Chapter 137: Puppet
The Lich King raised its staff, the soul-trapped crystal on top pulsing with a nauseating blue light, and the very air on the bridge grew thick and cold. "You face a master of the arcane arts, little elf, your divine light is but a candle against my storm."
Serian did not reply, she simply took a ready stance, her sword held in both hands as her golden aura intensified, casting long, stark shadows across the bridge.
"Then let the storm break."
The Lich King flicked its wrist. The polished black stone of the bridge rippled, and a dozen skeletal arms erupted from the surface, their bony fingers grasping for Serian’s ankles. At the same time, a volley of spectral skulls shot forward, not in a straight line, but in a corkscrew pattern designed to bypass a simple frontal defense.
’A pincer attack from two different planes,’ Nox thought, his new combat senses analyzing the engagement. ’He’s testing her, trying to overwhelm her focus.’
Serian did not try to dodge. She stomped her foot, and a shockwave of pure, golden light radiated from her, shattering the skeletal arms into dust. Then, with a fluid grace that seemed impossible, she began to spin, her sword a continuous, flowing circle of light that met the spiraling skulls head-on. The skulls slammed into her spinning defense and were annihilated one by one, the sound like a series of sharp, musical chimes.
The Lich King watched, its blue-fire eyes narrowing slightly. "Impressive, you have some skill, I will grant you that." It raised its staff again, the crystal glowing brighter. "But I have had ten thousand years to perfect my craft."
The very air around Serian grew heavy and cold, her golden aura flickering as an invisible pressure bore down on her. Her movements became sluggish, her breath catching in her throat.
[Analysis: Necrotic-class energy suppression field. Drains stamina and mana from targets with opposing alignments. Highly efficient.]
"Mela, now!" Nox barked.
Mela, who had been waiting on the edge of the bridge, did not hesitate. Her hand was a blur as she unleashed a volley of silver needles. They were not aimed at the Lich King, who was shrouded in his own magical defenses, but at the soul-trapped crystal atop its staff.
A shimmering blue barrier flared to life around the staff, but Mela’s needles, each one imbued with her poison, slammed into it with enough force to make it flicker violently. It was not enough to break the barrier, but it was enough to disrupt the curse for a moment.