LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 23. Clash of Wills: Blood and Flesh
As the battlefield swirled with the chaotic dance of combatants and the air crackled with dark energies, I focused my gaze on the looming threat of the NecroGob and its newly conjured flesh golem. The Gnasher's relentless struggle against the Giant Goblin Prince provided a backdrop of primal fury amidst the escalating magical conflict.
With my Hellhounds at my side and the Hellspawn Impalers and Shadow Imp following my mental commands, we stood poised for the final clash against the forces of necromancy and bloodlust. The Hellhounds' fiery aura surged, casting flickering shadows that danced across the torn battlefield, a stark contrast to the pale glow emanating from the undead horde.
The NecroGob, its eyes gleaming with dark intent, gestured with gnarled fingers wreathed in dark energy. The flesh golem, a grotesque amalgamation of stitched flesh and bone, lumbered forward with a haunting grace that belied its monstrous form. Undead minions, fueled by the NecroGob's twisted power, moved with unnatural coordination, their movements synchronized in a macabre ballet of death.
"Focus fire on the golem Impalers! Hellhounds suppress the minions! Fire Imps your target is the NecroGob." I barked out commands, my voice cutting through the din of battle. The Hellspawn Impalers, wielding their wicked weapons, surged forward with demonic speed, aiming for the vulnerable joints and sinews of the flesh golem. Fire Imps flew in the air dodging blasts from the NecroGob and returned the favor by raining fire down on him.
The clash erupted with a cacophony of steel meeting flesh, fiery blasts countering dark spells, and the primal roars of demons and undead alike. My vampiric bolts lanced through the chaos, targeting critical points on the flesh golem while the Hellhounds unleashed torrents of flame, engulfing clusters of undead in searing infernos.
The Shadow Imp, shrouded in darkness, weaved between the combatants, striking at necromantic conduits and disrupting the NecroGob's control over its minions. The battle strategy was clear: dismantle the NecroGob's support while focusing our might on shattering the flesh golem's unholy form.
Amidst the fury of battle, the Gnasher's bellowing clashes with the Giant Goblin Prince echoed across the field, a testament to raw strength and determination. Their duel, a microcosm of the larger conflict, showcased the brutal intensity of the struggle for dominance.
Indeed, the absence of their resistance skills proved advantageous, allowing the flames of our assault to consume the undead minions with greater efficiency. As the inferno engulfed their twisted forms, their movements grew sluggish, their once-fleshed bodies reduced to charred husks.
With each fallen minion, the NecroGob's hold over the battlefield weakened, its power waning as the flames of our onslaught licked at the edges of its dark influence. The flesh golem, once a towering monstrosity, faltered under the relentless barrage of our combined might, its stitched form unraveling before our eyes.
As the battle raged on, the clash of wills reached its crescendo, a final reckoning between the forces of death and darkness, blood and bone. With every strike and every incantation, we pushed ourselves beyond our limits, driven by a primal instinct to triumph against all odds. In the heart of the maelstrom, surrounded by the swirling chaos of combat, I locked eyes with the NecroGob, a silent challenge passing between us. At that moment, I knew that only one would emerge victorious from this deadly confrontation, and I was determined to ensure that it would be me.
The NecroGob's desperate attempt to bolster its forces with fallen demons met an unexpected and decisive intervention. As its dark incantations sought to animate the lifeless bodies of our fallen allies, portals of ethereal chains tore open in defiance of the necromantic ritual. From these portals emerged spectral chains, glowing with an otherworldly hellish light, ensnaring the corrupted forms of the fallen demons. With inexorable force, the chains pulled the undead back towards the abyss from whence they came, denying the NecroGob its twisted reinforcements.
From the swirling depths of the portals, a voice resounded, echoing with raw power and unmistakable fury. It carried with it the weight of command, a voice accustomed to obedience and fear. As the voice poured forth, its words laced with seething rage, it addressed the NecroGob directly, condemning its audacity and laying claim to the fallen souls of hell. "Keep your wretched hands off these corpses, for they are mine!" The voice thundered, each word reverberating through the air like the tolling of a doom-laden bell. There was no mistaking the authority in its tone, nor the wrath that simmered beneath the surface. The NecroGob, already beset by the unraveling of its plans, recoiled at the commanding presence of the voice. Its dark eyes widened in dread recognition, a flicker of fear betraying its otherwise stoic facade. The aura of domination emanating from the portals left no room for defiance.
