Baxter strode forward with powerful, unhurried steps, his massive sword sweeping in a deadly arc.
The ancient bronze greatsword, its blade etched with runes of a forgotten age, suddenly erupted into flames. Tongues of fire rolled along the edge, and in the blink of an eye, three charging ghouls were cleaved clean at the waist.
Ash and a foul, burnt stench burst into the air—instant kill.
After all, he was a high-rank swordsman, his body brimming with terrifying raw strength and the honed instincts of a born warrior. Against low-tier elite undead like these, felling them was no more difficult than cutting down rotting wood.
Another knight followed close behind. His shield slammed forward like an iron wall, forcing open a path. His silver-tipped lance glinted coldly as he unleashed the skill Charge, smashing the three ghouls in front of him off their feet.
Yet, his raw power could not compare to Baxter's. Even with his lance piercing through a ghoul's chest, it wasn't enough to end them instantly.
From the rear, the archer and the arcanist unleashed their assault—
Wind-cloaked arrows whistled through the air, followed by an unbroken chain of blazing fireballs. They struck true, targeting the joints and skulls of the undead, shattering bone and scattering sparks.
Though these ghouls were classified as elite undead, their stats were far from low, yet they could not withstand the relentless offense of high-tier adventurers.
At that moment, Fiona raised her silver-gemmed staff.
Her voice slipped into a soft incantation, and a series of white flames—each the size of a clenched fist—blossomed into the air. They fell like seeds of holy fire, pouring down into the horde below.
Jenson's eyes widened. The white flames did not discriminate—Baxter and the knight were fully engulfed as well.
And yet… when the flames struck the ghouls, they burned straight through rotting flesh and brittle bone in an instant. Baxter and the knight, however, emerged completely unharmed, their blades still carving through the enemy ranks.
As if sensing his confusion, Fiona spoke between incantations.
"This is the specialty of a Holy Enchanter—a fusion of purification and battle-healing.
My magic can burn the enemy and restore my allies' vitality at the same time.
Of course, my damage can't match that of a pure arcanist, nor can my healing rival that of a devout cleric… but I balance both."
"I see…" Jenson nodded in understanding.
The Holy Enchanter—a hybrid of arcane and sacred arts.
While its peak damage and healing fell short of specialized classes, one such mage could fill the role of two, covering both offense and support.
If her power continued to grow, then in a battle involving dozens of combatants, a single Holy Flame might be enough to turn the tide in an instant.
Before long, the first wave of undead was completely wiped out.
Jenson glanced at the battle statistics:
As expected, Baxter topped the damage charts without contest.
Fiona's damage output was lower than that of the other arcanists and archers, but her healing numbers were astounding. Adding the two together, she secured second place overall—only ten percent behind Baxter.
After them came the pure arcanists and archers.
Jenson and Zelda, stationed in the second defensive line, had spent the entire fight guarding the ranged attackers and casters, so they had few kills to their names.
When the last ghoul collapsed, Baxter pulled a strip of beast hide from his belt and casually wiped the thick, foul-smelling black blood from his greatsword. His voice was low, grim.
"Stay sharp. That was just the appetizer. There are still thousands of undead waiting for us ahead."
Everyone knew how perilous this expedition was. No one dared relax as they fell in behind Baxter and the other knight, pressing onward toward the cursed village.
Jenson had no intention of standing on the sidelines forever.
Yes, with eight people in the party, all experience from kills was automatically shared—and even Nyx, resting inside his pet space, would gain the benefits. But that wasn't enough. He wanted to rack up serious damage, to secure a bigger cut of the secret realm rewards.
So he quickened his pace, stepping up to the very front—making it clear he intended to serve as the vanguard shield.
Baxter shot him a sidelong glance but said nothing.
He, too, was curious about this mysterious stealth-class adventurer—just what kind of strength did Jenson have, to hunt monsters alone deep in the wastelands?
The party pressed on another two hundred meters. The outline of the Despair Village gradually came into view.
It was a rotting, forsaken settlement. Crumbling walls and sagging mud-brick huts hunched like dying creatures. Inside the pitch-black rooms, low moans and guttural growls echoed, as if countless malice-filled eyes were watching from the shadows.
Perhaps it was their presence that stirred the village. Suddenly, several rotting wooden doors near the entrance were slammed open, and a tide of undead lurched into the open—
There were several times more than before, surging forward like an unstoppable wave.
And amidst the throng of ghouls, Jenson's sharp gaze picked out something far more terrifying—Blood Corpses.
Blood Corpse (Elite – Aggressive Undead)
Level: 20
Strength: 71
Agility: 82
Spirit: 34
Constitution: 50
Skills:
Corpse Poison: Claws and fangs carry necrotic venom, causing continuous bleeding. Victims slain have a chance to be reborn as Blood Corpses.
Maul and Rend: Pounces to grapple prey, delivering a lethal bite.
Blood Frenzy: Enters a rage, increasing Strength and Agility by 40%.