Wizard: Start with Biological Transformation to Grind Experience
Chapter 185 - 024: I’m afraid you no longer have a chance.

Chapter 185: 024: I’m afraid you no longer have a chance.

I wonder what Lynch was thinking.

After paying such a heavy price, at the moment of attaining the Wizard’s Road, he ultimately chose to give up.

"Can you help me restore myself?"

He looked at the long mechanical arms and the chaotic parts attached to his body. "Like this, I can’t wield a sword."

Lynch said, "It’s possible..."

He paused for a moment and added, "But doing so will kill you very quickly."

Grant’s body had already reached the limits of its life force, sustained only by ongoing biological transformation and the chaotic parts supporting him.

If his body were restored, the remaining fragments of his life force would also come to an end.

Grant displayed a faint smile. "That should have been my destiny."

Lynch fell silent for a moment.

He asked, "Are you planning to go to Gwodis?"

Grant nodded. "If life really must have meaning, then I hope this will be the last one for me."

Lynch asked, "Are you confident?"

Grant frowned slightly. "It will be very difficult. Diego is the strongest among them; his level of power is close to that of a Wizard, on a completely different scale compared to the others."

But after a pause, he said casually, "Still, who knows how a war will go? You need to fight to see the outcome. Even if I fail, at least I will have tried."

Lynch asked, "What if I gave you an army?"

Grant replied, "Depends on the overall strength of the army. If they are well-trained, the odds of victory will increase significantly."

Lynch lifted a hand and placed it on a fragment of a tombstone nearby. "What if your army is this? The former Dawn Knights?"

Grant’s eyes lit up.

...

Grant, leading the revived Dawn Knights by Lynch, headed for Gwodis.

At this time, Diego’s Despair Hell ritual was also at its final stages. Under his command, the Undead surrounding Gwodis began their assault on this ancient city.

Currently, the forces defending the city included just over two thousand led by Arthur, supplemented by the five thousand troops sent by the Count of Falcon, along with some emergency reserves armed with equipment brought by the Count. Altogether, the defenders numbered roughly ten thousand.

The Despair Hell spell benefitted from larger numbers, and the more intense the resistance, the greater the amount of despair energy it could harvest. Because of this, when the Count of Falcon and his forces entered Gwodis, the Undead Army surrounding the city did not obstruct them.

The war was about to ignite.

An army of ten thousand against tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of undead creatures—this was a war doomed to imbalance from the start.

The sight of the relentless and fearless Dead Spirits charging was enough to make one’s skin crawl. Defensive measures like arrows or stones meant nothing to them.

No matter how many arrows punctured their bodies, these creatures continued to move forward, dragging their tattered forms.

No siege ladders or other devices were necessary—their decayed bodies served as the ideal equipment for storming the city.

Countless zombies and skeletons reached the base of the walls and piled atop each other, layer by layer, creating a hill of corpses beneath the ramparts. Soon, the undead scaled this makeshift slope of flesh, assaulting the battlements directly.

Close combat erupted!

At this critical moment, apprentices from the Wise Man’s Hut, concealed within the Count of Falcon’s ranks, made their move. Amid lengthy chants, gigantic fireballs pummeled the corpse hill. In the face of supernatural forces, the hill was quickly obliterated, and the undead attack momentarily faltered.

Yet, this victory was only temporary.

The undead were simply too numerous.

Though the corpse slope had been shattered, the unyielding Dead Spirits swiftly rebuilt another at the base of a different section of the city walls.

One location, another, and yet another—the undead continually assembled these horrific ramps beneath the battlements.

Each time the apprentices of the Wise Man’s Hut destroyed them, the undead revived almost instantly, rapidly coalescing to form new heaps of decay.

After repeated skirmishes, the apprentices’ spiritual power began to show signs of depletion.

The faint glimmer of hope was extinguished once more.

Despair swept over the defenders like wildfire.

Finally, after exhausting their spells, the apprentices from the Wise Man’s Hut were forced to retreat reluctantly, unable to turn the tide. Without the aid of Transcendent powers, the city was left defenseless.

With only ordinary humans left to resist, the battle devolved into a gruesome carnage. Though every defending warrior fought valiantly and fearlessly, their courage was meaningless against the immortal Dead Spirits.

No matter how many times they defeated the undead, the creatures reassembled almost immediately, launching wave after wave of attacks.

Again and again.

Under this relentless assault, even the brave Knights began to falter—fatigue and mistakes cost them dearly, and one by one, the Dead Spirits claimed their lives.

Now, only a handful of Knights remained, gathered atop the battlements. Defeat seemed inevitable.

At the critical moment.

"Woo woo woo!" A piercing horn sounded.

A glimmer of gold appeared atop the slope.

Knights clad in golden armor stretched across the entire hillside, a line extending endlessly to either side.

The Count of Falcon atop the ramparts trembled violently, staring in disbelief at the scene. Among the Knights, he recognized a familiar figure.

"The Dawn Knights!"

"It’s the Dawn Knights!"

"It’s Grant’s Dawn Knights!"

Amid the ecstatic cheers of the defenders, Grant, standing atop the slope, lowered his visor, raised his knight spear, and issued the command.

"Level spears! Charge!"

A golden wave surged like a flood down the slope...

...

The tide of battle shifted with Grant’s arrival. A Great Knight driven by a resolve to die unleashed power beyond limit—especially when emerging at the enemy’s rear line.

Although Diego immediately attempted to regroup his Necromancy Army for a counterattack, the combined force of Grant and his army shattered the undead defenses and penetrated their stronghold.

Dead Spirit against Dead Spirit, Grant versus Diego.

In this clash, Grant, at the brink of death, managed to critically injure Diego, putting an end to his evil ritual...

...

In a forest several miles away from Gwodis City.

"Cough!"

A violent coughing sound echoed as Diego was dragged down onto a clearing by a flock of rotting crows.

He was covered in blood, his body battered, a pitiful sight.

"Damn it!"

"Damn it all!"

The ritual had failed at the crucial moment, and he hadn’t collected enough despair energy. His attempt to ascend to Wizard had turned to smoke. On top of that, he was badly wounded...

"Bastards!"

"I’ll kill you all! Just wait—I’ll repair myself, and none of you will escape! I’ll strip your souls and enslave them for eternity!" His eyes were bloodshot as he bellowed furiously.

"I think you won’t have that chance." At that moment, a voice interrupted him.

Lynch stepped out from the forest.

Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting dappled patterns on his face.

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