Chapter 209: New Skeleton Armor

When Percival was done cleansing his mana channels, he began his preparation to challenge the Demon Gate World.

First of all, with his Skeleton Soldiers gone after the earlier battle, he had to resurrect another army. Thankfully, the graveyard where he had summoned his first batch was not very far away.

Percival informed the innkeeper where he was headed and rode Argus through the afternoon mist. Draped unceremoniously across the back of the horse, Eristasia glared sideways at the ground as it rolled past.

Her hands were bound behind her back, but the active commands of the Slave Crest were currently dormant, allowing her just enough breath to voice her burning indignation.

"Do you still need to tie me?" she asked Percival, her face flushed from the awkward positioning. "I'm already bound to will. I can not hurt you."

"True," Percival replied, momentarily looking over his shoulder at her. "But I just feel better with you tied up."

Eristasia glared. She looked ahead and grimaced with the realization.

"We are going back?" she rasped. "You are returning to the very place you slaughtered my men? Are you trying to show off?"

Percival adjusted the reins, his expression entirely unbothered by her venom. "I'm returning to the burial ground because your Wind Guard cost me some of my vanguard. You should be thankful. You get to see closeup as a Necromancer uses his powers.".

"I don't care to see how a Necromancer uses his powers."

"Hmm. Okay then."

"So that's what you do? Infiltrating graveyards" she spat, writhing slightly against the leather straps securing her to Argus's ribs. "Have you no decency? No fear of the gods?"

Percival looked down at her from the saddle, his blue eyes cold and practical. "What are either of us going to do with decency, Lady Eristasia? As for the gods... they aren't the ones clearing Gates. I am."

Eristasia didn't know what to say to that.

They crested the ridge, returning to the desolate basin where the weathered iron markers and heavy stone slabs jutted from the frostbitten earth like rows of teeth.

Percival dismounted smoothly, his boots crunching on the brittle soil. He walked over to Argus, untied the leather straps, and pulled Eristasia down. She stumbled on her bound legs, but before she could fall, he gripped her arm and steadied her.

"Sit," he commanded.

Her body immediately obeyed. Her knees bent, forcing her to sit upon a flat, mossy stone at the edge of the graveyard. She clamped her jaw shut, her eyes darting to her wrists where the violet brand pulsed faintly.

"You're a monster," she muttered.

Percival said nothing.

Eristasia watched him with unintentional curiosity as he walked into the center of the graves.

After a few steps, Percival activated ⸢Grave Sense⸥ and extended his senses outward.

Eristasia watched an azure mist bleed out of Percival's skin and creep across the frozen ground. It twined around the gravestones, searching beneath the dirt. Wherever the mist pooled, the earth trembled slightly, reacting to his dark mana.

Percival stopped before a row of stone crypts that belonged to veteran elite Warriors. His Summon Space had several open slots after the brutal clash with the Wind Guard. He outstretched his right hand, his fingers spreading wide as the blue fire in his aura flared with violent intensity.

"⸢Awake⸥."

Suddenly, geysers of frozen dirt, stone shards, and roaring blue flames shot into the cold air. Eristasia gasped, flinching back against the stone as the shockwave rattled her teeth. Out of the craters, fifteen massive, skeletal figures dragged themselves into the light.

They seemed to be slightly larger than the previous summons. Their bone structures were thick and dense, and the usual azure flames ignited within their hollow eye sockets.

⸢15 Skeleton Soldiers summoned⸥

⸢Rank: B⸥

⸢Type: Skirmisher⸥

⸢Health: 220/220⸥

⸢Knowledge Imprint is passively transferring all your training to your new undead summons⸥

⸢Knowledge Imprint is completed. Instincts synchronized.⸥

The fifteen skeletons immediately shifted their heavy, slouched postures. One snapped into a low sword stance, its skeletal fingers wrapping around a tarnished broadsword.

Another tilted its head, resting its chin against the pommel of its blade, posed like a veteran who had fought a thousand battles.

Eristasia watched the transformation with her heart hammering against her ribs. "They... they changed. How did they change? They're acting like real people!"

"I thought you didn't care?" Percival said simply, turning to face her.

Eristasia squeezed her face at him, frustrated while trying to mask her terror with defiance. "Whatever. Do not think this little army makes you invincible, Percival. My husband and our army will come for me. They will hunt you to the ends of Evernia."

"I thought you said you both were separated?" he raised a brow at her.

"What's it to you!" Eristasia snapped, suddenly nervous.