As if in response to the voice's command, the spectral chains intensified their grip, pulling the animated corpses with renewed vigor. The NecroGob's attempts to reclaim its hold were futile against the overwhelming force of the voice's claim. For those caught amid this otherworldly confrontation, it was a chilling reminder of the forces at play, forces that transcended mere mortal conflicts. At that moment, the NecroGob's grasp on the battlefield slipped further, its plans crumbling amidst the echoes of a wrathful voice from the depths of hell.
As the portal sealed shut, leaving the NecroGob in a state of paralyzed terror, I seized the moment with ruthless efficiency. With a swift and calculated maneuver, I employed Hemoportation to close the distance, my crystallized blood sword poised for the strike. The shadow imp, ever vigilant at my side, targeted the vulnerable point at the NecroGob's head, poised to deliver the final blow. In a split-second flurry of movement, our coordinated assault struck true. My blade found its mark, piercing through the NecroGob's flesh with lethal precision deep into the heart, while the shadow imp's attack met its mark with equal accuracy piercing the brain. The combined force of our strikes proved overwhelming, and the NecroGob's form crumpled under the onslaught, life extinguished in an instant.
Yet, even in death, the NecroGob's dark influence lingered, its undead creations still shambling forth relentlessly. With no time to waste, I acted swiftly, summoning forth a Fire Imp from the blood-stained ground where the NecroGob had fallen using its blood to fuel the summon. But this was no ordinary Fire Imp. It stood taller, its horns more menacing, and a fiery aura of blood-red flames enveloped its form like a fearsome mane. In its eyes burned a fierce determination, a testament to the power infused within it by the blood of this F-Rank monster.
As the fiery presence of the enhanced Fire Imp stood before me, its gaze burning with a fierce determination, it awaited my command. Without hesitation, I issued my orders, telling the new Fire Imp to lead the other Imps to start directing them to dispatch the remaining undead goblins and clear the path for our next move.
However, before I could even pivot to assist the Gnasher in its struggle against the Prince Goblin, a sudden and violent upheaval shattered the tranquility of the moment. The ground trembled as the Gnasher was sent hurtling through the air, crashing into the dense foliage with a resounding impact. Turning my gaze toward the source of the disturbance, I beheld the Prince Goblin in a grotesque display, feasting upon the fallen corpses strewn about the battlefield. With each mouthful of flesh devoured, its wounds healed, and its strength grew. Using Insight I looked to see what was happening just to catch sight of its Class to hit max level and its Race slowly increased in levels.
The Fire Imp's words carried a weight of disdain and anger, reflecting the deep-seated disgust it harbored toward the Prince Goblin's actions and its potential folly. The revelation of the goblin's choice to undergo a pseudo-evolution, sacrificing long-term potential for immediate power, only fueled the Fire Imp's ire further.
With each passing moment, the Prince Goblin's transformation unfolded before our eyes, a grotesque spectacle of twisted flesh and dark power. Yet, even as its physical form contorted and expanded, there was a palpable sense of corruption and decay that clung to its essence, a stain upon the very fabric of its being. In the face of such brazen defiance and contempt for the natural order, the Fire Imp's fury reached a boiling point, its rage stoked by the sight of royal blood tainted by this filthy goblin. Saying it followed the paths of Gluttony and Sloth the worst of the sins. With a snarl of disgust, it spat venomous words, condemning the goblin as nothing more than a pitiful creature unworthy of its noble lineage.
The Fire Imp's bold move was as unexpected as it was daring, a testament to its sin of Pride and power. As it soared towards the evolving Prince Goblin, a palpable tension hung in the air, a clash of wills between the embodiment of sin and the epitome of arrogance.
With each moment that passed, the Prince Goblin's transformation twisted it into a grotesque mockery of its former self, a manifestation of unchecked gluttony and sloth. The stench of decay and corruption emanated from its swollen form, a testament to the depths of its depravity. The Fire Imp, fueled by righteous fury and a desire to show superiority over such abominable creatures, prepared to make its stand. Its wings beat with fiery intensity, casting an ominous glow upon the battlefield as it closed the distance to the evolving monstrosity.
As the false evolution completed, unveiling the bloated and repugnant form of the Glutton, the Fire Imp wasted no time. With a roar of defiance that echoed through the clearing, it unleashed a torrent of searing flames, aimed directly at the Glutton's twisted mass of flesh and sinew. The clash of fire against decay painted a grim tableau, each burst of flame searing away layers of corruption even as the Glutton's grotesque form pulsated with newfound strength. The battle between Sin of Pride raged on, a testament to the consequences of unchecked hubris and the relentless fury of those who sought to purge such filth from the worlds.