Michael wanted to let out a curse.

Did that Rank Three have no shame, sneaking up on a harmless Rank Two junior?

However, even after a few seconds passed, the attacker did not reappear.

That did not make Michael feel relieved.

If anything, it made things worse.

After all, he was in the open and they were in the dark.

Compared to them, he was the one exposed.

Michael's grip on his spear tightened.

Without hesitation, he issued a silent command.

Spartan, come.

The undead who looked eerily human was still ahead, locked in combat with two Rank Three demons.

The order reached him instantly.

He disengaged without hesitation.

The two Rank Three demons he had been fighting reacted a heartbeat too late.

Spartan stepped backward in midair, and in that same motion, the air in front of him ignited in black flames as he used his law.

Mana traced itself in the air, forming a flawless magic circle that burned briefly before collapsing inward.

A fire spell detonated.

One demon crossed its arms to block.

They vaporized at the elbows.

The other demon roared and unleashed its law, hardening its body into jagged crimson armor. Its claws tore forward, carrying corrosive force that warped the air.

Spartan did not move.

Another magic circle formed.

Black flames poured out and clung to the demon's armored flesh like living ink. The demon screamed as its energy and flesh were eaten away, peeled from existence layer by layer. Its strength collapsed inward, feeding the fire instead of resisting it.

The remaining demon howled.

Its eyes flared blue and the air around it liquefied.

Water burst into existence from nothingness. It was not simple water either. It shimmered with layered pressure, dense enough to bend light, heavy enough to crush steel.

The space around Spartan flooded instantly.

Waves spiraled upward, forming a rotating prison of compressed water that closed in from every direction. Within it, pressure multiplied again and again, seeking to grind everything inside into formless pulp.

A weaker supernatural would have been torn apart in an instant.

Spartan did not even slow.

The water touched the edge of his black flames.

And vanished, looking as though it had been consumed.

The demon's pupil shrank.

"No!"

It forced more power into the law, veins bulging as the water thickened, turning dark and viscous, carrying crushing force meant to drown even spiritual bodies.

The black flames flared.

They spread through the water instead of being smothered by it, devouring the law energy itself like fuel. Wherever the flames passed, the water ceased to exist, leaving behind empty pockets of distorted air.

The demon staggered.

Spartan stepped forward.

Another magic circle traced itself in the air.

A column of black fire descended like judgment.

It struck the demon from above, piercing through the remaining water defenses as if they were illusions. The demon screamed as the flames sank into its chest, spreading inward.

The water prison imploded.

What remained of the demon fell apart midair, its body breaking into fragments of dissolving ash before being swallowed entirely by the flames.

The power ranking of Michael's undead legion was a bit crooked, as one could not absolutely say one undead was stronger than another. Surface ranking was possible, but Michael, who knew more about his undead than anyone else, understood that if it came down to a fight to total destruction, his undead were capable of many surprises.

As for why he did not call any of his other undead immediately, just because they were strong did not mean they were the best at protecting.

At least to Michael's understanding, an undead like Ghost was strong, but it was not exactly versatile while being strong at the same time.

In any case, Spartan was not the only undead he had called out immediately.

The other one was simply somewhere in the dark.

Spartan turned and got ready to appear beside Michael when killing intent stabbed through the chaos from behind him.

Michael's instincts screamed, but fortunately he had already been prepared from the start.

Space folded for an instant.

The assassin struck where Michael had been, a blade of condensed force slicing through empty air with terrifying accuracy. It missed by less than a breath, but was immediately met by another strike made by a figure in a black coat.

It was Fade, the other undead Michael had called out to protect him, except he had not been as loud about it as he had been with Spartan.

Phase Shift.

Michael reappeared several meters away when a second figure emerged from concealment the moment Michael reformed, timing the strike perfectly for the instant his spatial displacement ended.

Michael barely had time to react.

His spear snapped up.

CLANG.

The impact rang out like a struck bell.

For a fraction of a second, Michael blocked it, but that fraction was all he got.

The force behind the blow was monstrous. Michael's arms screamed, and the power embedded in the strike detonated outward instead of dispersing.

BOOM.

Michael was hurled downward.

The air collapsed behind him as he fell like a meteor, before slamming into the ground below.

The earth exploded.

A crater dozens of meters wide bloomed outward, stone and soil vaporizing instantly as shockwaves rippled through the battlefield.

The moment Michael was sent crashing into the ground, every undead within range reacted at once.

The undead that had been locked in combat with demons twisted mid-fight, heads snapping toward the crater, and started moving instinctively, abandoning their current opponents as if drawn by an invisible thread.

But before they could fully converge, a voice echoed inside their minds.

It was a familiar voice.

Continue fighting, the voice told them.

The undead froze for a fraction of a second, just long enough to realign, then turned back to the battlefield, fury redirected, violence renewed. Demons who thought they had found an opening were torn apart moments later, punished for the brief lapse.

Only two undead did not go after the other demons.

Spartan.

And Fade.

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