Ark Undead

The Fire Girl's lips gradually hardened, and her smile disappeared.

Completely different from what she had expected, the Fire Mage was unable to transfer her power into the dream through Skadi.

This dream was different from what she knew before; it was even more serious this time.

However, to her surprise, the reason why her power could not be transmitted into the dream through Skadi was not because of the dream's resistance.

Instead, there was another flame, another independent flame, quietly burning in the dream.

Even though the flame was still small, its existence could not be ignored.

"Has someone already beaten them to it?"

The Fire Mage murmured something to herself, then withdrew her fingers from Skadi's head.

Skadi's body went limp as if it had lost its bones, collapsing onto the Fire Mage.

The Fire Mage gently caught Skadi's body, and their hair clung together, forming a beautiful silvery-white hue in the moonlight.

"What a beautiful hair color. Go to sleep now."

Skadi, whose mind was initially in a very hazy state, tried to resist the strange pajamas. But after hearing the Fire Mage's sleepiness, Skadi couldn't help but close her eyes.

Once again, he fell asleep in the arms of the Fire Maiden.

The Fire Mage gazed at Skadi's face before her, gently stroking her soft skin as if recalling many past events.

Upon closer inspection, the two bear a subtle resemblance, especially in their long, lustrous, silver-white hair.

"I hope you can find him in your dreams and, in my place, return this power to his hands."

The Fire Mage gently carried Skadi to the bed and placed her under the covers.

Now, less than two hours have passed since everyone entered the dream.

Dawn is still a long way off.

In the other dream, the sound of a greatsword slicing through the air was so pleasant.

However, the sound of striking a lump of mud is not so pleasant.

W turned and leaped, dodging the splashing mud and the sweeping tentacles, before throwing out two Originium explosives the size of hidden blades from his sleeve.

It passed through the gaps on either side of the greyhound's ear and landed right on the tentacle in front of the greyhound.

The explosion occurred before the tentacle could strike the shield that had just solidified in the greyhound's hand.

boom!

The loud noise left marks on the tentacles and blasted the greyhound back two or three steps.

But this actually gave the greyhound a lot more room to maneuver.

He waved his right hand behind him, and a shimmering blue light shone in his hand, as the Originium Arts, inherited from ancient magic, shone brightly.

He held a crystal-blue sword in his hand and slashed down at the tentacle that was still relentlessly attacking him.

The sharp blade sliced ​​through the tentacles like butter, while the severed limbs instantly turned back into mud. Before they could burn, they were absorbed into the ever-spreading tide of sludge.

From the base of the tentacles, a large mass of filth-like sludge surged up, filling the void in an instant, as if countless giant, sculpted hands had sprung up out of thin air, restoring the tentacles to their original state.

"Retreat again!"

The Undead shouted, and as he sheathed his greatsword, he turned and slammed it into the shield that the Greyhound had conjured.

The Undead struck the shield with the blade of his sword, sending the Greyhound flying backwards quite a distance, landing right next to W.

Greyhound adjusted its landing posture in mid-air, stabilized its balance, and then looked up at the undead still fighting in front of it.

Before the Undead turned around, he raised his hand and swung his greatsword horizontally. The deep red flames surging from the sword instantly solidified, condensing into a crimson energy sword body further away.

Unusually gripping the sword hilt with both hands, the undead swung his greatsword fiercely as the tentacles surged towards him like a tidal wave.

Even though the Undead had lost the blessing of the Primordial Flame, they still had other means to temporarily regain their power.

This sword technique originated from the ancient knights who used it on the battlefield during the Dragon Hunt, and it is also the prototype for the sword technique used by the Lord of Cinder in later generations.

On that ancient battlefield of dragon hunting, the dwarven knights favored by Gwyn the Lord of Cinder also wielded the king's sword and spear to wreak havoc.

Then, because of the Dark Soul, he was banished by the gods to the City of Rings, never to leave again.

Over time, when the undead set foot in Ringed City again, the knights had long since become almost mindless corpses.

Even so, when they raise their straight swords, they can summon the flames that originally existed within them, temporarily regaining their former glory and the power of fire.

This is also one of the combat techniques that the Undead combine with magical fire and sword skills.

Combat Skill (Ember)

The magical flames, infused with the fire of chaos, flowed wildly across the sword, their scorching heat and frenzied intensity completely unlike the expansive primordial fire.

This flame was originally intended for destruction and slaughter; the twisting power it contained was something even creatures of the abyss could not withstand.

