The Fall of the Tower of Ghostflame

Undeath!

The word itself was taboo. Kael watched as the Tower Lord's corpse dissolved into a swirling black mist, the necrotic energy coiling around him until—he stood again.

The Tower Lord's eyes snapped open, burning with ​crimson fury.

An ​undead—a true undead!

His pupils were now blood-red, brimming with mindless violence. His body had turned pitch-black, shrouded in that sinister fog, ​fully transformed into a creature of necromancy.

"Damn it... He used necromancy to turn himself into undead..." Kael's brow furrowed as he and Zorath the Silent instinctively backed away. The Tower Lord was truly ruthless—willing to curse his own soul rather than accept defeat.

Among dark-winged mages, there existed a forbidden spell known as ​"Curse of Undeath." It required immense preparation and sacrifice, allowing the caster to ​resurrect as an undead upon death. However, the spell was wildly unstable—the slightest misstep would render it useless.

More critically, while the curse granted a form of "second life," the transformed mage ​lost all rationality, becoming a puppet to the undead's primal bloodlust. Few dark mages dared cast it on themselves—only a madman like the Tower Lord would gamble with such insanity.

"Kill... Kill you all..." The Tower Lord's scarlet gaze locked onto Kael, his hatred persisting even in undeath, now amplified by mindless rage.

"This just got complicated..." Zorath the Silent grimaced, his scalp prickling. The Tower Lord's madness knew no bounds.

Kael activated his ​Wings of the Wind God, acutely aware that he was the undead's primary target.

"Lightning magic inherently suppresses evil entities. It should work on him!" Kael's mind raced. The Tower Lord, now an undead, was a ​pure killing machine—far more dangerous than before.

"Storm of Thunderclouds!"

While retreating, Kael raised his staff. The spell erupted—a cataclysmic tempest of lightning tearing through the air, its brilliance forcing the Tower Lord to recoil with a guttural shriek.

Just as predicted—even in undeath, he feared thunder's purifying wrath!

"Brilliant!" Zorath the Silent reacted swiftly, his eyes flashing with realization.

"Plaguewind!" The undead Tower Lord let out a guttural roar, his voice distorted as he unleashed another spell. The necrotic tempest clashed violently with Kael's ​Storm of Thunderclouds, but this time, the lightning clearly dominated!

Kael's eyes gleamed with triumph. ​"Lightning magic's suppression effect on undead is even stronger than I thought!" This was a pleasant surprise. Back in the ​Ancient Ruins, he had used lightning against ​Leif, but its effectiveness had been far less pronounced. Now, with his lightning magic vastly more potent, the purifying force was unmistakable.

The undead Tower Lord shrieked in agony, his crimson eyes wide with disbelief. He hadn't anticipated Kael's magic would ​completely counter his necrotic form.

"Die!" Seizing the opportunity, Kael's gaze turned icy. With another swift incantation, he summoned a second ​Storm of Thunderclouds.

This time, his spellcasting was even faster. The thunderstorm descended like divine retribution, ​tearing the Tower Lord apart in a blaze of purifying lightning.

The undead screamed as his body disintegrated under the relentless assault. With a final, deafening ​boom, the Tower Lord was ​utterly obliterated—his existence erased from the continent for good.

Kael exhaled in relief. ​This time, the Tower Lord was truly gone.

"Lightning magic embodies righteousness, impervious to all corruption. It's the perfect weapon against necromancers! Kael, it seems you'll have no trouble dealing with undead from now on!" Zorath chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow.

With the Tower Lord finally defeated, a weight lifted from Kael's shoulders.

He smiled at Zorath's words. While his lightning magic indeed countered undead, the Tower Lord had still posed a ​grave threat. Without Zorath's support, victory wouldn't have come so easily.

Kael shifted his gaze to ​Bloodshadow, who was still locked in combat with the remaining elders of the ​Tower of Ghostflame. Of the three original elders, two had already fallen, leaving only the middle-aged woman desperately holding her ground. However, her resistance was futile—Bloodshadow's onslaught was relentless. His combat aura surged in waves, each strike more devastating than the last, forcing the woman to stagger back, her face pale and blood trickling from her lips.

Seizing an opening, Bloodshadow pivoted sharply, his blade flashing like lightning. A thin crimson line appeared across the woman's throat—her body slumped, lifeless.

With this, the ​Tower Lord and his three elders had been ​utterly annihilated by Kael, ​Zorath the Silent, and Bloodshadow. The rest of the Tower's forces were now insignificant!

"Brother Bloodshadow, you're truly formidable..." Kael praised sincerely, admiring the tall, lean warrior. Facing three eleventh-tier opponents with such ease was no small feat.

Bloodshadow sheathed his blade and stood straight, chuckling. ​"Deputy Hall Master Kael flatters me. Your lightning magic was the real terror—it even sent shivers down my spine." He wasn't exaggerating. Kael's power had left even him awestruck, and his respect for the young mage had soared. Given time, Kael's potential would be ​limitless.

No—it already was limitless.

Having sparred with Kael once, Bloodshadow understood his capabilities well. Initially, he'd assumed Kael's rapid advancement might have left his foundation unstable. Yet the truth was the opposite—Kael's mastery was ​flawless, and his combat prowess ranked among the elite of his tier.

Though only at the ​early stage of the eleventh tier, Kael could already rival its top experts. While victory wasn't guaranteed, his ability to ​challenge those stronger than himself spoke volumes. Even mid-tier eleventh-tier opponents stood no chance against him.

Bloodshadow admitted privately: ​At Kael's level, he'd never been this strong.

Kael then turned his attention to the ​Shadow Hall operatives. The battlefield was a chorus of screams as the elite forces of the ​Sacred Council systematically eradicated the dark-winged mages. Despite their strength, the Tower's members were no match for the Council's finest.

Amid the carnage, Kael knew one thing for certain: ​After today, the Tower of Ghostflame would be erased from history. And his name? It would ​echo across the continent louder than ever. Anyone foolish enough to target him would first have to consider the Tower's fate.

"Kael, look at Thunderclap!" Little Kitten suddenly piped up from his shoulder.

Kael glanced over and saw ​Thunderclap dominating the battlefield like a war god incarnate. He had already taken down ​two or three tenth-tier experts and over half a dozen ninth-tier fighters. His massive frame stood unshaken amidst the chaos, resembling an ​ancient demonic deity. Ordinary spells couldn't even scratch his defenses, making him an unstoppable force.

"A freak... That kid's an absolute freak. Brother Kael, where in the world did you find him?" Zorath the Silent muttered, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief.

Kael merely smiled, offering no explanation.

Bloodshadow watched Thunderclap intently before murmuring, ​"A born champion. If he joined the Divine Martial Knights, I'd have to resign as deputy commander within three years just to make room for him." He shook his head wryly. The younger generation was terrifying—Kael, Einar, and now this Thunderclap...

Kael chuckled. ​"Gentlemen, since the Tower of Ghostflame is all but finished, why don't we take a look inside?"

After all, the Tower had been a ​notorious dark-winged mage organization with a long history. Kael was certain its vaults held ​something worthwhile...