Row after row of wizards wrapped in black robes filed in from behind the Undead Army, numbering anywhere from several hundred to over a thousand. Compared with the furious battle at the front, the scene here was eerily silent.
White, gleaming bone claws extended from beneath their sleeves, gripping the staffs in their hands.
These staffs were entirely different from the crude Bone Staffs wielded by the Liches. They had been forged from a dark metal that seemed to be the legendary netherworld gold said to connect the two realms. At the top of each staff, the gemstone known as the King's Tear shone brilliantly.
This was the Undead Army's First Magical Legion from Balakirevo—the Lich Legion that had shaken the world during the Xifah Battle.
Amid the wild winds of the battlefield, a skeletal hand lifted the hood of a cloak, revealing a ghastly white skull beneath. The dark-red points of light in Victor's eye sockets watched Madara high above the battlefield. That Black Rose of Bromanto was withering away.
Row after row of similarly black-robed wizards walked to his side and stood shoulder to shoulder with him, forming a long battle line across the field.
A silent, wordless battle line.
But, Madara, all things must wither. All things must sleep forever. Martha above, everything followed such perfect rules and reason.
The Lich King and ruler of Balakirevo, Victor raised the Bone Staff in his hand. The Prometheus Diamond, the king of gemstones unearthed from the Sea of Dead Moons, cast a dim glow in the wind.
The undead had lost the sky, and with it their freedom to soar. But they still had magic. Death was still enough to sweep away everything.
"Eternal Darkness." It uttered a monotonous, dry syllable from its withered throat.
"**Let all things return