The Genesis Of A Necromancer - Chapter 135

Chapter 135: Dreadful
Her words acted like a salve, soothing the raw nerves of the gathered warriors. The tension in the air lessened slightly, though the King of Swords still scowled, his impatience barely held in check.

The gathering armies were a sight to behold. The Kingdom of Swords had brought a thousand of their strongest warriors, each clad in gleaming silver armor that reflected the sun’s harsh rays.

Their discipline was evident in the way they stood—silent, unmoving, and ready to charge at a moment’s notice.

Not to be outdone, Ciriaus had mustered five hundred of their most powerful mages, led by their king himself. The air around them buzzed with latent energy, faint arcs of magic sparking between their staves and hands.

Standing beside the king was Arin, a small but fiercely determined figure whose presence alone inspired confidence in their ranks.

Hughiner, the Kingdom of Alchemy, had brought only a handful of people. But these individuals were no less important, their task critical to the mission’s success.

They busied themselves near the portal, preparing to ensure the passage back to Earth remained open—a lifeline that could not afford to fail.

Even the Beast Kingdom had rallied its forces, a diverse assembly of humanoid creatures and monstrous beasts standing shoulder to shoulder.

Their collective presence added a wild, unpredictable edge to the already volatile gathering.

Maria stepped back to rejoin her comrades, and as she did, the man standing beside the King of Swords opened his eyes for the first time.

Alogra’s sharp, steel-gray gaze flicked toward her briefly, assessing, before he closed his eyes again. His calm demeanor remained unshaken, though there was a subtle tension in the air around him now—a sign that even he was growing weary of the waiting.

The King of Swords, however, was less composed. “Hmph,” he snorted, his voice dripping with disdain. “To think they have the audacity to keep us waiting this long! You’re all giving these fools too much room to grow wings!”

Before anyone could respond, the sky above them lit up with a brilliant golden glow, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

All heads turned upward as a massive formation appeared in the heavens, its intricate design glowing with an almost divine radiance. The air hummed with power, the intensity of it making the ground tremble beneath their feet.

“They’re here,” Aldermond murmured, his voice low but firm.

The formation began to shift, and from its center, a vast army descended.

At the forefront was the Bishop of the Church, his flowing white robes gleaming in the golden light. Beside him was a group clad entirely in black, their uniforms simple but unmistakably powerful.

The mana radiating from their garments was so dense it was visible, swirling around them like a protective shield.

Behind them marched an army divided into three distinct groups. The first consisted of white-robed priests wielding staffs adorned with glowing runes, their faces serene yet resolute.

The second was a battalion of warriors, their weapons gleaming as they moved in perfect synchronization. The final group was the most unnerving—individuals who appeared almost human, but their inhuman irises betrayed their true nature.

Serpentine slits, feline pupils, and other mythical features marked them as something beyond mortal.

As the Church’s army touched the ground, their collective aura swept across the battlefield, commanding attention and respect.

The oppressive energy they exuded was suffocating, even for the hardened warriors of the Four Kingdoms.

Alogra, who had remained silent until now, frowned deeply as he observed the newcomers. His sharp gaze lingered on the Bishop, whose serene smile hid a cunning mind.

The Bishop stepped forward, his voice ringing out with an unsettling calm. “My deepest apologies for the delay,” he said, his tone smooth as silk.

“But let us not waste time with grievances. Today, we mark the day the planes will be cleansed—along with the demons that infest them.” Carlos voice was stern, and one could sense the deep stem of resentment within his voice.

He walked up to the front of the portal, the other kingdoms clearing path for them, as they were to lead the conquest.

Carlos stopped in front of the portal momentarily, observing the chaotic energy that flowed on the other side.

This was it, the war that would bring a new resolution, both for the humans and all the realms that existed…. Little did they know, that this same war, would lead to something far worse than they could ever imagine.

With the church taking the lead, they all entered into the portal, disappearing into the pitch black space.

—–

The stench of blood and sulfur hung thick in the air, an oppressive fog that choked the battlefield.

Black blood splattered across the scorched ground, forming grotesque pools around dismembered limbs and shattered weapons. Chaos reigned, yet at the heart of this carnage, a single figure stood calm and unyielding—a storm in human form.

A young man, ethereal and unearthly, moved through the pandemonium like a phantom. His long silver hair cascaded down his back, glimmering in the dim, unnatural light of the planes.

His crystal-clear eyes were like shards of ice, devoid of mercy or hesitation as he cut down his own kin with elegant precision. Each slash of his blade painted the battlefield with black blood, each motion a deliberate act of annihilation.

This was Zamazo, the Demon Overlord, and the architect of this massacre.

“Lord—” one demon dared to speak, raising a trembling hand in supplication. His plea ended abruptly as Zamazo’s arm moved in a blur, delivering a thunderous slap that sent the demon’s head flying through the air. The lifeless body collapsed to the ground, twitching for a brief moment before going still.

