Chapter 363 - Revived Corpse

"Present," a young sailor warrior responded, looking at Gaven with eyes that could not hide his admiration.The other party appeared to be nearly a decade younger than himself.

But the abilities displayed in every aspect left him far behind, creating an impression that his own twenty-some years were spent in vain.

Another reason why the young sailor soldiers, with him at their lead, held a better opinion of Gaven, was that he had given them a second chance.

Many of them had arms and legs torn off in confrontations with vampires—if it weren’t for the Vampire Slayer that Gaven had produced, they would have been reduced to invalids.

The ring-shaped scars left by the Limited Regeneration Technique did not cause them to feel inferior; instead, they viewed them as symbols of honor.

"From now on, I officially appoint you as the Captain of the Home Guard; this sword is bestowed upon you," Gaven said, taking out the Magic Longsword and, after completing the ceremony, handed it over to Kregi with a backhanded motion.

This +2 Magic Longsword, with its sharpness intrinsic, was considered a minor treasure in the hands of a warrior, originally stripped off the body of an Oster.

In his hands now, it was almost of no use, merely occupying space in the handy haversack.

Better to use the opportunity to win hearts.

"I will comply, and I thank Lord for the gift of the sword," Kregi took the Magic Longsword with reverence, excitement evident on his face.

A fine weapon was something every warrior yearned for.

Magic weapons were even more sought-after and hard to come by.

Even though they were born in the Royal Navy of Thacel, by that time, the Royal Family had long been in decline, too overwhelmed to care for their own, let alone support and equip them.

Being the last Watchers wasn’t easy; most of their supplemented weapons were seized from pirates.

Many pieces of equipment were lost along with the sinking of the Watcher’s Call.

Only a few remained in the hands of Kopofiel.

After Kregi accepted the Magic Longsword, Gaven made further arrangements: "I’m assigning these two Enlightened Trees under your command; accompany you in escorting the women and children to the Black Feather Bridge, and after the task, return here with you to assist in the defense."

"This is fantastic, with them by our side, we will have even greater confidence in accomplishing the mission entrusted by Lord," Kregi’s excitement was visible, many times more than when he had received the Magic Longsword.

Having such colossal beings was akin to having two self-propelled Siege Hammers, their deterrent force immense.

They would not go out of their way to provoke others, and those bandit-like beasts wouldn’t dare to provoke them either.

"Though the chances of that Dwarves Vampire Sacrificer coming back for revenge is very slim, just to be safe, you can no longer reside here, and must move your base to the Land of Sealing.

Lady Olive will complete the purification in a few days, and it will be enveloped by a Great Sanctum year-round, becoming a Holy Land, where ordinary forces of evil dare not approach."

"I have already established cordial diplomatic relations with the Thorn Spirit Village in the Land of Sealing, Rose Tower. As long as you bring the Enlightened Trees, they will naturally consider you as friends and offer you some necessary support."

Gaven was meticulous in his planning, bringing it to perfection.

When it came to safety, one couldn’t be too careful.

Internally, Kregi thought, "Lord has made very thorough arrangements, we will follow them to the letter."

In the end, Gaven, with a grave expression, cautioned, "But this kind of support should be avoided if possible, during your stay there, only take what is needed to live, and absolutely refrain from hunting and felling trees recklessly."

The Fae Race regards the entire forest as its homeland, and if you only take what is necessary for sustenance, they usually do not object.

If, on the other hand, this is used as a means to seek wealth, their attitude may become extremely harsh.

Some of the more extreme members do not even allow the first action to be taken by non-forest races.

The Thorn Spirits of the Rose Tower are of a more cordial disposition, being at the edge of the large forest and having more contact with other races, has forced some changes in attitude.

"Understood," Kregi replied solemnly.

Although he had no experience in dealing with the Fae Race, he had heard plenty of their legends, and knew enough to avoid their taboos.

"Carry on with the plan!" Gaven commanded with a decisive gesture.

"Understood," they all responded in unison.

Birds of a feather flock together, as do people with like interests.

Kindred spirits grouping together is no coincidence.

In the Rocklands, Gaven had amassed a force of tens of thousands of Gnolls, and clusters of hundreds or thousands of them made for a small-scale army.

Yet, the resonance did not match the unified response of the few hundred Thacel Refugees, as if his blood boiled once more.

Thacel.

Not far from Mir Forest.

Accompanied by a flicker of magical aura, two figures shrouded in black mist emerged.

Even drenched in the sunset, the surrounding mist failed to disperse.

One of the figures couldn’t help but take a deep breath, emitting a satisfied sigh, "Indeed, the country that has been most plagued by war in recent decades—the air itself is charged with the scent of death. This is our sanctum."

Another, wreathed in black mist, asked respectfully, "What shall we do next, Dilila, my lord?"

Had Gaven been there, hearing this name would certainly evoke a reaction.

The other High Priest of the Goddess of Undead Vengeance bore that name.

Her presence in his homeland, especially so near to Nort Castle, was definitely not a coincidence.

"Need you ask? Naturally, we must pay our respects to the beloved Blasphemer, brother of our lord. I hope he truly died in an accident, as the legends say, heh heh..."

The laughter of the High Priest of the Goddess of Undead Vengeance was thick with derision; she did not believe for a moment that it was an accident.

No evidence was necessary, what she trusted was the instinct of a Dwarves Elf.

As they spoke, the two took to the skies and flew off in a particular direction.

The direction they flew, was surprisingly the burial grounds of Rogan and Oster.

