The spear in Ang's hand turned into a club as he struck the necromancer again and again. Dull impacts echoed through the hall, every blow accompanied by the crisp sound of shattering bones.
The necromancer's body rolled across the ground, every inch of his bones breaking and crumbling beneath the violent impacts. His screams echoed through the hall, filled with heart-rending agony.
"Crack! Crack!"
His limbs were nearly pulverized beyond recognition, and even his wand was kicked away by Ang, rolling to the other side of the hall.
Without the support of his wand, the dark magic within him became utterly chaotic. His torn flesh twisted under the burning holy light, charred marks covering his body, each one steeped in unspeakable pain.
"Ah—! Stop! Stop!!"
The necromancer's screams no longer sounded human. They were more like the mournful cries of a beast tortured beyond endurance. He twisted his shattered body, trying to struggle away from Ang, but he no longer even had the strength to crawl. He could only tremble on the ground and wait for the next attack to fall.
Aisha and Quintina stood nearby, watching Ang raise and bring down the club. Complex expressions inevitably appeared on their faces. Though they were disgusted by the necromancer's hideous appearance, seeing him beaten beyond recognition and screaming without end still stirred an indescribable feeling within them—perhaps even... a tiny bit of sympathy.
Aisha frowned and finally stepped forward, grabbing Ang's arm.
"Brother... if you keep hitting him, he'll die! Ask him whether he's really from the Black Magic Society and why he lured us here!"
Ang's arm paused slightly. His breathing was rapid; he had clearly become too engrossed in the beating to stop himself at once. He pursed his lips, slowly halted his movements, and took a deep breath