Blacksmith of the Apocalypse - Chapter 1219

“Blast them, Kalzemir!” Natina ordered the skeleton dragon. Bending back the neck, the giant skeleton released a pitch-black breath straight down into the valley. The valley below was pure chaos and apart from the legend, even her own undead would probably suffer.

But it was worth it. The soldiers were already as good as gone and the undead could be replenished. She didn’t dare to hope to kill one of the horsemen, but the abyss breath should have been enough to take out the three non-legends.

That was if it had hit. The billowing smoke of decay was met by a just as big bloom of cursed, crimson fire. The horsemen of War had turned into a giant meteor of half-liquid metal, surrounded by a ball of fire, several kilometers in diameter.

War: “We are lords of war”

Hungrily, the unearthly flames fed on the dragon’s breath, not allowing it to reach the valley below. The chosen of Kali watched in shock. She had not expected the tiny horseman to completely block Kalzemir’s plague breath.

Seth: “Immortal!”

The song drew her attention back to the bard, the true target of her conquest. Right, seeing all the obstacles, she almost forgot about the original objective. Now she realized that there was nothing between her and the Tower Master, while the horseman of War was busy fighting the dragon breath.

“Down from the sky, into the fight. Hearts full of rage, full of thunder and glory~” The voice had grown softer, almost melancholic.

In the sky, there was only her on the dragon and him, standing on the back of a weird griffin. Right, all the others didn’t really matter, as long as she managed to take him out, she would be able to focus on her escape!

The tower was not a legend, he was just a bard and a blacksmith. Natina was confident that she could take him down in a moment’s time. Confident enough to leave the safety of the dragon’s rib cage.

Stepping on purple flame wheels, Natina charged at the singer standing atop his flying mount. She unleashed all her permanent buffs and skills, using her remaining mana to reach the peak of her power.

“Swords in the wind, crossing the sky.”

She heard it before she saw it. It was a terrifying buzzing sound, like a giant storm directly ripping at her ears. Her eyes ripped wide open when she faced the crescent of sword aura that was a fire in the sky, aiming at Kalzemir.

The Ivicer’s golden neck shield shone like the sun, catching the rays of daylight. Created from the blinding light, threads of sunlight started to shoot toward the lich. More and more were layering on the barrier with light speed, catching Sokolov in a cocoon of light.

Thread of the Sun was a buff skill, whereby the ivicer used his inherent ability to create tailor materials and turn his own power and daylight into threads of pure sunlight to bless a person. For a normal person, these threads would burn into their skin and become something like a tattoo.

This tattoo became a semi-permanent buff. The power depended on the initial skill of the caster and the amount of sunlight imbued into it. In bright sunlight, the buff would strengthen even further as it drew power from the surroundings. The effect would last up to several weeks, depending on the receiver’s constitution and environment.

Of course, this was when it was used on a normal person. When talking about an undead, this was the greatest curse Puffles could bestow on them. They would be marked by the sun, stricken with a constant burning of pure sunlight and holy power.

The lich had quickly turned into a ball of golden light and by the time the Ivicer finished his skill, the ball collapsed. The barrier that had held against it was dissolved by the holy threads and now the whole bundle struck Piotr.

“GAHHH! What is this?!” the elder lich screamed, as pain he had not felt in centuries surged through his body. To him, it would have felt like being bathed in molten metal.

For a short moment, the golden ball turned into the shape of a human, like a string pupped or mummy. Accompanied by the skeleton’s high-pitched screams the threads accomplished their purpose. They partially dissipated the lich’s semi-transparent body and melded into his very bones, turning the dark, rotten-looking bones a bright silver.

For a normal person, there would have only been a few threads. A few silver markings across their skin, looking like a simple tattoo. For Sokolov, Puffles had shown his generosity and poured enough on him to cover the surface of the undead’s body several times.

“Guohh! I will not-“When the initial pain was gone, Sokolov regained some of his mind. Purple power bubbled up from the silver bones, but when the clouds above moved just slightly, exposing the lich to more sunlight, the half-skeleton dove into the shadow with a pitiful screech.

“Ha...Ha... what have you done to me!?” he cried, panting and enduring the pain.

“Of course, I offered you the death you deserve the most. Very slow, very painful,” the Ivicer’s six eyes glinted with glee, seeing his plan had succeeded. The Lich would slowly be purified, suffering terrible pain, until nothing of it was left.

“Cruel,” the people-melting horseman of death commented monotone.