A massive surge of necrotic energy erupted behind him as the Mythical Lich emerged from its summoning circle, its presence freezing the air and warping space itself. The undead monarch floated silently, its hollow gaze fixed on the distant palace.
"Another worthy opponent, hahahaha!" the Lich laughed wildly, its hollow voice echoing across the battlefield. "I feel alive again, commanding such carnage!"
Mike nodded calmly. "Good. Then do what you do best."
The Lich bowed slightly, its robes fluttering as dark energy swirled around it. "As you command my contractor."
Mike crossed his arms. "The Death Lords will support you. Coordinate with them. And there’s also the Inferno Spirit—she’s hot-headed, but strong."
The Lich tilted its skull. "And the wolf pup?"
Mike shook his head. "He won’t join. This place weakens living beings and empowers the undead. He’d only be held back."
The Lich let out a low, satisfied chuckle. "Indeed... this land favors us."
Mike had already experienced it the moment he have entered inside. The air itself pressed against his skin, heavy with death energy. His stats had taken a hit—around thirty percent weaker—but the undead under his command radiated terrifying strength, far greater than before.
In the distance, the sky darkened further as the final presence revealed itself. A massive aura erupted from the heart of the ruined capital, carrying an overwhelming pressure that dwarfed the earlier dukes.
The true ruler of the Crownless Kingdom had finally taken notice.
The Lich raised its staff, dark runes igniting along its length.
"Then allow me to entertain our guest," it said with a chilling laugh.
Mike nodded.
"Yeah... let’s see what a so-called King can do."
"Kekeke... it’s a bloodsucker. Those brats always call themselves nobles," the Lich sneered as it drifted toward the ruined palace. "I wonder how good this one really is."
The Death Lords had already placed the key obtained from the defeating other Dukes into the royal palace gate. With a low, echoing groan, the massive doors began to open slowly. From within, a figure emerged—a man with pale skin, crimson eyes, and a crown resting upon his head. An overwhelming aura poured from him, sharp and suffocating, as if the very air bowed in his presence.
A Vampire King.
Mike watched from afar as the figure emerged, cloaked in crimson light. The Vampire King looked down at the massive undead army before him and sneered.
"How foolish," he said coldly. "Using undead against me?"
He laughed darkly. "Thiugh I should be thanking you. With such a grand army, I can finally break free from this cursed prison that forces me to die again and again!"
He raised his hand, blood-red energy gathering in his palm.
"Domination!"
The crimson wave surged toward the Death Lords—and then... nothing happened.
Silence.
The spell dissipated like mist.
Mike burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Are you serious?" he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "A Legendary-ranked undead trying to dominate Mythical-rank beings? That’s just embarrassing."
The Vampire King froze, disbelief etched across his face.
"What...? Why didn’t it work?" he snarled.
The Death Lords stood unmoving, staring down at him with cold, empty gazes.
Though even among the cold icy block beings there are some goofy ones mix among them.
"That’s just sad," one of them muttered.
"Does he even understand the gap between us?" another said mockingly.
And they begun to chat among them seeing such funny display in front of them.
The Lich floated forward slightly, its voice dripping with disdain. "How pitiful. To think a so-called king would be this ignorant."
The Vampire King trembled, fury and madness twisting his expression. "I am the King! I am the ruler of this land! Bow before me!"
His screams echoed through the ruined capital, but no one moved.
Mike shook his head, watching the scene unfold. "He’s completely lost it," he muttered. "Trying to dominate Mythical-ranked undead while being himself Legendary... that’s beyond stupid."
The Vampire King continued shouting, his voice hoarse and cracked, but his power meant nothing now.
"This is just sad," Mike said quietly. "He’s already dead... he just doesn’t know it yet."
The Death Lords began to step forward, their presence alone crushing the air around them.
And for the first time, fear finally appeared on the Vampire King’s face.
"That’s enough," the Lich said coldly, clearly bored. "I won’t waste another second looking at such filth."
It turned away, its robe fluttering as it floated back toward Mike.
"Just send me back," the Lich added dismissively. "It’s pointless to even acknowledge something so pathetic."
Mike nodded slowly. "Yeah... I thought he’d be stronger too."
The Lich gave a low scoff. "Power without reason. Pride without strength. He’s already lost."
With that, the Lich began to withdraw, its form dissolving into black mist as it returned to Netherworld as Mike canceled the skill.
Below, the Vampire King roared in fury, veins bulging, his crimson eyes burning with madness.
"Come back! Face me! I am the king!" he screamed.
But his cries were drowned out as the Death Lords advanced.
They moved as one—silent, merciless.
The Vampire King launched himself forward, blood-red energy exploding from his body. He fought desperately, unleashing waves of corrupted power, tearing apart several lesser undead, his strength still terrifying.
But it wasn’t enough.
The Death Lords surrounded him, their weapons crashing down one after another. Blades of dark mana tore through his defenses. Bone shattered. Flesh split. His regeneration struggled, then failed.
Still, he fought.
Still, he screamed.
Until at last, his movements slowed.
His once-regal form was reduced to a broken, kneeling figure—half his body shattered, his regeneration barely holding him together.
Mike watched silently from afar.
"...You were strong," he admitted. "Just not strong enough."
The Death Lords raised their weapons for the final strike—
Mike raised a hand.
"Wait."
The undead halted instantly, frozen in place.
"I’ll finish him myself," Mike said calmly. "Bind him. Don’t let him move."
Dark chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around the Vampire King’s limbs and torso, pinning him in place. He struggled, but it was useless.
Mike walked forward, the Black Mithril Knight Sword resting in his hand.
"How... how can you command them?" the Vampire King rasped, staring in disbelief at the Death Lords who obeyed a mere human.
"I have the power to evolve them," Mike replied simply. "My companion created them, and I refined them. That’s all there is to it."