So I'll have to go it alone. Though phrases modified by words like "have to" usually carry a tone of resignation or inevitability, Valed actually sounded eager when he said it.
He wanted to test his abilities.
It had been six years since he arrived in this world. Though his body had grown somewhat frail, his greatest asset—psychic power, or magic as it was called here—had not diminished but actually increased. Thus, Valed felt his strength had not only held steady but grown considerably, filling him with confidence.
"By the Alliance's old classification system, I should be an Alpha-level psionicist now... Hah. Those who enjoy special perks, huh? Normally, they just need to lift a finger to rake in piles of cash. They don't have to spend every day on the most dangerous front lines like us. Lucky bastards."
After a moment of wistful reflection, Valed, suspended mid-air, halted abruptly. The undead soldiers under his command turned and retreated, marching nearly three hundred meters before coming to a stop. Sixteen undead formed a loose arc centered around Valed, positioning themselves to safeguard their master's safety. Beyond the arc lay the sheer cliff face where Valed had discovered the tomb's entrance.
Once the undead guards were in position, Valed gave a slight nod. He then concentrated, sensing the furious currents of magical winds swirling around him. His body rose again, halting just under two meters above the ground—the maximum altitude his levitation spell could provide.
Then, he extended his right hand, index and middle fingers pressed together, pointing straight toward the sky. The surrounding magical winds instantly surged toward his fingertips like a runaway torrent. The immense, boundless magical winds were compressed, compressed, and compressed again within two inches of Valed's fingers. Finally, it coalesced into a pale blade visible to the naked eye—a dazzling, sun-like radiance blazing with unparalleled brilliance!
Empowered by the crimson Moriel above his head, the magical winds Valed could command multiplied exponentially. Thus, he unleashed an immense burst of power.
"Then, with this strike, let us test just how powerful I am at this moment!" Feeling the immense power gathering at his fingertips—a force he could barely contain—Vared declared excitedly. Immediately, he swung his arm toward the barrier. The supreme blade, forged from the colossal magical wind, shot from his hand, streaking directly toward the barrier!
In an instant, the light blade swept through with unparalleled force, cleaving everything in its path—tangible trees, rocks, and ground, as well as the intangible barrier—clean in two. It burst through the rock layers at the tomb's entrance from below, then slammed violently into the swaying barrier on the opposite side.
After that, the seemingly indestructible barrier began to violently tremble, vanishing into nothingness in a silent explosion. At this very moment, if any mage happened to pass by, they would be utterly astonished—for within a fifteen-kilometer radius of this location, not a single trace of magical wind could be sensed!
"That was a bit too noisy... Damn it... Thankfully, most people don't venture out at night this time of year. And with the magical winds raging and chaotic, even a mage wouldn't detect the disturbance here anytime soon." After unleashing such a powerful technique, Valed felt as if his entire body had shattered, the pain excruciating. He couldn't even maintain a levitation spell, plummeting straight down from nearly two meters in the air. Fortunately, children's bones were light, and a vampire's constitution was remarkably resilient. He suffered no serious injury, only a slight ache in his spine.
"Still, the power was truly impressive... heh..." The magical winds he'd harnessed had exceeded his body's limits. For a moment, Valed struggled to cope, sustaining damage to both his spirit and magic. Additionally, having failed to control the force precisely, the residual energy from shattering the barrier had rippled into the tomb itself. It would likely destroy some of the burial artifacts, significantly reducing Valed's loot.
Yet Valed remained in high spirits. The full-power strike he'd just unleashed proved even more potent than he'd anticipated. Even among the great mages he knew of in this world, few could match this level of power. Discovering his own reserves were more substantial than he'd imagined, how could Valed not be delighted?
Yet joy aside, work must be done. After a brief rest to regain strength and allow his magic to recover somewhat, Valed rose, brushed the dust from his cloak, and commanded his undead guards to gather once more. He then walked to the cliff's edge.
His magic reserves were now severely depleted, forcing him to ration each spell carefully. After a moment's hesitation, he abandoned the levitation spell. Instead, he cast a simpler, more practical minor magic—a small-scale spell generating an updraft. This spell proved exceptionally useful, enabling armies to swiftly traverse mountain cliffs, accelerate their march, and execute surprise attacks.