As the greatsword flew up and down in the undead's hand, the continuous slashes seemed to leave sword marks in the air, and the fiery sword energy continued to fly forward, scorching all tentacles that tried to get close to the undead.

With a painful cry from the sludge aggregate, a large number of severed tentacles fell from the sky, their severed ends still covered in cursed fire. Even when they fell into the filthy swamp on the ground, they could not instantly dissolve into sludge and return to their original form.

Finally, after a series of slashes, the Undead gripped his greatsword with both hands and slammed it down into the ground in front of him.

Flames spread through the cracks in the ground, and the deep red magical fire sealed off the entire road, evaporating the ever-rolling mud.

After unleashing a full combo of slashes, the undead turned and retreated, hoisting his greatsword onto his shoulder and quickly fleeing the area.

Greyhound dispersed the crystal weapon in his hand, and W also put away the light crossbow in his hand.

Before leaving, W even turned back and threw two more Originium explosives. He didn't even have time to see the explosion happen before he followed the Undead and quickly turned into the room next to him marked with a golden floating light symbol.

The moment the door closed, the Originium explosives outside exploded in the pyrotechnic fire left behind by the Undead, and the explosion spread the pyrotechnic fire out once again, almost engulfing the entire sludge aggregate.

The three people who entered the room, hearing the painful cries of the mud mass outside the door, finally felt a little relieved.

"Holy shit..."

The greyhound was panting heavily. He placed his hands on his knees, weakly shook his head, and looked up at the undead in front of him.

"This guy is really tough... damn, really tough. I can't cut him."

For Greyhound, the most striking realization was that his weapon, crafted using Originium Arts, couldn't leave a single mark on this mud aggregate.

Even after the limbs were weakened by the Undead's flames, the Greyhound could only temporarily slow their advance after severing them.

The severed limbs will return to the rolling mud.

Like a perpetual motion machine unaffected by external influences, it is cut, repaired, cut again, and repaired once more.

The only thing that was depleted was the mental strength of Greyhound and W.

Greyhound and W also keenly noticed that the undead's chest was also slightly heaving.

If you listen carefully, even the immortals are breathing slightly.

This is what makes Greyhound and W find it tricky.

"What? Can't hold on anymore?"

Greyhound couldn't help but grin as he looked at the Undead's unusually disheveled appearance.

"This is a rare sight indeed! Big brother, you can breathe like that. I don't think anyone has ever seen that before, right? This is a steal!"

The Undead glanced at the Greyhound through his eyes hidden under his helmet, but didn't bother with him.

This guy has a knack for finding joy even in hardship and can always maintain an optimistic attitude.

"Recovery is not keeping up, and consumption is excessive."

The immortal looked down at his palm, clenched it tightly, and then slowly released it.

Originally, with the Primordial Flame as its core, the Undead could use various spells at will, ignoring the cost.

Spells, magic, and miracles were all at his fingertips.

But now, having lost the core of the Primordial Flame, the energy reserves in the Undead's body are still immense, but ultimately they are like a rootless duckweed.

In the past, before the Undead had the First Flame, they had Elemental Bottles specifically for storing campfire energy as a recovery item.

But now, we can only wait for time to heal naturally.

In this battle of attrition, this became a major burden.

Otherwise, why would the immortals need to fight and retreat?

Turning this corridor into a lightning inferno with full firepower would be a matter of minutes.

"If we keep fighting like this, there are still five floors left... no, we'll go down one more floor in a bit, then there will only be four floors left."

W did a quick calculation and realized that they had already launched two rounds of attacks, and each layer of the sludge aggregate they faced was stronger than the previous one.

This means that with each floor they descend, the danger increases, and the cost of even those who don't die also increases.

Can you keep up?

W looked at the greyhound.

"Whether we can keep up or not is not important. The key is when that old woman Kal'tsit will finally finish that B trial."

Greyhound has become quite outspoken now.

"This thing is obviously unkillable, and it's like a timed game. If this guy reaches the tenth floor, who knows what kind of trouble he'll cause. It all depends on Kal'tsit."

Now, almost everyone in the dream is waiting for Kal'tsit to complete her trial.

On the other hand, the only thing the survivors could do was buy her as much time as possible.

However, complaining here is not the style of an immortal.

After catching his breath, the Undead went to the wall and, using the same method he had used to open the passage before, opened the secret entrance to the next level once again.

"Let's go, let's hurry."

...

The entrance to the tenth floor.

A boot stepped into the corridor.

Following behind the white-haired researcher was a graceful and elegant woman.

"Finally, we're back here."