Cursed Immortality

Chapter 1181: The Undead Lich King (1)

The Great Cosmic Continent of Sagittarius, far beyond the outer tide of roaming undead, past the hunting grounds, past the ceaseless Death March, lay the true heart of the catastrophe: the inner region of the Undead Skyfall Canyons!

However, unlike the outside world or the survivors imagined, the Undead Skyfall Canyons weren’t chaotic, but they were organized, and terrifyingly so, as a matter of fact.

Furthermore, the death mist here was thicker, no longer drifting aimlessly but flowing in structured currents like veins within a colossal corpse. Blackened ravines spiraled inward toward a central abyss, and upon the surrounding plateaus stood ranks upon ranks of undead legions.

They weren’t scattered like mindless chaos, but they were assembled like a disciplined army waiting for command and ready to raise hell.

Divisions stretched farther than sight could reach. Each legion stood in perfect silence, their formations geometric and precise.

Front ranks were composed of armored skeletal infantry, millions upon millions of Fable Legendary State rank undead. Their eye sockets burned uniformly with violet-blue flames, their rusted halberds aligned like a forest of iron thorns.

Behind them stood towering corpse abominations and death knights mounted on nightmare steeds, their auras reaching Legendary Noble state. Their armor bore insignias carved from bone and obsidian, marking division hierarchy.

Floating above entire battalions were spectral commanders, Legendary Lord rank undead, whose presence distorted the surrounding mist. Lich generals wrapped in funerary robes.

Dread wraiths carrying banners woven from condensed souls. Bone colossi etched with ancient runes of suppression.

But even this wasn’t the entire might of the Undead Skyfall Canyons, for deeper still, thousands upon thousands of Legendary King State Rank Undead.

Each one radiated a high affinity for the law of death. Some bore crowns of frozen fire. Others wielded scythes forged from unknown metal. A few had multiple skulls fused together.

Yet despite such overwhelming power, they did not move and seemed to be waiting just like any Undead in the outer perimeter.

Moreover, these Undead were not part of the roaming tide unleashed upon Sagittarius. These were more like the reserves or the exclusive armies of the Undead Skyfall Canyons, like the guardians of the home base.

While the outside world drowned beneath the Death March, this inner legion remained disciplined, restrained, like a clenched fist yet to strike.

If this sight were to be released over the Virtual Star World or the Virtual Dark World, probably all those organizations and powers living carelessly wouldn’t even have an ounce of sleep again, and panic would spread all over the Legendary Plains.

Yet, all of this remained within the folds of the Undead Skyfall Canyons, and even those survivors hoping to break into this region and kill the source of the Death March had no idea just how hopeless their current situation truly was.

But these armies still weren’t the full might of the Undead Skyfall Canyons!

At the very center of these boundless formations floated something far more sinister. A spherical mass of condensed death mist.

It churned like a storm contained within invisible walls, its surface writhing with screaming faces that emerged and dissolved without end. The mist was so dense that even Legendary King’s soul sense could not pierce through it.

Within that suffocating shroud, an imposing and ancient structure stood; a fortress carved from black bone and petrified void-stone.

Its spires curved like ribcages reaching toward the sky. Jagged battlements resembled serrated teeth. Massive chains extended from its towers, anchoring deep into the canyon walls as if restraining the entire region from drifting into the underworld.

Above its highest tower hovered a fractured halo of dark, eclipsed light, like a half-sun and half-devoured moon, slowly rotating like a crown over a tyrant’s skull.

This was no ordinary castle but was the mausoleum-throne citadel; the sovereign seat of the Undead Skyfall Canyons, the domain of the Undead Lich King!

Inside the Bone Citadel, within the deepest hall, pillars made from fused spinal columns supported a ceiling that resembled an inverted ribcage of some extinct cosmic beast.

At the far end of the hall stood a colossal throne, forged from layered black crystal and the ossified remains of titanic beings. It pulsed faintly, as if alive. Soul-fire coursed beneath its surface like trapped lightning.

Upon that throne sat the Undead Lich King, his skeletal frame clad in obsidian armor etched with ancient runes, and each rune bled a faint violet radiance.

His skull was elongated, crowned with branching horns of crystallized death essence. Within his eye sockets burned twin infernos of purple-black flame that did not flicker, but consumed.

But the Undead Lich King wasn’t alone, as before him were twenty-one figures, and each one knelt.

Each one radiated terrifying death authority, for they were not Legendary Kings, but they were Quasi-Myths, including Lich, Bone Tyrants, Devourer Matrons, Giant Ghosts, Infernal Fiends, and even a Corpse Wyvern in humanoid appearance.

Each presence alone would have suppressed any Legendary Kings into submission and could rule Cosmic Continents. Yet here, they genuflect respectfully and submissively, with not a single one daring to raise their head in front of the Undead Lich King.

The hall remained silent before the Undead Lich King’s head tilted slightly, and when he spoke, the language was ancient and jagged as if not meant for mortal throats, as if it reverberated not through air, but through bone and marrow.

"Where is the Throne Thief?"

One of the twenty-one Undead Quasi-Myths, another Undead Lich with crimson flames in his sockets, hesitated for a moment before he spoke in his eerie voice, "Your highness, three of my legions seemed to have encountered the thief, but the vile thing is too cunning and always escapes before the enforcement arrives. Moreover, the thief always hides its traces and never tries to raise Undead as if it already knew your highness’s authority.

"Lastly, the Throne seemed to be tricked by the thief and now helping the vile thing to hide its presence from us!" The Quasi Myth Lich seemed extremely frustrated and was filled with hatred when he revealed this humiliating matter.

But the Lich knew better than to hide something like this from the Undead Lich King, which would be akin to seeking death.

The Undead Lich King’s aura flared, and he said with a slightly high-pitched voice, "So simply put, you imbeciles still haven’t found the thief yet?"

The twenty-one figures trembled imperceptibly as the soul-fire within the hall dimmed because for the first time since the Death March began, the sovereign of Undead Skyfall revealed not rage but something colder...possessive wrath!