Ella had long since noticed this rather unusual Undead.
The Undead Army she summoned was, for the most part, made up of Demon Race warriors loyal to her, willing to be commanded—even if dead, their souls’ outlines generally matched their appearance in life, each one tall and burly, exuding strength.
But there was one who wasn’t just not tall, but downright petite.
Ella pondered for a moment, thinking this must be a young one, and a female at that.
Come to think of it, for such a young Demon Race female to be so loyal to me—the future of the Demon Race is looking bright.
Wait, no! They’re all dead! What future am I talking about?!
Also, this young one might be loyal, but she’s a bit wooden.
Everyone around is fighting fiercely, and not only does she not help, she comes over to stare at me.
What are you looking at, does the Demon Lord have flowers on her head?
“Why are you staring at me? Get to work!”
That shout snapped the other back to her senses.
She grabbed an indistinct short weapon and started hacking away at the Desecrators, each slash claiming a life.
Hmm, a bit wooden, but her combat power is solid.
Ella nodded in satisfaction, standing where she was and surveying the surroundings.
Once the Undead joined the battlefield, the fight with the Desecrators became fierce and hard-fought.
Here, a hammer came down, flattening a fish-headed foe.
Over there, a blade swung down, scattering bones and a wisp of greenish smoke.
But with Ella’s abundant magic power sustaining them, the bones would reform and be reborn, and the smoke would condense and rise again.
Your Sirens die and fall every moment, but my Undead Army is endless!
This bizarre scene scared the Onlooker hiding under the standing water half to death.
“What is that? No, impossible!”
The Serpent Priest’s freshly grown hair floated in terror, “What kind of blasphemous thing is that?!”
They had only ever stitched together the bodies of various Sirens, already considering themselves creators of blasphemy, but they hadn’t expected that seemingly pure and beautiful human girl on the other side to toy with the boundary between life and death at will.
So here’s the question—why wasn’t this person mentioned in the divine revelation?
Why hadn’t He seen her?
“Ahhhhhhh!!!”
The Serpent Priest screamed, its hair shooting out of the water first.
Unwillingness and fear broke through all reason—it couldn’t bear to watch any longer and leapt straight out of the water.
The commotion caught Ella’s attention, and she turned to look.
“An elite monster appears?”
The serpent hair was very recognizable—at a glance, Ella knew this was the “woman” who’d ambushed her outside the workshop last time.
It had pegged Ella as a physically weak summoner whose only fighting power lay with her Undead; as long as it got close, it could kill her.
“Die! Ssssss ssssss ssssss!”
The priest’s hiss and the snakes’ cries mixed together, so Ella couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Seeing the figure charge at her, she simply raised her Necromantic Sword.
“Hyaaah!”
Slash—!
Ella’s sword came down with tremendous force. Back in the forest, with Leah’s support, even Celes could barely block it.
Now, with the Serpent Priest rushing straight at her, a little snake was sliced clean in half, like tofu.
“Ahhhhhhh!!!”
This time, it was a true scream of pain.
The severed hair sprayed out some liquid—at first glance, it looked like venom, but when it hit the ground, it was no different from blood.
The pain forced the Serpent Priest’s mind into clarity, and it finally realized something—a person who wields a sword as a weapon, how could she possibly not be skilled in close combat?
Run! Run now!
The priest’s twisted form flickered in and out of reality, slipping away into the Nether Rift.
As long as it got through the rift and back underwater, it could escape and swim back to safety.
“Hmph, trying to escape?”
Ella raised the Necromantic Sword, ready to unleash her signature Curse Slash upon its soul—but someone beat her to it.
Hiss—!
A dagger invisible to the naked eye flashed with cold light in the petite Undead’s hand, darting out from nearby in an instant.
The Serpent Priest, who had already slipped out of the real world, clutched its neck as dark blood gushed out.
It happened so suddenly, so swiftly and precisely, that Ella was taken aback.
Whoa, this youngster!
With the Serpent Priest dead, the already losing Desecrator army collapsed instantly, turning and splashing frantically toward the sea, cursing the fact they only had two frog legs each.
With no more targets, the Undead Army gathered toward the center, surrounding their summoner.
Ella’s gaze fell on the petite Undead.
“You, you, you… not bad! With skills like that, why haven’t you shown up before?”
The Powder-haired Thunder Girl blinked her eyes.
“Could it be you only died recently?”
The petite Undead didn’t speak—of course, she couldn’t, at least not in a way the living could hear.
There was an insurmountable gap between life and death; though much had been overcome by Necromancy, communication was still out of reach.
At most, she could talk to herself.
Ella didn’t think much of it.
The Demon Race had countless Infernal Souls, and plenty were willing to heed her call.
Each summoning could only bring a limited—and rather random—number.
She knew these Undead were called forth from the River of the Yellow Springs, so to her, the River was like a gacha pool—sometimes, you might pull someone powerful, just like today.
The petite Undead stood there looking at her.
Though she said nothing, that very gesture seemed to carry a thousand unspoken words.
Ella felt a strange, inexplicable sense of guilt under her gaze.
How odd—why do I feel this way?
“Ahem, since you like looking at me so much, that just proves your loyalty. As it happens, I think you’ve got great potential. In the future, be a bit sharper—come as soon as I call, got it?”
The Undead’s smoky head wavered slightly, as if nodding.
Whatever, let’s just call that a nod.
Ella glanced up at the sky above—a moon, countless stars, nothing else to see.
Judging by how long she’d been out, plus the fight, it couldn’t have been more than an hour.
She’d still have time to get some sleep when she got back.
She’d uncovered the true main force of the Sea Demon Tribe and slain an elite monster—however many there were, there couldn’t be many more, or why would she have only met this one twice in a row?
The Necromantic Sword was stabbed back into the ground.
That gentle, soft voice rang out again, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, souls return to their places.”
A sea breeze swept in, misting the dock with greenish smoke as the Undead were scattered like fog.
The River of the Yellow Springs flowed once more.
The Undead leapt in, noisy and disorderly, to slumber there until the next summoning.
All except one—the petite Undead did not jump into the river, but floated toward the city, drifting for quite some time.
Midnight.
The fifth night before the start of the ritual.
A black-haired girl slowly opened her eyes and climbed out of the water jar.
Her body felt perfectly fine, as if she’d just had a very vivid dream, with only a trace of grogginess upon waking.
But the dried corpse of Kagasha in the room told her that everything was real.
The strange and mysterious Necromantic Form was real.
The Silent Watcher who ruled over death was real.
The ever-flowing River of the Yellow Springs was real.
The Powder-haired Thunder Girl, Ella, was real, too.