Chapter 706: Level 45

Thoren walked deeper into the dark plain with a strange calm on his face.

The darkness pressed in from every side, thick and silent, broken only by the faint glow of soul fire burning behind him.

The undead Storm Tyrant followed a few steps back, its gigantic body towering over him. Its heavy hammer rested carefully on its shoulder.

"Who would have expected Tyrant would grow stronger..." he muttered.

A pleasant smile crept onto his face.

A panel flickered into being across his vision.

[Congratulations! Your undead has leveled up.]

[Undead Storm Tyrant]

[Level: 45]

He stared at the floating panel for a second longer, letting the number settle in his mind. Then he waved a hand, and it dissolved into the dark.

"Now, Tyrant has become the strongest ace among my undead legion," he whispered, drawing in a deep breath.

Awakeners on the third floor could not level up and grow stronger. That was a rule everyone here had accepted, but it did not apply to his undead.

Every battle made them better, and every kill pushed them further. It was a strength no one else in this world possessed.

His plan might have seemed reckless, but it was not.

From the very beginning, Thoren had been a pragmatic and realistic person. He did not chase danger for the thrill of it, and he did not ignore it out of pride.

Perhaps he would not have cared about the strange structure where the Fallen gathered.

But what he had witnessed in the Weeping Ossuary, and the incomplete plate map resting in his inventory, were enough to change his decision.

They had made him realize one thing.

To leave this floor, the answers could only be found in deadly ruins like these. Blindly searching for a path through the dark plain would be nothing but a pipe dream.

"I already have one out of ten," he said quietly. "As long as I can gather the remaining..."

His voice trailed off.

He lifted his head and stared into the darkness ahead, as though it might answer him. Then he moved on.

The path narrowed into a stone ridge, its walls pressing close on either side. Loose gravel crunched beneath his boots.

The undead Storm Tyrant squeezed in behind him, its armor scraping against the rock. Thoren followed the ridge until it bent, and he took the right turn.

Suddenly, before he could complete it, Thoren stopped.

His body went still, and the calm drained from his face in an instant.

Something was wrong.

He did not wait to see what it was. He stepped back without hesitation, retreating along the ridge, his hand lifted toward the undead behind him.

The undead Storm Tyrant understood.

It surged forward, its soul fire flaring, lowring it hammer, dragging across the stone with a long, grinding shriek.

Tens of meters ahead of Thoren, along the right path, an undead Echo Scarab hovered in the dark.

It was a small thing, its wings barely stirring the air.

Thoren had sent it out as a scout, and it floated above a low stone ridge with its senses stretched wide across the plain.

It was it that had caught the first hint of danger. Through the mental link, Thoren felt a faint pulse of warning, and he had stepped back without a moment’s thought.

What the undead Echo Scarab saw made his eyes narrow.

Three Fallen were moving across the plain, their rusted chains dragging behind them in long, grinding lines.

Their gaunt bodies swayed from side to side, and the anchors fused to their backs rocked like pendulums. Their green sockets burned in the dark.

They moved slowly and aimlessly, as if they had forgotten where they were going. At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.

As for Thoren, he did not believe their charade. Nothing that walked this plain moved without a reason.

Just then, the three Fallen stopped.

Their heads turned as one, and the green glow in their sockets sharpened. They had detected movement.

The slow, aimless sway vanished at once. Their bodies tilted forward, their chains lifted, and they lurched toward the charging undead.

The first Fallen moved faster than the others. It swung its chain in a wide arc, the heavy chain whistling through the air, sweeping across the ground and sealing off every path to the left and right.

Escape became impossible.

At the same moment, the second Fallen reached behind its back. Its fingers closed around the iron shaft of the anchor fused to its spine, and it heaved.

The anchor tore loose from its mount and spun through the air, trailing a thick chain behind it, aimed straight at the undead Storm Tyrant’s head.

As for the undead Storm Tyrant, it did not slow down at all.

It lowered its shoulders and pushed its speed higher, the ground cracking beneath its feet. Its left hand shot out and caught the sweeping chain in midair.

Clang!

The chain bit into its palm, and sparks burst from its armor. At the same time, it twisted its body to the side. The anchor flew past its head by a narrow margin, close enough that the wind of it rattled the plates on its shoulder.

Bang!

It buried itself in the stone behind it with a deafening crash.

Instantly, the undead Storm Tyrant muscles bulged.

They swelled beneath the cracked armor, thick cords standing out along its arm. Dark aura spilled from its body and coiled around its fist.

The Fallen on the other end of the chain felt the pull and dug its heels into the gravel, but it was no use.

The undead Storm Tyrant heaved, and the Fallen was dragged across the ground like a child on a rope, its feet skidding, its chains clattering.

Without any fanfare, the undead Storm Tyrant swung its hammer.

Whoosh!

The weapon tore through the air with a deep, howling roar, and the air itself seemed to collapse behind the head.

A compressed vacuum that pulled dust and gravel into its wake. The hammer’s shadow fell over the first Fallen’s face.

Boom!

The massive hammer slammed into its chest and the result was immediate.

The impact shook the ground vehemently.

The Fallen’s body left the ground and flew backward through the dark, its ribs caving inward, rusted bone bursting outward in a spray of fragments.