With a light flick of his right hand, Varred summoned a pale yellow magical wind that coalesced into shape, creating an updraft at the cliff's edge to slow their descent. The undead guards then formed a line and leaped into the vortex.
This drastically reduced their falling speed, granting the undead sufficient reaction time. By the time they reached the midpoint of the cliff, where the tomb's entrance lay, they were able to respond smoothly. They plunged into the tomb. Such a maneuver posed no difficulty for the agile ancient tomb guards. Even less so for the skeletal wolves, whose builds were better suited for movement, and the necromancers themselves, who could manipulate and cast such magic. Varid brought up the rear.
—Yet in that instant, as the undead soldiers entered the tomb, gathered together, and took their first step forward, the mechanisms flanking the tomb entrance abruptly activated. Though dormant for millennia, perhaps longer, the craftsmanship of the ancient empire's mechanisms remained commendable. Two streams of purple flame, scorching hot, erupted violently, engulfing the undead soldiers in their path!
"Defense." Witnessing this, Varred murmured a single word. Instantly, the sixteen undead guards shifted formation faster than the flames could spread. Four tomb guardians bearing shields took the front line, raising black iron shields etched with magical runes that glowed crimson, blocking the fiery onslaught. The remaining twelve undead were shielded within. Yet under the purple flames' might, the light on their shields rapidly dimmed!
In this situation, the six Tomb Spear Guards and two crossbowmen could offer no aid, and the two skeletal wolves were utterly helpless. However, the two Necromancers raised their wands high. A flash of light erupted, enveloping the sixteen undead guards in a thin, transparent defensive barrier! Instantly, flames engulfed the entire shield.
The tomb passage, previously dim and lightless, was suddenly flooded with blinding firelight. For ordinary humans, such intensity would likely cause severe eye strain, even temporary blindness. But Valed remained completely unaffected. After all, his racial attribute was that of a vampire. Even in total darkness, he could see with perfect clarity.
In certain environments, or during combat, Valed could also activate his racial skill, Witchcraft Vision. This skill allowed him to block out the effects of various sound and light-based imps, while also enabling him to perceive the true nature of the world through this vision, making more accurate judgments.
Before entering the tunnel, Valed had already activated his racial skill, Witchcraft Vision. Through eyes flickering with blood-red light, he perceived the world through magical fluctuations. Under these conditions, the patterns his eyes fed to his brain were utterly different from those of normal vision. Bands of light, bizarre halos, drifting dots, lines, and planes— These elements coalesced into exaggerated, distorted patterns, rendering the entire world bizarre and surreal.
Were an ordinary person to encounter such a vision for the first time, they would likely lose their bearings instantly, overwhelmed and disoriented. Yet Valed had long since grown accustomed to this state. The twisted patterns fed into his brain, allowing him to naturally comprehend the external situation.
The undead guardians still held their ground, though they appeared on the verge of collapse. The ghostly phosphorescent flames in the two necromancers' eyes had dimmed considerably. Their bodies, once as pure and white as jade bone, gradually lost their luster, covered in large patches of mottled stains. The once smooth and gleaming staffs in their hands now resembled rotten wood, withered and dull yellow.
"Hmph..." Valed snorted softly, instantly devising a solution. With a flick of his sleeves, two dining knives he'd taken from the restaurant appeared in his hands. He then flung them simultaneously, driving the blades deep into the tomb passage's stone walls, one on the left, one on the right.
Had any skilled martial artist witnessed this feat, astonishment would have been inevitable. For the material of those two knives was none other than silver. Silver, soft and malleable, is far from hard. Yet the wall was solid, top-grade bluestone. To casually flick one's wrist and drive silver knives into such stone—a feat most elite knights couldn't achieve!
Of course, the reality was different. While Valed's technique was indeed remarkable, it wasn't quite earth-shattering. After the knives vanished into the stone, a muffled explosion echoed from both sides simultaneously. The two magic stones, concealed within a hollow cavity to supply the flame mechanism with magic power, had been detonated by Valed's single move. Deprived of magical sustenance, the twin flames instantly dissipated.
—The wall wasn't solid; it was hollow. That's why Valed could pierce it so easily with his silver cutlery.
"Barely passing. Seventy-five points," Valed silently scored himself.