Holy Emperor's Grandson is a Necromancer

Chapter 115: 064. Angel of Death -4 (Part One)

The great hero responsible for killing Necromancer King Amon, Kelt Olfolse, had personally entered the battlefield.

Step by step, he walked on the dry and barren landscape, slowly approaching the huge army of Aslan.

This sight pushed Aslan’s Field Marshal Gallas even further into the pit of confusion.

Their opponent was the ruler of the Theocratic Empire. The Holy Emperor himself.

However, someone like that was on the forefront? Not only that, all by himself too?!

On top of that, look at his attire, look at his posture. That was not how one should look when one was about to enter a battle.

His only weapon was a massive golden warhammer.

Was he taking the great army of Aslan lightly? Or maybe he had finally gone senile? If neither of those were true, then maybe he felt confident of facing the army of a hundred thousand combatants all by himself?

No, hang on – none of that mattered right now.

Indeed, this was a wonderful chance.

This event was basically the same as the god of death gifting Gallas with an opportunity to achieve a truly meritorious deed.

‘That’s right, if I manage to kill that old man...!’

His majesty, King Rahamma, would definitely acknowledge Gallas’s great achievement!

Killing the Holy Emperor was the same as taking half of the Theocratic Empire in one fell swoop. An opportunity of this magnitude would not present itself the second time.

Even if that old man was the great hero, no one could do anything about the decay of human lifespan.

There would only be one chance to... kill the frail Holy Emperor.

Gallas yanked out his sword and pointed it towards Kelt Olfolse, who was still walking closer to his army in the distance. “Kill that fool! I shall handsomely reward anyone who manages to kill that man. I shall bestow freedom to the slave, peerage to the soldier, or one hundred slaves and a territory to the Necromancer!”

Gallan’s roar loudly resounded out.

His adjutant next to him raised a red flag as soon as the Field Marshal bellowed out.

Drum beats began booming out from Aslan’s formation.

The undead howled and screeched out as the slaves raucously cheered on.

Their eyes could see it. They could see a lone defenceless old man within the desert winds walking towards them.

Killing someone like that should be incredibly easy!

“Go! Go and take the head of that old man!”

Vu-wuuuuuuu-!

The sounds of battle horns blared out. They served as the signal for the undead and slaves to rush forward.

The marching creatures unsheathed all sorts of weapons.

The land rocked and quaked under their feet.

Crazed lights shot out from the eyes of the undead filled with hatred towards the living, and the slaves who lost themselves to the allure of potential rewards.

“I... I will kill him first!”

One of the slaves was running forward with all his might. While gripping a mace, he leapt up as spittle drooled down from the corner of his mouth.

The mace seemed comically large for his skinny frame, but his vigour suggested that he might instantly shatter the head of the defenceless old man.

Unfortunately...

Kelt Olfolse raised his hand. Then, lightly waved it.

For the briefest moment imaginable, there was a flash of light and an arc of electricity.

The mace-wielding slave’s head at the front of the pack simply ‘vanished’. Not even ashes remained where his head used to be. The headless body simply flopped and fell to the ground.

“...!”

The slaves rushing in flinched and immediately stopped running altogether. But by then, they had already arrived in Kelt Olfolse’s range.

He raised his head and glared at the slaves.

“If you’re guilty of something, then that would be...” He raised the warhammer in his right hand high up in the air. “...Foolishly standing in my path.”

The warhammer slammed down.

...And the ground below exploded.

With him at the centre, blinding light flashed. The barren land was dyed pitch-black in an instant while the arcs of lightning currents danced and flowed within the scorched earth.

A huge lightning bolt rose up from the ground and headed to the heavens above.

But, was that all?!

The rising lightning bolt coalesced and transformed into a humongous wall of electrical currents.

“Wha... what is...?!”

The slaves faltered and stumbled back at the sight.

The massive wall of lightning was slowly tipping over towards them. And then, it slammed down on the ground, spreading out to all corners of the land.

This was a wave – a wave of lightning that spread out in every direction!

“What the hell?! What...!”

“Uwaaaahk!”

The slaves hurriedly turned around and ran in the opposite direction. However, the massive wave of lightning instantly swallowed them up, completely incinerating all of its victims without leaving behind even a handful of ashes.

Gallas, standing several hundreds of metres away, began faltering at the incredible sight. Right at that moment, sparks arced all around Kelt Olfolse’s body, and along with a sudden flash of light, the Holy Emperor vanished from the spot.

The ground exploded once more.

A halo of light rapidly accelerated forward and burned everything in its surroundings to death.

Eventually...

Gallas was starting to doubt his own eyes.

“Fuu-woo...”

It was because... Kelt Olfolse was literally standing right before Aslan’s Field Marshal.

The Holy Emperor was exhaling deeply while staring at Gallas with a pair of narrowed eyes.

The thunderclap belatedly reverberated throughout the world afterwards.

Gallas swallowed back his dry saliva and tightly grasped the hilt of his sword. It was then, his eyes suddenly caught another flash of light. He reflexively swung his weapon.

What he defended against was a lightning bolt. The scorching pain of his hand burning away was accompanied by a loud explosion which flung his body far away.

“U... uwaaaaahk?!”

Gallas screamed and grasped his right hand. Electric currents were still overflowing on his arm. The surrounding Necromancers that witnessed this sight hurriedly gathered around him to pour a healing potion on his wound.

“That... that bastard! Kill him! Do not underestimate him! He.. he’s a monster!”

Kelt Olfolse was now standing in the centre of the enemy formation even before the others could realise what just happened. The soldiers surrounding the Holy Emperor sucked in cold breaths.

All because they bore witness to the earlier scene.

