As the lich stirred, myriads of ghosts burst from the temple depths with a piercing wail. These bodiless entities, like pale female souls with eyes full of endless hatred, passed easily through walls. Extending clawed hands, they dove from above.
Meanwhile, a crowd of withered corpses poured from the temple gates—seven or eight figures. By their decayed armor and weapons, all were Superhumans in life, but the lich had turned their bodies into mindless puppet corpses.
In the fire sea, the three heroes reacted differently.
Roger formed a seal, and faint spiritual power glow enveloped his body, easily deflecting the flames. His silver sword trembled; the warrior blurred into a silhouette, slicing through the fire curtain straight at the lich.
Zoltan, farther back, quickly retreated a few steps out of the fire zone and raised his spirit rifle.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Bullets hit the lich precisely but shattered against the gray Magical Shield, dealing no harm.
Renn's body was covered in ice armor—the effect of second-circle Ice Armor Arts enchanted into his warhammer. Protected from fire, he didn't charge but stayed put, concentrating spiritual power. He targeted Roger and applied Dragon Strength.
The lich's mirror copies were mere illusions, unable to cast real spells. Renn's Soul Eye instantly identified the real one—leftmost.
He was about to warn Roger but saw him heading for the left figure—clearly spotting the fake too.
Roger's speed was incredible. The legendary demon hunter unleashed full power, moving faster than Renn's Charge. In a blink, he was before the real lich.
The undead sorcerer hadn't expected this—had to interrupt the spell midway and Blink away.
Blink.
Roger's silver sword cleaved empty air. Continuing, he destroyed both illusory copies—they burst like soap bubbles, scattering into light shards.
The hunter stopped and glanced back. The lich had Blinked beyond the temple, onto a building roof, now closer to Zoltan.
"Legendary demon hunter…" the lich hissed. Flames in its sockets danced furiously—it seemed frightened.
Zoltan heard the voice, spun, and unleashed a barrage.
Bullets exploded on the lich's shield. Though not penetrating, they forced the sorcerer back, disrupting spell focus.
Roger stepped forward to pursue but sensed something. Looking up, he saw a ghostly dragon head descending on him. Skin covered in rainbow scales, body filled with immense power—strength felt inexhaustible.
He glanced surprised at Renn, nodded shortly, and charged the lich again.
By then, five or six ghosts had reached Renn. Their translucent clawed paws nearly touched him.
Boom!
A wave of pale-purple energy burst from Renn's belt. The powerful Secret Explosion impulse instantly turned all ghosts in range to dust, clearing the space.
Renn swung his warhammer and rushed the puppet corpses at the temple gates.
The heavy hammer whistled through air and smashed the nearest corpse. Tall, in half-rotted armor—likely a mid-rank Iron Guard in life. As puppet, much weakened. The hammer pulverized its skull.
Ice aura from the weapon surged, freezing nearby corpses.
With a few sweeping blows, Renn reduced the rest to rubble, clearing the obstacles.
Compared to the lich itself, its summoned ghosts and puppets were very weak.
Renn glanced back and saw the lich shift again—Blinked onto Mahaal's statue, standing on the deity's shoulder but not daring to defile its face.
This act instantly enraged Zoltan. He roared in fury.
The lich looked down at the dwarf and applied Malicious Gaze. Zoltan instantly felt paralyzed—frozen in place, eyes only movable.
Exploiting Roger not yet reaching it, the lich quickly flipped a page in its rune book, muttered a short spell, and deathly breath spread from its feet. The statue and ground around shrouded in gray mist, covering a wide area.
Withering Ground!
Zoltan was in the spell's zone. Gray pallor crept over his face; he withered, life force rapidly draining.
While the lich cast two spells in row, Roger was already there.
The demon hunter climbed the statue; his silver sword blazed bright, blade tip a step from the foe.
But this time, the lich didn't Blink away. Instead, it emitted a piercing laugh:
"One of you dies first!
With this mad cry, it ignored Roger's sword—which sliced through its shield like butter and pierced its body. The lich's staff unleashed a gray-white Death Ray straight at immobilized Zoltan.
As the spell finished, the lich's body vanished—moments before the silver blade would cleave it in half.
The lich rematerialized afar, staggering. Not even restoring shield, it smugly turned, expecting to see the Death Ray obliterate the dwarf.
But to its surprise, the ray missed.
A tall figure flashed past the dwarf at incredible speed, yanking him from Withering Ground. The Death Ray hit ground mere centimeter away.
"A-a-ah!" the lich howled in rage, socket flames dancing.
It risked injury to kill one foe, harvest his soul, recharge its phylactery, sustain existence—and the plan failed!
"I'll kill this lich myself! Smash its phylactery! Scatter its ashes to the wind!" Zoltan bellowed, recovering from Malicious Gaze paralysis.
He'd been scared to death—if not for Renn, he'd be dead.
"Its Blink is near-instant; killing it won't be easy," Renn noted. Soul Eye clearly saw the lich's elements, especially Blink. Third-circle spell cast effortlessly. Renn suspected the lich honed it for centuries here.
Without counter to Blink, attacking the lich was extremely hard.
"Hmph, leave it to me," Roger raised his sword, stepped aside, and dissolved into shadows, vanishing.
Shadow Slip!
Renn finally understood why, that night under Longsand, when he killed Iceberg, he never noticed Roger.
