Chapter 116: The Day the Ember Extinguished

However, at this very moment, the situation of Amy Ulysses, who was the focus of all attention, was dire.

Because...

There was no road left ahead.

It was not that he had stumbled into a dead end, but rather... the path before him was completely blocked.

By a swarm of walking corpses.

There was no time to ponder the subtle dissonance of the word "dead end." The youth slowed his pace slightly—a "swarm," or perhaps a "horde," were descriptions far too inadequate for the sheer scale of the situation. As thousands upon thousands of the living dead stumbled out from every direction, clogging the Third Boulevard leading to the Tower of the Supreme so tightly that not even water could pass, even Amy felt a flicker of frustration.

But that was all. The youth was never one to be defeated by setbacks. The situation was unfavorable, but it was not without a way to break through.

And the simplest of these was—

To charge straight through!

There was no time to consider a safer route. The unknown "Dark Lords" behind him were closing in step by step. Once bogged down by this sea of the dead, what awaited him would undoubtedly be a grueling battle to the death. After all, he did not believe that this perfectly timed blockade was merely a coincidence. If this was not another power of his enemy, then... he might need to prepare himself to face two foes at once.

Therefore, he had to act fast and decisively!

Without casting a single glance behind him, he maintained the rhythm of his breathing and began to sprint.

To be more precise, he charged.

Like an enraged bull, his speed increased. Facing the rotting corpses only inches away, their mouths agape to reveal wriggling maggots—

He simply swung his sword.

Without dodging, without hesitation, like a knight galloping on a noble steed, the young Glorifier plunged into the enemy ranks with an unstoppable momentum.

Like a dinner knife slicing through butter, the horde was effortlessly split in two.

It was impossibly simple.

Was it a mere feint, or a trap to lure him deeper?

The battle-hardened Amy Ulysses thought instinctively, but whether it was a clumsy feint or a carefully constructed trap, it no longer mattered.

Because all he could do was move forward! Ever forward!

Kill.

Swing, swing, swing!

And then, finally, the true threat revealed itself—

In the darkness, someone brandished a scepter. The staff, adorned with hundreds of skulls of various sizes, struck the ground heavily. Two ghostly blue flames ignited, illuminating the hollowed-out eye sockets and the fleshless bones of the undead figure.

As its jaws moved, the skeleton, devoid of vocal cords, emitted a murmur unintelligible to the living.

It ceased abruptly on a high note.

The avatar of calamity, named Death, had completed its incantation.

Then, the young Glorifier’s pupils contracted sharply.

At the same time, the thousands of corpses fell into an inexplicable stagnation. Like puppets whose strings had been cut, they all became dull and rigid, and a fraction of a second later, they simultaneously transformed into blood-red fireworks, symbols of death and destruction.

—Corpse Explosion.

Even though Amy had sensed something amiss before the crisis erupted, in that brief instant, there was no time to mount an effective defense. Following the instinct that had saved him from the brink of death so many times, he rolled on the ground to avoid the most dangerous blast zone, minimizing the impact as much as possible.

But the result was unsatisfactory.

It was not because he had suffered severe injuries from the explosion, but simply because... due to this delay, the real enemy had arrived.

Die!

The Harbinger of Death’s way of greeting was always simple, direct, and brutal. Without any warning, he materialized behind the youth like a ghost, his twin short blades aiming for the throat and vital organs of the chest and abdomen. Had Amy not possessed such keen intuition, this single ambush would have been enough to cripple or kill him.

Unfortunately, that assumption was a false premise.

At this critical moment, the Glorifier’s intuition did not fail him. He accurately predicted the enemy’s attack, dodging and weaving, perfectly neutralizing the strike from the Dark Lord.

But this was not the end. Amy was never content with merely surviving. Once it became clear that he could not shake off the enemy’s pursuit, he instantly shifted his strategy. He lunged into the Harbinger’s embrace, giving the opponent no time to react, and unleashed a flurry of close-quarters strikes within a few short breaths.

He sent the Dark Lord stumbling back!

Press the advantage—

If it were anyone else, they might not have let go of the rhythm they had fought so hard to seize, but Amy did exactly that. Without even glancing at the black-haired, red-eyed man, he kept his eyes shut and, as if possessed by foresight, suddenly retreated.

