Mage Legend
Chapter 151 - 52 episodes Temple (5)_2

Chapter 151: 52 episodes Temple (5)_2

The whole team rushed forward at the fastest speed. Since someone had already passed through here, the possibility of remaining traps was low. Lynch sensed the strong evil aura ahead and naturally wouldn’t rush to the forefront as a scout; he pretended to be out of breath, running with difficulty.

The vanguard of the Dark Elves had already disappeared around the corner, yet Lynch deliberately lagged at the back. However, he wasn’t the very last person. Zilvra was alongside him.

The female Drow grabbed Lynch’s arm, and both of them stopped.

"Do you like me?" Zilvra asked with a frown.

Listening to those words while looking at the expression on the female Drow’s face, Lynch couldn’t reconcile the two. Without thinking, he said, "No, I can’t say I do."

"That’s good." Zilvra seemed relieved.

"Zilvra, what’s going on with you? You’d better make it clear, because I’m really not in the mood to guess what’s on your mind," Lynch said. "I’ve heard some rumors, but I’d like to hear it from you personally."

"Hmm, you can listen if you want, but time is pressing now; I can’t explain in detail," Zilvra said worriedly, glancing in the direction where the other Dark Elves had disappeared, then at the direction of the matron. "I know you’re destined to leave Ratris City, I ask for nothing else; just take me safely to the surface."

"If that’s the case, I can help you," Lynch said, looking at the female Drow, thinking for a moment.

"No! You must be careful. Ratris is gathering a storm now, not only internal but possibly external forces as well. That’s why the matron has decided to go to such great lengths this time. This is a dangerous trial, but also an opportunity! Lynch, I’m just a Dark Elf with some combat skills, I’m not a Priest or a Mage; with my own power, I can’t escape. You must help me! Also, be careful of the matron!"

"I understand." Lynch looked at Zilvra’s face, an expression of anticipation mixed with worry, relief tinged with a cloud of concern. Who knows what lies ahead. According to Stoneleg, several past attempts by Zilvra to free herself had failed, and she must have started fearing that feeling.

The two of them stared at each other, temporarily forgetting their surroundings.

Until an ear-piercing sound of battle broke out ahead.

Lynch and Zilvra ran forward together, seeing various flashes at the end of the passage while Batana’s voice clearly echoed, shouting in Dark Elf Language: "Ghosts from the Undead World, return to eternal slumber, return to your grave, return to dust, return to your lifeless world! Leave this plane!"

Lynch and Zilvra finally saw what was happening and couldn’t believe their eyes. The Dark Elf Family Warriors, who were fighting vigorously just moments before, were now almost all lying motionless on the ground. They were still intact, without wounds or blood, but it seemed their souls were suddenly stripped away, leaving them lifeless. Just a short moment had passed, yet most of the Drow had turned ashen, like corpses buried underground for days, starting to rot.

Batana and a few Dark Elf Female Priests were the only ones still standing. Zarra was leading her sisters, continuously attacking the enemy with Divine Arts, while Batana was chanting a complex Spell, seemingly needing time to prepare.

And their enemy was just one. It was a standing skeleton, its clothes burned away by the constant Divine Fire, revealing exquisite bones. As if forged and tempered numerous times, its bones appeared incredibly hard and glistened like a sword crafted meticulously by a Dwarven artisan. In its empty black eye sockets, two pale yellow lights flickered like flames. They seemed so weak that any breeze might extinguish them, yet in fact, even a doomsday storm couldn’t shake their brightness. This skeleton’s right hand was unlike any other part of its body; it didn’t resemble a human framework at all. The forearm, which should have been two bones—the ulna and radius—had become entwined bone spurs, like twisted thorn vines long-neglected, appearing very stout. Its right hand had become extraordinarily large. The tips of its five finger bones were sharpened to points sharper than awls, reaching from its waist to the ground. Lynch had no doubt these nearly meter-long fingers could easily pierce anyone’s body, roasting them like chickens over a campfire.

"A Lich! It’s a Lich!" Lynch hurriedly pushed Zilvra back around the corner. As a warrior, an unfamiliar Mage of magic could do little here, possibly even losing his life for no beneficial outcome. Lynch gripped the Powerful Wand tightly, quietly moving behind the matron, casting "Protect from Negative Energy" Spell on himself. Under Batana’s cover, ordinary Spells shouldn’t harm a Mage – this was relatively the safest spot.

The Lich was most adept at manipulating the aura of death. This didn’t mean they were all masters of Necromancy Spell, but their inherent qualities made the Lich instinctive in employing Negative Energy Magic. This instinct was terrifying to other creatures.

"Who dares disturb my slumber? And even dares stand before me!" A gray mist flowed from the Lich’s mouth, and its voice didn’t come from its throat—it had long lost its throat. The voice seemed to resonate directly in your mind, penetrating your eardrums, echoing straight in your brain. Even blocking your ears couldn’t stop the voice from swirling.

"Undead! Since you’ve died, return to your world!" Batana’s Spell was finally ready; she waved her long staff, pointing at the Lich, shielded by layers of protection. The latter began to seem somewhat overwhelmed under the assault of several Elf Priests.

A black mist appeared above the Lich’s head, swirling like a vortex with faint thunderous sounds. The vortex grew larger, gathering its strength in the clouds like a tornado, ready to erupt, sweeping away everything below. In this storm’s center wailed the anguished voices, like countless souls lamenting their torment and repeating the stories of their lives, venting their discontent upon death. But when you try to truly listen to their lamentations, you can’t capture those voices anymore.

Watching this Divine Art, Lynch couldn’t help but marvel at Batana’s strength. Although the Dark Elf Matriarch already seemed exhausted, apparently having consumed much power just now, she directly tore the space. That black vortex must connect to the Abyss Plane where the Spider Goddess resides, the endless thundering within echoing the Dark Elf Goddess’s rage, the haunting melody faintly transmitted was its power source. Borrowing Batana’s power, the Spider Goddess’s strength would descend into this world. Even though it was a brief descent, for all mortals, that power was an overwhelming tsunami or a descending volcanic eruption—a spectacle you could only watch unfold, powerless to stop it.

Yet Lynch noticed the Lich was smiling. He hadn’t believed a bunch of bones could ever form a smile, yet today he saw the Lich’s grin, a victorious smile.

The Lich raised its bizarre right hand, lifting it high above its head, spreading its five fingers towards the storm’s center overhead. It lifted its head, the yellow flames in its eyes burning even brighter.

"Thank you!" The Lich’s voice sounded again, echoing continuously through the passage, resonating in everyone’s hearts...

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