Turns out, he had Shadow Slip element.
A demon hunter who could turn invisible—unbelievable but possible.
Shadow Slip wasn't exclusive to Shadow Warrior. Any confident Superhuman unafraid of element conflict could pick another class's main soul as auxiliary.
Thus gaining multi-class abilities, though extremely hard.
For Renn now, Shadow Slip was useless. Under Truth's Will, he easily saw Roger silently approaching the lich from another angle.
Renn pretended not to notice and applied Dragon Strength twice, buffing himself and Zoltan.
Together, coordinating with Roger, they assaulted the lich.
Renn charged down the wide street, ground shaking like under a heavy rhino.
Meanwhile, the lich, noticing Roger's disappearance, flipped through its rune book, preparing a new spell.
Moments later, a dark-green light ring appeared at its feet.
Renn, charging ahead, recognized it—fourth-circle Ring of Weakness. Anyone touching it suffered death energy weakening strength and corrupting mind.
The Ring of Weakness expanded rapidly, distorting air, shielding the lich inside.
Roger halted outside the ring, waiting for opening.
Renn flashed past him and, instants before entering Ring of Weakness, activated Charge.
Whoosh!
Renn's figure vanished and reappeared inside the ring. Death energy enveloped him, slightly slowing; sinister emanations tried piercing skin but partly blocked by Dragon Scale. Strength dipped a bit, but he relentlessly bore toward the lich.
Lich socket flames danced. It applied Malicious Gaze on Renn.
Standard caster tactic: paralyze foe first, then finish safely.
Malicious Gaze was rare third-circle spell, only for Lord of the Dead worshippers—warlocks and necromancers.
The lich honed it for decades, instant-cast level. One glance usually sufficed to immobilize most foes. Never failed before.
But this time, Malicious Gaze failed.
Spell clearly targeted the youth, spiritual power spent, but no effect—he continued unstoppable charge!
Moreover, Ring of Weakness's mind-corrupting also seemed ineffective, merely slowing him slightly.
The lich was utterly stunned.
Before comprehending, Renn was upon it. Two steps—and warhammer about to smash down.
"Must flee!"
The lich abandoned prepared Ring of Weakness, risking clash with lurking legendary hunter in shadows.
But before thought formed, a rainbow beam flashed, striking its shield. Beam glare blinded it; socket fire points nearly extinguished.
"This guy… a mage?!"
In panic, lich activated Blink.
Blind, teleport spot random—rematerialized in corner by wall.
Silver blade, lightning-fast, slashed, instantly shattering shield.
Sensing death, lich ignored magic backlash from overuse and Blinked again.
This time, short distance.
As lich regained footing, blindness passed; socket flames reignited. It glimpsed only blue-white warhammer filling vision.
Crack!
With deafening crunch, lich's head exploded into pieces.
No brains, no blood—just headless skin-wrapped body slowly slumping.
Wary of undead trickery, Renn hammered twice more, reducing body to rubble.
Roger appeared nearby. Actually, only half-step behind Renn.
Even without Renn's help, lich wouldn't escape his next strike.
Roger stared at Renn in surprise. How? How did he Charge past a legendary hunter, predict lich's Blink spot, strike perfectly?
Then Zoltan arrived, slowest, barely in final clash.
"Ptoo!" the dwarf spat on remains and asked, "This thing dead?
"Afraid not," Roger slowly shook head, eyeing temple. "Destroying lich body is just first step. Must find phylactery, or it'll revive in days.
Renn was certain too.
Because he hadn't absorbed the lich's soul. Upon body death, soul simply vanished.
"It dared defile Mahaal's temple and statue! I must find its phylactery and destroy it forever!" Zoltan seethed. Follower of Mahaal, no dwarf tolerates such blasphemy.
But finding phylactery was hard.
Lich trapped here, so phylactery somewhere levels three to five. Those three levels size of small city; phylactery palm-sized. Like needle in haystack.
"How long for lich revival?" Zoltan asked.
"Three to seven days," Renn replied, recalling books.
"We must find phylactery now!" Zoltan, fire-driven, rushed back into Mahaal's temple to search lich's hideout.
Roger began scanning surroundings.
Renn didn't rush. He picked up lich's staff and rune book.
Both fine enchanted gear, especially rune book—top quality, holding five spells. Some necromancy school, but replaceable by enchanter. Worth ten-twenty thousand gold shields.
Lich robe enchanted too, but filthy, stinking, battle-damaged—Renn ignored.
Stashing loot, Renn joined phylactery search.
Not blindly. Full-power Soul Eye plus Truth's Will's Truth Eye instantly found trace.
Faint spiritual power thread from lich remains led specific direction.
Renn followed the spiderweb-thin energy strand.
Moments later, reached goal.
Surprisingly, lich hid phylactery nearby. Still in this dungeon, secluded spot—under stone building, covered by slab and rubble pile, looking like ruins.
Renn cleared rubble, one hammer blow shattered slab, revealing basement stairs.
Scanning carefully, no magic traps, descended. Saw bone altar.
On altar: palm-sized black box, like jewelry case. Surface etched with runes and magic symbols, emanating death energy aura.
Phylactery active.
From it rose shimmering dust cloud, merging with death energy, slowly forming withered human silhouette.
"Found it!" Renn smirked, licking lips at phylactery sight.
To him, not just lich phylactery—a massive portable battery!
***