Chapter 638: We All Die Together
Curing the Curse
The Underworld is unsuitable for technological development. Perhaps it is due to the abundance of metal ores, or the free-floating energy in the air, but the magnetic field here is highly unstable. Signals sent out are either blocked or interfered with, preventing effective transmission.
Luke had to constantly move, searching for a stable signal source.
By the time he reached the battlefield, the fighting had been over for some time.
The pockmarked ground was littered with skeletal remains, suggesting a massive battle had taken place. Curiously, there was no smell of blood in the air, and no flesh residue on the ground—only several thousand dessicated skeletons.
A black fog lingered overhead, refusing to dissipate, radiating an eerie, cold aura.
Luke frowned slightly and quickly rushed to Diana's side. All three heroes were unconscious. Nearby was the dazed Akorn.
The AI relayed the events in detail. Upon learning that the injured, broken-limbed creature before him was the mastermind behind it all, Luke cast an intensely cold glance at Akorn. The City Lord's body stiffened, and he instinctively begged,
"Please, let me go! I know I was wrong."
"I'll do whatever you ask! I swear I won't ever dare again!"
Luke ignored him and walked up to Clark. As his finger touched Superman's skin, he felt a sensation of decay and coldness.
"A curse?"
He looked up at the sky. That black fog seemed to be the source of the curse. It was draining the trio's strength, causing their fatigue, and even driving them into unconsciousness.
"I'd like to see how strong you are."
Luke sneered, leaped into the air, and raised his hand. Green fire surged out, morphing into three vicious dragons that plunged into the black fog.
Shrieks erupted from the mist. The fog churned, fiercely battling the green fire. The air crackled as the two forces wrestled. The green fire couldn't immediately gain the upper hand.
Luke frowned slightly, then increased the fire output. The three dragons became twenty-four, then one hundred and eight. The green flame spread across the sky, turning the area into a burning green inferno.
The soul-scorching pain made Akorn's scalp crawl. He realized how incredibly lucky he had been. If this creature had been present earlier, the battle would never have lasted as long as it did.
Though the black fog was potent, it was ultimately water without a source. Under the relentless assault of the green fire, it gradually dissolved, eventually vanishing entirely.
After dealing with the black fog, Luke returned to Clark, placing his hand over his heart.
"Don't touch him!" Akorn warned nervously. "You'll be cursed!"
Luke gave him a cold look. The three heroes might be afflicted by the curse, but Luke would not be. He was a soul form without a physical body. Furthermore, with the protection of his green fire, this curse was useless.
Black mist leaked out from Clark's chest and flowed into Luke's body. Large, dense, horrifying black patches appeared on his soul-form's surface.
Luke ignored them, continuing to absorb the black mist from Clark until he was mostly clear. He then moved on to J'onn and Diana, repeating the process to extract the black fog from their bodies.
He was now completely "black." The black mist moved within his soul body, consuming, plundering, and wreaking as much havoc as possible.
Luke closed his eyes. Green fire surged around him, slowly destroying the vile contamination.
Once the black mist was gone, the three heroes quickly woke up. Their exhausted bodies held no strength, but at least the pain was gone.
"Luke!"
"Don't disturb him," J'onn said, catching his breath. "He can handle it."
Diana was silent. Recalling the events, a shiver of fear ran through her. The Underworld was too bizarre, possessing such an undefendable power.
A curse!
She clenched her right fist and glared fiercely at Akorn, who shrunk his neck, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. That was a curse that even Gods couldn't withstand! How did these three just revive?
What are they, exactly?!
It took Luke ten full minutes to completely purge the black fog and return to his normal state.
Diana asked with concern, "Are you alright? Any side effects?"
Luke shook his head. "I'm fine. What about you?"
"Very tired, and weak."
"We are, too."
Luke brought over the armor and cloaks he had painstakingly crafted. "Put these on. We'll be staying here for a while."
The curse had not only affected their bodies but also left wounds on their souls, which would not be easy to heal.
The four left the battlefield and settled down in a remote location.
The New City Lord's Despair
Meanwhile, the news of the defeat reached the top of Dragonhold. The Great Underworld Dragon spread its wings, dominating the entire sky. Its wrath was like a volcanic eruption, exerting immense pressure.
"Incompetent Akorn, worthless trash!"
"Where is he?"
The messenger replied nervously, "The City Lord... he seems to have died."
The Dragon's fury momentarily subsided.
Those who died in battle should receive basic respect; otherwise, no one would fight for him again. Although Avogadro was violent, he was clear on this point.
"What about the others?"
"They are all dead. No one survived."
"Five thousand soldiers, including the Half-Dragon Guard, all gone so quickly."
The messenger guard crawled on the ground, not daring to utter a word.
Avogadro, enraged, opened his mouth and swallowed the messenger whole.
"Summon someone!"
Bero, the Vice-Captain of the Half-Dragon Guard, quickly marched in and roared fiercely,
"Your Majesty, I request that you declare war! For Dragonhold and for your dignity! We must capture them and have them sliced a thousand times!"
Avogadro lowered his mountainous head, staring coldly at him. Bero's face was tight and flushed red, like a raging beast.
After a moment, Avogadro withdrew his gaze.
"Capture them, and you will be the next City Lord."
"You will not be disappointed, Your Majesty, I promise!"
Bero turned to leave, his steps firm and powerful, radiating fearless authority. Yet, the moment he stepped off the mountain peak, he collapsed to his knees.
A nearby person rushed to help him but was instantly decapitated by Bero's sword.
Bero, covered in the other's blood, stumbled downward step by step. Only upon reaching his own quarters did he completely collapse.
Sweat poured from his forehead, and his eyes revealed undeniable fear.
He knew he was finished. The five thousand plus soldiers, including the Half-Dragon Guard, were the absolute peak military force of Dragonhold. They had been slaughtered in under half an hour. This meant the two sides were not even on the same playing field.
Those four were likely gods, perhaps even on par with the Underworld Dragon itself.
Only the strong could fight the strong. The weak who rushed in were just committing suicide. He had just passed maturity and still had hundreds of years left to live. He didn't want to die like this.
But what could he do to avoid death?
The King's command could not be defied, but the path ahead was certain death. He was truly stuck.
After much deliberation, Bero hardened his heart. He used the authority granted by Avogadro to summon every available warrior in Dragonhold—tens of thousands of them. Under his rallying cry, they armed themselves and marched toward the boundless plains.
To save his own life, he had to resort to an extreme measure.
If I must die, we all die together!
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