Watching the necromancer slowly retreat toward the Dreadlord, Unas made no rash moves.
In the game, skills all had cooldowns. From a real-world perspective, it was like throwing a punch: you always needed time to pull your fist back before you could throw another. That gap could be considered a cooldown too.
A mage couldn't use Blink repeatedly without limit. There had to be a moment when he needed to catch his breath, and Unas had to seize that opening to get close.
At that thought, Unas nudged the Night Elf behind him with his elbow and whispered, "Hey, done shaking yet?"
Ever since he had begun fighting the enemy, Beryl hadn't made another sound. Unas could only feel the body pressed against his back trembling slightly.
It seemed the black-robed mage had left her deeply traumatized. Though she had clamored for revenge, now that she actually faced her enemy, she didn't even have the courage to look him in the eye.
He couldn't let her sink any deeper into fear. Distracting her was a good idea.
"You said you planted a spore in his boot. Can you use it to pull a little trick?"
Getting no response, Unas didn't give up. He coaxed her along: "You made a Purple Lilac Mushroom grow from that far away, so this should be even easier. I remember Druids have a skill called Entangling Roots. It makes vines grow to bind an enemy."
"I've seen Dad use that, but what I planted wasn't a vine seed." Beryl finally spoke, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"Who cares what kind of seed it is? As long as it can tie him up, it'll do. Even if it can't, it should at least give him a scare," Unas said, as if coaxing a child.
"I'll try."
"Get ready, and listen for my command before you use it." With that, Unas abruptly spurred his mount forward, charging the enemy again.
This time, the black-robed mage chose Frostbolt again. Three translucent icicles wreathed in blue light reached Unas's chest in an instant.
Bang, bang, bang! Three impacts rang out in succession. The icicles just managed to pierce the wooden shield Unas held before his chest, and it instantly shattered into pieces.
Splinters flew, and shards of ice stung his face. Unas felt as though he had fallen into an ice cave. Cold invaded his entire body, stiffening his limbs, but the Bone Horse beneath him was barely affected and continued charging at the enemy.
Seeing that the mage was about to Blink away, Unas roared, "Beryl! Now!"
At the critical moment, Beryl didn't let him down. An intense green light flared around her.
The next moment, Allen cried out and abruptly hopped on one foot. He felt something soft inside his boot rapidly expanding, forcing his left foot out of it in an instant.
The sudden attack threw him off balance, and he slipped and fell flat on his back. Naturally, his Blink was interrupted too.
Unas seized the chance and instantly cast Hammer of Justice. A short hammer formed of golden light spun through the air and struck the black-robed mage's head.
Allen felt dizzy, and his body went completely limp on the ground. The Skeletal Warhorse had already charged up to him.
"Up!" Unas commanded the Bone Horse to rear, its raised iron hooves stomping viciously toward the black-robed mage on the ground.
Allen was nearly in despair. The ghostly flames on one hoof had already set his eyebrows alight, while the other had already sunk into his chest. His breastbone cracked, and in his agony he could only stare wide-eyed and wait for death. But suddenly, an incantation rang out in his mind. It was his master's voice!
He instinctively recited the incantation in his mind, and his body suddenly grew weightless. At the same time, a suction force arose in the center of the hall, pulling him toward it against his will.
Unas watched helplessly as the prey he had nearly caught turned into a cloud of black mist and shot toward the Dreadlord. Unwilling to let him go, he could only cast Judgment, but the golden light didn't even graze the mist.
The Dreadlord finally rose to its feet. The black mist solidified beneath its massive claw, and it lifted Allen by the head, leaving him dangling in midair like a lamb awaiting slaughter.
Allen's chest was caved in, and he kept coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Though his head was caught in its grip, he didn't dare resist in the slightest. He forced a few words through his teeth: "Thank you... Master."
"What a useless piece of trash," Bessarius's voice echoed throughout the hall. "Let me make you a little more valuable!"
The demon sank its teeth into Allen's neck, taking half the necromancer's shoulder into its gaping maw.