Percival walked toward her, folding his arms. "Whatever the case, they can come if they want. But let's look at the logistics. Your surviving Wind Guard are battered, their morale is crushed, and their leader Theodore is dead."

He tilted his head, his dark long hair falling over. "They don't have the strength to pursue me on their own. They're going to have to retreat all the way back to Eldermoor, present their failure to your former husband, and wait for a second mobilization."

He leaned in slightly. "That takes weeks. By the time they even begin tracking me again, I'll be long gone. We have more than enough time. But now I need you to be quiet. I have something important to do."

Eristasia narrowed her eyes. 'What's he thinking?' "Hey! Things like what?!"

"Be quiet."

A wave of magic swept through the air, leaving Eristasia unable to separate her lips. "Mhm! Mmm!" she struggled, face reddening.

Happy with the silence, Percival turned back to the open basin. "Theumir. Come forth."

A vortex of swirling blue flames erupted beside the newly raised skeletons. From the intense heat, the spectral figure of Theumir Steelcane emerged.

The old blacksmith carried a heavy, mystical hammer in one hand, his spectral beard bristling with pride. He knelt before Percival, placing a fist over his chest.

"Master!" Theumir boomed, his voice echoing through the silent graveyard. "The forges have not ceased since you gave me the blueprints of the Elven steel. I have labored in the depths of your inventory, and I bring you the armor of a true legion!"

Percival's eyebrows lifted. 'It's ready?! Well I guess time moves differently in the Summon Space compared to here.'

"Let's see it, Theumir," he said, crossing his arms.

Theumir stood up and slammed the butt of his spectral hammer into the dirt. An overwhelming burst of blue light exploded outward.

Suddenly, several heavy, spectral crates materialized on the frozen ground. Theumir kicked the lid off the first crate, revealing the armor within.

Eristasia leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat. She recognized the materials immediately, but the form was completely different.

It was the enchanted Elven steel she had bought for her elite guards, but it had been completely melted down, reforged, and reinforced with brutal, dark mechanics.

"This," Theumir announced proudly, lifting a massive breastplate from the crate, "is what I have named ⸢Ironwolf Bulwark Plate⸥. I took the kinetic-resistant properties of your fallen Elven Captain's plate and fused it with heavy mountainstone reinforcements. It blocks physical attacks with ease, repels metaphysical attacks, and it also absorbs impact, reflecting a fraction of the force back at the attacker!"

The craftsmanship was truly fascinating. It was dark steel with a gradient coloring of grey steel. Blue runes were engraved around the edges, with a skull sign placed at the center of the belt.

The pauldrons were shaped like the jaws of wolves, and the greaves were thick, reinforced with spiked edges for brutal close-quarters combat.

"And for the weapons, Master!" Theumir continued, gesturing to a second crate. He pulled out a glorious greatsword, burning with Soulfire.

"I took the materials you salvaged. I melted the metals down and forged the cores directly into the hilts of these blades. Every strike from these weapons cut through solid and magic. They also release a shockwave of Soulfire"

Percival walked over, tracing his fingers over the dark, rune-etched steel. "You've done an extremely excellent job, Theumir. Let's equip them."

Eristasia just watched with wide eyes.

Percival summoned his interface and selected ⸢Undead Inventory⸥.

He found the ⸢Ironwolf Bulwark Plate⸥ and the ⸢Soulfire Cleaver⸥, then he selected both.

⸢Equip 44 Skeleton Soldiers with Ironwolf Bulwark Plate?⸥

⸢Equip 44 Skeleton Soldiers with Soulfire Cleaver?⸥

He selected ⸢Yes⸥.

⸢Armor Set has been equipped⸥

⸢Defense stats of equipped Skeleton Soldiers increased by +57⸥

⸢Weapon has been equipped⸥

⸢Attacl stats of equipped Skeleton Soldiers increased by +77⸥

The spectral armor sets flew out of the crates, dissolving into wisps of blue light before slamming directly onto the skeletal bodies of his soldiers.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

The sound of interlocking steel echoed through the crags. Within seconds, the previously frail-looking skeletons were transformed into a terrifying wall of dark, heavy iron.

They looked like walking fortresses. The dark armor covered every inch of their bones, the wolf-jaw pauldrons jutting aggressively from their shoulders, and their blue soulfire eyes burning fiercely through the visors of their reinforced helmets.

⸢System Update: Undead Legion Buffed⸥

⸢Defense increased by 45%⸥

⸢Magic Resistance increased by 30%⸥

⸢New Attribute Added: Impact Reflection⸥

⸢Weapon Attribute Added: Soulfire⸥

Percival turned to Eristasia. "How do you like it?"