The moment the golden death barrage roared toward him, even Mograss, a high-ranking Death Lord, felt a chill seep into the depths of his soul.
He had witnessed firsthand how that thing had "purified" over a hundred elite minions into ash in mere seconds.
Yet his lordly pride forbade him from fleeing like a common soldier.
"Trifling tricks!" Mograss roared, channeling his immense Death Energy. A thick, dark green Anti-Magic Shell abruptly materialized around him.
Meanwhile, the other two leaders lacked his stubbornness.
Ghost Blade's form instantly dissolved into black smoke, merging into the shadows with a speed that left only a fleeting afterimage.
The Blighted, with a hastily chanted incantation, tore open a pitch-black portal, stepping through to emerge dozens of meters away.
The perfectly coordinated iron triangle of death, a formation designed for annihilation, had been shattered in a single second by a human Priest barely above level twenty wielding a bizarre-looking "staff."
The stubborn Mograss would soon regret his pride.
The golden barrage slammed into his Anti-Magic Shell, neither repelled nor neutralized.
The sensation was like searing-hot iron branding into grease.
Sizzle—!
His proud shield was rapidly dissolving, evaporating before his very eyes!
He could clearly feel his precious Death Energy draining away at an unprecedented rate!
The attack itself might not be fatal, but it was utterly humiliating.
And... it was draining his energy like crazy!
"Damn it!"
Mograss cursed aloud, realizing that maintaining his defense for just a few seconds had consumed more Power of Death than his entire half-day battle with Aeldara.
Finally, unable to sustain the terrifying drain, he frantically spurred his Skeletal Warhorse sideways in a desperate dodge.
On the battlefield, one figure remained steadfast.
Aeldara.
She stood calmly in place, even sheathing her longsword.
No way, she thought. She'd clearly seen her Elf Apprentices basking in that golden "attack," looking more invigorated than ever.
This human... is a good person.
Aeldara mentally categorized Lin Qingyue, allowing the golden barrage to completely engulf her slender frame.
Mograss and his two companions, though expecting this outcome, still stared intently at the golden-lit area, eager to witness her demise.
No screams.
No struggle.
The golden barrage, like the gentlest spring rain, completely merged into Aeldara's body.
The Holy Light deftly bypassed the Death Energy encasing her armor, acting directly upon her flesh and blood.
A warm, pure energy surged through her limbs and bones.
The wounds inflicted by the Ghost Blade and The Blighted began to writhe and heal at an astonishing rate.
Even the muscle soreness and fatigue from the battle vanished completely under the cleansing tide of this divine force.
In mere seconds, Aeldara's condition had surged from near exhaustion and injury to peak form!
However, this renewal was limited to her physical body.
She could sense that the icy Death Energy, the source of her power as a Death Knight, remained completely depleted.
Her health bar was full, but her blue bar was empty.
The sensation was... peculiar.
"Commander, don't worry! I'll heal you!" Lin Qingyue's energetic voice called out from afar, snapping Aeldara back to her senses.
Aeldara: "..."
I wasn't worried.
Also, what does "heal" mean?
Despite her confusion, she seized this fleeting opportunity.
In the instant Mograss and his companions froze in shock, Aeldara moved.
Her figure erupted into motion, transforming into a black lightning bolt even swifter and sharper than before!
Her first target was The Blighted, the Mage who had just teleported and hadn't yet regained his footing.
"Damn it!"
The Blighted sensed mortal danger and tried to teleport again, but his stiffened body left him a fraction of a second too slow.
Aeldara vanished from his sight.
When she reappeared, she was already before him.
A cold, pure, silvery sword light, utterly devoid of warmth, struck instantly.
The Blighted barely managed to raise his Human Skin Grimoire to his chest, his final barrier.
Thwack!
The gleaming silver blade severed the Evil Tome—bound to his very soul—along with the Blighted's hands holding it.
"Aaaaaaaah!"
The Blighted's scream of agony echoed through the chamber as foul black blood gushed from his severed wrists.
