...
At that moment, peering out from the gap in the bushes where he was hiding, Lynch could clearly see the miserable state of Barry and his three companions.
Aside from Barry, the Holy Knight apprentice who could still barely fight—wielding a Longsword that had lost its luster to parry the pursuers' attacks—the other three Holy Light Priest apprentices had all but lost their ability to fight.
Their holy white robes were torn by thorns and stained with mud and specks of blood. Their faces were as pale as paper, their lips purple, and they staggered unsteadily on their feet.
It was obvious they had been afflicted with more than one of the Necromancer's Curses. The ones Lynch could identify were the Weakness Curse and the Pain Curse.
Moreover, their Holy Light Power was long depleted, making it difficult for them to cast even the most basic Purification Skill.
As for the Necromancer hunting them, he was shrouded in a wide, filth-stained black robe, his face and age impossible to discern.
He wasn't at the forefront of the charge. Instead, he hid behind a large horde of Skeleton Servants, strolling leisurely, as poised and unhurried as a seasoned hunter.
"Kekeke~"
The Necromancer would let out his trademark villainous cackle from time to time, then raise his Magic Staff and cast another Curse on Barry and his group from behind the horde of Skeletons.
Meanwhile, the massive number of Skeleton Servants tailed Barry's group, constantly harassing and entangling them.
The Necromancer was patiently wearing down their last reserves of stamina and willpower, toying with his prey like a cat plays with a mouse.
Lynch's heart sank as he took a quick glance through the gap in the bushes.
The man was controlling sixty to seventy Skeleton Servants.
More importantly, these were all fresh Humanoid Skeletons, a far cry from the Fishman Skeletons he used just to pad his numbers.
"Damn it..." Lynch's scalp tingled. 'How am I supposed to fight this?'
He could only hope his "play dead" tactic would work, and pray that Barry and his ill-fated companions could somehow pull off another miracle. Even if they just lasted another ten-odd seconds and ran a little farther away, the most important thing was not to draw the battle toward him.
Unfortunately, as is often the case, your worst fears have a way of coming true.
Just seven or eight meters from Lynch's hiding spot, Barry and his group were completely surrounded by a tide of surging Skeleton Servants.
"Let's fight them to the death!" Barry roared in desperation. He squeezed out the last, faint wisp of Holy Light, coating his Longsword with it, and furiously hacked apart two approaching Skeletons.
The Priest apprentices behind him also mustered their final strength to cast the Purification Skill, but the light was as weak as a candle in the wind. It only managed to slow a few Skeletons for a moment before extinguishing completely.
CRACK! SPLURT!
The sounds of breaking bones and blades cutting into flesh rang out one after another.
Despite their best efforts, they only managed to destroy a mere four or five Skeleton Servants in the end.
Against such overwhelming numbers, their desperate resistance was completely futile.
Soon, the group of four from the Holy Light faction were cut down by the Skeletons' indiscriminate blades, their blood staining the dead leaves on the forest floor.
Although not dead yet, they were breathing their last, having completely lost the ability to resist.
"Kekeke~~"
The Necromancer once again let out a series of triumphant, wicked laughs.
He didn't approach immediately. Instead, he cautiously observed the group of four, and only after confirming they were truly on the brink of death did he emerge from the Skeleton horde. Flanked by two Netherworld Skeletons, he slowly ambled over to them.
'Damn it!'
Lynch's heart sank once more.
'This guy actually has two Netherworld Skeletons, and their auras are incredibly strong. The eerie green Soul Fire in their eye sockets glows brightly, looking much stronger than even Bone Jade's. They're most likely mid- to high-Tier One.'
The only thing slightly in Lynch's favor was that he had sensed the danger ahead of time and hidden himself quickly. Furthermore, the Necromancer's attention was almost entirely focused on the four from the Holy Light faction.
It was a classic case of the enemy being out in the open while he remained in the shadows.
The Necromancer looked down on Barry and the others, who were like lambs to the slaughter. From beneath the shadow of his hood, a pair of greedy and excited eyes were revealed.
"Excellent materials... Although Holy Light is nauseating, once converted into corpse puppets, they should be much stronger than common farmers."
'Corpse puppets?'
A jolt went through Lynch's heart again.
'This guy knows the Corpse Resurrection Skill? It looks like even if he hasn't reached Tier Two, he's not far off.'
With his life on the line, Lynch's mind began racing, weighing his options.
The situation was already clear. He had two completely different choices before him.
The first was to keep playing dead and pray that after the Necromancer turned Barry and the others into corpse puppets, he would leave, satisfied with his new acquisitions, and overlook Lynch, who was right under his nose.
The second was to take advantage of the fact that the enemy's attention was completely on Barry's group and launch a sudden, all-out attack to kill the bastard while he was focused on casting his spell.
If he continued to play dead, it seemed safe, but it meant leaving his fate entirely to luck.
The opponent was an experienced and sharp-sensed Necromancer. Although his attention was currently drawn by Barry's group, and he hadn't discovered Lynch yet, what about afterward?
Once he snapped out of it, what were the chances he'd be discovered?
Fifty percent?!
Or seventy?
If he were discovered, given the overall strength the enemy had displayed, he would have no chance of winning. His end would likely be no better than Barry's.
Of course, attacking proactively was also extremely risky. One misstep, and he would be doomed beyond recovery.
But... at least he would hold the reins of his own fate.
Besides, with a deliberate plan against an unsuspecting opponent, he might just have a chance.
The pros and cons flashed through his mind. In an instant, Lynch's gaze became resolute.
'Either way, it's a gamble, so why not take the initiative myself?'
A clear and simple plan rapidly formed in his mind.
To catch the bandits, first catch the king.
If they were to set up their formations and fight a pitched battle between Necromancers, relying on Undead Magic and their Skeleton Servants, Lynch would have a zero percent chance of winning.
But if it came to close-quarters combat...
Lynch glanced at the somewhat gaunt figure beneath the black robes. 'Hmm, then maybe I do have a chance.'
The more critical the moment, the more cautious Lynch became. His breathing grew longer and fainter, almost imperceptible.
He was like a patient hunter, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Just then, the Necromancer seemed to have had his fill of his prey's despair. He drew a chilling, bone-handled dagger and let out a sinister chuckle.
"Now then, before you become my loyal corpse puppets, allow me to savor your painful and terrified souls. They are, after all, a first-rate delicacy..."
With that, he crouched down, slowly extending the bone dagger toward the throat of the barely conscious Carl.
Extremely excited by the prospect of enjoying such a rare feast, his hand holding the dagger, and indeed his entire body, began to tremble slightly.
And all of his attention was focused on the "offering" before him.
Now was the time.
A fierce, determined glint flashed in Lynch's eyes.
Adrenaline flooded his system in an instant.
He moved his sinister Magic Staff with extreme speed, his mouth chanting a muffled and deep incantation.
He finished the incantation with unprecedented speed. With a light tap of his staff's head in the Necromancer's direction, his Spiritual Power locked on. A small, ghastly white ball of Cursed light shot from the staff, flying toward its target at high speed.
...