The Ossuary King: Infinite Power

Chapter 8

The earth did not just shake; it groaned. It was a sound that came from deep within the crust of the world, a grinding of ancient stones and the snapping of dry wood. But it wasn't wood. It was the sound of millions of bones shifting at once.

Lucien stood on a high, jagged ridge of obsidian, looking down at the valley below. His long hair whipped around his face in a sudden, cold wind that smelled of iron and old graves. Above him, the sky had completed its transformation. The sickly purple clouds had parted, revealing a moon the color of a fresh wound.

The Blood Moon.

"The Great Purge," Lucien whispered.

Below him, the ground was moving. It looked like a boiling pot of grey soup. From every inch of the soil, hands reached out. Some were skeletal, white and polished. Others were green and rotting, with ragged bits of flesh hanging from the knuckles. Some were massive, the hands of giants, while others were small and spindly.

Within minutes, the valley was no longer empty. It was filled with a sea of undead. There were thousands upon thousands of them—Grave-Wraiths floating like tattered banners, Skeletal Knights on bone-horses, and mindless Ghouls that crawled on all fours. They were all facing the same direction: South. Toward the living lands. Toward the Great Iron Gates.

[Ding! The Demon Tide is at 10% Strength.]

[Warning: Resentment levels are reaching a critical point.]

[The 'Altar of the Dead' has appeared in the center of the valley.]

Lucien’s Eyes of Truth flared with light. In the very center of the nightmare horde, a massive structure was rising from the dirt. It was a pyramid made entirely of black skulls, each one glowing with a faint, ghostly green flame. At the top of the pyramid sat a stone slab stained with the blood of a thousand years.

That was his target.

"Help! Please, someone help us!"

The scream was faint, nearly drowned out by the chattering of skeletal teeth, but Lucien heard it. He looked toward the edge of the valley, near the Titan’s Spine.

The group from the Cloud-Soaring Sect—Seraphina and her disciples—were trapped. They hadn't made it out in time. They were backed into a narrow canyon, their backs against a wall of solid bone. A wall of several hundred Ghouls was closing in on them.

Seraphina was no longer the haughty, beautiful "Senior Sister." Her white robes were covered in mud and black ichor. Her sword, once glowing with pure light, was dim and chipped. One of the male disciples was already down, his legs mangled by a Grave-Worm. He was sobbing, clutching Seraphina’s boots.

"Don't leave me, Sister! Please!"

Seraphina looked up at the sky, her eyes wide with terror. She saw the Blood Moon. She knew the legends. During the Great Purge, the dead didn't just kill; they consumed the soul so that the person could never reincarnate.

"Form... form the circle..." Seraphina’s voice cracked. She tried to raise her sword, but her arms were shaking so hard she dropped it.

A Ghoul lunged, its jaw unhinging to reveal rows of black teeth. Seraphina closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

On the ridge, Lucien watched with a cold, detached expression. His "God-Devouring Veins" were pulsing with a dark hunger. Part of him—the part that was still the boy Julian had kicked into the dirt—wanted to laugh. He wanted to watch them die. Why should he care? They had called him a ghoul. They had looked down on him.

But then he looked at the Altar of the Dead. It was surrounded by the thickest part of the horde. If he tried to reach it alone, even with his Chaos-Divine body, he would be slowed down by the sheer numbers.

"They can be my distraction," Lucien said to himself.

He didn't jump down to save them because he was a hero. He jumped down because he was a hunter.

Lucien stepped off the edge of the 100-foot cliff.

He didn't fall like a stone. He used the Six Wings of the Fallen—the phantom wings he had glimpsed in his status screen—though they were only half-formed shadows at his current level. He glided down, a streak of black and gold light.

He landed directly in front of Seraphina just as the Ghoul’s teeth were an inch from her throat.

KACHA!

Lucien didn't even use his sword. He reached out and grabbed the Ghoul by its head. With a single twist of his wrist, he ripped the monster’s skull clean off its spine. He tossed the head aside like a piece of trash.

The other Ghouls stopped, sensing a presence that was more terrifying than they were.

Seraphina opened her eyes. She saw the back of a man. His rags were fluttering in the wind, and he smelled of cold ozone and ancient power.

"You..." she gasped. "The... the Master from the cave?"

Lucien didn't look back. "If you want to live, run behind me. If you fall behind, I won't stop for you."

"Wait! Our brother is injured!" one of the disciples cried.

Lucien’s voice was like ice. "Then leave him. Or die with him. The tide does not wait for the weak."

The disciples were horrified, but as a wave of a hundred more skeletons charged from the mist, they didn't argue. They grabbed their injured friend and scrambled to follow Lucien.

Lucien began to move toward the center of the valley.

It was a dance of death. Lucien drew the rusted sword. Every time he swung it, a crescent of silver-black energy flew out, cleaving through dozens of undead at once.

Swish! Slice! Boom!

He was like a hot knife through a sea of rotting butter. He didn't use complicated moves. He used the Grandmaster Sword Intent to find the "death point" of every monster. A skeleton would charge, and Lucien would tap its ribs with his finger; the entire skeleton would shatter into dust as if hit by a hammer.

"He's... he's a monster," the nervous disciple whispered, watching Lucien’s back. "He isn't even breathing hard."

Seraphina watched him with a mix of awe and fear. She was a Level 18 cultivator, considered a genius in her sect. But this man, who looked no older than her, was moving through the Demon Tide as if he were taking a walk in a garden.

"Don't look away!" Seraphina shouted to her men. "Stay in his shadow!"

As they got closer to the center, the monsters became stronger. Grave-Wardens in heavy plate armor blocked their path. Banshees let out screams that made the disciples' ears bleed.

Lucien’s eyes glowed with a fierce, golden light. He felt the Holy Grail’s divinity and the Chaos Body’s darkness merging within him.

"Get back," Lucien commanded.

He raised his sword high. The Blood Moon reflected off the rusted metal.

"Chaos Slash: Thousand Graves!" He swung the sword in a full circle. 

A shockwave of black energy exploded outward, pulverizing everything within fifty yards. The Grave-Wardens were turned into shrapnel. The Banshees were silenced forever.

The path to the Altar was clear.

Lucien sprinted, his feet barely touching the ground. He reached the base of the skull-pyramid. The pressure here was immense. The green flames from the skulls licked at his skin, trying to drain his life-force.

[Ding! Host has reached the Altar of the Dead.]

[Condition Met: The Blood Moon is at its peak.]

[Would you like to Sign-In?]

"Sign in!" Lucien shouted.

[Ding! Sign-In Successful!]

[Grade: Forbidden Divine.]

[Congratulations! You have received the Divine Art: 'Hell-Fire Reign'!]

Suddenly, Lucien felt a heat in his blood that made the Holy Grail feel like ice water. Information poured into his brain—the secret of the fire that burns the soul, the flame that cannot be extinguished by water or magic.

[Divine Art: Hell-Fire Reign (Level 1).]

[Effect: Summon the flames of the deepest abyss to purge the world. Damage is multiplied against undead and demonic beings.]

Lucien looked at the millions of monsters still surrounding the altar. The disciples were being overwhelmed again, struggling to hold off a new wave of Grave-Wraiths.

"Senior Brother! Save us!" Seraphina screamed, her voice lost in the roar of the dead.

Lucien looked up at the Blood Moon. He pointed his rusted sword toward the sky.

"Burn," he said.

The purple sky didn't just change color; it caught fire.

Huge boulders of black flame began to fall from the clouds like meteors. They hit the valley floor with the sound of a thousand cannons.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!