The grimoire had been the source of his power. Its destruction dealt a far greater blow to his soul than the loss of his hands.
Yet Aeldara's assault didn't relent.
She spun into a whip-like kick, striking the Blighted squarely in the chest.
Crack!
The sound of shattering bones pierced the air.
The Blighted's body folded in half as he was sent flying backward, crashing heavily onto the ground far away. He convulsed weakly, unable to rise again.
"Damn it!"
Mograss and Ghost Blade roared simultaneously, charging from opposite flanks in a desperate pincer attack to force Aeldara back.
At this moment, Aeldara's physical condition had returned to its peak. Her combat skills and experience far surpassed these monsters, who possessed only brute strength.
She didn't even glance back at the Ghost Blade attacking from behind.
Instead, she reached out with her left hand, draining the last dregs of Death Energy from her body.
"Grip of Winter!"
An intensely frigid Death Energy materialized into an invisible giant hand that seized the Ghost Blade's spectral form.
The Ghost Blade's ghostly speed froze instantly.
Simultaneously, Aeldara spun around, her sword arcing upward to meet Mograss's mountain-splitting axe with pinpoint accuracy.
Clang—!
The clash of sword and axe sent shockwaves that rattled the surrounding bones.
This time, it was Mograss who staggered backward, not Aeldara.
"Your strength... how is it possible for you to have renewed it?!"
Mograss's voice was filled with shock and disbelief. Even the Skeletal Warhorse beneath him staggered back half a step under the immense force.
Aeldara's icy voice calmly stated a simple truth:
"Because I walk the true path."
With a flick of her wrist, her sword traced an arcane arc, perfectly dispersing the brute force behind the axe's strike.
"And you," Lin Qingyue sneered, "are nothing more than a pathetic puppet of power."
Just as their deadlock reached its peak,
Ratatatatatatat!
The deadly gunfire erupted across the battlefield once more!
Lin Qingyue's gun sights had long locked onto the Ghost Blade, trapped by the Grip of Winter, and the Blighted, struggling for survival on the ground.
The golden Holy Rain of Death poured down again.
The Ghost Blade and the Blighted's souls recoiled in terror, desperately draining their last reserves of Death Energy to conjure thin Anti-Magic Shells.
"Aaaaaaahhhh!"
If Aeldara had basked in this holy rain as if it were a refreshing spring breeze, for them, it was the most brutal inferno imaginable!
Each Holy Light Bullet struck the shields with a hissing, corrosive sound, as their Death Energy was forcibly "vaporized."
Every impact burned and tore at their very souls.
Mograss's vaunted "immortality" crumbled into pathetic absurdity before this ruthless Purification power.
They could indeed heal wounds with Death Energy—if they had any left!
But Lin Qingyue's Holy Light Bullets weren't just shattering their flesh; they were draining their very essence, consuming their power at its source!
Ghost Blade let out a desperate roar and violently detonated a portion of his remaining power, finally breaking free from the Grip of Winter. He rolled awkwardly away, seeking refuge in the shadows of the battlefield.
The Blighted fared even worse.
Barely recovered from the excruciating pain of his severed wrist and shattered bones, he was immediately bombarded by a hail of bullets. He could only roll frantically across the ground, desperately maintaining his faltering Anti-Magic Shell, his evasive maneuvers utterly humiliating.
Though neither had been purified outright, they were reduced to frantically scurrying for cover, their humiliation complete.
Counterattack?
They couldn't even salvage the last shred of dignity befitting their former status as powerful beings.
"Damn you!"
Mograss's eyes burned with fury, but he was relentlessly pinned down by Aeldara's sword, unable to break free and provide aid.
The balance of power had not merely tilted—it had collapsed entirely.
A fully energized Aeldara completely dominated the mightiest Mograss.
A ludicrous Priest wielding an AK-47 laid down merciless covering fire from afar.
And the other two so-called BOSSes were like mice being toyed with by a playful cat, left with no option but to cower and flee.
This battle was already lost.