Scott swings his sword and chops off the head of an undead. The monster stood upright on the snow for a moment, then fell heavily and never moved again.

So, this trick still works.

Scott breathed a sigh of relief. It was only when he rushed into the group of monsters that he suddenly realized that he had made a mistake - he was a priest, and he had a more effective way to deal with the undead, but instinctively chose another way, the paladin...... Or the way of the warriors.

He was always more accustomed to using a sword than a spell to solve problems. Besides, without the protection of others, it is just as dangerous to cast a spell of concentration. Now that he has no companions by his side, and since he has been served by a different god, he has never tried to purify the undead...... Not to mention such a large group, which made him involuntarily hesitate.

If the barbarians didn't arrive in time, he wouldn't have much chance of winning the battle alone, but those monsters had already surrounded him, and it was too late to get out of the way.

The horse was pounced on by the swarming monsters. It was a brave old horse, from the armies of Anktan, but still invincible to the fearsome power of the undead. Scott rolled over in the snow and jumped to his feet, glad he wasn't wearing the deadly heavy armor at least.

The horse didn't struggle for long before losing its breath. To Scott's astonishment, the undead seemed to be able to restrain their desire for flesh, and as if they had received some kind of command, they abandoned the horse's carcass and pounced on him.

There should be at least one necromancer hiding nearby, watching all this in order to give orders in time. But he had no time to look for it now.

A short spell came out of Scott's mouth, healing a bleeding wound.

The sword swung up flashed red. He suddenly remembered the first magic sword he had...... Crafted with the blessing of the god of water, Nyo never betrayed him in battle, but he lost it and never recovered.

He hadn't counted how many undead had fallen on the snow, but his sword-wielding arm had begun to go limp, and the monsters were probably more powerful than they had been alive...... It's probably because he hasn't fought like this in a long time. Lately, he's been spending a handful of time with his sword. Words were another weapon, even though he didn't like it.

There were still dark shadows all around. These undead have no voice, they fight in silence, fierce, fearless, making silence itself a threat.

Aside from the spell, Scott didn't make much noise. He tripped and fell on the snow, in the middle of his corpse, rolling in embarrassment to dodge the axes and broadswords of the two undead at the same time. Their weapons collided together, splashing a few sparks.

Scott realized that if he didn't want to die—and he certainly didn't want to die, and he still had a lot of work to do—he had to try what he should have done in the first place.

He half-knelt up, his sword across his head, blocking another wave of attacks, ignoring the weapons that would leave deep wounds on his body but would not kill him for the time being, and concentrated.

The voice was a little dry, but the short syllables were as crisp and powerful as a warrior's slash, and the flame-like light bloomed silently, bouncing off all the enemies around the priest. They fall to the ground, and their souls and powers that have been forced into their bodies are finally liberated.

The flames also seemed to burn Scott's veins, and the boiling blood made him feel incomparably stronger, but infinitely weak. He plunged his sword into the snow, gripped the hilt of it, and knelt there silently, trying to calm himself.

He looked up, and some of the monsters that were far away did not fall, but instead of attacking again, they stood still for a while and turned around, quickly leaving in the direction they had come.

Scott kept his original position, he didn't have the strength to catch up again, and he didn't know if anyone was still watching him, but if those monsters came back, he wasn't sure he could handle it.

He could only hold on to his sword, half-kneeling in the snow, until he heard the sound of galloping horses.

- He knows that these monsters are not as powerful as ever, but don't tell him that the undead have learned to ride horses! .

The barbarians reined in their horses, raised their torches, and looked in amazement at the corpses strewn all over the ground—the blood of the undead on the snow was not red, but an eerie green and yellow.

There were sixty or seventy corpses, and only one of them had not yet fallen, and he knelt there, silent, and the closer he got to him, the more black it became, as if it had been burned.

"Lord Priest!" the young savage guide recognized the figure, and he jumped off his horse and rushed over, past the corpse, and pulled the man who was much shorter than him with all his might. He couldn't imagine how he did it.

