's little bitch.
And you… you are the first to die. Only when your death arrives will her prophecy unfold.
So, will you kneel before Fate's little skirt and accept death?
Or will you join us and utterly make her foolish prophecy a laughingstock?"
"You want to sway me? Why?"
Morrigan—or rather, Helm hidden behind her persona—was puzzled.
She had already foiled two of Imshi's plans. Yet the girl still sought to recruit her? Was this really how the world of the adults worked?
A cruel society of cold, pragmatic interests, with no room for emotion?
Or was there some ulterior motive? Perhaps recruiting her was just part of a larger scheme.
"Because we are all witches of the Supreme Lineage."
"Fine. Hand over the Angel."
"Listen to your elder. Too many powers are involved with the Angel. The waters are too deep for you to navigate. Let's change the terms—whether it's assisting you in finding corpses of Saint-tier warriors or death-attribute sacred relics, anything is negotiable."
"Then there's nothing to discuss."
Morrigan caressed the skull-engraved staff at her waist, crafted by Hel using the head and spine of a Dwarf King—a relic of holy quality.
If she had been holding back before, she was now ready to fight with full power.
"You won't even use your Philosopher's Stone? In your current state, you're not qualified to challenge me."
"How will I know unless I try? Besides, your clone is only peak Sixth-Tier. Do you really think you can overpower me?"
"Heh, truly a naive upstart."
Imshi's expression grew even colder. She drew no weapons.
Yet an overwhelming aura of corruption descended upon her, amplifying her strength.
Though still short of Saint-tier, she was dangerously close.
"Then today, I will show you the true strength of a senior."
With those words, a massive purple-black magic circle rapidly expanded beneath her feet.
A chilling female voice echoed across the area.
Supreme Corruption Magic: Echoes of Despair