...The scene of all those slaves instantly getting ‘vaporised’ by a human who flickered like a lightning bolt.

“All of you, stop him!”

“Slaves! Buy us time!”

The one thousand members of the Necromancy Corps quickly cancelled the summoning of fifty thousand undead in order to conserve their demonic energy reserve. Instead, they gathered in smaller groups and began kneading and moulding demonic energy to summon much higher-tier undead.

Death knights with demonic energy armour enveloping them started crawling out from the ground, their eyes shooting out eerie crimson glow.

In the meantime, the slaves meant to buy time were desperately screaming.

All those trying to approach and attack Kelt Olfolse were instantly incinerated out of existence by the lightning of divinity after they got a little too close to him.

The summoned death knights rapidly closed in on the Holy Emperor. They dashed forward as their black-coloured armour glistened dully, their crimson-coloured breaths unique to the undead leaking out from under the helm.

The Necromancers who summoned them were not some ordinary dark magicians. No, they were the true elites among the cream of Aslan.

Their organisation, the Necromancy Corps, was often called the undying legion. Its members were true experts of their craft unlike the Black Order, which was mostly filled with weaklings and inexperienced hatchlings.

As such, the quality of the undead they summoned were on another realm compared to the others. The death knights they summoned by pooling their strength together would easily shoot past what was accepted as the norm.

These death knights reached where Kelt Olfolse was, and while withstanding all the lightning bolts crackling around him, began wielding their various weapons. The undead creatures surrounded him from all sides before swinging, stabbing, and thrusting their swords, spears, and maces.

However, Kelt’s eyes had already analysed every single weapon flying in towards him from all angles in an instant.

He easily dodged the swords and spears, and even slapped away the mace. His body flashed; he grabbed the head of a death knight and viciously slammed it down on the ground.

He stepped on the stable ground before taking a mighty swing with his warhammer. Yet another death knight was smashed far away.

He even snatched a weapon away from a death knight and stabbed it into its solar plexus. After lightly spinning around, he kicked the weapon serving as a stake right through the undead.

“How annoying!”

Kelt compressed divinity on his left hand and then fired it at the skies above.

More lightning flashes crackled within the thick storm clouds overhead, and eventually, a deluge of lightning bolts crashed down towards the ground.

They descended without any pattern or mercy whatsoever on Aslan’s military formation, and within this chain of deadly explosions, dozens upon dozens of slaves were floating up from the ensuing shockwaves.

As for the death knights, most of them were struck by the lightning and got destroyed instantly, only some managing to barely escape from this ordeal.

“Withdraw the death knights, now!”

Kelt’s gaze shifted in the direction of that call.

Necromancers standing in almost every direction he could see were chanting away to materialise massive fireballs and blocks of ice. However, before those things could pounce on Kelt Olfolse, he lifted up his huge warhammer.

He cocked his torso back and powerfully swung the hammer in his hand.

A blinding flash of lightning exploded from the weapon.

The divinity lightning cleanly penetrated through all those magical projectiles permeating with demonic energy that were closing in on him from everywhere, and headed towards the camps of the Necromancers.

“Heot!”

“Block it!”

The Necromancers hurriedly spread out a protective barrier of demonic energy. However, the barrier consisting of several layers was easily pierced through, and the lightning exploded within the midst of the Necromancers.

The unlucky ones died without leaving behind a trace of their corpses, and as for those who somehow survived, they were screaming desperately while holding onto their vaporised body parts.

Gallas, who was witnessing all of these things happen right before his eyes, sucked in a cold breath.

Hundreds... nay, thousands of elite fighters were being instantly wiped out right in front of him.

“...How can anyone say that that old man is at his death’s doorstep?!”

Aslan’s Field Marshal could only swallow back another round of his dry saliva. He alternated his gaze between the sky above and the ground below.

The land Kelt Olfolse walked past was littered with craters and scorched black as electrical currents continued crackling menacingly.

As for the sky, the dense storm clouds were still up there issuing a cacophony of terrifying thunderclaps.

Within this maelstrom, Kelt was freely commanding the lightning to hunt down the death knights. He was transforming mother nature itself and bending it to his will.

The Holy Emperor was over one hundred years old this year, yet how could anyone consider him to be a dying, frail old man?!

Gallas took a look at his right hand. It had finally recovered to some extent. Luckily, he had been constantly cladding himself in demonic energy to reinforce his flesh since he was about to fight a war.

What would’ve happened if he failed to withstand Kelt Olfolse’s lightning? Never mind just the hand, his whole body would’ve vaporised out of existence instead.

He grasped his sword’s hilt.

‘Should we retreat?’

No, not yet.

If he retreated too quickly from here, then he’d have to shoulder all of the blame.

The death knights were still tying up Kelt Olfolse over there.

Gallas simply had to seize this opportunity.

“Necromancy Corps, cover me! I, Gallas Iram, one of the twelve honourable feudal lords of Aslan, shall personally take the head of the Holy Emperor!”

Numerous Necromancers quickly stood behind Gallas. Their demonic energy was delivered to him.

His body was reinforced once more, while his sword thickly permeated with demonic energy. All of his senses were focused on the blade.

‘With this one strike...!’

Gallas would take Kelt Olfolse’s head with this attack and end this war with a resounding victory!

He sucked in a deep breath before quickly dashing towards the Holy Emperor, who was still occupied by the platoon of death knights.

Gallas ran like a squall and dug into the battlefield. In the blink of an eye, he reached the opening left by Kelt Olfolse.

The tip of his blade thrust out towards the Holy Emperor’s unguarded back.

‘This is the end, Kelt Olfolse-!’

It was right then; Kelt turned his head and his cold gaze met with Gallas’s eyes.

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