The first thing to emerge from the underground tunnel was the smooth, bald head of Khajiit. The necromancer's cold gaze swept past the gaps in the surrounding zombies, staring directly toward the outside of the temple.
Barren gravestones and skeletal trees filled the landscape. Not a single undead could be seen.
Khajiit's eyes narrowed.
He had intentionally stationed several low-tier undead around the temple—not just to intimidate any intruders who dared to enter, but also to serve as a basic early-warning system.
Normally, a necromancer retains a mental link with the undead they control. If that link breaks, the caster can instantly sense it.
Of course, that was the arrangement Khajiit had made over a year ago, when he had first taken root in this ancient graveyard. Over time, he'd realized that almost no one ever came close—let alone ventured into its deeper, more cursed reaches.
So, he'd severed the link on purpose to conserve mana.
But that wasn't the issue now.
For a necromancer like Khajiit, even if his undead were destroyed, he could always reassert control—if the corpses were still there.
Yet now?
The graveyard was completely empty. Not only had the undead vanished, there weren't even any remains left behind.
Which could only mean one thing:
They weren't destroyed—they were taken. Or lured away.
"Someone came prepared."
Khajiit's expression didn't change, but his thoughts sharpened like a blade. "And… more than one?"
He scanned the area calmly.
This border town of E-Rantel didn't host any formidable adventurer parties. Not a single individual here was worth his concern.
If there was someone strong, they had to be an outsider—someone who came from outside E-Rantel.
'You fools. You'll regret ever choosing to provoke a necromancer of my standing.'
A dark aura pulsed from Khajiit as he emerged from the underground tunnel. The surrounding zombies parted to make way for him.
And then—
His eyes immediately locked onto a floating figure nearly a hundred meters away. Suspended just a few feet above the ground, it radiated a soft, holy light.
A Guardian Angel.
The sanctified glow clashed starkly with the surrounding darkness, making it utterly impossible to miss.
Khajiit instantly grew wary.
But not of the angel.
He was wary of the places it wasn't—where the real threat might lie.
"Mana Detection."
He cast a probing spell with a flick of his fingers.
Within moments, the feedback arrived.
The most obvious signal came from the Guardian Angel in the distance. But there was something else—another pulse of magical presence about fifty meters to his left.
And yet…
There was nothing visible there.
Then—suddenly—that hidden source began to move. Fast. Closing in on him rapidly.
Khajiit sneered.
"Spare me the theatrics. You think this petty trick can fool me?"
He raised a hand and pointed toward the unseen target.
"Negative Ray!"
A blast of dark purple energy lanced from his fingertip and struck the hidden entity dead-on. The shockwave of magical force sent the target stumbling backward.
The illusion was shattered.
The camouflaged Guardian Angel, concealed by a magical stealth spell, was forcibly revealed. Its figure shimmered into view, wings flaring with the impact of the spell.
Khajiit was momentarily stunned.
A second Guardian Angel?
Not a rogue, not an assassin—but another celestial construct?
He frowned deeply.
Two Guardian Angels? That means... two divine casters?
No—wait. That stealth spell… It wasn't divine. Was that Tier 2's "Invisibility"? Or perhaps another arcane illusion?
'One's a divine caster. The other's an arcane one?'
His mind raced.
And in that split second of distraction—
"Human Racial Charm!"
A raspy voice suddenly rang out from behind the first angel.
Khajiit's pupils shrank.
"Undying Will!" he shouted instinctively, channeling a defensive spell.
But almost instantly, his face contorted in anger and realization.
He didn't feel anything.
Not a single mental tug. No charm, no control attempt. Nothing.
The spell had been faked.
From the shadows, a cloaked figure emerged behind the angel. His face was hidden, shrouded beneath layers of fabric—Lyle, the one who had triggered the trap.
He cancelled his stealth with a slow step forward.
"Just saying hello," Lyle said with a dry, raspy chuckle.
Meanwhile, his eyes flicked to his interface:
[Skill Points: 41 → 40]
[Skill: Undying Will (Tier 3)]
Cost: 15 MP
Description: Grants immunity to charm, sleep, and other mental control effects.
________
Got it.
Lyle smirked slightly.
Khajiit had two points that needed caution—one was the Bone Dragon, and the other was this very spell: Human Racial Charm, a mental domination magic specifically crafted by demihumans and monstrous races to enslave humans.
Its name alone reeked of hostility toward humanity.
Naturally, human mages had developed a countermeasure—Undying Will—a core defense spell used by high-tier casters.
Without it? Getting controlled could mean instant defeat.
Lyle's chuckle echoed through the graveyard.
But to Khajiit, it was a taunt.
A blatant, infuriating confirmation: You've just tested my mental defenses… and wasted a bit of my mana.
Such tricks were beneath him.
Only the weak relied on schemes like this!
"Foolish insect," Khajiit growled, tightening his grip on the black staff in his hand. "You truly don't understand what real power looks like."
He sneered.
"Bring out your companions. I'm no longer interested in your purpose. I'll just erase all of you."
His voice rumbled across the desolate cemetery.
"Companions?"
Lyle tilted his head with a hoarse laugh. "Afraid I don't have any."
He snapped his fingers.
The injured Guardian Angel that had been knocked back returned to his side. That angel had served its purpose well—a perfect distraction.
And now?
Mission accomplished.
With the two angels reunited in front of him, Lyle quickly surveyed the damage. The silver armor plating of the second angel was now tarnished, corroded in places like rusted iron.
The Negative Ray spell had definitely done its job.
Undead were vulnerable to holy and fire-based attacks—just as holy entities like angels were susceptible to dark magic.
Khajiit narrowed his eyes.
'Still hiding your allies? Fine. I'll deal with you first. Then I'll drag the rest out of the shadows.'
He didn't believe Lyle's words. No one this calm would walk into danger alone.
His attention drifted again to the two summoned angels.
Two angels at once? Either he's using a rare artifact… or he's specialized in summoning magic.
Doesn't matter. Useless tricks.
"I hope you're ready to scream," Khajiit said, voice laced with venom. "I'll make sure the last thing your allies see is the twisted ruin of your broken body."
He raised his black staff high and slammed it into the ground.
At the same time, the Orb of Death in his other hand began to glow—its surface pulsing with a sinister, black light.