Chapter 21
"Raaagh!"
Simon finally snapped.
He ignited his bloodline, sacrificing part of its power for a burst of raw strength. The explosion tore Morwen's chains apart and hurled all three Hero Units backward.
Simon cut the bloodline burn off at once.
Even so, he felt his strength drop.
He stood panting as he faced the three undead again—wary, for the first time.
How could three low-tier Veterans put out this much combat power?
A sudden roar rose from the battlefield behind him.
Simon glanced back.
Undead were pouring through the Portal.
Skeleton Warriors, Specters, Zombies, and more flooded out in a relentless tide, crashing into the Frost Sabertooths across the snowfield.
The undead outnumbered them by a wide margin.
Simon had brought only around three hundred Frost Sabertooths. Nearly a thousand undead had already joined the battle.
With Morwen and Varkhul on the field, the Black Knights no longer needed to shield Eldran. They threw themselves fully at the enemy ranks.
The average undead was weaker than a Frost Sabertooth, but numbers closed the gap.
More importantly, the Frost Sabertooths counted only a single Veteran among them. Their high-end strength couldn't begin to compare with the Undead Faction's.
The outcome had been decided almost the moment the reinforcements arrived.
And Morwen, Eldran, and Varkhul could summon additional undead of their own.
Simon surveyed the battlefield, jaw clenched.
He had believed victory was certain.
Instead, Lilith's army had reinforced Frostbound Bastion with alarming speed—and he still didn't understand how Eldran had restored himself in an instant.
Taking the Bastion was no longer realistic.
But Simon couldn't stomach retreating.
He had sacrificed too much for this revenge. He had pictured humiliating Lilith before killing her, and he hadn't even laid eyes on her.
If he ran now, what pride would he have left?
He wavered between fighting on and choking down his rage until another chance came.
Eldran and Varkhul moved to attack.
Morwen stopped them.
She had negotiated with the other Lords at Frostbound Bastion and knew more about the surrounding factions than either of them.
The enemy was a werewolf.
Morwen hadn't yet learned that native werewolves had entered the Frostlands, so she assumed he was a Lord's Unit.
Only two Lords in the region carried werewolf blood and knew the location of Frostbound Bastion.
Simon and Giles.
Simon was dead.
Morwen drew the obvious conclusion.
"Are you Giles?"
Simon paused.
He hadn't expected her to identify the body so quickly.
Then he remembered their former alliance.
Lilith's Specter Overlord had always been unusually sharp.
Simon smiled.
His wolfish head receded, revealing Giles's familiar, unremarkable face.
If Morwen already believed he was Giles, Simon saw no reason to correct her.
The misunderstanding would turn Lilith against Giles for good.
"That's right," Simon said lightly. "You're Morwen, aren't you? Want to catch up?"
Morwen's suspicions appeared confirmed.
Plenty still didn't add up—the sudden jump in strength, the betrayal, the change in his manner—but she set it all aside for now.
"You had no quarrel with my Lord. Why have you attacked us?"
Giles had once cooperated with Lilith. Morwen wanted an explanation.
Why would he assault Frostbound Bastion?
Had his sudden rise in power gone to his head?
The question reignited Simon's fury.
"Quarrel?"
His voice climbed.
"What right do any of you have to talk to me about quarrels?"
"If it weren't for that bitch Lilith, I never would have ended up like this!"
His face warped back into a werewolf's as his aura erupted.
Morwen frowned.
She was starting to suspect that "Giles" had lost his mind.
But his strength made capture impossible.
Whatever grievance he imagined he held against Lilith no longer mattered.
He had attacked her master's Wonder.
He had to die.
Morwen exchanged a glance with Eldran and Varkhul.
All three attacked.
This time, the battle changed completely.
Individually, none of the three Hero Units could beat Simon.
Together, they could match him.
Simon wielded Tier 9 Veteran power, but without burning his bloodline, he couldn't crack their coordination.
The fight ground into a stalemate.
Simon knew every additional minute bled his strength away.
He needed to break their formation.
That meant burning his bloodline again and killing one of them as fast as possible.
Varkhul was the strongest.
Morwen could fly.
After a moment's calculation, Simon chose Eldran—the most balanced of the three, with no obvious edge to exploit.
He burned his bloodline and attacked.
Through tremendous effort, Simon managed to wound Eldran gravely.
Then Eldran restored himself on the spot.
Simon still couldn't fathom the ability.
To keep Eldran from repeating it, he switched targets and went after Morwen.
She did exactly the same thing.
Her wounds vanished.
So Simon tried Varkhul.
Varkhul could restore himself too.
Simon stared at the three of them in disbelief.
"What the hell is this?"
All three undead could return to perfect condition in an instant.
It felt like cheating.
Simon had no way of knowing that their recovery was being fueled by the ordinary undead dying across the battlefield.
The drawn-out battle burned through those lesser Units at a fearsome pace.
But the price the Hero Units paid was still far smaller than Simon's.
Every full-power assault forced him to burn more of his bloodline.
After eruption upon eruption, his strength teetered on the edge of dropping below Tier 9 Veteran.
If the battle went on, he knew, he would die here.
"You haven't seen the last of me!"
Simon ignited his bloodline one final time and broke away.
His Rank still gave him an overwhelming edge in speed. The three Hero Units couldn't stop him from escaping.
They carved several serious wounds into him, but could only watch as he vanished into the distance.
The Frost Sabertooths he left behind were not so lucky.
Surrounded by the undead army with no line of retreat, they had become trapped prey.