Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 124

Chapter 124: Dare to Call
The air crackled with dark energy as the undead surged forward. Richard’s optical brain blinked with static, the signal from Sirius completely severed.

He cursed under his breath, tapping the device on his wrist. No response. The line was dead, just like the land beneath their feet.

The crimson eye overhead pulsed, casting the battlefield in a sickly, blood-red glow.

Ahcehera struggled to rise, clutching her side where the dark spear had struck. Her ribs throbbed, each breath sharp and shallow.

The general stood at the edge of the crater, his molten eyes watching them with cold amusement.

His army pressed closer, skeletal figures clawing toward them with relentless hunger.

“We need reinforcements,” Richard muttered, voice strained as he hurled another stream of Nether Fire at the advancing horde.

The flames incinerated dozens of corpses, but the charred bodies reassembled themselves within moments, sinew and bone knitting together like grotesque puppets.

Ahcehera coughed, forcing herself to stand. “The portal’s closed. We’re alone here.”

Richard’s jaw tightened. He turned his wrist again, desperately trying to reconnect with Sirius. Nothing.

The crackling interference wasn’t random, it was intentional. The enemy was severing them from the rest of the galaxy.

The ground trembled beneath their feet. A new wave of energy surged from the crater, sending shockwaves through the soil.

The undead army halted mid-step. Their hollow eyes turned toward the basin’s center as if compelled by an unseen force.

Richard followed their gaze. His breath caught in his throat.

A figure rose from the depths of the crater. His body was covered in torn, bloodstained clothes.

Chains hung loosely from his wrists and ankles, dragging across the ground with each step.

His skin was pale, marred by bruises and scars. But his hair, dark and slick from rain and mud, was unmistakable.

“Richmond?” Richard whispered.

Ahcehera’s heart lurched. It was him. The last time she’d seen him, he was commanding a fleet at Agartha’s base.

Now, he looked like a ghost dragged from the abyss. His eyes glowed faintly with violet energy, and an aura of cold death clung to him.

The undead army hesitated as Richmond walked forward. The general’s expression shifted from amusement to cautious interest.

“Impossible,” the general growled. “You were left to die.”

Richmond lifted his head, his eyes locking onto the general. “I did die,” he said, voice hoarse but steady. “And then I came back.”

The air grew colder. Richmond raised his right hand. The chains around his wrists glowed, and the ground beneath the undead trembled.

The skeletal soldiers convulsed, their glowing crimson eyes flickering like candles in a storm.

One by one, they turned from the general to face Richmond, lowering their weapons in submission.

Ahcehera’s eyes widened. “He’s controlling them.”

“Necromancy,” Richard muttered, disbelief etched across his face. “He’s using death essence.”

Richmond’s power expanded like a dark tide. The ground split open again, but this time it wasn’t to release more enemies.

Skeletal hands emerged from the cracks, but instead of attacking Ahcehera and Richard, the newly risen dead turned toward the general, forming a protective circle around Richmond.

The general roared in fury. He leaped from the crater, summoning a massive scythe of crackling black energy. “You dare steal my army, mortal?”

Richmond didn’t flinch. His left hand clenched into a fist, and the skeletal warriors surged forward.

They clashed with the general’s forces in a grotesque dance of bone and shadow. The ground shook beneath the weight of their battle.

The general swung his scythe, cleaving through dozens of skeletons in a single strike.

Richmond countered by raising both hands. The fallen soldiers reassembled instantly, their fractured bones snapping back into place.

“He’s reversing death,” Ahcehera realized. “He’s turning the enemy’s power against them.”

Richard ignited the Nether Fire in his palms. “We need to help him.”

They dashed forward, weaving through the chaos. Richard hurled waves of blue-black fire at the general, forcing him to split his attention.

Ahcehera, summoning every ounce of light energy she could muster, charged toward Richmond’s side.

“Richmond!” she shouted over the din. “How?”

“No time,” he interrupted, his voice tight with concentration. His eyes glowed brighter as he directed his undead forces.

“Zephyrion’s general is drawing energy from the crimson rift. We have to close it.”

Ahcehera nodded. “How?”

“Strike the core beneath the crater. It’s a conduit for the dark energy.”

Ahcehera turned to Richard. “Cover me.”

Richard gave a curt nod and unleashed twin streams of Nether Fire at the general, forcing him back.

The general bellowed in rage, realizing their plan. He twisted the scythe and hurled a lance of shadow toward Ahcehera.

Richmond raised a skeletal barrier, but the shadow pierced through, grazing Ahcehera’s arm. Pain seared through her muscles, but she pushed forward. The crater loomed ahead.

At its center, a black crystal pulsed with crimson veins, tethered to the sky by streams of energy. The crimson eye above swirled like a hurricane, feeding off the crystal’s glow.

Ahcehera raised her sword. Light energy crackled along the blade. The crystal hummed as if sensing the threat.

Dark tendrils lashed at her feet, but she leaped into the air and brought her sword down with all her strength.

The impact sent shockwaves through the ground. The crystal splintered with a high-pitched shriek.

Cracks spread like spiderwebs across its surface. The crimson veins dulled, and the eye in the sky began to contract.

The general roared in pain, clutching his chest. The crimson energy that fueled his attacks weakened.

Richmond seized the moment. He summoned his skeletal army to swarm the general, pinning him to the ground.

“Now!” Richmond shouted.

Richard summoned a concentrated orb of Nether Fire and hurled it at the restrained enemy. The flames consumed the general, who screamed as his body disintegrated into ash.

The ground shuddered. The crimson eye in the sky collapsed inward, leaving the basin in darkness. The undead soldiers froze and crumbled into dust.

Ahcehera dropped to her knees, gasping for breath. Richard staggered to her side. Richmond remained standing, his glowing eyes dimming as the power of necromancy receded.

Silence settled over the battlefield. The rain continued to fall, washing away the ash.

Ahcehera looked at Richmond. “How… how did you survive?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze was distant, haunted. “The Zergousin left me for dead,” he said softly.

“But the death essence around me… it responded to me. I don’t know why. I just knew I couldn’t die. Not yet.”

Richard’s brow furrowed. “Necromancy is ancient magic. It’s tied to Devetrinthon.”

Richmond gave a faint nod. “I felt it, too. Something’s coming. The battle tonight was just the beginning.”

Ahcehera’s chest tightened. The crimson eye might have vanished, but the air still felt wrong.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Richmond’s eyes lifted to the sky. “Zephyrion knows we’re here. And now that I’ve touched his power… he won’t stop until he claims it back.”