When that eerie voice suddenly rang in everyone's ears, the Half-Lich in the clearing clearly heard it too.
He stopped working on his curse, turned, and headed toward the woods, with his zombies following behind him.
"Attack!" Rhode shouted.
They had already been exposed, so they might as well fight.
Galinder reacted fastest.
The instant Rhode finished speaking, an arrow shot toward the Half-Lich.
With a whoosh, it lodged directly in the Half-Lich's heart.
But the Half-Lich's advancing footsteps did not slow. He continued charging straight toward them.
By then, the elf rangers were also firing one arrow after another.
The zombies behind him were clearly weaker fighters. Some fell after a single arrow to the head, while others struggled through two or three hits before crashing to the ground.
As for the Half-Lich at the front, arrows covered his body like a hedgehog's quills. No matter how little he feared pain, his body could no longer hold out.
After all, he was not a true lich yet!
And so, after taking an arrow from Galinder squarely in the eye, he too fell, filled with resentment.
Perhaps he had never expected so many powerful enemies to be hiding in the woods;
or perhaps he had thought that undergoing Lich Transformation already made him invincible, only to be brought down by arrows all the same...
Rhode looked at Galinder and his rangers approvingly.
They truly were elf rangers. Not a single arrow missed, even in the "night."
Compared with these battle-hardened members of a long-lived race, however, the human scouts, who were not particularly skilled at combat, and the students of the Magic Academy performed far worse.
The young mages, in particular, had mostly never taken part in any real battle.
When that voice rang out, they first looked around in