“Is this the Mutant Matriarch?” Staring at such a twisted mass of existence, Irene couldn't help but wonder.
But in the next second, she dismissed the thought.
Even from such a distance, Irene could clearly feel the chaotic, disorderly, and sickening aura emanating from this mountain of flesh composed of drow.
This aura was no different from that of the ordinary mutants frantically throwing themselves against the city wall.
They were all mindless “beasts.”
According to the fragmented records of the cataclysm in the Southern Continent within her Draconic Inheritance, this was likely not the Mutant Matriarch.
Arthas's next words confirmed just how correct Irene's assumption was.
“This is a mutant amalgamation,” Arthas explained in a somber tone, his throat vibrating slightly beneath his armor. “It evolved specifically to counter power armor. It can project sound waves to penetrate armor, dealing severe piercing damage.”
After a pause, he added, “This is already the second one to appear this month...”
Arthas's gaze remained locked onto the writhing, approaching mountain of flesh.
It was no secret that mutants would devour each other to grow stronger, or even merge and evolve to counter their specific opponents.
Environments that would take ordinary creatures tens of millions of years of slow evolution to adapt to could often be mastered by mutants in just a few years, months, or even weeks.
This almost absurd rate of evolution was neither scientific nor magical.
Had it not been for this, the Southern Continent would not have fallen so quickly back then.
“Mother, please wait here for a moment. I shall go and deal with this filthy creature.”
Arthas suddenly turned and bowed his head apologetically to Irene. “As the eldest son of the Empire, I will never allow such filth to step foot upon imperial territory.”
His tone was incredibly resolute, as if he were taking an oath.
“Not even a single step!”
With that, Arthas looked at the mountain of flesh slowly writhing toward Black City, his right hand reaching back toward the chainsword on his back, Frostmourne.
At the same time, he issued a command in his mind, calling upon his unreliable companion to assist in the battle.
Yet, before Arthas could take a single step into the air or unsheathe his blade, a pale, delicate hand blocked his path.
“Forget it, Arthas,” a cool voice drifted from his side.
Arthas looked to the side and saw Irene staring straight ahead. She slowly retracted her hand, clasped her hands together, and rolled her wrists.
Then, she turned her head slightly, catching Arthas in her peripheral vision as she spoke in a solemn tone, “I have witnessed your loyalty. Leave the rest to me.”
Moonlight fell upon Irene's profile, painting half of her face a brilliant silver.
Only her golden eyes remained as bright as ever, like an eternal flame burning amidst a boundless glacier.
“Besides...” Irene's tone turned lazy once more. She turned back and closed her eyes slightly, interlacing her ten long, fair fingers. With her palms facing outward, she slowly pushed them upward.
Crack, crack, crack...
A scalp-numbing series of pops rang out from her joints.
It sounded like the crisp beat of a drum.
As she stretched, Irene's increasingly mature figure was faintly visible beneath her robes.
With her long hair fluttering in the wind, she looked like a celestial maiden descending into the mortal realm.
But when she opened her eyes again, an invisible, ferocious pressure instantly swept out in all directions.
Even as a lich who had taken half a step into the Legendary Rank, Arthas felt his soul fire flicker under this immense pressure!
In the next instant, he acutely sensed Frostmourne being yanked off his back by a tremendous force.
Only then did Irene finish her sentence: “...to stretch my muscles a bit.”
Boom!!!
An explosion like a collapsing mountain suddenly erupted in all directions!
Irene had shattered the stone pillar beneath her feet with a single stomp, launching herself forward like an intercontinental ballistic missile!
The great black bell that had been hanging beneath the stone pillar was sent flying backward into the city by the immense force, letting out a powerful toll in mid-air!
DONG!!!
It sounded like a triumphal song played for a general, or a horn sounding the charge!
Arthas remained frozen in his sword-drawing stance, his gaze locked onto the girl who had somehow sprouted two black dragon wings from her back, breaking the sound barrier as she fearlessly charged forward.
The cold mist emanating from Frostmourne left a white trail in the sky.
For a moment, the lich was left utterly dazed.
...
Inside the city, in the backyard of the solemn Cathedral of Redemption, a moss-covered grave cracked open amidst the tremors, and a skeletal wing burning with pale white fire thrust out from the gap.
The claws on the skeletal wing's joints slammed heavily onto the mixture of dirt and moss.
Then, a skeletal dragon's head emerged from the soil, its eyes burning with a faint soul fire that seemed to hold a trace of joy.
Joy that its master had finally awakened it from its long, tedious slumber.
As a skeletal wyvern, it could not wait to engage in a hearty, blood-pumping battle...
Of course, it looked forward even more to killing its enemies and stuffing their heads into its “warm ribcage.”
That was its way of acknowledging its opponents, as well as a reward for itself.
But just as the skeletal wyvern was about to claw its entire body out of the grave, it suddenly sensed an incredibly terrifying surge of aura.
This caused its entire body to shudder. Had it not been stripped of flesh and reduced to bare, white bones, it probably would have broken out in goosebumps.
It was all too familiar with this particular energy wave.
It was a dread engraved into the very depths of its soul.
Back then, it had been beaten to death by a black dragon with almost the exact same aura. After its death, it had been skewered like a candied hawthorn by a ballista bolt and left to bake in the desert sun for countless years.
The memories of those days were still vivid.
Every time it recalled them, it felt a phantom chill in its long-gone backside.
But before the skeletal wyvern could dwell on its past hardships or reminisce about its lost youth, it was violently yanked back to reality by a loud DONG! of the bell.
The soul fire in its eyes flickered wildly.
It peered through the layers of obstacles toward the direction of its master.
After thinking it over with its pelvis, it figured there was an eighty percent chance it wouldn't need to show up.
Sure enough, its master's message arrived right after, telling it that it could go back to sleep and not to come out and embarrass itself.
The skeletal wyvern immediately filtered out most of Arthas's message, extracting only the words “go to sleep.” With a face full of disappointment, it burrowed back into the dirt, leaving only a single ballista bolt sticking straight out of its pelvis, exposed above the grave.
It looked exactly like a defiant middle finger.
Suddenly...
A cool breeze swept past...
Whoosh, whoosh...
Step...
Two figures appeared at the entrance of the church not far away.
They were a kobold and a green-skinned beastkin.
They stopped in unison, panting slightly as if looking for something. At that moment, they seemed to sense something. After exchanging a deep look, they raised their heads to watch the great bell falling from the city wall.
Complex expressions crossed their faces.
After a brief hesitation, the two dashed toward the city wall at an even faster pace than before.
Boom!
The great bell crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Rate on N.U.