Obviously, before coming, the High Priest of the Undead Vengeance Goddess had made ample preparations and unearthed all the roots of the blasphemer Gaven Nort, including his experiences in Thacel.

Due to Gaven’s identity as a Chaotic One, his future was unpredictable.

But his past was an unchangeable fact, leaving tangible traces, which were not hard to follow.

The name Gaven Nort was not unknown in Thacel.

The reason naturally involved Zalanda; as her reputation soared, the name Gaven Nort was frequently mentioned as a backdrop, especially in her relentless pursuit of him.

Dilila clearly had the ability to pinpoint the exact location where Rogan’s remains lay. When she landed, it was right on top of the now-levelled, ordinary-looking burial ground.

Gazing at the patch of black flowers on the grave, Dilila couldn’t help but laugh out loud, "I knew it, I knew this would happen, haha... Mister Blasphemer, just wait for the cordial greetings from your older brother. Dora, set up the Revival Array."

These black flowers have a specific term, grudge blossoms.

As the name implies, these flowers of resentment only bloom in graveyards filled with grudges, staying for three years before they completely wither away, never to grow again, signifying that the resentment has been exhausted.

Dilila waved her hand, and shadowy mists enveloped the grudge blossoms; when she withdrew it, the black flowers had all turned to dust, falling back to the earth.

Although they were called grudge blossoms, they were not a material for casting spells of Undead Necromancy; on the contrary, Undead Necromancers saw them as prodigals who squandered the accumulated resentment energy.

"A Revival Array? My lady, do you intend to summon a Revived Corpse?" Dora asked in shock, "Isn’t the price a bit steep for this? Once successful, for the one year and one day that this Revived Corpse exists, you will suffer a Negative Rank, not to mention that we won’t have complete control over the Revived Corpse."

"A Negative Rank in exchange for an enemy that cannot be utterly killed, is there a more worthwhile deal than this?" the laughter of the High Priest of the Undead Vengeance Goddess brimmed with unmistakable pride. "The Revived Corpse shares a common goal with us, why would we need to control it when the time comes? Trust that after dying a few times, he will actively seek our help.

Do you really think that a Blasphemer who has defiled the divine multiple times is so easy to deal with?

The ones eradicated this time weren’t fools like Daphne who overestimated themselves.

These were two Dwarves Vampires; even the form of the Goddess has been desecrated, and Belinda has been so frightened that she’s gone back into hiding."

"Going forward, we must tread with the utmost caution at every step."

There must be some unknown method of communication among these followers of the Undead Vengeance Goddess.

At the very least, a sacrificer like Dilila who held sway over the much larger plot would certainly be the first to receive news should any strong follower of the Undead Vengeance Goddess run into trouble, and they would respond accordingly.

"My lady’s foresight is incomparable to mine," said Dora, fully convinced and daring not to ask further.

It is only because the High Priestess’s wish was fulfilled today, and she was in a good mood, that she explained so much to her.

If she were in a bad mood, she might have already met the lash twice over.

Dilila disliked questioning, even well-intentioned reminders weren’t welcome.

The two Undead Necromancers had a plethora of spellcasting materials prepared; by midnight, a dark Ritual Array made of bones, fresh blood, and various other dark materials was set up.

At the stroke of midnight, Dilila suddenly crushed the black Crystal Ball in her hand.

Ah, ah, ah...

Ow, ow, ow...

Hou, hou, hou...

For a moment, it was mayhem amongst the horde of demons.

Hundreds of souls, frantically dancing and howling, venting endless rage, wanting to tear their enemies to pieces.

Soul Prison.

A wicked Magic Item specially used to imprison souls.

It was also one of the reasons for the notoriety of Undead Necromancers.

The soul was the key ingredient for many of their spells.

To collect such materials, many evil Undead Necromancers would plant Soul Prisons in densely populated villages and then spread plagues or incite wars with their undead minions.

The Soul Prison in Dilila’s hand clearly came from such means.

Because the souls she released were mostly in the form of human spirits—men, women, old, and young—with a small part being the feeble spirits of cats, dogs, cattle, and horses.

For this Soul Prison, likely an entire village had been slaughtered.

As to whether Dilila did it herself or obtained the Soul Prison from someone else, it was unknown.

No matter how these souls twisted and turned, they couldn’t escape the dark Ritual Array.

On the contrary, their emergence fully activated that array.

They were but a group of pitiful sacrifices, fuel for the summoning.

They were quickly devoured by the dark array, becoming the energy to invoke even greater Dark Power.

A huge coffee-colored female hand adorned with multiple silver rings suddenly appeared above the dark ceremonial array and reached down towards the target below, grasping it.

Boom!

The ground burst open fiercely.

A large hole about three to four meters deep appeared, exposing a pile of ash mingled with mud. Follow current novels on ɴovᴇl(ꜰ)ir(e).nᴇt

Seeing this, Dilila, who had revealed herself, furrowed her brow tightly, "I didn’t expect that there’d be a professional who had helped clean up here, but such a ceremony can only prevent it from becoming common Undead; it can’t stop the resurrection as a Revived Corpse. Revenge is divine, unblockable; this is the divine decree of Chiaranlisha, following the Will of Revenge, rise, Rogan Nuote."

As she finished speaking, Dilila’s voice soared high into the clouds.

When the name of the deceased was uttered, a terrifying Strength poured in from the hand symbolizing the Goddess of Undead Vengeance.

More precisely, the entire hand pressed down, sinking directly into the heap of ashes.

"Gaven..." A roar filled with boundless rage echoed forth.