CHAPTER 62: BARON LAXIN III

Laxin moved first. His shadow surged outward like a tide, the black haze of Death Aura billowing across the shattered ground. His eyes burned with that eerie, pale light—the hallmark of one chosen by the Supreme of Death. A single step cracked the earth beneath him as he shot forward, blade of condensed death-energy lashing down toward Aria.

Aria caught it with her twin scimitars, the clash ringing like thunder. Sparks scattered, but she barely budged. Instead, she twisted her wrist, forced his blade aside, and with the grace of a predator, launched a counter slash at his throat. Lanxin tilted back just enough, strands of his dark hair shearing away.

Fenric, watching from the side, narrowed his eyes.

"She’s stronger than me," he whispered through his breath, clutching at his side where blood still leaked. His healing magic pulsed faintly, knitting flesh together. Although he have said , among the two of them he is stronger, that is only when , she is not aiming to kill him, but if she aims to kill him he will be defeated easily. And Right now she is aiming to kill Laxin.

Aria fought with precision, every strike meant to end him, not to drive him. Her blades blurred, each arc a stormwind laced with golden flame. Laxin was forced to respond with absolute focus, his death aura thickening into shields and claws of shadow, but each time he barely evaded the edge.

A whip-crack of air echoed as Aria spun, her scimitar cutting down diagonally. Laxin braced his death blade, the two forces colliding with such intensity that the ground split apart, a deep fissure tearing through the battlefield.

Fenric exhaled, body trembling as the healing finally closed the last of his wounds. He rose, one hand extended forward. Mana surged—half brilliant blue, half burning silver. He spoke no words, but both human arcane runes and ancient dragon glyphs spiraled around his palm. With a sharp thrust, he unleashed a torrent of elemental force.

A searing spear of light-fire roared through the air, smashing against Lanxin’s death aura. The collision erupted in a shower of sparks, forcing Laxin to leap back. His gaze flicked toward Fenric, annoyance flashing across his face.

"You dare interfere again?"

Fenric’s lips curled. "I’m not interfering—I’m fighting. And you... you’re not as untouchable as you think."

He lifted both hands this time, one glowing with the crystalline complexity of human magic, the other carved in the burning script of Dragon Tongue. A dual incantation bloomed in the air:

"Luxa Drath!" – A spear of radiant light.

"Raen Torah!" – A storm of conjured fire.

The two spells intertwined, fusing into a single spiraling lance of incandescent flame-light. It howled across the field, slamming into Lanxin with an explosion that carved a smoking crater in the earth.

But the Death-Blessed warrior emerged, cloak shredded, aura flaring darker than ever. His lips twisted into a grin.

Aria darted in again, scimitars crossing in a devastating strike. Laxin caught one blade with his weapon, the other grazing his shoulder, golden flame biting into his flesh. He snarled, retaliating with a burst of pure necrotic force, a shockwave that flung Aria back several paces.

In that moment, Fenric’s eyes sharpened. Still no undead...

He thrust both hands outward again, weaving together fire, light, and wind. Dragon glyphs lit up the sky, swirling into a vast sigil above him. A storm of burning meteors rained down, each one guided by his intent.

Laxin roared, shadowy wings flaring from his back as he conjured a barrier of death. Meteors slammed into it one after another, shattering parts of the shield but never quite breaking through. Until—Aria appeared at his flank, blade gleaming.

She struck.

This time, she didn’t hold back as much. Her scimitar blazed with killing intent, ripping through the weakened death-shield like cloth. Lanxin barely managed to duck, but the strike still tore across his chest, leaving a searing gash that hissed with golden flames.

His face twisted in fury. "Enough!"

At last, his Death Supreme Blessing surged. The air grew heavy. The battlefield dimmed as if the world itself recoiled. From the fissures in the ground, skeletal hands clawed upward, empty sockets glowing with sickly green fire. One by one, undead soldiers dragged themselves free, an army of death answering their master’s call.

Fenric’s heart lurched. So he was holding back after all...

The battlefield transformed into chaos—flames and shadows, life and death colliding. Fenric, Aria, and Laxin stood as the storm’s eyes, their powers clashing in endless crescendos.

