Bursts of blood erupted from the hide of the Lizardman hunter. The stones hurled by Sukyu Juju struck with startling force - impressive, considering they were just enchanted pebbles.
"Too weak. Magic Arrows!" Lyle muttered, voice calm, almost bored.
Glowing arcane bolts shimmered into being, ten in total, summoned effortlessly in midair. Fueled by magic, they launched forward in a lethal volley toward Sukyu Juju.
Sukyu Juju's face twisted. He threw himself into a roll, barely dodging the first few arrows, then whipped more stones from his belt and flung them, trying to intercept the incoming barrage.
Stone clashed against spell. Sparks of impact filled the air, a chaotic cacophony of magic and desperation.
Thick vines erupted from the earth around Lyle, slithering toward him like hungry serpents.
Lyle casually flipped his palm, summoning the magic item Forest Traverse. A sweep of green light flashed across his legs, and the vines recoiled instantly, as if unwilling to touch something so... unnatural.
"Magic Arrows!" Lyle cast again.
The second barrage targeted the high priest this time.
"Flash!" the old Lizardman bellowed.
A brilliant flare exploded in the air, blinding white.
Lyle squinted but didn't flinch. Thanks to his passive skill Divine Body, the blinding light had minimal effect.
The arrows struck. The high priest screamed as they pierced clean through him.
"Elder!" Sukyu Juju shouted in horror.
"Run... we're no match..." the priest gasped, blood gurgling in his throat as he collapsed.
He had realized the truth as soon as Lyle summoned a second Flame Archangel. This was no ordinary foe.
The screams of the dying echoed through the marshy village.
Summoning his last strength, the high priest raised his arm and cried out: "Earthen Shackles!"
The ground around Lyle turned to sludge. Mud lapped up around his boots, binding him, the Hound, and the injured Lizardman hunter to the ground up to their calves.
"Run!" the priest roared weakly at Sukyu Juju, who still stood frozen in disbelief.
Lyle simply looked down.
"Binding magic? Cute. But far too weak."
With a sharp grunt, he broke free, mud tearing from his legs. As a level-30 being, even magical terrain meant little. His natural resistance made short work of the spell.
The Barghest growled and smashed its bone chain into the earth, opening a crack and leaping free.
The beast roared and lunged at Sukyu Juju.
Another three arrows flew, pinning down the paths Sukyu Juju might have used to flee.
Cornered, bloodied, and terrified, the Lizardman gritted his teeth and raised his stones once more, bracing himself for the beast's charge.
Meanwhile, the Flame Archangel had finished slaughtering the last of the Lizardman warriors and now stormed into the village proper. Screams erupted again.
Back at the battlefield, Lyle stepped forward, boots squelching in blood-soaked mud, and approached the fallen high priest.
"Why?" the old Lizardman rasped. "Why this cruelty?"
He glared with hatred as fresh screams echoed from his village.
"The children... I curse you, wicked human! One day, a righteous Lizardman warrior will cut off your head and offer it to our ancestors!"
Lyle paused, then smiled faintly.
"A curse? Afraid that won't work on me."
He knelt before the dying priest, tone cold and matter-of-fact.
"Evil? Righteous? You're mistaken. Only the victor decides what is right."
That was the law of the world.
Whether one became a 'hero' or a 'monster' was simply a matter of who won and who didn't.
The undead king had proven that truth. So would he.
"And the loser?" Lyle whispered. "Just a pathetic clown in someone else's story."
"Y-you... mon--" the priest tried to speak.
The spell cut him off.
The previously mind-controlled Lizardman hunter blinked into awareness - just in time for pain to overtake him. He let out a cry and collapsed.
Area charm magic worked differently: one could only control a single target precisely, but others would fall into suggestible states.
The Hound, meanwhile, came bounding back, tail wagging happily, with the bloodied and unconscious Sukyu Juju dangling from its mouth like a toy.
Lyle gave the beast a nod. He turned back to the high priest, now fully under his control.
"Take me to your - what do you call it? Vault of knowledge? Whatever passes for that around here."
He pulled a glowing vial of regeneration potion and splashed it over the priest's wounds. The effect was instant. Flesh began to mend. Bleeding slowed.
The priest staggered upright like a puppet on strings, turned, and began walking.
Lyle followed, the Hound padding after them, still carrying Sukyu Juju.
The village was a war zone. Blood slicked the paths. Shattered bodies of warriors lay strewn like broken statues. The smell was overwhelming.
And yet Lyle felt... nothing.
How calmly I walk through slaughter now.
"Maybe I never saw these people as... people," he muttered.
Then, almost thoughtfully, "I'm in no position to pity other races, anyway."
He hadn't killed the women and children who'd fled earlier - Sukyu Juju had arranged for their escape.
Lyle had let them go.
Something left behind for the undead king's eventual arrival.
"Now," he said, addressing the priest. "Tell me about this legendary treasure your tribe lost."
He glanced at his status window.
[EXP: 173,405 / 70,000]
Another 45,000 experience gained. Enough for two levels, at least.
Once I max out Magic Swordsman... time to consider my next class path.
The priest began to explain.
The Lizardmen followed a rigid hierarchy. At the top was the chieftain - usually the strongest warrior. Below him was the Elder Council, made up of priests and sages.
Since chieftains died frequently in battle, it was the priests who preserved the tribe's history.
That included knowledge of their lost treasure.
A magical cauldron - one of the four sacred relics of the Lizardfolk.
Its abilities were vague, even to the priest. The artifact had never been in possession of this tribe, only rumored and revered.
Still, as the priest recounted details of ancient rites, Lyle pieced together an idea.
The Lizardmen brewed a ritual drink using rare herbs. During ceremonies, they'd paint sacred markings on their bodies, drink the concoction, and claim to be possessed by their ancestors.
The result? Euphoria. Bravery. Fearlessness.
Lyle had witnessed such a ritual once - right before the Lizardfolk charged at the undead army. He'd thought it nonsense then.
Now he wasn't so sure.
What if that drink's true power came from the cauldron itself? he wondered.
And what if the Twin Witches had realized that - choosing to steal this relic instead of more obviously powerful artifacts like Frost Pain?
That made the cauldron... dangerous.