Chapter 288: Death Power: Perfect for Group Beatings, and the Importance of Finishing Blows

The Spirit Calling Bell rang.

One by one, souls materialized before Arthur.

The Mimic Tear, identical to Arthur in every detail.Banished Knight Oleg, clad in heavy knight armor.Redmane Knight Ogha, resolute and battle-hardened.Soldiers from across the Lands Between, wielding all manner of weapons.Demi-humans in coordinated formations.Small, vicious imps capable of inflicting bleed.Rabid hounds that spewed scarlet rot.

Different shapes. Different races.

Yet they stood in perfect order.

Even Maliketh felt the pressure.

Arthur flicked his hand forward.

The undead army and elite spirit legion surged as one.

To Maliketh, the undead were merely troublesome insects.

With the Black Blade in hand, he carved through them effortlessly.

But every fallen undead detonated in Deathflame.

Explosions of black-white fire burst outward—

Clinging to Maliketh's wounds.

Corroding him from within.

Maliketh was forced to divert attention to purge the invasive death energy.

Truthfully—

He did not truly master Destined Death.

He had taken it from the Gloam-Eyed Queen.

He wielded it like a weapon—

Nothing more.

When he once devoured Deathroot, it was because the Rune was sealed inside him.

Now it resided in the Black Blade.

If he consumed Deathroot again—

He would become one of Those Who Live in Death.

Thus—

He could not convert Destined Death into his own source power.

Which meant—

Arthur's Death authority could erode him.

Maliketh had to use the Black Blade to purge the corruption repeatedly.

Meanwhile—

Arthur's elite spirits engaged.

Maliketh fought on two fronts—

Clearing death energy from within,

Defending against coordinated assault without.

Arthur added intermittent long-range strikes.

The once-mighty Shadowbound Beast—

Marika's sworn blade—

Looked increasingly battered.

Wounds accumulated.

Of course, many spirits fell.

Arthur did not care.

Their essence was bound to Spirit Ashes.

As long as the ashes remained—

They could be summoned again.

So each time Maliketh cleared a wave—

Another wave returned.

Eventually, Maliketh had enough.

He fully activated Destined Death.

A devastating burst erased everything around him—

Spirits and undead alike.

He stared at Arthur.

"What other tricks do you have? Show them all."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Gladly."

He lifted the Death Staff.

Before him—

A swirling vortex began to form.

Colorful.

Expanding rapidly.

Inspired by Maliketh's earlier blade storm—

But different.

Arthur infused it with everything he commanded:

Death authorityBlood powerCurse energyTime distortionSolar flame of the Golden Crow

A multicolored hurricane roared into existence.

It engulfed nearly the entire shattered hall.

Maliketh had nowhere to run.

He curled inward, wrapping himself in Destined Death as defense.

But Destined Death only neutralized the death aspect.

Everything else struck true.

Blood power siphoned his lifeblood.

Curse power weakened his vitality.

Time power split his perception—

Mind accelerated.

Body slowed.

The Golden Sun's flame scorched relentlessly.

Maliketh's roar echoed across half of Farum Azula.

When the storm dissipated—

He knelt, barely upright.

Only the Black Blade kept him from collapsing.

"…Tarnished," he rasped.

"You have won. Take Destined Death."

Arthur approached.

Reached for the blade—

Maliketh suddenly spoke.

"Before you do… there is something you do not know about Queen Marika."

Arthur paused.

"What?"

In that instant—

Maliketh exploded forward.

The Black Blade thrust toward Arthur's chest.

But—

Arthur had never lowered his guard.

The Blasphemous Claw appeared in his hand—

Deflecting the strike.

Simultaneously—

The Dark Moon Greatsword pierced the exposed gap in Maliketh's abdomen.

Shk—

Steel sank deep.

Maliketh's eyes widened.

Shock.

Disbelief.

How could he react so fast?

Arthur answered calmly:

"Curiosity doesn't override caution."

"Never trust a beast. Especially one that's your enemy."

Years of Souls-like experience taught him one rule:

Until the enemy is truly dead—

Never relax.

Even after death—

Add two more hits.

Some things revive.

Arthur twisted the blade.

The Dark Moon's frost erupted within Maliketh's body.

Freezing his final spark of life.

The Black Blade trembled—

Then fell silent.

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