Allen let out a muffled groan and only then began to struggle. But his body was already held fast between the Dreadlord's claws and fangs, and he could clearly feel his life and soul draining away with his blood.
The black-robed mage's body gradually shriveled. Bessarius seemed to have had its fill and casually tossed Allen's dried-up corpse aside, laughing wildly. "I never thought I'd get to taste you one day. You really don't taste very good, nowhere near as good as your creations!"
What tremendous irony. The cook himself had been eaten, only to be told he didn't taste good. Did that count as a total condemnation of Allen's career as a cook?
Beryl stared blankly as Allen was devoured and killed. Though she hadn't taken revenge with her own hands and felt little satisfaction at seeing her great enemy brought to justice, the knot weighing on her heart had come undone without her realizing it.
Like the countless people he had cruelly abused, the scoundrel had ultimately died in a demon's mouth. That was the retribution he deserved.
Unas quickly surveyed the situation. After draining the black-robed mage, Bessarius had made no move, standing where it was as though preparing something.
Korfax fought like a berserker, trading wounds for wounds. He had already cut down two Felguards in succession, but the remaining three had surrounded him. The thick-skinned demons had begun focusing on defense, and he couldn't break through them for the moment. With fresh injuries added to old pain, it was hard to say how much longer he could hold out.
The Undead in the corner had suddenly gone berserk after the black-robed mage's death, desperately trying to break out. The pressure on Hans's side had increased sharply, and his shouts kept carrying over.
Generally speaking, after their master died, the Undead should have become dazed and acted purely on instinct. They should never have behaved so strangely.
Something unusual had to be behind such abnormal behavior. Recalling how the black-robed mage had died, Unas had a sudden thought. He rode toward the fighting in the corner and shouted, "Open a path! Let them through!"
Hans turned and glared at him. "Are you crazy? We can't let the enemies join forces!"
"Trust me, I'm right! Everyone in front, get out of the way!" Unas asserted himself for once, charging straight into the fighting without slowing down.
Several soldiers in formation at the front heard the commotion behind them and hurriedly rolled aside, immediately creating a gap in the encirclement.
Unas brought the Bone Horse to an abrupt stop in front of the gap, shielding the soldiers who had rolled to the ground. At the same time, he shouted, "Follow my command and spread out!"
Fortunately, having led troops deep into this place, he had built up a little authority along the way. At least the soldiers who had followed him all along obediently scattered to either side, and Korfax's men spread out along with them.
The gap opened completely, and the Undead swarmed out. Forming an arrowhead, they headed straight for the Dreadlord in the center of the hall.
"Brother Unas, what are you doing?" Someone had immediately come to demand an explanation.
"Helping you out of a tight spot, Brother Erigor." Unas looked at the young man, who was panting as he pursued the Undead. "And testing a guess of mine while I'm at it."
"What guess?" Erigor stopped beside Unas and bent over, gasping for breath. The magnificent Judgement Armor he wore was almost completely covered in foul blood.
Unas dismissed the Skeletal Warhorse and stood shoulder to shoulder with him, pointing toward the center of the hall. "Look."
The Undead who had broken out didn't attack Korfax. Instead, they charged straight at the Dreadlord. They didn't look at all like they were going to protect it; judging by how menacing they were, they looked more like they were going to attack it.
His guess had been right!
The black-robed mage's final order must have been for his minions to avenge him. Now the Dreadlord was about to reap what it had sown.
But it was too early to celebrate. The black-robed mage was already dead, and it was hard to say how much effect his order still had. Unas could only hope his resentment ran deep enough to keep influencing the will of the Undead.
Facing the Undead who had turned against it and were charging its way, Bessarius calmly raised its left claw. Green light flickered, and the demon's voice rang out: "Awaken, my servant."
The black-robed corpse it had cast aside suddenly moved. Allen's withered body slowly climbed to its feet.
Unas hadn't expected the Dreadlord to have another trick like that, and he panicked at once.