“My God, what a lunatic.”
Levi stared down over the railing in shock, feeling more certain than ever that Olaf truly deserved his reputation as a reckless madman.
Sarah rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache and said helplessly, “Everyone from the Freljord is crazy, but he’s the first one I’ve ever seen who’s that insane.”
“Get everyone inside. Thresh is mine.”
Lucian suddenly shouted.
Levi heard the urgency in his voice and turned around.
Standing before Lucian was an extremely tall specter.
Black Mist coiled around its entire body, while an eerie green glow filled with the aura of death shone beneath its pitch-black robes.
One fleshless skeletal hand held a lantern that swung slowly back and forth.
A strange light radiated from within it, and after Levi glanced at it only once, he felt as though his very soul were about to be dragged inside.
“Don’t look! Levi, get everyone out of here!”
Lucian’s sharp shout snapped Levi out of his daze.
Cold sweat covered his entire body as fear surged through him.
“I’m leaving this to you, then.”
Levi nodded and turned toward the temple above, where the encroaching shadows were gradually drawing closer.
What he saw nearly stopped him from breathing.
Hecarim and his riders stood atop the ridge.
The Shadow of War raised his burning halberd.
Sickly green ghostlight flashed one after another as a thunderous rumble filled the air.
The spectral knights urged their hellish steeds forward, charging down the slope at speeds no living creature could possibly match.
An onslaught of undead riders.
“Run!” Miss Fortune screamed.
Beneath his black hood, an eerie green glow flickered.
Rotting flesh still clung to Thresh’s withered face, and his empty eye sockets seemed to possess a terrifying pull.
There was nothing in them but desolation, decay, and utter emotionlessness.
Lucian had imagined his final confrontation with Thresh countless times, yet the razor-sharp teeth lining that withered face and the tormented howls of countless wraiths beneath those dark robes still made his heart pound violently.
Sweat soaked through his gloves.
“Mortal.”
The specter’s hollow voice seemed to rise from the deepest pits of the underworld as the chains attached to its lantern creaked.
“You killed Senna!”
Grief filled Lucian’s furious roar.
He raised his pistols and aimed them directly at Thresh as tears poured uncontrollably from his eyes.
The normally steadfast man was crying openly now, his teeth clenched tightly together.
The others ran desperately toward the temple.
Miss Fortune breathed heavily, feeling as though her lungs had become a red-hot furnace ready to explode at any moment.
Rafen and the battered survivors sprinted wildly beside her.
With two powerful undead lords appearing in the same place, the Black Mist grew even more violent, surging madly toward the temple.
Miss Fortune suddenly felt an icy presence directly behind her.
A spear could pierce through her chest at any moment.
Hecarim’s massive blade came crashing down toward her head.
Feeling the violent rush of air behind her, Sarah closed her eyes in despair.
Clang!
Levi instantly drew the sword from Sarah’s waist and slashed upward, intercepting the descending weapon.
The tremendous force behind the blow made Levi’s entire arm go numb, but he barely managed to block the fatal strike.
Sarah stared at Levi in astonishment.
She had always assumed this smooth-skinned young man wasn’t much of a fighter, yet he’d just saved her life.
“What are you staring at? Run!”
With the situation growing increasingly desperate, Levi narrowly dodged another slash and shouted furiously at Sarah.
Sarah jolted out of her daze and hurried toward the temple, glancing back at Levi as he fought a running battle against the Shadow of War.
“So this is the power of an undead lord?”
Levi’s thoughts raced.
Thanks to his cheat-like ability, he had learned numerous skills, and his physical abilities had long since surpassed those of an ordinary human.
Yet after blocking only a few blows from the Shadow of War, even he was already struggling to endure the strain.
“Your life is a burden. I bring you freedom!”
Hecarim’s roar seemed to rise from the abyss itself.
Beads of sweat rolled down Levi’s forehead.
“The shadow approaches. The living will fall.”
Hecarim charged.
His hooves thundered against the ground like the death knell of a reaper coming to claim a soul.
“Sorry, but you don’t get to decide when my life ends.”
Levi licked his dry, cracked lips and spoke coldly.
He thrust out one hand.
A strand of spider silk shot forward with incredible speed and wrapped around Hecarim’s body, binding his glowing green form tightly.
“Treacherous mortal!”
Hecarim roared furiously.
Ghostly blue flames erupted across his body, and the spider silk immediately began to burn away.
“Hit him while he’s down.”
Levi rushed forward.
Red light flared around his hands as a surge of tremendous power flooded his body.
It was Olaf’s Vicious Strikes.
Levi swung the sword wildly, carving one horrific wound after another across Hecarim’s body.
At the same time, brilliant holy light burst from his right hand, scorching Hecarim’s spectral form.
In front of the temple, everyone pounded desperately against the tightly shut doors, but the entrance refused to budge.
“Bearded Lady above, please! Let us in!” Rafen shouted at the top of his lungs.
Miss Fortune joined him, but their pleas accomplished nothing.
Rafen ran his hands along the doorframe.
“It’s locked.”
“I noticed.”
Miss Fortune gasped for breath, ripped off the pendant Illaoi had given her, pressed it flat against the door, and held it there with all her strength.
“Illaoi! I’m ready to stomp on that damn eel’s neck! Now open this piece-of-shit door!”
Sarah had never been one to worship any god with sincere devotion, and now, worked up beyond restraint, she couldn’t help cursing as she slammed the pendant hard against the wooden door.
At last, the doors opened.
The crowd immediately surged inside.
Sarah waited until everyone else had entered before following them.
She turned around, intending to check on the two men still battling the spirits outside.
Instead, an undead creature leaped high into the air and brought its weapon down toward her.
Sarah flinched in fright and fell backward onto the ground.
“The dead aren’t welcome here!”
Illaoi stood at the entrance and shouted loudly.
Rafen and several of the men hurriedly joined forces to shut the doors, blocking more than a dozen fanged wraiths trying to force their way inside.
Heavy impacts immediately thundered against the massive doors.
Something outside was smashing against them again and again with such violence that cracks began appearing in the wood.
“Can this door actually keep them out?” Miss Fortune asked.
She glanced around the interior of the temple.
Several hundred people had taken refuge there.
Sailors, street vendors, merchants who hadn’t escaped in time, every kind of person imaginable had gathered inside.
“Maybe it can. Maybe it can’t.”
Illaoi walked past Miss Fortune and approached a statue whose entire body was covered in tentacles.
She raised a stone sphere in her hands and began chanting toward the statue in an unfamiliar language.
A group of people formed a circle around her, repeatedly chanting words Sarah had never heard before.
Sarah tried to figure out what they were doing, but quickly gave up.
“What are they doing?”
“Saving this place,” Illaoi said.
“But we need time.”
Sarah knew people were still fighting outside.
Her expression grew solemn.
“I think we’ll have it.”