Then, a spear made of white bone tore through the air, grazing his trench coat. It pierced through several corpses aligned in its path, pinning them to a wall dozens of meters away like a skewer, only then did the roar of the wind reach his ears.

Sure enough... there was another enemy hidden in the shadows.

His gaze remained steady as the youth withdrew.

Facing two enemies at once was unwise; even knowing it was difficult to escape their entanglement, he had to retreat for the time being.

However.

The path ahead was blocked.

A skeleton nearly two meters tall stepped out from the darkness. Its snowy-white frame and the ghostly flames burning in its eye sockets spoke of its extraordinary nature, but what was even more startling were the three bone spears hovering before it.

This is... an ability!?

Despite his surprise, Amy’s movements did not falter for a second. His black trench coat flared as he surged forward like an arrow, neither dodging nor evading, charging straight ahead.

As expected, the three bone spears were fired simultaneously, completely sealing off his space for evasion.

The air was displaced, and the biting wind pressure greeted him first.

—I cannot escape.

In the blink of an eye, the youth realized this, and then... he swung his sword.

Not to slash, but to parry.

In terms of strength, it was not that he couldn't do the former, but simply... there was no time.

His counterattack might have caught the Dark Lord who had been hounding him off guard, but that was all; it had dealt no significant damage. Even though he had disengaged from the battlefield immediately afterward, the interception he now faced would inevitably affect him. If he delayed any further, he would surely fall into the trap of being attacked from both sides.

Therefore, fast, be fast, be faster!

His short sword struck sparks. The young Glorifier’s forward momentum inevitably stalled upon impact. He parried one spear that was about to pierce his left chest, while the other two grazed his waist and temple. His trench coat, already stained dark red from previous battles, was torn by a long gash, and strands of hair from his right side were shorn off by the wind.

Next, push through!

Amy maintained his unstoppable momentum, pressing forward like a turbulent wave, like a mountain.

If the one blocking his path had been an ordinary person, they might have been terrified by now, but the snowy-white avatar of calamity merely tapped its skull-topped scepter. The ghostly blue fire in its eye sockets flared, and the sound of the dead, which should have been impossible, manifested once more through the clacking of its jaws.

That was—

The Words of Blasphemy!

A type of sonic wave intolerable to the human mind pierced the youth’s brain. His pace slowed, his steady gait became unsteady, and he stumbled, nearly falling several times.

Although he regained his clarity within a single breath and balanced his body, that short breath had become a chasm between success and failure—an insurmountable chasm.

Because the Harbinger of Death had already appeared behind him.

Besieged from both front and back.

The situation was dire. Amy’s mind, however, became strangely tranquil. Without wasting time on useless thoughts, he closed his eyes and, acting entirely on instinct, spun around to parry the backstab from the Dark Lord, then tilted his body slightly, letting the enemy’s other attack pass through empty air.

However, this was the limit of what he could do.

The avatar of calamity, named Death, abandoned other attacks that required preparation and adopted the simplest, most brutal method. Behind the youth, it swung the scepter adorned with hundreds of skulls.

At this moment, the overextended Glorifier could only tilt his body slightly. The staff, as tall as a man, slammed heavily into his shoulder joint. With a crisp "crack," his left arm sank significantly, hanging limp as if all the bones had been shattered.

"Ugh—"

He could not help but let out a suppressed groan. The sudden agony and the immense force from his shoulder nearly made him lose his footing. With no time to think or hesitate, he simply abandoned resistance and rolled with the force, just barely causing the Dark Lord’s follow-up strike to hit nothing but air.

But even Amy knew that this was merely a final, dying struggle.

There was no chance left.

This was certain. Even if this were only a future foreseen by the Premonition of Death, it was difficult for him to alter a future where two powerful enemies were closing in with intent and consciousness.

The disparity in strength was too vast.

Crimson blood spilled from a cut on his lip. The youth gritted his teeth; at this point, he could only gamble on the possibilities of the Premonition of Death.

Thinking this, he met the deadly sword light.

The next moment, the world descended into darkness.

Not the world of Amy Ulysses, but the world of Hermetica itself.

—The flame had gone out.

In the hands of the girl named Pandora, it crumbled into a pile of scattered dust.