Chapter 122: A True Magician, A True Mage
Ordinary zombies were far weaker than their living counterparts. The zombie balor, for instance, was hacked to pieces by its former companions in no time.
Despite the vast sea of undead surging across the battlefield, their actual combat strength was fairly mediocre. A single fireball could easily wipe out great swaths of them.
Visually, however, an endless horde of undead charging forward was still an arresting sight.
The demons were completely caught off guard and were heavily suppressed in the opening moments of Ambrose's counterattack.
Ambrose, naturally, had no intention of wasting this opportunity.
One devastating spell after another rained down from the sky, blasting the demons until they howled in agony.
Thick clouds of virulent poison formed above the dretches. Their bodies began to smoke violently as their skin rotted away, flesh dissolving into foul sludge until only bleached white skeletons remained.
Then the bones clawed their way out of the muck and rose once more, now in Ambrose's service.
The surviving balors barely had time to feel relieved that their zombified comrade had been torn apart before they turned and saw even more undead charging straight at them.