Chapter 316: Dying Hero

[Promoted to a Second-Ring Wizard, your Soul Power has materialized.]

[You possess the ability to cast higher-level spells.]

[Life and Death Intertwined trait is in effect…]

[Thinker is continuously in effect…]

[Your Soul is observing life and death, continuously contemplating the construction of new spells. In this process, you purchased new wizard Materials using Soul Stones.]

[Soul Collector is in effect; your Soul fluctuations are excellently concealed, and no one knows of your advancement in strength.]

[You remain low-key, knowing full well that if other wizards were to learn of your speed of advancement, it would cause a massive sensation—even the Tower Master, who rarely appears, would come forward.]

[You are filled with emotion, unwilling to waste time here.]

[You love learning and continue to study, combining wizard knowledge from the real world to create your own Second-Ring spells.]

[You begin to delve into the realm of the undead, purifying your own Nether Raven.]

[A drop of Lich's Tear, ten stalks of Nether Ghost Grass, two wing bones of a Nether Raven, and during the Blood Moon at night, you arrange specific spell formation patterns.]

[Your incomplete Nether Raven mount has evolved.]

[It has transformed into a true Nether Raven.]

[It is an undead species with no flesh, composed entirely of bone, its Soul Fire connected to the Netherworld.]

[Its strength is not great, with its only advantage being its high speed.]

[But for you, this is an excellent start, meaning you have officially stepped into the realm of the dead, Souls, and death.]

[You gaze into the Endless Netherworld.]

…

[Simulation Year 6, you are 23 years old.]

[After one year of Cultivation, you have mastered several Second-Ring spells. Although you have not yet reached the limit of your combat power, you no longer fear ordinary undead.]

[Even if you encounter mid-to-high-level undead such as Undead Knights or Wraith Liches, you have a certain degree of confidence.]

[This year, there is the once-in-a-decade Undead Dark Tide.]

[This is a carnival feast for the undead, and also a countdown to the world's death.]

[The Tower of the White Crow begins to summon combat forces, preparing to cooperate with the Kingdom of Auca's knights to deal a heavy blow to the incoming undead.]

[You have no intention of participating; you check out of your room in the tower and leave the Tower of the White Crow early.]

"Dark Tide…"

"A natural disaster like this undead outbreak should be the best opportunity to harvest Soul Fire, but unfortunately, there are too many eyes and ears, making it unsuitable to conduct at the Tower of the White Crow."

"My situation is special; it is more suitable to act alone."

The jagged wing bones pierce through the Death Qi.

Soul Fire flickers within the hollow eye sockets.

The Nether Raven flaps its wings, leaving a faint trail in the gloomy sky. Its tail bone is weathered and mottled, with only a few residual feathers swaying in the wind like broken arrows.

Xu Xi sits on the back of the Nether Raven, with a cushion made of soft Materials to buffer the hardness of the bones.

The wind howls.

Below are towering city walls forged from steel and spells.

Various adventurers go in and out, holding all kinds of weapons, their expressions extremely solemn, all on guard against the approaching Undead Dark Tide.

Only a very small number of Wizard Apprentices look up with envious eyes at the black shadow speeding across the sky.

In the past, Xu Xi had also left the Tower of the White Crow.

But that was only a brief departure to collect Soul Fire or other extraordinary Materials.

This time is different. This time, Xu Xi will leave permanently. After harvesting enough Soul Fire with the help of the Dark Tide, he will go to more distant lands to get a glimpse of the secrets of the undead world.

"Which direction should I go first…" Xu Xi looks down at the vast land below.

Multiple place names flash rapidly through his mind.

But in the end, his eyes look toward the path he came from.

He is a little worried about that overly naive hero.

…

Pitch black, so dark that one cannot see their own fingers.

Cold, the withered and silent world has no more vitality.

Exhausted, the hand that heavily swings the sword is left only with numbness.

In the pitch-black, lightless world, only the black sun and the blood moon demonstrate their existence. Withered white finger bones break through the soil, followed by skeletons crawling out one after another.

As they stand up, rotting mud constantly falls from their bone joints.

Deep within their skulls, deep blue Soul Fire flickers.

Rumbling—Rumbling—

The undead cannot speak, only emitting meaningless hoarse sounds, but the sound of their bones shifting creates a vibration like a landslide or tsunami.

The territory of the Claufeel Family. Completely and utterly. Submerged by the endless dead.

"Bang! Bang bang!" In the area occupied by the dead, a few collision sounds ring out—the sound of sharp swords slashing against bone.

A figure in armor is moving, using agile footwork and fierce sword skills to extinguish the Soul Fire of one undead after another.

However, this behavior is meaningless.

The tide of undead is as vast as a sea of clouds, surging against every inch of Claufeel's land. Wherever they pass, everything is deeply trampled into the mud.

"No…" "Absolutely not…" "I will not let you wantonly violate the land of Claufeel!"

Inside the armor. A weary, hoarse voice comes out. Helpless, tired, angry.

The hero moves again, holding the "Holy Sword", slashing out "Holy Light", and launching a resistance against the undead before her.

But—it is useless, completely useless.

"Bang!!!" A huge undead warhorse rushes out, instantly knocking the hero flying, causing her to roll several times before finally crashing heavily into the rocks.

Struggling, a trembling struggle, the tip of the sword inserts into the ground, gripping the hilt to stand up with difficulty.

The helmet falls off. Revealing a half-undead, half-human face. Dirty and exhausted, haggard and pale.

It is a shocking and tragic picture.

The undead girl who usurped the name of "Hero", wearing ordinary armor, holding an ordinary longsword, all alone, facing the terrifying natural disaster.

"Father…" "Mother…" "I will not let you down. Even if I am the only one, I will protect Claufeel…"

"Ah!!!"

Soul Fire surges, and emotions turn into a strong driving force. Sevia charges with her sword again.

But in the face of an absolute difference in strength, everything seems so insignificant.

The undead warhorse roars, controlled and ridden by a Headless Knight, charging and piercing through; a huge bone spear stabs Sevia straight through.

Then. The bone spear is slowly raised by the Headless Knight.

"I… I…"

The armor cracks, revealing the undead body inside.

The girl's Soul Fire flickers violently, her voice intermittent. Lifted into mid-air, she grabs the bone spear tightly with both hands, wanting to do something.

But she can do nothing.

Finally, the Headless Knight swings and smashes her into the ground, like throwing away trash.

Sevia's body embeds deeply into the ground with the impact. Creating a pit. Creating cracks.

So tired…

Father, Mother, Sevia is so tired…

"Clatter! Whoosh!" The huge power of the Headless Knight stirs up dense falling rubble.

Much of it falls into the pit, colliding with the undead girl's skeleton, the sound crisp like raindrops.

The Soul Fire within her skull is infinitely close to extinguishing.

So tired. Really so tired.

Such thoughts linger in the Soul Fire; these are the "Hero's" final thoughts.

Being alone, it is really so tiring…