Fenric’s voice boomed across the chaos, Dragon Tongue mixing with human chants:

"Solv Vana! Veyl Torah! Luxa Drath!"

Water surged, wind howled, light spears screamed through the air—magic woven in layers no ordinary mage could hope to command. At his side, Aria carved through the undead like a golden tempest, her blades singing arcs of death that rivaled any Supreme’s strike.

Laxin stood at the center, cloak of shadows tearing wider as more undead clawed their way into reality. His laughter, cold and merciless, echoed across the battlefield.

The undead surged, a sea of bones and rotting flesh crashing toward them like a tide. Their hollow moans carried the chill of graveyards, echoing through the ruined battlefield.

Aria stood still amidst it, twin scimitars lowered at her sides. Her eyes glimmered, an obsidian sheen sliding over them like the reflection of a void. For the first time, the air around her thickened not with heat or golden light—but with suffocating black flame, each flicker gnawing at the very fabric of life itself.

Fenric’s head snapped toward her, disbelief flashing in his eyes. She is going to use it huh

Normally she don’t use those sinister flames as they are very dangerous but she is now going to use it now.

The truth struck him cold. Death Soul Flame.

Aria whispered, voice as soft as a requiem:

"Rise, O soul-ashes. Burn, O eternal night."

The black fire erupted from her body, devouring the ground beneath her feet in a slow, hungering crawl. When the undead horde surged upon her, the flames leapt like predators, wrapping around their bones and flesh. Their screeches split the night as they ignited—not into light, but into deeper shadow, their essence reduced to drifting soul-embers.

Laxin’s eyes narrowed. "You—" His voice trembled with recognition, then turned sharp with fury. "So you’re a Death Soul Lord..."

Aria lifted her blades again, each now wreathed in soul-flame. "And you think your blessing of death makes you sovereign here? Pathetic. I also have the power of Death."

She launched forward, a blur of shadow-fire. Her scimitar cut through a cluster of undead in a single arc, their bodies crumbling into motes of black ash. Laxin swung his blade to meet her, the impact shattering the ground beneath them. Death aura collided with death flame, the clash so violent it sent shockwaves across the field.

Fenric staggered but steadied himself, his own aura surging as he raised another incantation. He layered ice, lightning, and fire into a triple-woven Dragon Chant, symbols spiraling around him in radiant arcs. "Aria! Keep him still!"

Aria’s only response was to vanish into a step of shadow, reappearing at Lanxin’s back. Her scimitar plunged downward, black fire screaming across its edge. Laxin twisted, parrying just in time—but the force still tore through his armor, spilling blood across the ground.

In that heartbeat, Fenric’s chant roared to completion.

"Zyraath Torahl!"

A colossal dragon of storm and flame manifested above him, its wings spanning the battlefield. With a roar, it dove, crashing toward Lanxin with the fury of a falling star.

Laxin roared back, death aura spiking, summoning a wall of shadows and undead to meet it. The impact was cataclysmic—undead scattered like straw, the death barrier shredded under the dragon’s claws. Laxin was hurled back, cloak aflame with black and red fire, eyes burning with hatred.

He coughed blood, then grinned through crimson teeth. "So... this is how it is. A prince with dragon’s blood... and a Soul Lord with black fire. Hah... Hahaha!" His laughter rose into madness, his aura expanding until the very air turned oppressive. "Then I’ll show you what it means to wield the blessing of Supreme Death fully."

All around them, corpses twisted grotesquely. Not just soldiers, but the very remnants of life in the battlefield—the ground, the air, even shadows—began to take shape, coalescing into an abomination of bone and malice.

A Death Colossus rose, towering over them, eyes blazing green fire. Its roar shook the earth, a sound not of beast but of countless voices screaming at once.

Aria’s black flames licked higher. Fenric’s dragon glyphs flared brighter.

The ground convulsed as Lanxin’s form dissolved into streams of shadow, seeping into the colossal abomination he had summoned. Bones snapped and rearranged, sinew stretched like grotesque cords, and the Colossus screamed—not just as one, but as thousands of throats joined in agony.

Its eyes burned emerald, but within them flickered Laxin’s own cruel gaze. His voice thundered, layered with monstrous echoes.

"Now, prince... now, Soul Lord... let us see if your lives can withstand death made flesh!"