Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 325 Fear The Night : Knighthood

Iron clashed, sparks flying through the air, blade coated with sword mana, Loimos was pushed back, uprooting plants and dirt as he remained grounded, striking back against the sabre with punches, the undead's premonition had been correct, Griar swung powerfully, his life swelling and consumed with each of his movements.

The living pushed Loimos back, well away from the wounded and into another ruined district, evading a series of thrust, Loimos fired a straight punch, the young noble dodging with much vigour, responding with a kick to the skeleton's midsection, the strength carried behind was not as great as it might appear.

Loimos was sent flying through a wall and into a cathedral, the stained glass casting a multi-coloured light upon him, the glow produced by the lively plant life shone upon him, as though he was standing in a spotlight.

No, the real issue was the physical power, but the fact that Griar seemed to have understood something, freely choosing to target not just the undead himself, but the festering death within itself, which was otherwise more problematic.

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Loimos caught himself and rushed to the side, grabbing onto the altar of worship of this particular cathedral, lifting it off the ground with ease, launching it directly at the living, who slashed it apart, the durable stone had been made much weaker by the clash of life and death earlier, exploding into dust and shards, the undead rushed through, sliding onto the ground loudly, swinging his right arm first, back of the hand first, slinging debris and powder forth at Griar, following with a strike to the youth's stomach.

With a groan, he endured the powerful strike, back thrown against the wall, more blood seeping from his mouth, slamming his palm onto the surface behind, getting out of the way as the undead charged like a warthog, blasting right through the wall and out of sight.

The instant his feet touched the ground, Griar bent his knees, assuming the stance of his battle art, the light blue ring expanding beyond its previous reaches, first strike, he deflected a simple rock, second strike, he slapped the corpse's fist away, third strike and landed a blow to his enemy's chest, pushing him away.

Strengthening his posture, Griar directed the point of his blade as Loimos, deeply condensed sword mana infused his sword, extending the reach, with a flash of blue, he was upon the undead, blade thrusting at Loimos's chest, piercing the armour for a brief instant before being struck off course, swinging his head, digging into the noble's arm.

Fist raised high, plunging into the ground, shaking the entire building, webs of cracks spread all over its surface, bringing it all down, sending even more dust into the air, Griar held his breath for a few moments, entire body flaring with both mana and pain, weaving in a spell within his sabre, a slash of pure blue cleaving through the dust, taking a sudden direction straight to the sky as Loimos punched it up, already rushing forward.

Stabbing his blade into the ground, slashing upward and infusing a spell once more, blade of mana erupted from the ground, trying to pin Loimos in blade, slashing into his armour, scraping up against his death, he did not stop for a moment, kicking a blade of mana into the air, then following with second kick, launching it at its own caster, the bright blue mana turning darker as it entered into contact with Loimos.

'My mana is being claimed by simple touch?' Griar extended his art forth, letting slashes rain down upon Loimos, some of them hitting, some of them parrying with only his hands, one of the undead's fingers flew off.

He advanced anyways, striking Griar in the face once, the noble counter attacking with a punch of his own, knuckles aching as he struck Loimos's skull.

'It's even tougher than his armour!' that was certainly odd, was it always that powerful? Griar was certain that it had not been the case, right now, Loimos was constantly shrouded by his battle art, meaning that the undead could not be doing anything to reinforce his defences.

'Is it the system's XP? From killing Thanatok? Is it only reaching him now? Or are the boons so great that it is slowly trickling into him?' Griar lashed out again, dozens of rapid slashes falling upon the undead, aiming at his death, he could feel that damage was dealt but it was simply not enough to his tastes.

'I have to settle this quick…' blood kept on flowing from his orifices, his skin was paling even as his life surged, to achieve enough power to contend with Loimos, he had done something even he wasn't convinced he truly understood, something had just clicked together and as per he wanted, he managed to stand on his own two feet, and direct his blade at the enemy.

But was it even enough? He could not know, and he wasn't willing to admit defeat either way, if he was lacking then, he would make up for it later, as long as strength lingered still within his limbs, he would not stop on attacking.

The ring of blue extended once more, bringing his sabre to his sheath, gathering an enormous amount of mana within, igniting with his will, launching his blade forth, his sword arm crying out in pain, feeling like his articulations were about to pop out, no, like his flesh would tear right off.

Once was not enough, again.

Twice was not enough, again.

Thrice, four times, five, six, seven, eight, his face was completely red by now, eyes bloodshot, bits of armour were shaved off, minuscule bits of bones broke off, he went for a ninth strike, aiming for the damaged portion of the undead's skull this time.

Infusing even more mana than previous mid-swing, Griar felt the bones of his right arm distinctively popping out of their hinges this time, clenching his muscles, he maintained all of his strength either way, the purple glow within did not waver for a moment, bending his knees, arching his spine backward, his right fist clashing with the sword, striking against the death force within strongly.

It was the sabre that snapped.

Cleanly breaking off, Griar was caught in his momentum, Loimos took this occasion, too sweep the living's legs, feeling his body somewhat sluggish, the strikes upon his death force were finally amounting to something, stomping his foot down on Griar's other arm, bringing his hand into the shape of a spear with his fingers extended completely.

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"Did we win?" a voice plagued by blood sounded out, its owner trying to stand up.

"Don't move Milo! You'll only worsen your wounds!" Minli tried to stop him but even then, he was too strong to hold back.

"Where did Griar go?" he remembered hazy memories, Griar had gone to face Loimos on his own barely a few minutes prior, perhaps even less time.

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This was confirmed as a building collapsed in the distance, sparks of blue illuminating in the distance.

Looking around at his allies, all beaten down, tumefied and defeated, they had given their all and not even scraped the surface, against the better judgement, Milo got back to his feet, sparing a long glance at Helena, stepping toward the cathedral that had just crumbled.