The remaining demons, gripped by terror, broke into a desperate retreat. Their cries of panic echoed across the battlefield as they scrambled to escape their master’s wrath. Among them, two figures—Kate and Rex—ran with frenzied determination.

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Kate shouted, her voice strained with fear and disbelief.

“What kind of magic could those humans have used to turn Lord Zamazo against us?!”

Rex, sweat pouring down his ashen face, shook his head. “I don’t know, and I don’t care to find out! We need to survive this—at any cost.”

Their pace quickened, feet pounding against the ground as the sounds of slaughter grew louder behind them. But then, Rex’s expression shifted. His eyes gleamed with a desperate idea.

“Kate,” he whispered, leaning closer to her as they ran. “What if we use them as bait?”

Her eyes widened with sudden understanding. Without a word, they skidded to a halt, their abrupt stop causing the panicked demons behind them to stumble in confusion.

“What are you doing?!” one demon snarled, his face twisted with panic as he glanced back at the advancing Zamazo. The Demon Overlord was methodically cutting through the fleeing horde, each step bringing him closer.

Kate didn’t answer. Instead, she spun around and lunged at the nearest demon, her lips colliding with his in an unexpected kiss. The demon’s eyes widened in shock, his body going rigid as a strange pink hue surrounded him. She slid her tongue into his mouth, and within moments, his entire demeanor shifted. His trembling stopped, replaced by a glassy-eyed stupor.

“What in the planes are you doing?!” another demon yelled, stepping forward to intervene. But before he could take another step, Rex delivered a brutal kick to his midsection, sending him flying backward—straight into Zamazo’s path.

The unlucky demon barely had time to scream before Zamazo appeared in front of him like a phantom. With a single, fluid motion, Zamazo’s foot came down on the demon’s head, crushing it into the dirt with a sickening crunch. Black blood sprayed outward, painting the ground in a macabre halo.

Zamazo’s crystalline eyes flicked to the next nearest target. A demon armed with a jagged blade attempted a feeble counterattack, lunging at the Overlord’s back. But before the weapon could make contact, Zamazo raised a single finger.

A beam of dark energy erupted from his fingertip, cutting through the air with a sharp hiss. The demon’s head exploded in a shower of gore, the blade falling harmlessly to the ground.

“To think you would dare raise your weapons against me,” Zamazo said coldly, his voice carrying an almost amused edge. His lips curved into a chilling smile as he advanced on the remaining demons.

The horde descended into chaos. Some fell to their knees, begging for mercy. Others tried to fight back, wielding weapons or casting spells in futile defiance. But Zamazo was relentless. His movements were a deadly ballet, every strike executed with grace and precision. Heads rolled, bodies crumpled, and screams were silenced one by one.

Kate and Rex seized the moment. Using the chaos to their advantage, they pushed more of their comrades into Zamazo’s path, creating a shield of bodies to cover their escape.

“You traitorous scum!” one demon yelled, realizing their plan. His outrage was short-lived; Zamazo’s hand plunged through his chest, emerging on the other side with a still-beating heart clutched in his grasp.

“Amusing,” Zamazo murmured, his icy gaze fixed on the bloodied organ in his hand. He crushed it effortlessly, black ichor dripping between his fingers.

The battlefield grew eerily quiet as the last of the demons fell. Over two hundred corpses lay scattered across the ground, their lifeless eyes staring into oblivion. Zamazo stood amidst the carnage, his pristine garments untouched by blood or dirt.

He sighed, a rare flicker of emotion crossing his face. “What a waste,” he muttered, raising his hand.

Dark flames erupted from the ground, consuming the bodies in an instant. The flames roared hungrily, leaving nothing behind—not even ashes. When the fire subsided, the battlefield was eerily clean, as if the massacre had never happened.

Zamazo vanished, reappearing moments later beside three figures perched at the edge of a canyon.

Alisha and Missy stared at him in stunned silence, their faces pale. Minutes ago, they had been certain of their demise. Yet now, the very demon who had threatened to kill them had turned his wrath on his own army instead.

Missy’s hands trembled as she clutched Alisha’s arm. “Did… did we do this?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Alisha shook her head, unable to tear her gaze away from Zamazo. The gruesome scene they had just witnessed replayed in her mind, the image of blood and gore etched into her memory. But what unsettled her most was Jack.

He stood unfazed, his expression calm as he observed the aftermath. There was no fear in his eyes, no revulsion. Only an unreadable calm.

“You’ve certainly made a mess,” Jack remarked, his tone light as he floated up to the canyon’s edge. His eyes met Zamazo’s, unflinching.

The Demon Overlord regarded him with a cold glare. “This is only the beginning,” Zamazo said, his voice a low growl. “With your return, there will be far more to come.”