Scott staggered for a moment to stand upright, and if it hadn't been for the barbarian's shout before rushing over, he would probably have slashed with a sword.

"How the hell are you...... You're just the only one!" His guide seemed so surprised that Scott couldn't help but laugh - he always wanted to laugh every time he fought to the point of losing his strength or narrowly escaped death, and that probably couldn't be changed.

"My God is with me, remember?" he said, smiling in his voice.

The barbarians had never heard him speak in such a brisk tone, and he was visibly covered in blood and exhausted, and looked simply terrible. He really didn't understand humans anymore...... Or the priest of the human race.

But that didn't stop him from being in awe, he couldn't imagine that one day he would have such emotions for a weak human, but this human had single-handedly done what they had never been able to do, and he protected his people.

"You need to rest. He said, easily slung Scott on his shoulders and placed him on his horse.

Tuscany Toom leaned back in his chair, his face seemingly expressionless, but Reiner knew that the old necromancer might be considering whether to turn him into an undead creature altogether.

"Do I remember if I asked you to bring back more people, or did I remember wrong?" asked the old mage sarcastically.

Reiner didn't dare to say anything, he knew he had messed things up - but how could he have guessed that a human priest would run up to the snow and hit the team he had sent to attack the barbarians?

"Alone. Tuscany's face was gloomy, he had never expected too much from Reiner, but such stupidity and incompetence were still unbearable, "One person stopped you all?"

"That's a ...... A great priest, he can ......," Reiner whispered.

"You've already said it. The old mage interrupted him, "But there is only one of him, and there are hundreds! Scatter and bypass him, or drag him down, and attack the camp - no one will resist there! You can kill more people, create more undead, and then go back and deal with that priest, how hard it will be!! But you don't, you stare at him like a dog that only sees the flesh and bones in front of you, huddle around him, and then easily be half wiped out by him with a spell!"

He finally couldn't help but roar.

Reiner lowered his head and didn't dare to speak again. They initially thought it was just a human warrior, but when they found out that he seemed to be a paladin, the three necromancers all wanted to capture him for themselves - the paladin could not be an undead, but it was a very valuable sacrifice. By the time they realized something was wrong, it was too late.

Reiner felt like he had done his best. Connecting one's consciousness to an undead was laborious and dangerous, and after seeing the priest's power through eyes that didn't belong to them, the other two necromancers didn't hesitate to order the undead under their control to retreat, what choice did he have?

He didn't dare to venture again, and if the undead connected to him were purified, he could also die, or worse, he would go mad, and then Tuscany would definitely not hesitate to put him to the test.

Tuscany was silent for a long time, calming down his anger - it was useless to be angry with these fools.

"We have to have good news. He said.

Reiner was a little puzzled, and the old mage had to repeat: "If we're going to tell Lydia Bell bad news, you'll have to add good news - if you don't want to die." ”

Reiner nodded repeatedly, he still understood this.

"Find the pastor and find out what he knows. I've never heard of such a spell...... Or power, if you're not lying. The people on Ankertan's side once said that there was a Shinshen priest who was preaching near the Castle Forest, and asked if they had seen this guy...... If he catches him alive, he may be of more use. Also, make sure no one finds it here. ”

"The snow has completely covered any traces ......"

"But you can't drown out the damn voices!" the old mage roared, "let them speed up, or we might be attacked before we are ready, and if that is the case, no good news will escape Lydia's wrath, and she doesn't care if it's her fault or not!"

He shut his mouth, realizing that he had inadvertently blurted out his grievances against Lydia.

But it wasn't a secret at all, and Lydia probably knew it, she just didn't care—or was prepared.

Maybe Reiner would be better suited to become an undead...... The old mage pondered, fingers scratching at the armrest.

Eventually, he waved his hand in annoyance and told Reiner to leave. This necromancer is mediocre, but at least obedient, and he can still use him.

Looking at the back of Reiner leaving in a hurry, Tuscany felt a spontaneous disgust, and he even began to miss the time when he lived quietly alone.

The old mage stood up. He's going to have to do some wholesome activities to keep putting up with these stupid guys.